I woke up extra early this morning, just to be sure that I wouldn’t have to talk to Kerri I before left the house. I know that’s probably bad, but I have to pull some major strings for her today, and the last thing I wanted to remember about her when I left was how much of a mess she is. I needed a clear head, a memory of the Kerri I used to know, and a coffee or two to make me look sane enough to deal with the people at KISS FM. Yeah, I know Kerri doesn’t really want to work there. There’s more paparazzi and chances of running into Justin there than anywhere else in the downtown area. But at the same time it’s also the most popular radio station in Los Angeles, and I know that if Kerri gets the position and sticks with it for awhile, she’ll be able to do whatever she wants to do in a year or two. That’s a good thing. No hard feelings on her or anything, I mean…I love her to death, but I can’t have her living with me forever. She needs to find her independence, and me well…I need to get over what I can’t have and find a life of my own again.

I’ve known Tarin Somerville for about as long as NSYNC has been around. She used to do a lot of radio promo in Los Angeles when she was in college, and our paths usually crossed more than once when the group would come into town to do a show. She’s a nice girl, originally from New York, but moved out here when she went to college at UCLA. Yeah, I know I sound like I could right a book about her, and I admit, we even dated for a little while. It probably could have turned into a long term thing too, if my schedule hadn’t been so crazy back then. We tried. I mean I’d write and call and she’d do the same, but its hard when you’re halfway across the world for your girlfriends entire summer break. Our breakup wasn’t anything big. Actually, we laughed about it. It was just one of those things where we knew trying to make a long distance thing work was insane, because we were so young. We’ve remained friends all this time though, and I’m glad. Although I never see her as much as I’d like to, I still like to think of her as a person I can rely on…

Or call on for a favor.

When I called her out of the blue last night, she seemed a little surprised, but happy at the same time. She started asking me a million questions that usually make me really nervous and uncomfortable. But I wasn’t really that nervous with Tarin. She has a calm way of asking about things, especially when the subject is as delicate as the ‘incident’. I guess it’s why I opened up to her a little. I told her what I’d been up to, and that Justin and I don’t really talk as much anymore. She was really understanding, and she didn’t try to get into what was up with me and Justin. The only thing she wanted to know, was how she could help and… if she could take me to dinner. The thought of seeing her again made me smile, but I wasn’t so sure if going to dinner with her was the best idea. Even though Kerri has insisted that she‘s fine being by herself at night, I still feel weird about going out and leaving her alone. I know I’d have to. Kerri really doesn’t like going out after dark, and I can understand that. I wouldn’t try to pressure her into going out, because I know she’d end up feeling bad and giving in. And I know how uncomfortable she is with meeting new people.

So, I told Tarin that I’d have to think about dinner but that I’d love to drop by the studio and catch up a little bit. She jumped at that, and I admit…it made me feel good. Lately, it hasn’t’ seemed like anybody has been all that happy to hear from me or see me, and I’ve been pretty lonely without Elisha. I’ve resorted to calling my mom and my sister for sanity. They understand of course, but their solution to all of my problems is to dump Kerri and get myself back on track on my own. And I’d never do that to her so, confiding in my family has basically turned into a lost cause. I’m hoping that Tarin might be able to put my mind at ease a little bit, take me back to a time when I wasn’t so on edge. Relaxing is key…that’s what my therapist tells me anyway.

But then again, I hardly listen to her.

I get off the elevator and spot her right away, sitting at a desk and typing some stuff into the computer that sits in front of her. I smile a little as I watch her. So serious, yet I know in a moments notice she can turn into crazy zany Tarin that used to get drunk with me and Justin after the show. It’s funny but she never met Kerri once. Every time we hung out, it had been Kerri’s school time, or she simply hadn’t been able to come out that specific week. It’s a shame, because I know they would have gotten along. But hopefully Tarin will be able to help her out with this job, and then maybe Tarin and Kerri can become friends. It’s what I’m hoping. Having Tarin come by will be a hell of alot better than Elisha.

I can’t deal with Elisha as much as I’m forced to.

“Trace Ayala.” Tarin smirks when she spots me standing before her, and rises from her chair.

“I know. I’m a site for sore eyes.” I laugh and cross the room so I can pull her into a long hug. She smells familiar. Like the past. I savor it for a few precious seconds, before she can think I’m a pervert.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She nudges me playfully. “How are you, dude? I’m still kind of mad its taken you this long to drop by and pay me a visit Jo Jo’s been complaining too, mostly about Justin not visiting. But you know how it is, you two are a package deal to him.“

Jo Jo is okay. When I say okay, I don’t mean that he’s cool, that I’d chill with him on a Friday night, or that I’d be okay with him hanging out with Kerri at a club someplace. He’s okay in the aspect that he won’t dote on your personal life all that much, unless there’s something in it for him--like ratings. Don’t get me wrong, out of all the DJ‘s Justin has to deal with, his favorite one by far, is Jo Jo. He’s probably the only DJ who can joke around with him without making it too obvious that he’s trying to kiss his ass, and although he has to ask the questions that Justin hates to answer, he tries to do it discreetly and quickly, without pissing him off too much. All of those things combined with the fact that he’s always been nice to me, make him okay in my book. He’s probably one of the only people I’d trust around Kerri in a work environment, and that’s saying something because well…I’m kind of a mess when it comes to Kerri and I don’t like the thought of her being around people she doesn’t know for too long. This way at least I know she’ll be getting some respect…

That is, if I can get her in here.

