A/N: Okay guys, I just wanted to apologize in advance for such a shitty chapter. I'm so not pleased with it, you have no idea! I think it's boring, and totally useless, to be honest. I feel like I'm getting myself lost in this story, really. Tell me what you think, 'cause I'm really lost af. What's going to happen is like huge, but well... I feel like this whole chapter and situation wasn't necessary.

Santa Barbara Police Department, Santa Barbara, CA.

June's point of view

The simple idea of Michael being worried sick about me made my heart ache. It was one in the afternoon when I looked up at the clock on the wall: in other words, the time where I was supposed to be at Neverland to enjoy my family-in-law's presence. However, instead of having a blast with my man and his wonderful family, I was stuck in this stinky cell Milo threw me in like I was some kind of delinquent.

I have to admit that, driving while you consumed alcohol isn't the brightest thing to do, and that's why the law forbides it, but in my case, things were different. Crystal was barely breathing because she overdosed, and fear filled me at the simple thought that she would die. I couldn't wait for an ambulance to arrive, I had to take her quickly to the nearest hospital.

Just thinking about the fact that I had been handcuffed in front of a bunch of people the night before made me sick to my stomach.

What would people think about this? What would my family and Michael think about this image of me?

As I had nothing more to do than think, I played the past events on repeat in my head, trying to find the reason why Crystal ended up in the state she was in, and why Caleb was so mad at me and why he quited the way he did.

I sat down on the little metal bench that was in the cell, and put my head in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees. My head was aching from all the thinking I had been doing.

Cocaine. Who in the world brought this kind of drug in my house?  I asked myself.

I didn't want to sound crazy or paranoid, but I was pretty sure this had something to do with Paulina. It's like I could feel it in my guts. The say her newbies were looking at me wasn't right: they looked at me the same way she does: like I was some kind of state enemy you needed to get rid off.

As soon as I'd be out of this hell, I knew what I had to do.

I had to investigate.

"Urgh!" I groaned, before leaning my back on the brick wall behind me.

"That's some scary groan coming from a woman like you," Parrish, the booking officer that kindly checked me in, chuckled as he came back at his office that was just in front of my cell.

Officer Parrish was the exact opposite of Milo aka the bitch. He was kind towards me, and respected me as a person, and didn't consider me as a celibrity diva.

"Please tell me you have some good news for me," I asked, standing up to put my hands on the barrs of the cell.

"Bad news or good news first?" he asked with a little smile, approaching the cell.

"Oh god, there's bad news?" I asked, desperate.

"You're in jail, this is already bad," he chuckled slightly. "Well?"

"Touché," I sighed, looking down. "Then go ahead with the good news first."

"Okay, so, I guess you could say you're lucky. Court decided to let you go on bail," he smiled sweetly, and I thanked God for this. "You can now call someone close to you, like Mr. Jackson, because I'd like to meet him, so that he can get you out of here by paying for your bail," he grinned, and I shook my head at his little comment. "What? I'm a fan."

"Who isn't?" I chuckled.

"Milo," he whispered, so that the officer in question didn't hear him.

"Come on, I feel like he doesn't like anybody but himself," I rolled my eyes, and Parrish agreed with a snort. "Now, what's the bad news?"

"Uhhh yeah. Um, of course, there are consequences to that. You're suspended of your driving license for six months."

"Six... Months?" I asked in disbelief. "That's a mighty long time!"

"That's the law. You're lucky enough not to stay here for two days as court decided to let you go on bail. Don't you have a personal driver or something?"

"Uh no? Who do you think I am? Michael Jackson?" I teased, slightly giggling.

He chuckled, opening my cell's door for me, "Here, you can make your call using this phone right here," he pointed at the little phone booth. "You normally have two minutes, but I'll let you have the time you need."

"Thank you so much," I smiled sincerely, and the officer gave me a nod.

I took the phone and quickly dialed the number of the only person I wanted to reach at the time.
However, in the meantime, Milo arrived, and I glanced over at Parrish who made a face.

Guess this will be a two minutes call, after all.

"Why is she out?" he harshly asked Parrish, rudely pointing me with his index finger.

"Because the court decided to let her go on bail, what do you think?" he smartly answered back.

"Why the fuck did they let her go? She's a criminal!" he exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes as I waited someone to answer the damn phone.

"Come on, Jack, you know just as well as me that there are worse criminals than her out there. She didn't drive with alcohol in her blood because she wanted to, she tried to save her friend who was dying. Isn't that a valuable excuse?"

"Who overdosed while having a party at her place. Hello, wake the hell up! She's a junkie!"

I raised a brow, quite taken aback by his assumption.

"Hellooooo?" the voice on the other end of the phone drawled.

