4:01 PM 

Emma van de Camp had been pacing for the past two hours in front of Aubrey’s apartment, the heels of her wedge sandals clicking on the gold marble floor of the hallway, waiting, waiting and waiting. 

“What the fuck, Aubrey!” Emma exclaimed. “Where have you been all morning? All afternoon?” 

“Emma, calm down.” Aubrey said calmly as she unlocked her front door, “Come inside, okay? Do you want tea?” 

“I don't want to have tea, Aubrey,” Emma said, “I have to talk to you.” 

“Okay.” Aubrey said, alarmed by Emma’s lack of composure, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” 

Emma flopped down on Aubrey’s couch and ran her hands over her face, “Nothing’s wrong, actually; I want a recap of last night.” 

Aubrey rolled her eyes and kicked off her flip flops, “Are you serious?” 

“Yes – hell yes.” 

“I thought something was wrong,” Aubrey said, curling her legs underneath her, “You had me scared for a minute.” 

“Well, good thing only for a minute,” Emma said charmingly, “Wait.” 

“What?” 

“Are you just now getting home, Aubrey Mischa?” 

“Ugh, you sound like my mother.” 

“The sex must be crazy good, then.” Emma laughed, “Nobody leaves at six the previous night and comes back at four the next afternoon if something isn't keeping them at said location.” 

She rolled her eyes, “Oh, please. We walked his dog.” 

“What is that a metaphor for?” 

“It’s literal,” Aubrey deadpanned, “Dog? He has a dog? We walked it?” 

“Oh.” Emma said slowly, “A cute dog?” 

“A big dog,” she corrected, “A rotweiler that apparently weighs as much as I do.” 

“That’s endearing,” Emma smiled, “So you slept over there, then?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Great apartment, isn't it?” Emma enthused, crossing her legs. 

She nodded, “Excellent apartment; small, though.” 

“But nothing happened.” 

“Well…no.” she said, “We kissed or something and then we started drinking wine, and we got tired and went to bed.” 

“That’s all very cute and all, but it’s so boring. I was hoping for something a little bit more exciting then ‘uh, we got drunk and fell asleep.’” Emma said, “But that’s okay, eventually.” 

“Did JC clean up his act?” 

“Like hell he did – flowers, candy, diamonds…you name it, he showered me with it.” She smiled, “It was heaven.” 

“Is he back in New York?” 

“Yup.” She said, “His birthday is coming up, you know.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. I want to take him out somewhere…I just don't know where. I think I’ll do a little collabo with Justin on this one.” 

Aubrey nodded slowly, “Did you just come home today?” 

“Of course, Aubrey.” Emma laughed, “Like, two hours ago. And when Ginny told me she couldn’t get ahold of you last night or this morning…I had to come and see what the skinny was.” 

She nodded slowly, understanding. 

“Did he make you breakfast?” 

“He did.” 

“This guy is a tool.” Emma sighed, “They just don't make boys like Justin anymore.” 

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled, “I am so lucky.” 

“Uh, yeah you are.” Confirmed Emma, “It’s kind of hot you guys aren't doing it.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“Sex messes everything up. Wait it out.” 

She shrugged, “Well there’s always that pivotal point in a relationship when you realize that you need to be a lot closer to that person than just kissing and hugging can give you.” 

Emma sighed, “That’s true. That’s so true.” 

“I don't know, we’re going out again tonight.” 

“Aren't you sick of him yet?” 

She smiled, “Not even a little bit.” 

 

 

 

 

 

He picked out his clothes carefully. He usually wasn’t so scrupulous when it came to dressing himself, but tonight, he felt like he needed to put in a little bit more than minimum effort, and he didn’t know why. 

He settled on a pair of nice jeans and a pink and gray striped polo shirt he’d picked up in LA at a Hollister store. He put the polo and jeans with flip flops, a diamond encrusted watch and his usual diamond stud earrings, then stuffed his wallet in his back pocket along with his cell phone then headed out the door.  

He was anticipating being able to drive his car again; usually his entourage drove or when he was with Aubrey they took a chauffeured car, but now he could drive his very own vehicle. He was psyched about picking up his girlfriend in his BMW 7 Series – he was going to impress the hell out of her. 

He walked to the garage down the street where he parked his car and got in. He pulled out carefully, as space was tight, and headed towards Park Avenue.  

He arrived in a matter of minutes, getting out of the car and getting in the elevator after giving a friendly smile to the doorman.  

He went up to the top floor of the vintage building and knocked on the door. She answered and kissed him intimately on the cheek, grabbing his hand. 

“No entourage?” She mused. 

“Not tonight, no.” he said, “I got a get out of jail free card; I’m actually driving tonight.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yup,” he smiled, “Our chariot awaits.” 

