*Trisha*

 Nate holds me close to his side while I lie next to him in bed. I had a fricken panic attack, and Jonah ended up needing to give me an anxiety pill. Why the hell does Nate pull this shit? And why the hell did he keep this news from his core group of people?

"I'm going home. It's over, Trish. I'm done."

My eyes tear up again, hearing Nate talk about ending tour.

"Say something, doll."

"So that's it? Tour is over?" I choke out between tears.

" Yes. I'm going home. Maybe someday in the future, when I'm stronger and healthier, I-"

"And home is...where?" I look up at him. "Your L.A. apartment? London? The Avalon?"

Nate pinches the tension between his eyes and inhales sharply. "I'm not sure. I mean, back to California for now. Maybe London once I'm back on my feet. I don't know yet. I most likely will be discharged in the morning."

"And I go....?" Was he even considering me? My future? Where on earth do I fit in now?

"Wherever you want, angel. Your apartment, mine...You're still gonna be my assistant, Trisha. I'm not giving up on who I am. I'm taking time off and cancelling the remainder of the tour. But I'm still gonna be in the studio, writing, making music. Maybe I'll work on my next album. Or the Safe Haven music video I've been putting off."

"Nate, do you even have a record label? What if Richard drops you because of this??"

"Then I figure it out! Trisha, I need to do this. I'm tired. Sweetheart, I'm so tired."  His eyes water, and I notice right away, pulling him into my chest to hide his face like he needs me to.

"I'm so tired." He cries and that is what breaks me. He's not enjoying tour at all, is he? He's barely getting by.

"We'll figure it out together, ok? You're not alone in this. I get it, ok?" And I do get it. I just wish it was talked about before Nate announced it to the world.

"I'm sorry. I know I've let you down."

"I just wish you had told me first, Nate. When did you decide? How long have you been keeping this from me? From everyone?"

"It doesn't matter, doll." He pulls himself together.

Doesn't matter? We tell each other everything. What else does he keep from me?

******

*James*

The repetition soothes me. Up, bend, extend, down. Up, bend, extend, down. It feels like I'm right there with Julia, doing my daily exercises. I wonder if I'll be able to walk when I wake up. Or talk when I wake up. Will I wake up? And if I do, will I remember any of this?

"I will do ANYTHING to keep you safe, James. I don't care if I have to make a deal with the devil." 

Safe? Safe from who? Joe? Is Joe in the picture? Is he fucking with my family again?

"Moretti, time to eat something." Paul's voice echoes.

"I'm almost done. Just need to do his left leg."

"Jule, why did you let yourself get close to...him?" 

Him??

"I'm not sure."

"Don't forget the things he's done to you-"

"Obviously, I don't." Shit. They are talking about Jeremy  Donovan, aren't they? Something happened.

"You're letting your guard down."

"He was just the one sitting next to me. That's all, Paulie. I wasn't thinking."

"Exactly! You weren't fucking thinking!"

Whoa, Rossi. Cool it. Paul doesn't anger easily. What the hell is going on? I need to wake up. Please, God, I'm begging you. Don't do this to me! Have I not been faithful to You? Have I disappointed you? Why are you punishing me like this?

"I can't be with you sometimes! You keep me up all night with bad dreams of that guy, yet you go and rest your fucking head on his shoulder the next day? C'mon Jules. Smarten up!"

"I'm sorry I keep you up at night."  I feel Julia next to me now. She's laying next to me. "Hey, sweetie. I need you to wake up. I miss my best friend. I'm spinning out, doing reckless shit, just making stupid decisions, and I don't even know why. Nothing adds up anymore. Nothing makes sense. Reality feels fake...like I'm stuck in a bad dream I can't wake up from. I could really use my best friend right now. You were the one who always made sense when nothing else did."

She's crying. I feel her tears.

Then...Julia proceeds to tell me about the day's events. Now I understand Paul's frustrations. Between the incident in the cafeteria to the meeting with that doctor Cohen lady...And then hearing Julia was close to Jeremy? No wonder Paul is pissed.

What's it going to take for Julia to realize the man is dangerous? Whether he is getting treatment or not, the guy can not be trusted.

*****

*Trisha*

The press conference blew up the world. Nate's on an incredible publicity streak, making headlines across every news outlet, online and on TV. Like the guy hasn't been headlining the news enough lately!

