Nick drives me home while the sky is not quite black. The beautiful sunset lingers behind the palm trees of Beverly Hills, scattering its pink and orange rays of light across the sky. It is rare that the stars littering the night sky can be seen since it is always either cloudy or hazy, or a combination of the two.

Beyond the manicured lawns of Vanessa Mascarde and the tiny fairy lights from her mahogany deck, I hear a low beat. As we near the house, I recognize the blaring music and strobe lights flashing from her secluded concert patio.

Vanessa, now 22 years old, was a former child star who decided to rebel against her past and went crazy to change her image. My mother disapproved of her choice, but I'll bet she went to the party anyway.

Nick drops me off a block from my mother's house, just as I had requested. He smiles at me pleasantly, then silently speeds away in the opposite direction. I look on as his black car disappears down the street, creeping away like a ninja in the night.

I glance at my watch and notice that it is almost 10:30.

Damn long summer days. I think. In California in June, residents use the bonus hours for more late night partying and private concerts. The noise wafting from every house on the block angers me every night as I try to sleep. I always have the same urge to open up my window and swear like hell until they shut up.

I wobble slightly as I begin the short trek back to my house in three-inch heels. I really should have just gone with the flats. But, of course, I had to impress Nick. Alex told me that on the first date you have to be yourself. I'm not sure if I should trust Alex's judgment, but I should have at least followed the advice. 

My mother had been fine with me going out with Nick, which wasn't surprising considering the fact that she was the one who set us up. She said she had other plans and that I need to have fun. Like she actually cares if I enjoy myself.

I doubt she is home yet. I know she likes to leave parties early, before they die out, but not this early. Still, I decide to go around back to avoid notice, creeping through the white, carved wooden gate to the back door by Kevin's office. Standing on the back steps, I reach into my mother's Louis Vuitton purse, which I had stolen for the date. She has about thirty purses stashed in her room and parlor, and I often snag one for parties and such. She never notices.

I pull out my black-quilted-with-gold Gucci box clutch from within the bag, then zip it up again and set it down on the polished metal railing. My small purse is made of soft baby blue leather and is quite possibly one of the most expensive things I own. It was, of course, a birthday present from you-know-who. I pry it open to retrieve my set of keys before I snap the clutch closed.

Carefully selecting the proper key, I place it securely in the white door's keyhole. I turn it quickly to unlock the door. Then I sneak in like the ninja burglar thief I wish I was. Carefully, I shut the door behind me and put the key in its rightful place in my clutch.

"Hello, Micah."

I whip around in fear to see Kevin. He's working late. "Um, hi, Kevin," I stammer.

"I hear you went on a date tonight," he says, brushing my hair past my ear. He smiles his bright grin. "Did he treat you right?"

I nod, laughing softly. Kevin often pretends to be over-protective. If I had any choice over who my mother's bodyguard was, I'd pick Kevin, though I can't picture him taking Alex's place. "I'm going to bed," I say quietly, pointing to the stairs that lead up to my room.

"Then you go right along up there," he says as if I am a toddler, patting me on the back. I smile, then continue up the stairs.

"Goodnight, Kev," I whisper-shout over my shoulder.

At the top of the stairs, I turn left, heading down the hallway towards my room. I open the door as far as it can go, (which isn't very much, considering the fact that I have placed my king-size right in front of it), and leap onto the soft mattress. The reason I had adjusted my bed that way was that whenever my mom enters a room, even her own bedroom, she has to have some sort of grand entrance, which requires a door that can open all the way. Now my mother can not get in because she also gives up easily.

I think it was pretty genius.

I sit up on my bed, not planning to sleep anytime soon. Crawling to the edge, I snatch up my iPad mini from the bedside table. I turn it on and go straight to the safari app. Typing the two words into the search engine, I press enter.

The results are immediate, and stunning too. I begin to read.

Nicholas Garner

Nicholas Jeremy Garner is the 16-year-old-son of Alistair Garner and Richelle Craig, born February 11th, 1998. When his parents divorced, Alistair married Jaimie Riece. Soon after that, Jaimie divorced him. Nicholas now goes back and forth between the houses.

Garner attends Eleazar Hornet High School and is in the 11th grade. As for his personal life, he is currently dating Micah Tanner, daughter of famed Lauren Tanner. Pictured: Tanner and Garner at the Panini on June 12th.

I groan, shutting off the iPad. I can see where this is going.

What kind of person wrote that kind of stuff?  His personal life and currently dating continue to flash before my eyes. I would guess it was Rhina's revenge work, but she can't be the only one longing to get back at him and me.

However, Nick did tell Rhina that we were dating. That's not good. If I'm going to be in a relationship with him I want it to be secretive. I get enough paparazzi when I'm with my mom, thank you very much. If Nick truly likes me, meaning Jaimie and my mom truly didn't set us up, he will retaliate and prove to me that I'm actually important to him. 

I ponder thoughts in my head, erasing some. After a few mere seconds, my laziness takes over and I flop back down on the bed, tossing my iPad down onto a nearby bean bag with wonderful accuracy for someone lying down.

I'll think of something later.

Suddenly, I hear the front door slam downstairs. I sit up straight in bed, my heart pounding. My mother only slams the door on two occasions: if she is insanely angry about something, or if she is drunk. It's often both, and neither are moods I want to confront at this hour.

Deciding to stay in my room, I inch my bed even closer to the door.

"MICAH!" comes a shout from below. "GET DOWN HERE NOW!" 

I sigh. You may think that this would lead me to assume that she is angry, but it is actually the opposite. If she is mad, which has happened quite often, she would be completely silent and spend the whole night in her parlor room. Well, shit. It sounds like we're encountering a not-so-rare Drunk Lauren, wild in her natural habitat.

I swing my legs off the bed and stand up. There's no disobeying my mother when she's drunk. For all I know, she could come storming up here with a blow-torch and burn down my door. Believe me, she's gotten pretty close to doing that a few times.

I pull my bed away from the door, then scurry around it to exit my room. Racing down the hall, I stop at the top of the stairs to look down into the dining room. My mother is leaning against the granite island, staring into space.

Rolling my eyes, I continue down the floating staircase, in less of a hurry.

"Yes, Mom?" I ask.

She moves her distracted gaze to me, staring down any jokes. "I'm gonna fire him," she mumbles, waving her hand at the air. This doesn't make her seem very serious.

"Who?" I ask, treading slowly toward her.

"That bodyguard."