“How exciting,” she laughed, “us going out with out your security detail.” 

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I have to admit I am pretty stoked.” 

She smiled as they got in the elevator. He looked at her; she was clad in dark jeans and a long heather gray knotted tank top, a short black shrug over it. She must have had heels on because she was almost as tall as him. She twirled her long David Yurman necklaces around her finger as the elevator descended to the lobby. 

He kissed her on the lips before they got out of the elevator, then they got into his car and she smiled. 

“Nice car,” she said, “My father has one of these in silver that he drives in the Hamptons.” 

He nodded slowly as he pulled out, “Seatbelts, please.” 

She laughed, “Are you reckless or something?” 

“I have a couple speeding tickets under my belt back in LA…nothing to be fearful of.” 

“Well this is New York, and we drive quite differently. Our streets are not the freeway.” 

He laughed, “No, of course not. I’ll be careful…carrying precious cargo, after all.” 

She smiled, “Thank you.” 

“I was talking about the car,” he laughed, “Just kidding.” 

She giggled and crossed her legs, “Uh huh. My last boyfriend had a thing about his car…he was a maniac about it.” 

He nodded, “It’s a guy thing…” 

“Where do you keep this thing?” 

“Oh, in the garage like two feet from my apartment,” he said, “even though it’s ridiculous to have a car in the city. Actually, though, driving makes me feel like I have more freedom. So I’m glad I drive.” 

She shrugged, “Maybe I could drive home?” 

He laughed, “But you're not on my insurance.” 

“I’ve never been in an accident.” 

“That’s because you don't drive anywhere, honey,” he replied gently, “I’ll think about it over dinner, how’s that?” 

“Just because I’m from Manhattan doesn’t mean I don't know how to drive.” She argued, “That’s like saying just because you're from LA means you drive like a maniac.” 

He laughed, “Well I kind of do.” 

“Just how many speeding tickets do you have?” 

“Currently or, like…a cumulative total?” 

“Currently.” 

“Six.” 

“That’s kind of excessive, isn't it?” 

He chuckled, “It is, but…those cops come out of nowhere. What are you gonna do?” 

“Uh, slow down,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “That’s people usually do when they suspect a cop is near them.” 

He smiled, “I’ve paid all of them, you know. It isn't like I have six outstanding speeding tickets with two notices each…I pay them on time.” 

“Okay,” she smiled, “I like that polo, pink looks nice on you.” 

He grinned and braked at a red light. “Thank you, honey. You look pretty tonight.” 

She laughed, “You are crazy.” 

He chuckled and pressed the gas when the light changed, “I like driving around in the city. It’s, like…I don't know, something kinda different.” 

“It beats walking.” 

“Or taking the subway,” he said, “not that I ever have.” 

“I haven't,” she said, “ever. And I don't ever plan on it.” 

“We’re snobs like that,” he said, “but why would you ever take public transportation when first of all…you have a car service, and second of all, you have a car. I haven't taken public transportation since I rode the school bus back in the day.” 

She smiled, “I’ve never ridden a school bus.” 

“You're not missing anything, trust me.” he said, “Now that I think about it, the last time I rode a school bus was in…let’s see…fifth grade. Jesus. I have to stop or I’ll get, like, really nostalgic.” 

“Fifth grade? That was like a century ago.” 

“I know.” He said, “Fifth grade was the same year where I stopped going to an actual school, too, because I had to move to Florida and on the show we had like a classroom but it wasn’t a real school. We barely learned anything and they didn’t give homework. We’re all uneducated fools.” 

She laughed, “I used to watch Mickey Mouse Club.” 

“Looking back on it, the show was pretty cheeseball, but it was worth while.” 

“It was good cheeseball, though.” She replied, “I thought it was entertaining.” 

He nodded slowly, “Those were the days.” 

She laughed warmly as they pulled up to the restaurant. The valet opened the door for Aubrey and she got out, walking around to the cement sidewalk. Justin handed the keys to the valet and they headed inside the restaurant.  

Justin gave his name to the hostess and Aubrey looked around. The restaurant’s bar was outfitted with crimson velvet sectional couches, dimly light by hanging lights. She looked towards the dining room and sighed. 

Chad. 

“Aubrey, hello?” 

She looked at Justin, “What?” 

He laughed, “You’re spacey tonight, huh?” 

She willed a smile, “My ex fiancée is here.” 

“Oh.” he said simply, “Okay.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“I know that girl he’s with,” he said, “Luella something or other.” 

“You do?” 

He nodded, “She hooked up with one of my friends in LA like…I don't know, a while ago. But she’s a little skanky.” 

