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As always, thanks for your patience, and thanks to Jess for taking the time out of her busy life to edit for me

Chapter 40

Trace's room, 11:42 a.m.

I sit on the bed and watch her completely freak out. It's uncalled for, it's stupid and it's so weird. She was fine, sophisticated, bad ass, and able to handle it; handle all his shit, their shit, our shit. Sure, she was confused, she was frustrated, but she could handle it. She could handle everything: his bad attitude, Mere's break downs and freak outs, my lack of commitment. All. Of. It.

And now, now she's totally freaking out. As far as I know Justin hasn't even talked to her, or threatened her, or said anything to her. No one has. She's locked herself up with me for the past three days, hugging on me one minute, begging me to fuck her, pushing me away the next, and chain smoking out on the patio.

I don't understand it. It's like she's going through some crisis.

Yes, in some sense she did go through a crisis. But we all did. Yes, it was scary as fuck and it put everyone, every fucking person on this tour, on edge. But things are settling down. Hell, I even saw Mere the other day and she was smiling and laughing. She's ok.

We're all ok.

Except for Court.

Hell, it's like she really is guilty with how bizarre she's acting. Maybe her true feelings for this job are starting to show. Maybe she loves it more than anything. Maybe it's all that matters to her even more than me. Maybe she's afraid that it will be taken from her.

Or…something.

My eyes follow her back and forth across the carpet as I just sit on the bed. We were having sex. She woke up and I was hard. She laughed. She seemed easy and calm. It was good, real good; nice, easy, slow morning fucking. She came hard and silent, and after I was finished I had to lay there for several minutes just trying to remember to breathe, trying to force myself not to pass out on top and inside of her. I had rolled away and pulled her up to my chest.

She was quiet. I thought she had just gone back to sleep and I softly said to her, "Justin's going to come up around lunch, I think, to check in."

Then, when I looked down at her, her eyes were wide open and she was chewing on her bottom lip. It was like her orgasm woke her up and put her back into this paranoid state she's been living in.

I know Justin can be a scary asshole, but she shouldn't fear for her life. That's acting more ridiculous than he is.

"I've got to get out of here." She mumbles to herself but it's loud enough for me to hear her clearly.

"You need to calm down," I say.

"I can't be here when he gets here Trace," she says, throwing things into this huge purse she has, tugging up some pants, buttoning up a shirt.

"You're making this harder than it has to be," I say.

She turns and stares at me. She's still furiously buttoning and she's off one button so her shirt is crooked. "Do I need to remind you what I did? Do I need to let you know what everyone's been blaming me for? What I'm probably going to be fired for?"

"Calm down. No one's blaming you." I stand up and she visibly sighs. I point at her shirt for her and she immediately starts to fix it. No one's blamed her, seriously, not me, not anyone who's talked to me, and she's made a point to avoid everyone, so this is all in her head. "Look, I'm at as much fault as you are. Mere should have told someone she was going to nap in there. The venue should have done background checks. There's a lot of reasons why this happened. It's just a bad accident."

Her eyes look into mine. They're wide and watery. I don't think I've ever since this girl broken down like this, over Meredith especially. Maybe she really does care. Or maybe she cares about her reputation. It's not bad either way, I just wish she'd open up to me.

We were doing good, I thought. I mean yeah, we were mainly just having fun fucking around, but I had told her I was falling for her and I think she was falling for me. And now….now she's just standing in front of me all lost and shit.

She's this new person who I don't even know. What happened to my Courtney?

"An accident I'll be blamed for," she says and then breaks her stare, breaks out of where I was holding her arms, grabs her purse and walks from the bed towards the hotel room door.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"I'll call you later." She opens the door and looks back in at me. "I'm going to clear my head."

The door slams and she's gone and I don't know if I've done something wrong or if she has or what. I don't know what I'm supposed to do; go after her, sit right here, be mad, be upset, be supportive and blank until she's over it.

I just don't know.

It's like, I get it. Ya know? I get it. She made a mistake. We all did, though. She should have walked with the electrician to Meredith's dressing room, or someone should have. Meredith should have been more specific when she said she was going to Justin's bus to stay. She shouldn't have been in that room alone without anyone knowing that fucker was coming in there.