“I guess I’m okay,” I lie, forcing a smile for Tarin as she pours me a cup of coffee. I take a sip, and flinch a little. It’s old, probably made this morning, but I guess in this line of work you don’t really notice things like that as much. Tarin is a work-a-holic, so I’m not surprised. She’d probably drink this shit ice cold if it meant she was going to receive an extra burst of energy to get her though the next five hours. “I know I should have come by sooner but things haven’t…” I have to pause for a moment. “Things have just been a little hectic.”

An awkward silence fills the room, and Tarin takes a seat at her desk again. After a moment or two of staring at her computer screen, she motions me to pull up a chair and I do, just because I think it will lighten the mood.

“I don’t blame you,” she says softly. “I guess I just wish I knew more about what happened. You know me, I hate to look at tabloids and watch the news. No story is ever straightforward, you and I both know that. When I heard what happened, I just…I couldn’t believe it really. I wanted to call you, I almost did but then…I didn’t know if I had a place calling.” She shrugs a little bit. “I was worried though. I can’t even imagine how you must have felt.”

I really didn’t come here to talk about this, and it’s making me really uncomfortable. If I was here for any other reason besides Kerri, I’d probably be half way to the door right now, making up some lame excuse that I had to meet somebody. But I know I can’t leave. I need to go to bat for my friend, because I know it’s the only chance she’s got. I wish I knew the right words to say, to make Tarin drop the subject, but how can I do that? It’s been awhile since I’ve talked to her, but Tarin and I have always had the understanding that we’ll remain close regardless of how often we see each other. But I guess if we’re so close, she should understand how uncomfortable talking about this makes me. It’s only fair to her. “I um…” I look down at the sticky note pasted to her desk, something about a meeting on Tuesday at four, before I make myself look at her again. “I have a hard time talking about this.”

“Oh.”

I guess she wasn’t expecting that from me. Hell, maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought…maybe she’s incapable of accepting the fact that I can’t just talk about this with her. After all, I’ve never kept anything from her before. But at the same time I’ve never had a reason to before. “Tarin, I…I’m sorry. It’s just something that I‘m dealing with right now, and I don’t really like talking about it. It‘s nothing personal against you or anything….”

“No, no…” She shakes her head a lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry. I am. I just…I guess I thought for whatever reason, that it would be okay to talk about it with you. I don’t know what I’m thinking about, Trace. It’s not like it was before. I know you’ve changed.”

I’m taken back a little. “I wouldn’t say I’ve changed, Tarin. It’s just not something I like talking about.” I don’t get her. She seems to be taking this pretty hard, considering she knows what an intense situation it is. I’m actually kind of surprised she’s pushing the subject. That’s not the Tarin I spoke to on the phone a few days ago, and it’s certainly not the Tarin I’ve always known. I’m confused, and to be honest…she’s making me pretty nervous right now. I should probably just walk out. I mean, I know other people. There’s other jobs out there for Kerri, this was just the best one I could think of. “Maybe I should go.”

Instead of begging me to stay like I figured she would, she just stares up at me, a look of confusion…maybe even a little anger, spread across her face. “We haven‘t spoken in almost a year. Granted…I‘m used to that, but I guess I just thought since your best friend had a near death experience that you would have at least given me a call to let me know you hadn’t jumped off a cliff or something. Then you call me up out of the blue like everything is fine and well. You told me on the phone that you had been doing okay, that you were past a lot of what happened. That to me meant that you didn’t mind talking about it. Now you’re telling me that you’re uncomfortable. So if you didn’t come here to talk or vent to me, why did you come, Trace? Why’d you call? I mean, you gotta help me out because I‘m just a little confused.”

I suck in a breath. I guess I’m getting what I deserve right now. She was probably hoping that I’d called her because I needed somebody to confide in, only now she knows that she was wrong. I think that’s making her angry, and I can’t say I blame her much. It’s a shitty thing I’m doing, now that I think of it. I’m really just using her for a favor. But when it comes to Kerri, I guess I don’t care who I have to hurt as long as she’s okay. “I just…I need a favor Tarin. I know it’s shitty to ask and I guess I should have thought about how you would feel before I decided to spring myself on you like this. But I was upset, and things are getting really rough. I just didn’t think.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “A favor? Why am I getting nauseated, Trace?,” she groans. “You know, I’m really starting to regret getting excited about seeing you…”

I sit up a little bit. “Just hear me out,” I interrupt. “We’ve been friends a long time, Tar. I know this is really awkward and shit but…I’d hear you out if things were the other way around.”

She seems to consider what I’ve said carefully for a few minutes. I don’t think she’s as angry with me anymore, but I know she’s still confused. I start to wonder if I’ve just made things worse for Kerri than they already were. Maybe I should have just let her continue to look for work on her own, instead of sticking my neck out for her. I was just so worried about her though, and she was so upset the other day…I didn’t think there was another alternative. I think I’ve sort of been blinded by my feelings for her. I mean damn, I just slapped Tarin in the face by contacting her for a selfish favor like this. Who knows how she’ll view me in the future, and if she does decide to get Kerri in here…how will she treat her? What will she tell her co-workers about her? Fuck, this was a mistake…

“Okay,” she breathes out. “Okay, I get it. What’s the matter? Are you looking for work? I heard that you‘re not working for Justin anymore. I’m sure I can get you in here, I‘ll just talk to David.”