"Oh uh, Becks! It's June. You need to listen to me, I have two minutes," I stated, speaking quickly with a little panick in my voice.

"June, oh my god how--"

"Shut up, please. I'm in Santa Barbara, at the police department. I need you to come over here and pay for my bail in cash, I'll repay you. Also, I need you to call Michael and tell him I'll be late, but that I'll be there. Do'nt tell him anything just now. Take some clothes of mine, something cute because I'm meeting with his parents and family. Take my purse with my cell, and come and get me."

"You're in jail?" she practically shouted through the receiver, and I had to put the phone away from my ear. "What the fuck happened?"

"I'll tell you everything as soon as you get here, but pl--"

"Okay, time's up," Milo declared, snatching the phone from my hands and hanging up.

"I'm pretty sure my two minutes weren't finished yet," I told him through gritted teeth.

"When I say it's over, then it's over. I'm the one in charge here."

"I think the Sherif is the one in charge here," I smartly said, crossing my arms under my breasts.

"He's not in service today, so that makes me the Sheriff," he smirked, taking my arm harshly before throwing me back in my cell. "You're going to stay here until someone comes to pick you up."

"Jack, I don't think it's--"

"You don't need to think," he cut Parrish off, "I'm your superior, and I'm the one to take decisions here."

"Then I have a question for you, Mr. the superior," I declared, clearing my throat. "Normally, people who get arrested for DUI like me, have the right to get a notice to appear and show up to court instead of being held in custody. So my question is, why did you bring me here?"

"I see you're a know-it-all," he laughed sarcastically.

"No, I just went to college. Not the case for everyone, apparently," I smartly said with a smirk, as my stare crossed Parrish's who silently laughed as well.

"Watch what you're saying, Ms. Wellington. You don't want to spend the night here now, do you?"

"That would be abusing your power, sir," I remarked. "Now, can you please answer my question?"

"Oh, multiple reasons, actually. You want them all?"

"Go ahead."

"Very well," he said, and cleared his throat. "First of all, while you were at the hospital worrying about your junkie friend, I went back here and checked your police record. You already have affairs with justice, concerning Mr. Dileo. You went to court to testify against him during his trial. If your police record was totally clear, I would have let you go."

"So you're telling me that testifying against a criminal that beat the hell out of women is a crime?"

"I'm saying you were involved in a criminal case," he corrected me, and went on, a smirk appearing on his evil face, "The second reason is that I wanted you to feel like a regular American, away from all the celebrity and fancy life. Does this make you feel more normal? Don't thank me."

"You have no right to do this. This is not a valuable reason," I said, getting irritated.

"I have every right, lady, I represent the law," he winked at me, approaching the cell. "Then, the last reason and not the least, I know for sure that there was drug at your place by the state your friend was in. I'm pretty sure you're doing drug as well."

"You don't have any proof, and you don't have a search warrant to go and look by yourself. I never did drugs in my entire life."

"Maybe not last night, but you're a model, don't make me believe you never did drugs. That's pathetic."

"Believe what you want, but I'm saying the truth. People say cops are lazy fucks, but I don't believe what they say, you should do the same."

"I advise you to watch your mouth. Or maybe you'd like to spend two more days in there?"

I stayed quite, but I was fuming. I couldn't understand how police officers could be so mean to people. I didn't kill anybody nor did I do something horrible. I was just trying to help my friend, it's not like I drove this way for fun. There was an important purpose to this.

"That's what I thought. Now, how are you doing? Is the hangover bearable?" he asked with a devilish smirk plastered on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered, throwing daggers his way.

"Come on, stop playing fool Wellington. Your breath test came out as bad as your fiancé's singing. In other words, you were way too intoxicated," he declared, laughing his ass off, glancing over at Parrish who had a straight face on. "Come on Parrish, it's funny!"

"Not really."

"Don't talk about him this way, you m–"

"Me what?" he taunted, looking down at me. "Go ahead, finish your sentence. I could keep you here a little bit longer for insulting behavior towards a police officer. Come on, what were you going to say?"

"Nothing," I muttered through gritted teeth, giving him a death glare.

"So talking about your precious Michael Jackson is a touchy subject for you?"

I stayed quiet again as my breathing quickened from the anger that was boiling in me.

"I've always wondered," he began, pacing the floor in front of the cell, taping his chin in thought, "is he black, or is he white? Because to me, he's–"

"Enough, Jack!" Parrish shouted, making his way up to his 'superior'. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"She deserves to stay in there longer than that, and I'm going to push her buttons until I have a valuable reason to lock her up," he explained to his colleague, and I felt my anger boiling.

"You don't have any right to do that. You're abusing your–"

The door of the police station opened, and a running Rebecca came in, which took a weight off of my shoulders.