Courtney thought she had gone to the bus. Courtney was concerned with me. And I shouldn't have distracted her. We were all just too relaxed and at ease that night and we shouldn't have been.

At first I was unsure what had happened. Ya know, if some guy had just been at the wrong place, the wrong time. Maybe Mere woke up, saw a man in her room and freaked. I didn't know if he was really just doing his job or if he was a psychopath.

But no.

He was a psychopath.

So much so that he fucking cut the wires of the god dam A/C two days before so it would purposefully fuck up. At least that's what he confessed to doing. He knew she was coming and he wanted his chance to see Meredith.

Johnny and Angie have been in contact with each other and Justin and Mere and the police and security. They've really taken charge and I've had to be the middle man for everyone, because Courtney has decided to stop. She won't call Angie. She won't talk to Meredith.

I guess it shouldn't matter anyway. Justin and Meredith have shut out the world. Angie is trying to convince Meredith to file a restraining order, but Meredith wants to be done with it. Doesn't want to think about it anymore. Which is understandable.

But he fucking confessed. He fucking said he, "just wanted to kiss her."

How…

How fucking psycho is that? I can't even wrap my head around it. It fucking pisses me off and disgusts me and it's not even my girl!

Sure, there've been crazy girls after Justin, but most of them have been younger girls or just kind of crazy and wanting to get a picture and see him. But they've never done anything like this! Never.

So the guy cut the wiring knowing she'd be in that room and knowing he'd be the one that would have to be called. It was chance. She could have been with Teddy or Justin or anyone when he came into that room, but he took that chance and he got closer than he ever was supposed to.

Girls have gotten into Justin's rooms before. Paparazzi have more than attacked him and said shit to him, they've downright stalked him. But he's never been alone and attacked.

And it's different, I'm sure, being a woman, a small woman, fucking relaxing on a couch and then some psychotic man gets on top of you and tries to pull you down to the ground. It makes me shudder to think about it. I can't even imagine what she went through, what still goes through her mind. I can't imagine being so sick or able to do that to a woman.

And as much as I don't agree with a lot of the shit he's done lately, I was terrified for Justin. Terrified. Justin's pretty non-violent about most shit. He's a lot of talk and not a lot of substance when it comes to being a "tough" guy. But there are two things in this world that you do not do: lay a hand on his mother or lay a hand on Meredith.

It's why he went ape shit with the paparazzi at her house. It's why he's psycho paranoid with Courtney. In a way, he cares too much, I guess.

They haven't left each other's sight for three days. I've seen them apart for only a moment. She was talking and laughing with Abbie in the hotel hallway yesterday and Justin opened one of the doors and told them to come inside and hang out. I don't blame them. I can't imagine what would happen if someone had touched the woman I loved in that way. I would have killed them. No questions asked.

I wonder…I wonder what would have happened if he had gone after Courtney.

I feel sick; sick because it worries me to think what could have happened, and sick because I'm not sure I'd know what to do if something happened to Courtney. I don't even know what I feel for her anymore. This whole thing has put her on another level, a level I'm not playing at. I don't understand what she's saying or thinking or why she's doing the things she is.

And she won't talk to me. She just won't tell me anything. She's thinking about quitting. She wants to quit. Maybe she already has. I know this because I can see it in her face and by the small comments she makes.

"I should spend more time with my family."

"I wonder what it'd be like to live permanently in LA, or Florida."

"I wanna travel and see stuff more, maybe go to Europe."

"I wonder what it'd be like to be a secretary."

All I know is that we're leaving for New York tonight. We have three shows there and then it's done. It's over. And I need to know where we stand. I need to know what she's going to do.

I've been in the dark on most things the past year, with Elisha, with Justin, with my feelings about…everything, especially her, and especially him. I don't know what I'm doing half the time and having her act this way, act paranoid and doubtful just…just shakes me.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe this is just showing me the unstable side of her I can't handle.