I have no idea how she found that out, but I really don’t care. I’m sure Lynn has been spreading the word around that Justin is in need of a new assistant, because the last time I spoke with her all she could tell me was how desperate she was to find him a new one. I knew her speech was one big guilt trip to try and get me to give in and come back to grovel at Justin’s feet again. I wasn’t fucking having it though, and I made that pretty damn clear to her, probably in a harsher way than I should have. My mom chewed my ass out for it, but I expected that. She doesn’t understand why I would be upset with Justin now. She told me I should understand why he‘s being ‘uncooperative‘. I told her I tried to understand, and I‘m better off not even talking to him for the time being. Of course she still didn‘t understand, but she became a lot less annoyed with me when I promised to apologize to Lynn the next time I spoke with her.

Lately, it seems that everybody thinks I’m the bad guy for turning my back on Justin. Hell, Marty and those guys don’t even call me anymore. They think it’s wrong that I’m not around to support him like I should be, and they all think Kerri’s an ungrateful slut that shouldn’t have come back into Justin’s life in the first place. They don’t want to understand that Justin and I are going through something right now. Something I don’t know if we can get over without spending a long time apart. I know it’s probably killing Justin that I want nothing to do with him, but I really don’t give a shit. He hurt me, he nearly destroyed Kerri, and I have no place in my life for anymore of his bullshit right now. I had to separate myself from him in every way, and while other people don’t agree with my decision, I know it’s the right one for me at this point.

“I’m good,” I reassure her with a tight smile. “I’m not working for him at the moment, but I have things lined up. I actually…I’m going to bat for a friend today. I know it’s a long shot…,” I pause and force myself to look at her. Her blank expression is less than inviting, but that’s Tarin. She’s not one for the runaround, and really…I should know better by now. “My friend Kerri needs a job,” I continue, quietly. “And she’s been trying to get in at different radio stations but…I don’t know, they don’t get her. They don’t want to get to know her.” Of course I fail to mention exactly who she is, and her little (and I shudder as I think this) disability.

But Tarin isn’t as stupid as most of the people in Los Angeles. “You’re kidding me right?”

I blink.

“Oh of course Trace. I’d just love to have your drama fest traipsing around the office all day, fucking up everybody’s concentration--”

“She’s not like that,” I defend. “You‘ve never even fucking met the girl.”

She’s really pissing me off right now. She’s not what I expected. She’s judging Kerri just like everybody else does. Fuck this shit about Tarin not reading the tabloids, because she’s just proved to me that she does. I know the crap they’ve printed about Kerri in some of the papers, and I’ve seen the stupid pictures they’ve taken of her. They describe her as some kind of money leeching groupie, when that’s not the case. “You know, it’s okay,” I tell her with a sad laugh. “I should have known it was a mistake asking you. I guess I just didn’t think you’d be the type to judge her before you met her.”

“Damn it.” She sighs and runs her hands through her short brown hair. “Trace, don’t pull this bullshit with me. Don’t make me out to be the bad person. I’ve been working here since I was just out of high school. I have a reputation to uphold, and I just might…if I’m lucky, get the co-anchor spot on the morning show this fall. You’re expecting me to jeopardize all of that for this girl who’s been through…I mean, I don’t even know? It scares me, and I know it would make a lot of other people uncomfortable too. You can’t blame me for feeling like this can you?”

I understand that all of this is weird for her. But at the same time, it’s not Kerri’s fault that she was kidnapped, and it’s not her fault that Justin was a dick to her. She deserves a chance, just like the next person. Hell, she spent four years in college to earn her place in the radio community. How is she supposed to expand her career if she can’t even get her foot in the door?

“I know it’s weird for you, but there’s no reason for you to be scared of Kerri. She’s a really great girl, if you get to know her. And she went to NYU to be in the radio industry, she majored in communications. It’s not like I’m asking you to take an unknown girl off the street because she‘s my friend. She knows her stuff, Tarin and she’s passionate about it. She wants to do the work.” I sit back and sigh, knowing that I’ve basically said all I can say to promote Kerri like I wanted to. It’s up to Tarin to decide if she can trust me or not. And I’m trying to tell her mood by studying the expression on her face, but again…it’s just blank. She might be debating about what I’ve just said, but then again she might just be thinking about the quickest way to get me the hell away from her. One things for sure though, no matter what her decision, I know she’ll never view me the same way again.

She sighs deeply, and after a moment she starts to speak again. “We do need an extra intern around here,” she admits. “But the pay isn’t good at all, and she’ll be really lucky if she gets offered a job for the fall. I can talk to David about it, and I’m sure he’ll give me the go ahead to take her on as long as I say it’s a favor for you. But I’m warning you Trace…” she points her finger at me accusingly. “If she’s not on the level she should be in a week, she’s gone. That’s a promise. I can‘t show her any sympathy or…”

“Thanks.” I cut her short because I already know what she’s going to say. “It means more to me than you know, Tar. Seriously.”

A small, almost nonexistent smile makes its way onto her face. “It’s only because its you, Trace. I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody else.”

