*Trisha*

I slip out of the dressing room, gripping my phone, when I see Richard calling me. I had a feeling I'd be getting this call, but right before Nate goes on stage isn't great timing. 

Once in an empty room, I close the door and try to make this conversation quick.

"Hi, Richard-"

"Tell me I'm hallucinating, Trisha. Tell me you didn't shut down every single meet-and-greet, press spot, and promo with no authorization today."

I feel tension take over my body, and I try not to sound nervous or fumble with my words.

"I did. He's not in any condition to" I attempt to explain, but Richard cuts me off.

"You're an assistant, not a crisis manager! Who gave you the authority to tank our entire rollout?" The stern voice puts a knot in my stomach, and I need to sit down. There are a few folding chairs scattered in the vacant room, and I quickly grab one before answering. "I had to make a judgment call. Nate's exhausted, and he hasn't been-"

"I don't care if he hasn't slept since the Stone Age!" He doesn't let me finish one fucking sentence and my blood begins to boil. God I can't stand this motherfucker. "Do you know how many deals Leslie and I brokered just for today?"

No, pal, actually I don't. Nor do I care. The door opens, and Evan furrows his brows when he sees me sitting in here alone. I shake my head and put Richard on speaker phone. 

"And he was supposed to smile through it on autopilot? He's barely hanging on! We had to have a physician and two nurses come up to his hotel room to run some tests. Sir, he needed a break today."

There's a long pause, making me look up at Evan and back down at my phone.

Trimming his volume, but not his bite, Richard continues. "You could've told me. We could've adjusted strategically. Instead, you pulled the rug out from under the entire machine."

Is that what Nate is to Richard? Some machine?? And no, Richard is full of it. He would never "adjust it strategically."

"He's not a commodity. He's a human being! And today? He needed to just be one." I feel my emotions creeping out, and Evan puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. "I've got to go." My hand trembles slightly, and I hang up before Richard can say anything more.

The aftereffect of the confrontation over the phone hits me immediately. My hands shake, and tears sting my eyes. I never let people get to me like this, but Richard always seems to find a way. I drop my phone onto the table in front of me and cover my face with my hands.

"God, I can't stand him!"

To my surprise, strong arms envelope me as Evan pulls me into his embrace. He never drops his guard like this. 

"Deep breath, Miss Banks." He says softly and soothes me by gently rubbing my back. Ok, this is something I'm not used to. Hell, not even Paul did this, and we were dating! Or maybe he did, but I didn't feel what I'm feeling right now. What am I feeling right now? Jesus, Trish- pull yourself together! There's a concert ready to happen.

"Sorry." I back away quickly and sniff.

******

Mila is back with us, and I can already feel the tension between her and Nate. They try to distance themselves and only engage in small talk, but I can see it in their eyes. The chemistry is strong and noticeable. As much as I'd like Nate all to myself, that's not gonna happen. Mila is the next best thing for him. Certainly better than Shitshow Julia, that's for sure! I don't know why he doesn't just throw in the towel so he can be happy. Nate deserves to be happy.

I'm half paying attention to one of the tour bus drivers going over the agenda and half listening to Nate's conversation with Julia.

"Where are you now?" Julia asks. She always does this.

"I'm in Bridgeport, Connecticut," Nate answers, and I nod like I heard what Bob said. He could have said we were driving to Japan, and I wouldn't have caught on.

"Twenty minutes, Nate!" Leslie hollers into the dressing room and then disappears.

"You have to go...." Julia states.

"Not yet. No. That's just for the soundcheck. The show doesn't start till eight."

"Is Mila with you?" Julia asks, and I roll my eyes at Nate.

"Not in my dressing room, no, doll. She's...actually, I have no fucking clue where she is." Nate lies, knowing full well Mila was in this room two seconds ago and is currently using the bathroom. My eyes widen, and I raise my brows at him. He shakes his head at me and furrows his own brows. Wow, he's playing the game!! Good for him, though. Julia keeps saying they are not together, so there is no reason for Nate to answer to her. What good is it going to do to let her know Mila is around anyway?

"But... she's there. Where are you guys staying overnight?"

"We aren't staying. Sleeping in the tour bus tonight so we can get to.." Nate stops short with a pause, which I find weird. "Our next destination."

I glance down at the travel agenda in front of me and then put two and two together. Nate doesn't want to tell Moretti the next stop is Boston. Smart.

"I see."

"I fucking hate this, Jule. You're there and I'm here and-...can you just talk to me? Is that too much to ask?"

"I guess I should let you go."

"Don't do this," Nate says, and his voice is low but firm. "Don't shut me out like this."

"I'm not shutting you out," she replies, but there's no warmth in her voice. "I'm just... tired."

"Tired of what?" He is starting to get emotional, and I have to look away. "Of detox? The Avalon? Tired of me? Talk to me, doll."

Julia remains silent now.

"Damn it, Julia! Please talk to me. Yell at me, scream, anything. But don't just shut me out and act like you don't care."

"You think I don't care?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but there's steel in it. "I care, Nate. I care so much that it hurts. But do you?"

"What?!" He bursts, and I give him a stern look. "Nate!" I scowl, but in a whisper. He's getting all worked up. This is stupid. She's not worth the stress anymore.

 "Jule, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Julia ends the call. She fucking hung up on him?!

"Oh fucking hell!" Nate stands up and shoves his phone in his back pocket.

"Sweetie, let it go." I walk over and put my hand on his forearm.  Mila walks out of the bathroom just in time as the call is over. She looks fantastic. Ready for the concert tonight wearing a tight hot pink minidress showing off her curves and long legs. I wonder if she knows Nate has a thing for hot pink?

The second Nate sees Mila, his eyes darken, and he runs his hands through his hair nervously.

"Hey! I just did that!" Holly, his hair and make-up artist, puts her hands on her hips and points for him to sit back down in the chair so she can fix his hair.

"Sorry, love." He breathes out, his eyes on Mila as he sits down.

"Jesus, reel it in, Playboy." I scoff with an eye roll.

*****

After we eat dinner, Holly brings Nate back into the dressing room for the final touch-ups. Jonah follows along so he can take Nate's blood pressure. Evan follows because that's his job. While sitting in the chair in front of the mirror, Nate looks at me, having something to say.

"You know, Mila's management team wants her to lose ten pounds in two weeks for some bikini shoot she is doing?"  He blurts out. "She just told me during dinner."

"Seriously?? She's a bombshell!" My words accidentally come out louder than anticipated, and Evan gives us a little look. "She's not gonna do it though, right? Mila is known for her curves. Women die to look like Mila Giovanni."

"She doesn't have much of a choice. Management. You know how it is, Trish." Nate closes his eyes as Holly sets his perfect hair with hairspray.

I shake my head and my shoulders drop. In a perfect world artists wouldn't have to answer to anyone. Not when it comes to their appearance OR what they can or can't commit to for work. If they aren't feeling well they should be able to take a sick day. I don't know what Mila's contracts look like but I can not WAIT for Nate's contracts to expire!

I can not WAIT to be done dealing with Richard Benson.

******