"Thank God," I sighed in relief, as Becks spotted me and ran to the cell I was in.

"Oh Lord, June!" Becks exclaimed, with a hand covering her mouth. "Get her out of here, now!"

"Right away, ma'am," Parrish said, nodding.

"This ain't over, Wellington," Milo threatened as I came out of the cell. "I'll see you again, and prove to the world how much of a junkie you are," he said, stepping in my face.

"Your life must be pretty sad and boring to spend your time harassing a woman like me while thousands of criminals stride across the state. But do what you want. I don't have anything to hide, anyways," I declared, looking at him right in the eyes. "Now excuse me, but I'm not staying in there any longer."

"Come with me, I'll take care of your way out," Parrish said, motionning towards his office as Milo left the room, walking past the three of us.

***

After a few minutes dealing with the papers to get me out of here, I thanked Parrish for being this kind towards me, and Becks and I hopped in the car quickly. I took a quick look at the time on the dashboard, and gulped when I realized it was two thirty in the afternoon.

"Where's my phone?" I asked Becks, as she drove off from the police station.

"On the backseat, in your purse, along with all your stuff," she indicated me, her eyes glued to the road.

"Did you call Michael?" I asked, a little bit panicked as I opened my purse to take my phone out.

"Uh, about that," she lowly said, becoming uneasy.

I took my phone in my hands and soon, I realized the battery was dead.

"I couldn't call him. I was in a rush, and I didn't notice right away that your phone was dead, so I–"

"For fuck's sake," I muttered, banging the back of my head on the headrest repetidely. "He's going to kill me."

"I'm sorry, June, I—I thought--"

"Can I borrow your phone?"

"Sure. It's in my purse."

As I rummaged through her purse, I noticed a magazine in it which I found odd because my manager doesn't read nor buy this kind of stuff, as she knows just as well as me that ninety percent of what's written in those magazines are bullshit, and that they just try to ruin people's life.

And I was given another proof just before my eyes.

"What the fuck is this shit?" I asked in utter disbelief, examining the tabloid before my eyes.

My manager averted her eyes towards me for a split second, and she became uneasy again.

"Uh, yeah about that –"

"Is June Wellington taking the wrong path? Seriously?" I shouted angrily, opening the magazine to read the article.

"June, you know just as well as me that those things like to create lies and –"

"Supermodel June Wellington got arrested early this morning at Montecito Emergency Room, as the picture above shows. An anonymous source declared that one of her new model, Crystal Hale, overdosed under her watch while partying at the model's house, due to a mix of different drugs including cocaine. Source added that the supermodel was highly intoxicated when she arrived at the hospital, which is the main reason why she got arrested. One question remains, though. What is Michael Jackson, her fiancé of barely a week, is going to think after that? Is he going to call the engagement off?" I read out loud, as anger started to boil in me again. "Does this sound like lies to you?" I asked my manger, waving the magazine in the air. "I swear, news travel fucking fast! I can't believe this shit is already in the press!"

"June, calm down," Becks said in a soothing voice, patting my knee without taking her eyes off of the road. "You knew it would be in the press sooner or later now, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't expect their sources to be exact, but they are! Who told them that, huh? Who hates me so much to tell such things to the press?"

"I do have someone in mind."

"Yeah, Paulina? But how would she know I drove to the hospital in that state?"

"Touché."

"This has to be someone close to me," I said, banging my head on the headrest.

"But who? You came at the hospital by yourself, and you know damn well Crystal wasn't in the right state to say such things, and she wouldn't send herself to the press this way and jeopardize her nascent career."

Then it hit me. There was actually one person who was so mad at me that would do anything to make me pay for being such a failure as a manager.

"Caleb," I almost whispered, not believing my own word.

"Caleb? Why? He wasn't here as well."

"He came at the hospital to check up on Crystal. He lectured me about the fact that I wasn't a good manager, that I let them down for a whole week just to be with Michael. For him I failed to my promise to be a good manager to all of them. He quited, telling me he didn't want to work with me anymore."

"Hold on a second... The guy quited? That same guy that's literally head over heels for you?"

"Yeah," I sighed, covering my face with my hands. "I can't believe him."

"Wait, we don't know if he's the one who actually did that. It's not like him, he wouldn't do such a thing."

"It has to be him!" I angirly exclaimed, letting my arms drop on my lap. "I'm sure it's him."

"June, it was his dream to meet you, why would he waste his chance to work with you over such a thing?"

"Come on, Rebecca, we both know I'm not the best manager out there."