While its kind of weird to hear her say that, I don’t let it get to me too much. It’s probably the first comforting thing one of my friends has said to me in months, and I’m silently thankful for that little bit of gratitude. I get up and give her a quick kiss on the cheek, promising to call her tomorrow to find out about the situation. She says she’d really like to have dinner later in the week, but of course I just tell her that I’ll have to see. After all, I have no idea what the coming days are going to bring. The only thing I can focus my mind on, is hoping that Kerri gets this job so she can start to be a little bit happier. Because then maybe I can be a little bit happier. And then maybe if I’m happier, I can go to dinner with Tarin and not feel guilty about it.

“Trace.”

I hear her call my name when I’m nearly out the door, and I pause to look back at her. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if I was shitty to you.”

“I was pretty shitty to you too,” I admit.

She shrugs. “We‘re cool right?,” she whispers.

“Yeah.” I smile a little. “Of course.”

It feels good to have a friend.

****************

It’s been eight days and I’m still here. That must either mean a) I’m crazy, or b) Justin hasn’t done anything so terrible that I’ve been forced to throw in the towel just yet. I mean, in general he keeps out of my way. Well, really, he keeps out of everybody’s way most of the time. He’s had two visitors since his mother left…some guy named Marty and another guy named Alex. He wouldn’t see either of them. When I told him there was somebody at the door for him, he shouted at me to leave him the hell alone through his closed door. The Marty guy seemed to understand, but Alex got really bent out of shape when I told him he couldn’t come in. He called Justin an asshole and a bunch of other things that I’d rather not think about right now. Anybody else probably would have marched upstairs and given Justin a lecture about why he should talk to the people that come to see him. But I knew why he was avoiding them. I knew all too well, because I used to be just like him. I’d hole myself up in my room for hours, hiding what happened to me from the world, from the people who cared about me the most. I was depressed. I didn’t eat, I barely slept. I hated myself, and I didn’t want to show anybody what I’d turned into. I didn’t want them to see how weak I’d become, because they wouldn’t have understood. I was always little miss outgoing. I always had to be the best. And if they saw that I’d sank that low, I didn’t think they’d want anything to do with me anymore. It was easier just to push them all away. At least then I knew why they didn’t come around, at least then I didn’t have to lay in bed knowing that they all thought I was a failure who had let something so terrible happen. “Stupid girl” I used to hear them all say “You could have put a stop to all of that. Why didn’t you?“ So I made it my purpose in life to not speak to anybody, except my mother if I absolutely had to. It was really hard for me, as I hated being on my own. But I knew it was the right choice then. I couldn’t be wrong, I’d tell myself. It was for my own good, I’d tell myself.

Although I would realize much later on, that handling my problems on my own was the biggest mistake I could have made.

Since The Alex Episode, as I have so fondly titled it in honor of it being the first big screaming match I’ve had with somebody in Los Angeles, nobody else has tried to come visit Justin or even call him. I’m assuming that the rest of his entourage has gotten the message he doesn’t want to be bothered. That’s okay by me of course. I’m a lot more comfortable dealing with Justin and Justin only. Other people tend to make me nervous, because I have a hard time trusting anybody. Of course, I have a hard time being alone in the house with Justin too, but I suck it up because I know I have to. I don’t want to disappoint Lynn. She’s too nice of a person and she works too hard for Justin’s well being to be screwed over by a little nobody like myself. She’s gone to Orlando this week to handle some things on Justin’s behalf, and I’m not expecting her to come back out here for at least two weeks after that. I know she has a lot to do as far as Justin’s career goes. Since he isn’t exactly working at the moment, she’s been having to go to a lot of meetings and lunches to explain exactly why that is. I feel really bad for her. It doesn’t seem like the poor woman can ever get a break, so I’m kind of glad that Justin has basically been behaving himself for me so I didn’t have to quit on Lynn. This way, at least she can rest assure that Justin won’t throw himself down a flight of stairs to rid the world of himself while she‘s away. And I really hope that she takes some time for herself before she comes back out here to visit again too. Lord knows, she deserves it. I’ve never seen anyone look so tired before I met Lynn Harless, aside from myself and well…Justin of course.

I spent the first three days of last week cleaning Justin’s house. It was dirtier than I would have expected. The laundry room was probably the worst. The hamper looked like it had overflowed long ago, and the clothes had started to form another large mountain on the floor in front of it. I’m guessing he either has an insane supply of underwear, or…he’s just been wearing the same ones over and over again. The thought of that completely grosses me out though, so I’m trying to make myself believe he has a ton piled up in his drawers inside that bedroom of his. It took me a day and a half of non stop laundry loads to get through all the clothes, and I swear the next time he ‘graces’ himself before me I’m going to teach him a thing or two about laundry rules. Otherwise when he really does run out of clothes all together, I’m not going to be the one to take care of it for him.

Aside from the laundry, I swept, mopped, scrubbed, and dusted every single nook and cranny of the house as well. I couldn’t believe how he’d let such a beautiful house to go such shit. There were people living on the street and in homeless shelters that could have done a better job of keeping the place presentable. It really started to make me think that Justin Timberlake was as much of a spoiled brat as he was a mental case. I started to despise him as I was dusting the large ceiling fan that towered above his living room. Here was a guy who had everything, and he couldn’t even appreciate it. Why even have a big house? I’d wondered. Why not just go and live with his mother? There were a lot of questions I came up with in those three days actually. Most of which I’m sure I’ll never have an answer to. I wouldn’t’ dare ask Justin, as I know he’d just scream at me or slam a door in my face. And…I don’t need him to give me a reason to leave.