But I care for her. Hell, I'm supposed to love her. That's what I said, right? That I was falling in love with her. That's what I was feeling, right?

Why did this change everything?

Hell, maybe nothing changed. Maybe I'm the one paranoid and going crazy.

It takes me a while to move from the bed to put on some clothes. I should probably shower, but when I look at the clock, I see that Justin should be coming up at anytime.

Sometimes, if we get a suite, I'll share the room with him since they have private bedrooms, but now he's in a suite with Teddy and Tiny and Meredith. And me and Courtney were both given smaller standard hotel rooms. We're in Boston. They had a show last night and did well, but Courtney didn't hang out at the arena. In fact, I really don't think she's talked to Meredith since it's happened, not a word. Teddy seems to be pulling the weight though, and all interviews have been canceled until NYC, so the load's been pretty light.

I pull on some jeans and by the time I have them zipped, I hear a knock at my door. I grab my shirt from last night that's crumbled on the floor and throw it over me. It smells like cigarette smoke. Shit, I need to see about getting some stuff cleaned. And I still need that shower.

I open the door and he nods at me, hooded sweatshirt on, hood up over his head. He says, "Hey…" and I hold the door open for him.

"Hey, how's things?" I ask and watch him walk right in and sit down on a chair in the corner of the room. I know he'll notice the bra and panties and boxers dotting the floor, and Courtney's suitcase over spilling by the bed, shoes and clothes and bags, exploding everywhere. She's messy all of a sudden, too. She's never had her shit strewn out in any other city we've been in.

She's organized, clean, neat. And now, with a snap, she's not.

"Pretty good." He yawns and slouches. He seems not to care about the mess.

"Mere still doing good?"

He laughs quietly, shakes his head and smiles off into the distance. It's sick how much he loves her. I'm jealous, I guess, but I'm happy for him. Real happy.

"Amazing. She's taking a nap right now." He yawns again and I look at the clock, wondering if he's yawning 'cause it's early. Shit, it's ten to twelve. He shouldn't be this tired. He better not be staying up too late with her. "You alright?" He asks me.

I pause and stare at him. I wonder why he's asking me. I wonder if it's obvious.

"Yeah…" I say. He keeps staring at me in that perfect Justin fashion, not blinking, no emotion, just waiting 'cause he knows I'm not done, he knows I'll end up confessing it all to him without him even trying.

Sure enough I end up sighing and I let out, "Just…" And then realize I'm about to spill to him about something he needs not know. Something that'll just add more fuel to this fire he's building around Courtney. At least, I think he's building a fire. "Nothing," I mumble.

"What's going on?" He sits up on the chair and leans forward a bit.

"You don't want to know." I roll my eyes and sit down on the edge of the bed again. Where's the fucking remote? I need a distraction.

Hell, why was he coming up here to begin with?

"Look…." He glances at the floor and swallows. "You can vent to me about her if you want."

I know where this is going. Good God. I need a beer or a cigarette. "Justin…"

Or a toilet bowl to puke in.

"I don't blame you for what happened. Part of me doesn't really blame her." I look up at him like he's crazy. He's not even looking at me. He's staring off into space. Who the fuck is this guy? He has to be bipolar. "It's just…this has put a lot in perspective for me. It's like when Mere freaked out over missing her period and told me she had thought she was pregnant, I realized I needed to just shut everyone else out and concentrate on her and stop being so judgmental. But dammit Trace, this has really made me look at a lot of things that have happened this summer."

I narrow my eyes. So he's not blaming her. But he is blaming her. Dammit, just say what you need to say! "Like what?"

"Why the fuck aren't you happy?" I blink. It settles in me heavy. Deep. Why is he doing this at this moment? Why didn't he ask me this months ago? Why can't he wait and ask me this in a few months when I resettle? I lick my lips that are dry, suddenly chapped. I feel jittery and nervous like a kid waiting for his friends to come over, but my friend is already here. Supposedly. I hate feeling like this, like my emotions are about to be exposed, like I'm about to say something I shouldn't. Like he's about to tell me something I'm not ready to hear, even though I'm aware of it.