"No, I am," she bragged, trying to lighten up the mood, but miserably failed. "Seriously though, you're not even close to be a bad manager. Your newbies made it on the cover of New York Magazine with you, they met the Karl Lagerfeld and went to one of his shows, they met DVF and other well-known designers, they met highly known supermodel like Naomi... And all thanks to you, because you're always thinking about them in everything you do. Does Paulina did the half of it? No. Last time I checked, she kept working on her own, and didn't think of her newbies like you do. The only thing she did was introcuing them to Calvin Klein, but no photoshoot were done, nor interviews. How can you even think you're a bad manager after doing all of this?"

"It's just-- I feel like they deserve better than me."

"No they don't. What Caleb said is not true. They don't need you as much as he needs you. He was just jealous that you spent an entire week enjoying your fiancé's presence. He's jealous of Michael, and he would like to have you all for himself, and he was hurt you ignored him for a week. Damn June, he's in love with you."

"You're wrong," I denied, shaking my head.

"Come on, don't be so blind. Stares don't lie, attentions don't lie either."

"I don't need another man to be in love with me, please," I declared, rubbing the space between my eyes.

"I know, but you're not responsible of this. Prince, Caleb and Michael fell in love with you because they saw the wonderful woman you are inside and out. Don't ever say that you're a bad manager once again, or that people deserve much better than you. Understand?"

I slightly smile at my friend, and rubbed her hand that was on my knee to show her my gratitude, "thank's, Becks."

"Anytime," she smiled back before focusing on the road again. "Now, I advise you to call your man, and tell him you'll be there in an hour."

I took a deep breath, and dialed the number I learned to know by heart over the time, hoping with my whole being that Michael wouldn't be mad at me, that he would be understanding as I know he can be.

***

Neverland Valley Ranch, Los Olivos, CA.

Michael's point of view

I took a look at my watch for the hundredth time as my entire being was filled with worry and concern. It was way past two in the afternoon, and June still wasn't here while she knew we had a family get together to celebrate our engagement.

I picked up my house phone once again, and dialed the number I had been composing for the last couple of hours. Once again, I was directed straight to her voicemail.

"Where the hell are you?" I muttered to myself, dialing her house phone's number. "Pick up and tell me you over slept, please," I whispered, anxiously tapping my fingers on the table.

No answers as well.

Why didn't you stay with me last night, damnit.

"Hey bro, talking to yourself?" Jermaine asked, walking towards me in the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

I placed the phone back on its hook, and turned around to see my brother, "I'm trying to reach June, but she's not picking up the phone."

"Come on, relax. She's probably on her way here, that's why she doesn't pick up," he reassured, patting my shoulder. "I'm sure she's fine."

"Something's not adding up, though," I said, shaking my head from side to side. "She would call me to tell me she'd be late, but she didn't. I didn't hear from her since yesterdat night. I'm worried sick, Jermaine."

"I can come with you to Montecito, if you want to. I'm sure mother will understand."

"Thanks," I smiled at my borther's kindness, giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder. "But I'll have Pit check on her, he's in Santa Barbara as he doesn't work today."

"Whatever you wish, bro. I'll head back to the movie theater then, apparently Tito's boys want us to hear their new song."

"I'll be right--"

I didn't have the time to answer because my cellphone rang, and I ran to it to pick it up.

"Hello?" I asked, my voice filled with hope.

"Oh Michael, I'm so sorry I--"

"June? Oh my God baby, are you alright?" I asked, a wave a relief washing over me as I sat down at the kitchen island where my brother joined me.

"Yeah I'm fine. I'm on my way there, a lot happened last night, and things got out of control and I didn't know I'd be late and I'm so sorry because this day is so important to us and –"

"Whoa, calm down, sweetheart," I cut her off, as she started babbling. "What do you mean things got out of control?"

"I don't want to tell you all of this through the phone, can you wait for me to arrive?"

"June, you're scarying me. What happened?"

"Wait for me, I'll explain once I get there, I promise. Don't worry, I'm fine, okay? I just need a shower and fresh new clothes."

I was completely confused, and even though she told me not to worry, I couldn't help it. Something did happen.

Jermaine visibly noticed the frown on my face, because he mouthed me "what?" with a confused look on as well.

"Uh, okay?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not, I was worried sick about you! I tried to call you like a hundred time on your cell and on your house phone, but you never picked up. I imagined the worst scenarios, like you had an accident, or a heart attack or –"

"Stop imagining things. I'm fine now, and I'm on my way to see you. I'll be there soon."

"Are you driving right now?" I asked in a scolding tone.

"Uh, no. Becks is," she said, becoming uneasy.

"Why is Becks driving you here?"

"Because I don't have my driving license anymore, Michael."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Like I said, I'll explain later. Look, I gotta go. Be there in a few. I love you."

"Wait babe--"

What the heck?