As shocking as it was to me, I discovered that Justin actually does eat the food I cook for him. After experiencing his less than welcoming attitude, I figured that he would think any food I cooked would be full of poison or something. The second night, after I’d made something for myself to eat, I realized that Justin hadn’t come out from his ‘lair’ the entire day. I knew, because I’d spent the entire day in the house cleaning without so much as a ‘get the hell out’ from him. I felt a little guilty, thinking that he might have made the effort to eat something if I’d left for a bit. So, I decided that I could make him a little something and leave it by his door, knowing that even if he didn’t eat it I could put it in the fridge for him and he’d heat it up himself later on after I’d gone. I made my way up to the second floor silently. I didn’t want him to hear me because I wasn’t exactly sure what he would do if he felt I was ‘snooping around’ near his room. I put the tray of food at the base of his closed door, and didn’t bother to knock. I wasn’t about to be yelled at. But I confess…I did strain my ears to try and hear if he was alive inside that room. I thought I could hear the TV blaring softly, but that was it. Whatever he did in that room all day was a mystery to me, and it still is. I guess he must sleep. I know that’s what I used to do.

I shouldn’t be concerned.

The next morning I walked into the house to find the tray I’d left by Justin’s door positioned on the kitchen counter, it’s plates litterally scraped clean of the food I’d prepared for him. That made me smile a little bit, but it quickly faded away when I realized how unappreciated my efforts were to him. I wondered, ‘why did I bother?’, then I remembered it was my job and went about my day as if nothing significant had taken place. The rest of the week came and went without incident. I’d clean, I’d cook, he’d eat it, and I’d barely get the time of day from him(if he even came out of his room).

Today, I’ve decided, is a good day to go to the grocery store. Lynn called me last night and asked me if I had been shopping since she left. I told her that I hadn’t, but it was only because there had been enough food in the house to get by. She seemed to understand, but the tone of slight dissapointment in her voice hadn’t gone unnoticed by me. I guess I understood. Justin was her son, and at this point in his life she seemed to view him as an irresponsible child who wouldn’t feed himself or keep up on his hygiene unless he was reminded by somebody. It made me wonder how often Lynn talked to Justin on the phone. I had no idea of course, because he had a private phone line in his bedroom. But I figured she must have been keeping some kind of tabs on him. I would usually hear the shower running once or twice a day, and he was eating. Surely, somebody must have been inspiring him to act a little less like a caveman.

I repeatedly reassured Lynn that I would get to the grocery store as soon as humanly possible, so that we wouldn’t die of starvation or whatever it was she thought was going to happen. It aggravated me a little bit, because while the food wasn’t overflowing out of Justin’s pantry and refridgerator, there was still enough to make sensible meals for a few more days. I guess I’m just not used to having everything at my disposal. I was never brought up to believe that a half empty refridgerator was unacceptable. Money was something that was valued, not plentiful. It’s no wonder that Justin is as immature and selfish as he is. He has everything, he always has, and right now he’s not getting his way. It should be enough to make me walk away from this situation all together. But damn it…I just can’t.

I’ve made a list of everything I think we could use in the house, and then some, on top of the things Lynn had rattled off to me over the phone. In all, I have about three notebook pages worth of shit I have to pick up, and I know I’m going to be in for a fun filled afternoon at the supermarket. With a sigh, I open the cabinet in front of me just to be sure that I haven’t missed anything. Cumin, paprika, oregano…hmm, what about sauces or…

“You’re going to the store today.”

It’s not a question, it’s more like a command. But the voice is so gruff and scratchy that I jump a mile in the air before realizing that it’s only Justin who’s decided to scare the hell out of me. “What?,” I question like moron. “The store…”

His brow furrows and he narrows his eyes at me like I’m the stupidest person he’s ever met in his life. “Yeah the store. You know, that place where they sell different things you can buy? You have been to one before, right?”

I give him the once over. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a baggy white tee shirt, the same clothes I saw him in when I was first introduced to him. His hair is a mess of scraggly curls that are pleading for a trim, and his facial hair is stubbly and unkempt. His eyes are sunken in and bloodshot, as if he hasn’t had a good nights sleep in years. Actually, I hate to say it, but right now he looks like a miserable old man. His mere presence is making me uncomfortable, and I almost wish he’d blurt out whatever it is he wants as fast as he possibly can so he can go back to his lair, where he can’t bother anybody with his miserable, impossible attitude anymore.

“What are you looking at?”

I glare at him. “What do you need from me, Justin? I really hope you didn’t come downstairs to simply badger me about not knowing about the store or something. Because I’m sorry, that’s pretty lame.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he looks at me like I have three heads. It’s a look of half shock, half anger. He looks like he wants to strangle me and hug me at the same time. I think it’s been a long time since anybody has used the kind of tone I just used with him, and I know a part of him has just come alive because of this. He probably feels somewhat challenged. He must be thinking ‘by God, she’s not babying me’. Well, I guess I’m just a god damned miracle worker then, and hell…I barely had to lift a finger.

He doesn’t break his gaze from mine as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “These are things I need, that my mom probably didn’t think to tell you about. I know she called you, she told me she did. By the way, you should make sure you get to the store at least once a week, otherwise she’s going to get upset.”