"Is it me?" He asks pitifully, "I mean, I know what you wanna do and I'm not gonna stop you. I know the clothing line is your priority right now and I'm, shit man, I'm fucking proud of you for that. But is that the reason you're quitting, or is it something I'm doing?"

He looks at me like I'm hurting him. Shit, now he's going to make me feel guilty. No, no he's not. Justin wears his heart on his sleeve, he feels things and feels them strongly and even though he tries to manipulate people sometimes, he doesn't do that to me, he never has, even when I've blamed him for it. Maybe he's not making me feel guilty. Maybe I just really do feel guilty.

And I love that we've never talked about it. How I've never told him I won't be his assistant after this tour. He just knows. Everyone knows. And now he's saying it right to my face and it's like I'm being slapped with my own thoughts. It's like I'm just now realizing what I'm really doing. I'm ready for this, for a change.

I think.

"No…you haven't changed. Maybe I've changed." I shake my head, hoping it'll shake some sense into it. I hate feeling confused and lost. I hate feeling like I'm out of control. "I don't know."

"I want you to be happy, man. 'Cause we were friends before this shit. It doesn't matter if you're my PA or not. That doesn't change us."

I chew on my bottom lip and debate whether or not to say what I want to. I want to. Hell, I need to. And if he wants to have some heart to heart right now, then let's have it.

"Then why did you let her change us?"

I expect him to pause, to look shocked, to try to weasel his way out of it, knowing I've caught him in a hard place. But he doesn't miss a beat and looks at me full of concern, sitting up on the edge of the seat saying, "'Cause you've changed Trace."

I just blink.

"Hell, I know I spend more time with Mere now, but you know how much she means to me. You know this is different. But I don't feel weird telling you about Mere and you feel weird telling me about Courtney." I open my mouth to call him out on that comment but he keeps going. "And I know, I know that's my fault for not being very accepting of her. But you know I don't let people in easy, Trace. She was new; I wasn't going to go out of my way to be nice to her. She was just there, but then shit started happening, you started pulling away from me and then come to find out, you're talking to her and fucking her. I don't know what to do with that. I know I was never nice to her, but am I supposed to be? Especially when she makes my girl feel like shit and makes her doubt herself. She'll hide it, Mere will bury it deep inside, but I know that's what's happened. I tried to just ignore Courtney, but every fucking time I look at her, I see how you've pulled away. She's never given me a reason to like her or trust her."

I shake my head. He just knows exactly what to say to piss me off. "And you've never given her a reason to like you. You've done some fucked up shit to her this tour."

"That is true." He nods. God, why is he agreeing? He should be fighting this like the asshole bastard he is. I guess, I guess I know that he's not an asshole. I guess I know that he knows he's done some shit. And even though his actions are not justified, the way she's been acting the past few days has made me think things over, too.

"She just stresses me out and she stresses Mere out and you, too. And I know I didn't make this easy, and I wanna fix that. But I don't know how Trace. 'Cause I can't stand the way she makes me and my girl feel. And if I wasn't even in this picture, you and Mere would still be stressed out about her."

"She made a mistake," I say, trying my best to defend her. Even though I know, I know it was a harmless mistake, I know what he's about to say.

You can't make mistakes like that in this line of work.

"Yeah, but you can't make mistakes like that. All she had to do was walk with him to the door. And just the fact that all this shit over the past two months has come out about Mere and I, and you know it's more than should have. They know stuff that no one could. It's not making up lies anymore, its facts printed by some "source". I'm not saying she's telling, but maybe she's not being as discreet as she should. She's never done this before, that's for damn sure. Mere's a big artist now and she needs a professional."

I stand off the bed. I can't sit here and just hear him pull her apart. I might be going crazy and doubting stuff, but she's still my girl. And I have to defend her, right?

"Courtney is a professional Justin! God, ya know what? You don't even have to worry about all this because she's gonna be fired anyway."

He's suddenly standing up and holding his hand out in a stop motion towards me. "Man, calm down. I'm trying my best to be level headed about this."