“Yeah,” Aubrey agreed, “I went to high school with her.” 

He nodded slowly. The hostess guided them to a table in the corner in the back of the restaurant. Justin was glad they were seated in back; he wasn’t in the mood to be noticed. 

“Anyway,” Aubrey said, trying to end the conversation. 

He caught her drift and blinked as a waiter poured water. “Do you want sangria? I’m kind of in the mood for sangria.” 

She nodded, “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“We can still go up to Kennebunkport maybe this weekend if you want to,” he said thoughtfully, sipping his water. 

“I want to,” she said, “This weekend sounds good. Leave Thursday evening and come back Monday?” 

He nodded, “Yeah. I’m gonna try and record tomorrow and Thursday…hopefully get something out. My musical well is dry as hell.” 

She laughed, “Did you mean to make that rhyme? Because that is some serious talent.” 

The waiter approached their table and he ordered a pitcher of sangria. He laughed softly, “I didn’t mean to make that rhyme, actually. It kind of came out.” 

She smiled, “You're just so talented.” 

“Not lately,” he said, “I’ve barely written two songs…I haven't picked up my guitar in like four months and I haven't sat at a piano for longer. It’s sick. I can't keep going on like this.” 

“Maybe you just need the right inspiration.” 

He shrugged, “Maybe I’m just lacking motivation. When it comes to even thinking about work I get so ridiculously lethargic.” 

She giggled, “You just need to get back on track.” 

“Yeah, but as long as I keep doing this little procrastination thing…it wont happen.” He told her, “I’m lacking everything I usually need to pen something down. The words don't come, the melodies don't happen…it’s honestly so frustrating. I get pissy just thinking about it.” 

She laughed and tore a roll in half, buttering one side of it.  

“But anyway.” he said, “what are you going to order?” 

“I think I’m going to get the halibut,” she said, “I’m kind of in the mood for halibut.” 

He nodded, “Sounds like a promising choice.” 

She smiled; the way he spoke to her and the way he carried himself made her laugh sometimes, but not in a way that she might not take him seriously. “Are you going to cancel on me for Maine again?” 

He laughed, “No, I’m not, Aubrey. You're never going to let me live that down, are you?” 

“No, Of course not.” she smiled, “Of course not.” 

He sighed and sipped his glass of sangria. 

“I’m going to the ballet tomorrow night; do you want to come?” 

He laughed, “I do a lot of things but I sincerely don't do the ballet, baby.” 

She frowned, “Why not? Not even for me?” 

He laughed, “Not even for you. Not for any one, baby. I’ll be working anyway, or…attempting to work. You go.” 

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, continuing to frown, “Fine, I will. But you owe me.” 

“I owe you? For what?” He said, “It ain't my fault I don't do ballet.” 

She sighed, “Yes, it is. The American Ballet is beautiful.” 

“But it isn't me,” he said, “That isn't even my crowd.” 

“When I go out with you it isn't my crowd,” she protested, “the only crowd we have in common is, like…Emma.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Are you mad, now? Because I wont go to the ballet with you?” 

“I’m not mad,” she corrected, “it’s more of a disappointment thing.” 

“Well we hung out last night, and now we’re having dinner…and we can hang out after this, and you can come have lunch with me tomorrow if you're not busy…one night apart isn't going to kill us.” 

“You're right,” she said, “I just love the ballet and I wanted to share that with you.” 

He smiled, “That’s really nice.” 

“That’s all you have to say, is that it’s really nice?” 

“It is, though.” He laughed, “I think it’s really endearing that you want to show me the things that you love. I think that’s cool.” 

“No, you don’t, or else you’d go with me to the ballet.” 

He sighed, “That’s unfair.” 

“It isn’t.” 

“Next time.” 

“Okay, there’s a performance next…Thursday, I think, with the gala after it.” she said, “I’ll hold you to it.” 

“I may have to go to LA to do looping.” 

She stared at him, “What?” 

He laughed, “Just kidding. It was a joke. A joke, baby.” 

She rolled her eyes, “Next Thursday, you are going with me to the ballet. And if you're lucky maybe I’ll go to some concert or something with you.” 

“Okay.” He said, “I see how this is going…give a little, take a little. Okay. Rilo Kiley is coming to the Knitting Factory in two weeks. You're coming with me.” 

“Who?” 

“Rilo Kiley, honey.” He said, “You are so cultured in everything but music.” 

“I’m just not that into it.” 

“Just like I’m not that into the ballet?” 

She sighed, defeated, “Okay, argument settled. You’ll go with me to the ABC Gala, I’ll go see your Kiley Rilo band with you.” 

He laughed, “It’s Rilo Kiley, and yes, I do believe this argument is very settled.” 

The First Time