I snatch the paper from him in disgust. “There’s entirely too much food in the house already,” I protest. “I don’t need to go to the store every single week Justin. That’s a waste of my time. You know that, as well as I do.”

“Just get to the store,” he snaps. “I don’t want to hear it.”

I focus on the paper he handed me and start to unfold it, as he plods away from me. What a fucking asshole. If I could…if I knew that I wouldn’t get criminal charges processed against me, I really would have slapped him across the face. That’s what he needs. A good old fashioned ass kicking to knock him back into reality. But of course, he’s Justin Timberlake, and the idea of anybody laying a finger on him, especially given his current situation, is unheard of . I mean damn, they’d probably give me the chair. With a sigh, I finally decide to forget about what just happened, and concentrate on the extra stuff I have to buy. But with once glance at the paper, I’m positive it’s not going to be an easy task. Justin’s handwriting is less than satisfactory, and I’m sorry to say that the word coffee is barely legible. It’s not going to work. I need a clear explanation of what he wants and I’m already annoyed as it is. To make matters worse, he’s gone upstairs now so that means I’m going to have to go up to his damn room.

The lair.

It makes me shudder.

If it were any other day I’d probably just let this roll off my shoulders. I’d just say ‘screw his list, I’ll get it out of him another day’. But I have to go to the store today. I guess I have to pick up Justin’s prescriptions or something, that’s what Lynn said, and I think its part of the reason why she was disappointed I hadn’t gone to the store yet this week. I didn’t mention that part to Justin just now because I feel weird talking about his meds and stuff with him. I don’t know how he feels about his anti depressants and stimulants, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to have him scream at me for bringing the subject up.

So, knowing that I have to do as I’ve been told, I creep up to the second floor of Justin’s home. When I stop in front of his door, I can hear the familiar sound of his tv blaring softly, but nothing else. I knock twice. I wait. No answer. I try to listen harder, thinking that maybe he’s gone into his bathroom. But when I don’t hear a toilet flush, or water running, I get impatient. I knock again. “Justin, come to the door please. I need to ask you something.”

Still nothing.

This is ridiculous. “Fine. Forget it, you fag! I’ll just skip your stuff then---”

I guess getting angry did the trick, because the door has just been swung wide open. An infuriated Justin Timberlake is standing in the open space now. His eyes are filled with rage, and I’m assuming this was the wrong time to bother him. I don’t really care though. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it come hell or high water. “Hi,” I plaster a sickeningly fake smile on my face. “I have a question about---”

“What. Do. You. Want.”

I hate myself for it, but I have to take a step backward. In all honesty, he’s scaring the shit out of me right now. He looks like he could kill somebody, and of course me being the little wimp that I am, can’t take it. I keep having this vision replay itself in my mind of him jumping on me and attacking me, punching me and kicking me until I’ve succumbed to my injurys. It causes me to tremble slightly, but I force myself to suck it up. I can’t let him intimidate me, because if I do, he’ll have me right where he wants me. And I’ve made promises me myself. I refuse to be controlled by another male as long as I live. I suck in a deep breath and thrust his list in his face. “I can’t read your damn writing.”

“Did you call me a fag before?”

I flash him a smug smile. “I don’t know. Did I?”

“Stupid bitch, I should fire you right now,” he says, in disgust. “You have no right to say anything like that to me.”

Now I’m pissed. “You know what? I did call you that. You know why Justin? Because you fucking pissed me off. You come dowstairs, scare the shit out of me, practically bark an order for me to get to the store, and then you give me a shopping list that looks like it was written by a three year old. I’m not sorry about it. You deserve it. You‘re acting like a fag, so that’s what I‘m going to call you.”

He still doesn’t answer me, but he seems to lose his dignity very rapidly. Now instead of looking like he wants to kill me, he looks like hes about to bawl like a baby. His eyes are really glassy now, and his bottom lip is quivering every so slightly. I guess I must have struck some kind of chord with him. I really don’t care though. He needs to learn that if I’m going to work here, he’s going to have to treat me with some sort of dignity. I may get scared sometimes, but I’m not an idiot, and I can handle myself just fine. Big bad Justin isn’t about to tear me apart.

“Fuck you,” he says finally, slightly above a whisper.

“Rewrite the list.” I mutter. “Or you can forget about your extras.”

He balls his hands into tight fists, and his jaw line tightens considerably. Yeah, he might punch the wall…or me. But if he punches me, he’s going to be sorry.

“Well,” I say, tiredly. “Are you going to rewrite it, or---”

He slams the door in my face before I can finish what I’m saying. I gasp a little, but I don’t know why. I should have been expecting that. I get angry. Angry because I’ve never met anybody as difficult or as angry as Justin. I throw the piece of paper at his door. “Fine! Fine just stay in there then! Nobody cares if you lock yourself away, Justin. Nobody cares that all you do is worry about yourself! God, you’re not the only one with problems!” I finally stop yelling and I realize that I’ve become short of breath. I’m…infuriated. I feel my face, and it’s hot as fire. What the hell? Why am I so worked up? This is my job. Surely, I’m not the first person in the world that’s worked for an asshole? No…he’s not going to affect me like this. I won’t allow it.