He's stepping closer and when I look at him, I realize he's battling a fine line between sanity and killing every fucker he sees. There's fear and rage in his face. Justin's pretty good at bottling his emotions, but when he lets them go…they explode.

His voice waivers a bit as he says, "My girl could have been fucking raped or killed and you're over here flipping your shit."

"I'm sorry, I just…" I sit down on the bed again and cover my face with my hands. God, why did I have to wake up this morning? I can't handle this stress.

He gives me a moment to chill out and finally says in a low tone, "What do you mean 'fire her'?"

"Mere," I sigh.

"What?"

I look up at him and he's now leaning against the dresser where the TV is, staring right at me, hood still over his head. "Before it all happened, that afternoon, ya know when she went to help me walk the dogs? We started talking and she started saying how Courtney never seems happy or something and she started asking me if I thought this was the right place for her."

"And what did you say?"

I shrug and roll my eyes. "Hell Justin, I don't know."

"You're on the defensive." He crosses his arms over his chest and says matter of factly, "I haven't seen you this stressed out in a long time. And don't blame it on me walking in here because you were this way before I got in here. I know that."

"I just have too much on my mind about all this and then with the line and what I'm supposed to do here…"

"You're supposed to do what makes you happy, Trace." He pauses only for a moment. "Does she make you happy?"

"Yeah…" I say weakly and before I know it it's out of my mouth, "I mean…" The doubt's there. And then I start back tracking, mumbling and stumbling like the idiot I am. I blame Elisha for all of this. I used to never be this fucked up and stupid.

"I think she could. But it doesn't help it that you two hate each other. And it doesn't help that she thinks she's going to get fired. I don't know why she's even with me."

"If you don't know that then there's a problem."

He's right.

It sucks so bad to say that. But he's right. "Yeah I know. Half the time I don't know why I'm with her. Like I do, I care about her and I think she's a great girl, and she's different from any other girl I've dated." I let out a deep breath and look up at him.

"I do love her Justin. But there's just so much about her that…it's like, I think when we were first fucking around it was just fun, just me trying to figure out what made her tick, and now that we're together, I feel like I'm just waiting for her to change. And I feel like she's just waiting for me to say 'screw you' to you."

"But you are saying it." He laughs a little, but it's not in an asshole way.

I blink, refocusing my gaze on the carpet.

"You are quitting, right?" He finally asks.

I look at him directly and open my mouth, "That's not why…:"

He shakes his head a little, "Look, I know you aren't doing it because you hate me or whatever. Hell, it's about time you said 'fuck Justin, let me do what I want to do'."

I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if this is just an act. This isn't an act, right? Or is it? I stare at him. "How can you be so level headed about this and yet freak out over everything else?"

He shrugs and his face softens a bit, "Because I don't want you to really say 'Fuck Justin'. I want you to do what makes you happy. And if that's doing your own thing, you know that's fine with me. And fuck, yeah I'm an asshole, you've know that since we were kids, but if she made you happy, I'd be happy. But you're not, Trace. I don't want this, I don't want her to cause us to stop talking to each other. And that's what happened this tour. This is the first time we've talked in so fucking long. And I'm not blaming anyone; I know I have a big chunk of that blame right on my shoulders. But too much scary shit has happened to me in the past few weeks and I can't just ignore it anymore."

"You always do this. Some shit happens and you turn a new leaf and you're good for a few months and then you slowly creep back to the way it was."

"That's why they are called reality checks, and don't think you aren't having one right now, either. 'Cause you are. You gotta find out if she's worth it or not. And if she is, than ya know what, I'll try my best to support that."

I can't be so annoyed with him because he's pointing out the truth, what I've been saying, without saying it, this whole time: that I fucking am admitting to myself that I love her…but only sometimes, just when it feels right.

All this time I call Justin the asshole, the one who's fucked up, and here I am, bat shit crazy and a horrible person, telling this girl I love her, but not believing it.

"I just wonder if this will change once we aren't on tour. Like if she quits or is fired…"

He looks at me sympathetically and then rolls his eyes. "You know Meredith wouldn't fire her. You know she's too sweet to do that. Angie might, but I don't know, Angie kind of likes having a hard-ass to boss Meredith around, I think. She cares more about that than Meredith actually getting along with her assistant."

