Justin woke up, yawned, and stretched his arms out. He glanced around the huge hote suite, trying to decipher just where he had placed his cell phone the night before. He wanted to call his Mom. Something about hearing her voice in the morning, always put him in a good mood. But aside from that factor, he also wanted to talk to her about something else...

That girl.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her after she had left. He figured it was partially because Trace hadn't stoppped complaining about the fact that a "little scumbag" like her had been able to rob him and not face any consequences. He couldn't really blame him though. He knew that if he had been in Trace's position he would have been in a grumpy mood too. Lucky for him, he never delt with the public the way Trace did. It was one of the perks of being the celebrity in the picture. You didn't have to deal with anybody you didn't want to. You hired people to handle them for you.

His mind drifted back to her. She had been filthy, yes. And that smell...oh Lord how she had smelled. But, aside from all that...was her eyes. Her eyes, had been...indescribably beautiful. They were the kind of eyes that could see right through people, almost as if they could read a person's sould, and see their deepest, most concealed secrets. He wondered, how had she ended up in the position she was in?

It didn't matter, because he knew he would never see her again. They were two completely different people, in two completely different worlds. There was no reason for them to see each other again, that he knew for sure.

He just wished he had found out what her name was.

He rose out of the bed, and staggered into the bathroom. He gazed into the mirror and studied his exhausted looking complexion. His face was pale, and the bags under his eyes were more noticeable than usual. He sighed, he wished he knew what the hell was wrong with him. He had been feeling like crap for over a month, but of course, he hadn't told a soul. Not now, not when his solo career was going as well as it was. And especially not when he had a huge tour coming up in a few months. He coughed harshly, and gasped when he looked down into the sink. The blood was back again. He groaned. He couldn't be sick today. There was entirely too much to do.

He grabbed a tissue out of the box that rested next to the sink and spit onto it...

More blood.

Then the pain started. The stomach pain that was so bad, he felt as if somebody were pushing a knife into his gut. He clutched his stomach and sat down on the toilet. He moaned in pain. He hoped this didn't last long today. He only had two hours before he had to meet Trace downstairs. Today was important...and damn it, he wasn't going to ruin it by being sick. After a few moments, he finally gained enough control to get up again. He turned on the faucet and filled a cup with water. He took slow, small sips of the cool liquid. He found, that this always seemed to help.

After drinking a second cup of water, he plopped the cup down on the marble counter top, and gazed at his reflection again. He noticed a hint of color beginning to make itself known on his face. Good. Just as long as nobody thought he was sick, everything was fine. It was his little secret, and at times he actually enjoyed knowing something about himself that nobody else did. Most celebrities, with the exception of Micheal Jackson, didn't really have too much trouble with their keeping their private life private. But for some reason, the media just loved to stalk him, and find out whatever they could about his life. He hated it.

It was one of the main reasons he couldn't hold a relationship together. What girl wanted to be followed around and pestered about her love life?

Nobody, thats who.
***************************
"Spare some change?"

Here she was again, just like yesterday, and the day before, and the week before, and the month before...

She let out an aggravated sigh as another person pushed by her, not giving into her money begging. She wanted to slap herself, she had been so hungry the night before, she had eaten all the fruit that she had pulled out of the garbage. That meant she had no food for tonight, and that meant she was stuck, yet again, trying to scrounge up a lousy couple of dollars so at least she could buy herself a bag of chips, or something...anything.

Sensing there was no money to made made in the spot she was standing, she miserably moved along. Her teeth chattered, it was colder today than it had been all week. The shabby coat she had was doing her no justice, it was ripped in several spots, and it to top it off, the jacket hadn't been meant to be used in the winter anyway. Yeah, that was great if you had money to buy a winter jacket. She shook her head, and felt the urge to cry. She wouldn't cry, no. Crying didn't get you a meal, or a new jacket. Crying only caused people to feel sorry for you, and that she knew, didn't get you anywhere.

Something was stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She groaned, thinking it was gum. She didn't have time for this. She tiredly bent down to try and pull whatever it was off the bottom of her shoe. She gasped. It was five dollars. She looked around her cautiously, afraid someone might try at take it from her. After a few moments, she convinced herself that she was safe and gently peeled the money off of her shoe. She gazed at the bill a moment, feeling like this was all a dream. Five dollars....

Five dollars was more money than she had had in awhile. With five dollars...with five dollars she could buy enough food to last her a week! She rushed off excitedly, wanting to get to the nearest food store that was available.
*********************
"No...I said I needed the Lucky Ducky scratch off."

"We don't have no Lucky Ducky scratchy." The middle eastern cashier replied, not looking up from his issue of Star Magazine.

"It's right there." Trace seethed, becoming more annoyed by the second. Damn Justin. Damn him for liking these stupid scratch off Lottery tickets. It wasn't like he needed the money, they were just "fun" as he liked to put it. It was times like this that Trace wished his friend could do things like this for himself, but as he glanced at the cover of the magazine that the cashier was reading, he knew that Justin could never do it. This week Star Magazine had adorned their cover with a big old picture of Justin and Christina. It read: "Sex Scandal, Justin and Christina get Dirty." He raised and lowered his eyebrows, slightly amused. Yes, that might have happened, if Justin had time to talk to her and Christina wasn't glued to her current boyfriend.

"No Lucky Ducky."

"Look dude, turn around. It's right behind you." Trace said impatiently.

The cashier looked up from his reading, for the first time since Trace had entered the store. "No...Lucky...Ducky. Only, Cash Cash Bash and Mulla Mulla Money."

"If you would just look..."

"You buy or you go!" The man yelled.

Trace groaned. "Give me Cashy Bashy then."

"No Cashy Bashy, only Cash Cash Bash."

"Just give me a damn lottery ticket!" Trace hollered, more annoyed than ever.

The man reluctantly got up out of the chair he had been sitting on and retrieved the requested item from its place on the shelf. "One dollar."

Trace dug into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. His mouth gaped. He had left it in the limo. He shook his head, he had been having the worst luck with that damn wallet this week. Damn you Justin. Damn you. He thought.

"Uh...do you need a dollar?"

The voice was raspy, but sweet sounding at the same time. He turned around, only to see the one person he figured, he would never have to deal with again. "You." He grumbled.

It was the pickpocket from yesterday.

"Here." She offered, handing him a five dollar bill. "Just give me the change."

He made a pssh sound and rolled his eyes. "No. You probably stole it from somebody."

"I'm only trying...to apologize, for yesterday." She whispered. "Please take it."

"You buy?" The cashier asked in annoyance.

Trace sighed, but wanting to get out of there, reluctantly accepted the girl's offer. He thrust the five dollar bill at the cashier, and snatched the lottery ticket off the counter. Once the cashier had given him the change, he turned back around. The girl, of course, was still there. "Thanks." He muttered, shoving the bills into her hand.

"Sure." She didn't smile.

 

Chapter Four