After taking a few deep breaths I turn to make my way down the stairs again. Just before I reach the stairway though, I hear a loud, angry yell and a crash come from Justin’s room. I have to stop. For a moment I’m concerned, but then I convince myself that it’s his issue and not mine. What if he’s hurt? I groan at the thought. No, no he has to start holding his temper on his own, without somebody babying him. It’s the only way he’s goin to learn. Right. I’m going to the supermarket for the day. Justin is a big boy, and he needs to fend for himself. I nod in agreement with myself, and continue to hold my head high as I make my way down the stairs. I can hear him yelling and throwing things still, but I pretend to be oblivious to it.

It’s just not my problem if Justin has an anger management issue. That’s not why I was brought here. I was brought here to be a food preparing, pill giving semi nurse, who cleans the house out of the goodness of her heart. I smile with confidence as I grab my shopping list, purse and car keys. Oh! maybe I’ll get some really good drive through on the way home.

More points for me.

*****************

She’s a bitch is what she is.

A fucking selfish bitch who doesn’t’ care about anybody but herself. She doesn’t care about somebody else’s feelings. She doesn’t care that maybe…that maybe I am a fag. That maybe I’m trying as hard as I can not to let it show. How the fuck is she going to come up here and just…just point it out? I mean, I didn’t give off any signs that I really was a fag did I? I barely talked to the girl for Christ’s sake. Fuck, how in the hell did she see it? How?

Shane. Shane told her.

I rock myself back and forth on my bed, and clutch the down feather pillow tighter to my chest. It’s so hot in here right now, like a sauna. I have the air conditioner going full blast, and the ceiling fan going too, but it’s not helping. She thinks I’m a fag. No…no, she knows. She knows exactly who I am. Shane got to her somehow. Just like he got to the rest of them. I don’t know how he does it. How does he do it?

“I’m not doing anything,” he tells me, taking a seat beside me on the bed. “It’s blatently obvious, baby. You just, you just have this aura about you. You know, it’s just so easy for people to tell that you like to get it in the ass.” He starts to laugh, that mad, insanely creepy laugh. He won’t stop.

“That’s not true,” I whisper, feeling the hot tears travel down my face. “It’s not.”

But he doesn’t answer. He’s not there anymore. I’m alone again. Alone with my fears, and the truth about everything I’ve done. I can’t change it. I just have to accept it. And that makes me so angry that I just want to go downstairs and slam that girls head into the wall. But I wont…no…I can’t do that. I can’t hurt somebody else because of what he turned me into. I take a deep breath and look around what used to be my nice serene bedroom. It’s trashed. I don’t even know what happened to me before, but I completely lost it. After she said that to me..that I was a fag, I just started throwing shit everywhere. Anything I could pick up and throw, got thrown. The tv, dvd player, vcr, alarm clock, bedding, chairs…anything. Now it looks like I’m living in a pile of garbage. God forbid my mother sees this. She’ll have a fucking coronary.

I should just kill myself.

I eye the bottle of pills on my dresser. I took two before, after I’d tired myself out from throwing things around. It helped a lot. I went to sleep. And I know that if I took the whole bottle I wouldn’t have woken up, and all of my problems would have magically melted away. I’d be gone and I wouldn’t need to worry anymore. But I guess…I guess I know what that would do to my mom. I can’t try to kill myself knowing that she would be so incredibly hurt by it. It’s the only reason I’m still here. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I just need to give in and go back home with her. After all, she’s the only one who cares. It’ll be hard of course.. I’ll be looking over my shoulder every five minutes thinking one of them has come back from the grave to seek their revenge on me. But I mean, I’m sure all of that will pass eventually.

But anyway, that’s not even the whole reason I’m afraid of going back there.

I know Kerri is in LA right now. She’s off living with Trace somewhere in the hills. I have no desire to know where, and that’s good, because any confrontation with Trace or Kerri right now, would lead to distaster. But if I moved back to Tennessee I know it would only be a matter of time before Kerri would come home to visit with her family. I--I can’t tolerate seeing her ever again. I just can’t. It’s too painful…to see what I did to her. I don’t think I could live with myself. It’s because I’m weak, a failure, a loser. A fag. Maybe I’m avoiding my problems, but then again, that’s what I’ve been trying to do from the very beginning. Sure I got help, but only because I was caught in the act.

Sometimes I think about what would have happened if Trace hadn’t discovered me on the beach that night. If my cutting had been kept a secret, would I even be here right now? Or would I have cut myself so badly that I bled to death in a hotel room someplace? I don’t have those answers, but I do know that if I had died, Kerri wouldn’t have been hurt like she was. And Trace…he’d actually have a little more respect for me. I guess it doesn’t matter though. Things are what they are, and I can’t change them. Fuck em right? Fuck em both if they can’t tolerate me. I’ll just make sure I remain inside my bedroom, and stay far far away from Tennesee or anything that has to do with the name Kerri Donovan. I think it’s the only way I can maintain what little sanity I have left.

Although, with whats her face around, I don’t know how long it will be before I am labled clinically insane.

Who the fuck does she think she is anyway? Coming in here, acting like she can just take my mothers place or something. She doesn’t even know me, or my mom, or anything about our past history. All she fucking sees is dollar signs, because if she didn’t, my attitude towards her would have driven her away the first day. I tried to get my mom to tell me how much she was paying her too, but of course she wouldn’t tell me. She told me that it didn’t matter, and asked me why I would need to know that anyway. “It’s not your business, Justin,” she’d said. “Melanie works for me.”