"I just wonder what's going to happen when I'm spending most of my time in LA. Like if she stops being a PA will she stay there, will we still date? I know why we got together, but I sometimes wonder if the one thing that's keeping us together is this tour."

"Have you talked to her about this?" I don't look at him. Why is he always right? "Trace you know you gotta talk about this shit with your girlfriend if you want it to work. Hell, you're the one that used to tell me that all the time when I was trying to make shit work with girls."

I look down at my hands. "It's just, half the time I feel like I'm so in love with her I can't even think straight and half the time I think to myself, well at least she's good in bed." I drop my hands and hang my head. "I'm a fucking asshole, Justin. And I'm an asshole because instead of keeping this battle to myself, I went ahead and told her I was falling in love with her, when hell, maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just crazy."

"The tour's fucking done almost. I'm taking Mere away and maybe you guys can go back to LA and figure out if this is worth it. That's what I did with Mere. After all that shit in Miami, it was all just a distraction. And then we went back there and I hung out with her and it fell into place."

"But what if it doesn't work out?"

He shrugs, "Then it doesn't work out, Trace. Why are you so worried? You just said it yourself you don't know whether you love her or just want to fuck her." Then he shakes his head, "You haven't been this messed up over a girl in a long time."

"That's what worries me. With Elisha I was angry and upset, but with this I'm just…I'm so fucking confused and I'd rather have something solid to feel, even if it's bad like Elisha was, than to be so all over the place like now."

"Maybe she should quit. Maybe it would be good for both of you."

Finally, I see his point. After all this time he's finally figured it out. Pull on my strings, push on my weaknesses, manipulate me into convincing Courtney to quit. She says this is the job she's dreamed of. I'm not going to take it away from her, even if it does make her miserable, even if me and her would probably be happier out on our own, not with them around 24/7.

"You mean it would be good for you and Meredith."

"Yeah, it would be. I just hope that Mere could find an assistant actually worth a damn."

"Hey…" I say, defensively. Courtney is just inexperienced. She was good at first, but she lets things distract her and annoy her and frustrate her easily. She'll learn.

"Seriously Trace, Mere acts like it doesn't bother her, but I know it does when Courtney doesn't want to do anything with her. You know as well as I do you have to have an assistant in this business who's your friend, who likes your company and you like theirs. And with them two, that's not the case."

I know that. I don't understand it. But I know it. I know they are different people but hell, Mere is a fun girl. If Courtney can enjoy hanging out with me, she could enjoy hanging out with Meredith. I've caught her laughing a few times with Mere and her dancers. And when she's with me she's a lot more carefree and girly.

I don't get it why she distances herself so much. But right now I lie when I say to him, "They're just different. They aren't the type of people to be friends easily and Mere should know that."

"Yeah and you and her aren't the type of people to be dating either, but you've done it. She's done it. I don't know, Trace. All I know is that you and Mere are stressed out right now and both causes go back to Courtney, whether she's doing anything or not. I'm just tired of everyone making excuses for her."

I stand up. I want to leave. I'm tired. "I don't want to get into this with you, Justin. I don't want to have to defend her to you."

"You shouldn't have to, Trace. I don't want to fight about this any more than we already have."

He shakes his head for the millionth time since he's come in here. He hasn't gotten angry, he hasn't raised his voice. He's just come in here and talked and I don't know what to think about that. It's like he's disappointed in me, shaking his head and looking at me concerned. It makes me feel horrible, whether he means for it to or not. He turns to walk to the door, but stops before he gets there and turns back to me.

"I just want you to be happy, Trace. You know how much I appreciate you. I don't wanna get all fucking gay on you, but I just…if she makes you happy then, great ya know? I'll go straight up to her and kiss her and hug her and say, thanks for being with Trace and I'm sorry I'm a moron. But she doesn't make you happy, at least not that I can tell. And that worries the shit out of me."

I wish I could call him an asshole now. I wish I could say something shitty, like I always do, about how my best friend is trying to manipulate me. But this is the most honest thing Justin has said to me all summer.