Thinking of her actual name makes me so angry, that I have to throw something else across the room to get the feeling to pass. I just…god damn it, how could she say that to me? How? I shake my head. I don’t even know what to do with myself right now. I haven’t felt like such a nasty low life in a long time. Granted, my depression has taken a big toll on me the past few months. I’m thinner. I look sick half the time, and I have barely any energy at all. It’s no wonder my mom hired that girl to come stay here. I really look like shit. I guess I’d been in denail about it up until now. I went into the bathroom this morning and took a good long look at myself. It scared me. I looked like I was some kind of crack addict. My face was so pasty white that I barely recognized myself. I tried to think back to the last time I was totally healthy and happy. I …I could barely remember. I think it was on tour sometime last summer, but I cant’ remember the exact event. The incident has drowned that all out. It’s all I can think about anymore. I mean, I don’t know why either. My pills and things are supposed to be taking care of that. My psychiatrist was supposed to take care of that. My friends…my friend were supposed to help me get through it.

But now I just feel like it happened yesterday.

I sob.

I realize how badly I need somebody to hold onto right now. How badly I’ve needed somebody…for awhile now. I contemplate calling Madison, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea. Lately every time I call her she usually ends up calling my mom, and they talk about how they can both ‘get me through this‘. Strangely enough, they’ve become sort of close now. I guess my mom decided that Madison wasn’t completely at fault for what Doug did to me in the clinic, and started to talk to her about how she felt about the whole situation. It‘s kind of nerve wracking to know that Madison probably knows how much I‘ve disappointed my mom, but I try to ignore all of that during our sessions. Anyway, I told Madison she can tell my mom whatever she wants, because I just don’t care anymore. Why should I try to hide from my mom anyway? I’ll just end up telling her everything in the end. Madison thinks that’s healthy. Whatever. I’m really getting tired of all this analyzation crap, and I wish I could just stop taking pills and talking to doctors all together.

Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just stop doing everything and see what happens.

The pills are next to my cell phone. I stare at it. The little green light blinks signifying that it’s fully charged. I can’t remember the last time it rang. My mom always calls my room line. I grab it and flip it open. I look through the call history, and have to laugh when I see that Trace was the last person that called me…and that was more than four months ago. I feel like I’ve dropped off the face of the earth. Funny…last year you couldn’t get the damn thing to stop ringing. What the hell happened? When did everything get so bad again? Why am I so fucking alone, and why…why the hell do I keep pushing everybody away? I stare at Trace’s number. My mind says ‘fuck him’, but I want to talk to him. I need him.

I push send.

It rings about seven times before I hear him pick up. “Unless its about your mom, I’m not dealing with it,” he snaps.

I can’t even speak. I’m in shock that he even answered. I’m so torn. There’s this huge part of me that wants to cry and beg him to hear me out. It wants me to tell him that our friendship matters. But there’s the other part of me that hates him for giving up on me. He was supposed to understand, and turning his back on me made him a backstabbing asshole. You don’t need him.

“Well?”

“I…Trace…” I stutter. “I mean, it’s…it’s not about her.”

“Good. Don’t call me again.”

The line goes dead. I pull the phone away from my ear and hold it out in front of me, but it doesn’t ring. He doesn’t feel bad for me. He doesn’t care if I’m upset and alone. I know he’s thinking that I brought all of this on myself…if he’s even giving me a second thought right now. I’d like to put all the blame on myself too, but…but if it wasn’t for Shane I’d be just fine right now. Just fucking fine. But I‘m not fine.

I‘m a fucking mess. And…

And nobody cares.

There’s broken glass on the floor, and I think about how much of a release it would be to just take a slice or two. I can feel the tension rise to the surface of my skin, begging to be let out. I could do it…I know I could. There’s nobody here to stop me. Bitch is still at the store because I didn’t hear her car pull up the drive. So tempting…should I do it…

A pathetic whimper escapes me. “No.” I shake my head roughly. “I need to be the better person.”

“How,” Shane laughs. “How can you be better when you’re not even trying?”

He’s right.

“Come on,” he continues. “You know how good it will feel, don’t you?”

I get off the bed and step every so slowly over to where the glass is. It used to be my water glass but now its just shards of broken Waterford crystal. Amazing how expensive pain can be. I tower over the gleaming glass pieces. They almost seem like they could be ice. Jagged ice…so cold, so relaxing. I bend down and pick up the sharpest piece. Immediately I feel exactly like I did when I got that gun. I’m powerful now. Powerful enough to fight off all of the pain and sadness plaguing me. I sit back down on the bed…pull down my sweats, and stare at the scars on my thighs. It’s rare that I look at them anymore, because when I do all I can think about is how good it would feel to get a minute of relief again. I bite my lip. I know its wrong. But I’m so lost…and its so…so good. Like a drug. Like an addiction that I can’t put to rest.

A car door slams outside. What’s her face is home now. I stare at the glass in my hand, debate for a minute, then drop it. It’s not worth her walking in on me…finding out what I do to myself. It’s not worth her calling my mother and telling her what I did. Because that will land me right back in the looney bin and I can’t go back there. Yes, I’m stuck once again.

With no way out this time.

Trials