Still, I manage to flip it around on him.

"Not everyone can have a god damn fairy tale relationship like you," I say bitterly.

"It's not a fairy tale. It's not. You should know that by now. She makes me happy, so I put effort into it. I make it work. And so does she. It takes effort for a relationship to work. You know this more than anyone." He stops and looks at the door for a minute and places his hand on the handle. "I gotta go. If you wanna grab lunch later, come by the room, but maybe you should go talk to Courtney first. Or something."

I shake my head at him. He doesn't understand. Maybe him and Mere's relationship isn't perfect, but it's a good relationship. Me and Court, I just don't know anymore. I don't know anything anymore and it scares the shit out of me. I can't just go fix everything when she won't talk to me.

"It's just not that easy," I say and he shrugs. I know in that shrug he's asking me, "if it's not that easy, then why are you with her?" If I'm with her if I'm not happy, and if I'm confused, and if she won't really truly be with me and talk to me about stuff, then why the hell am I with her?

Really…why?

I stand there for a moment staring at the door. Suddenly I'm in need of a walk, to find someone, anyone to talk to, even if it's Justin again. He's a lot better than trying to listen to myself think. I grab my hotel key and slip on some shoes and grab my hat before walking out of the door. The hallway is empty, and Justin's already disappeared to wherever he is, probably back to his room with Mere.

Maybe I'll just go outside and have a smoke and walk around the block. Shit, I don't have my cigarettes. Maybe a walk will be ok. I can buy a pack if I need to.

Fuck…do I need to. My nerves are frayed, I'm shaking and as I press "G" inside the elevator, I feel nauseated. The elevator dips for a moment and I grip the railing inside the back wall, glad that I'm alone and no one can see how I'm physically freaking out right now.

I just don't know anything anymore. I don't know about her. I don't know if I love her or if I just want to be in love again…with anyone. I don't know what she's thinking or feeling right now. She won't talk to me. Part of me feels guilty for dumping Justin without an assistant to back him up even though I know he'll be fine. Part of me wonders if I'm really burned out or if I just need a vacation; if as soon as I stop doing it for a month, if I'll end up missing it, missing this lifestyle.

God I don't even know how to live stationary. I've been on the road and in the studio following him around for most of my adult life.

And now I don't have to answer to anyone but myself, and that's…that's going to be a weird feeling.

The doors open up in the lobby and I pull my bill down when I see a couple of girls that look like they probably shouldn't be here. I'll have to tell the hotel about that. Sometimes they'll get in the lobby and wait for Justin. Sometimes they know who I am and start to squeal and wave me over. This time I make sure to not make eye contact. I walk towards the front glass doors and in a fleeting glance, just to look around, I gaze to my right at the bar and restaurant area of the hotel.

And I see her, a cigarette in between her two fingers, a brown drink with ice against the bar in her other hand. She's fucking gorgeous just sitting there, sitting upright, not slouching, her hair down against her shoulders.

Fuck my doubt.

I love her.

She's all alone right now and I know I just gotta go, sit by her, let her talk to me on her terms and we'll be ok. I just have to be there for her. That's all I want to do, is be there for her.

I approach her and she doesn't notice me, not even when I sit down on the stool next to her and tilt my head at her, trying to smile. I can see it in her face and it's clear that she's upset.

"Hey, I thought you were…"

"Angie called me and I got distracted," she says harshly.

Well damn.

"I thought you were quitting on me or something," I say.

"Not now Trace."

I sigh and rub her shoulders and back, trying my best to be comforting. She sucks in a long drag from her cigarette and blows it straight out in front of her before flicking some ash off into the glass tray in front of her. "You need to relax. I think you are making this out to be a lot worse than it really is. You should talk to Meredith. How has she seemed the last few days?"

She sits back. "I haven't seen her Trace. You know that. Justin's kept her from hanging out."

"I just talked to him."

"Oh great," she says sarcastically and brings the glass of what looks like whiskey on the rocks to her lips and gulps down the last bit of it. I never knew her to drink that hard, hell, especially right at noon. "I bet he had a lot of wonderful things to say about me."

"He was very level-headed, Courtney." Why am I now having to defend him? Why do I always have to defend everyone? "I was the one flipping out on him. I'm not saying he didn't say some things that pissed me off, but he wasn't out of line."

She turns to face me, her eyes narrowed, her mouth clenched, saying through her teeth, "So now you're on his side."

"Courtney..." Oh, so she's gonna pull this bull shit on me now, this 'who's side are you on' shit. She's gonna make me decide between the two of them. Fuck that! "There are no sides. Why are you letting this get to you? A mistake was made."

"And she could have been killed," she says.

I see tears in her eyes, but I don't see sadness or fear. I see anger and frustration. It was a shit thing that happened. Everyone was worked up, everyone is still on edge. Everyone still has the "what if's" running through their minds. And it's sad to say, as I sit here and watch her, I wonder if she really does care about Meredith, if that's why she's upset right now...or if something else is going on, if she's freaked out because if something major did happen to Meredith, she'd be much more than fired. I'm wondering if this has anything to do with the fact that someone could have been killed and everything to do with her worrying about what people think of her, since her mistakes could have gotten Meredith killed.

"Are you upset because she almost got hurt or because you fucked up and people are looking at you now?"

"Nice," she says bitterly and starts to get up.

"No." I grab her arm and look right at her. "If it's a little bit of both, that's fine. But do you even care about her, Courtney?"

She shakes her head. "Of course I do. But I'm not her family, Trace. I'm not her friend. Am I supposed to cry to her about it or go eat ice cream with her about it? I'm her assistant; I'm not in her little close circle of friends."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. She says she cares, but it sure as hell doesn't seem that way. It's almost like some act. I can see through her, though. I know she cares, she might not care that much about Meredith, but she doesn't wish shit on anyone. At least I don't think.

I hate this. I hate not knowing who she really is.

"You could be her friend, but you don't want that. So don't you dare sit here and complain about it."

She sighs and slouches, running her hands through her hair after stubbing out her cig. Damn I want one back. I wonder if she has anymore in her purse. "I can't get fired from another job, Trace. I won't be able to find any more work."

"You aren't going to get fired." I place my hand on her shoulder and rub her there, letting her know that I still care about her, letting her know that I'm still here for her. I hope she knows that. "And if you stop working for Meredith, I told you I'd help you out."

"And I told you I didn't want any favors." Her voice sounds blank and robotic.

"Stop this. Stop going back into that cold, harsh girl that I first met. 'Cause I know that's not you. That's this person you force yourself to be when you are scared or threatened."

She shrugs my hand off of her back, and it falls limply, along with all hopes I had of being a good boyfriend, of making this work, of working through this with her. It all falls when she shrugs me off and says, "Just leave me alone right now Trace. Stop trying to analyze why I do the things I do 'cause you'll come up to a dead end."

I'm angry.

I'm more than angry. I've put in time and energy into this girl. I've almost let it ruin my relationship with Justin. I've let it absorb my life on tour. I've let it waste all my time that maybe, maybe I could be playing the field. And now, now it's all over, and she doesn't even fucking wanna try?

"Fine. Fine…" I stand off the couch and say to her, "I'm going to eat lunch with Justin, so I guess I'll see you at the venue. That is, if you want, ya know, since I am your boyfriend and all..." I say this hoping it will wake her up. Hoping that she'll smile at me, say she's sorry, hug me, anything, anything small and simple to let me know she's still hanging onto us, that she's not completely given up.

I stare at her and add, "And I would really like to help you through this."

"There's nothing you can do Trace. Nothing."

Just like that it's shattered. It's gone.

It's over.

I laugh a little and shake my head at her. "Then that's my cue," I say.

I turn. I walk back into the lobby and straight to the elevator. I don't look back.

There's nothing to look back at because she just ruined everything we had, even if what we had was insignificant and doomed. She let it falter and let it die without even fucking trying. She did exactly what Justin was talking about. She didn't put in any effort at all.

And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her bull shit. I'm tired of her being the victim.

And I'm done.