I sit in the empty conference room, escaping the endless static of news blaring from TVs around the world and in this hospital, all repeating the same thing: Nate's tour is over. I know I'm hiding. I know I have a ton of things to handle right now, yet here I am, staring at my cup of tea instead of the laptop in front of me, with Evan sitting across from me, studying my face.

"Are you ok?" Evan breaks the silence, noticing that I'm not being productive at all...neither on my phone nor on my laptop. I don't tell him I'm on the verge of a fucking mental breakdown.

"If Nate isn't touring... if he's not doing any press or promos... then why would he still need me?" I don't bother looking up at Evan. "Was I ever essential? Or just convenient?"

"Ma'am?"

"God, I built my life around Nate's schedule. Early flights, frantic calls, backstage chaos, meet and greets, and travel." I ramble. "Now.... what the fuck is gonna happen now? I'm becoming obsolete. If I lose this... what else do I have? Who am I outside of Nate? I've been working this job since I was eighteen! I have no clue who I am now."

"You're Trisha Banks." 

My eyes raise to meet Evan's. 

 His voice isn't stern. It isn't sympathetic either. Just solid. I blink once and I swallow, my throat feeling raw.

You're Trisha Banks.

I want to scoff, dismiss it like a throwaway line, but something in Evan's gaze makes me hesitate.

"I used to know what that meant, who I was," I mutter, almost too low for him to hear. "Now I'm not so sure. I feel like I'm ready to have a major meltdown." I admit.

 Evan doesn't look away. "Then figure it out. You've handled far bigger meltdowns than an existential one. Just... try not to schedule it between 3 and 4. That's when the cafeteria does dessert."

A breath I didn't realize I'd been holding escapes...half a laugh, half a sob. Then a full-on laugh.

"I bet that's what Jonah's thinking right now, too." I smile over at Evan, who is trying to cheer me up.

"Oh, for sure." He laughs, and his shoulders relax a little. "He has an alarm set for it."

I laugh again, but it fades quickly. "Do you think there's something else out there? For me? I mean, if Nate doesn't need me. If he's taking a break from being "America's Heartthrob."

Evan doesn't hesitate. "Something yours? Absolutely."

I blink. "Even if I've spent half my life orbiting someone else's?"

He shrugs. "Then maybe it's time you became the center."

I give a dry laugh. "Right. Trisha Banks...center of the universe."

"You joke," Evan says, "but you're the one who kept Nate from unraveling half a dozen times. That's a job in itself. He's still going to need you. He won't know how to pay his bills or order food for himself."

"You're not lying there." I scoff.

"And if he doesn't need you, find someone who does."

Silence lingers for a moment, heavy but oddly not awkward, despite the way we're now locked in this gaze.

"Trish," he says with a grin, "you've booked multiple international tours and got a rockstar to eat his vegetables as a kid. He's not gonna leave you high and dry. If anything, I should be the one worried about my employment with Nate.. If he's taking a break, he doesn't need a bodyguard, does he?"

"Yet you don't seem worried."

"Because I'm not. Everything falls into place. Did I ever imagine Paul Rossi would call me to offer me a job as head of security for THE Nate Hollan? I was hustling two jobs at two different nightclubs at the time and still not making what I'm making right now."

"You were a nightclub bouncer?" I raise my brows.

"Among other things. But not just ANY night club bouncer. I was the head of security for The Vault."

 My eyes widen instantly. The Vault? That's not just any nightclub...it's the nightclub. The kind of place that doesn't bother with velvet ropes because it's so exclusive. It's where platinum artists, A-list actors, and fashion elites just exist...no introductions needed. 

The Vault is high-end, hyper-curated, and somehow manages to be both electric and elegant. It's the only spot where champagne flows like water, but the bartenders still know your name and your drink. You don't stumble into The Vault. You have to be invited. And if you're seen there, you're seen as somebody.

From the moment you walk in, you're smacked with luxury. The entrance is deliberately discreet, tucked behind a minimalist facade that gives no hint of the spectacle within. Once inside, it feels like stepping into a cinematic dream Every corner feels photogenic.

 And the bar? Oh, it's not just a bar...it's a chemistry lab where mixologists wear tailored suits and concoct drinks so personalized you swear they read your soul. The cocktails are garnished with edible gold or ice cubes infused with rare botanicals. Not kidding. The place is insane. This ain't no Sullivan's Tap. If you're blessed enough to be a bartender there, you're walking home with hundreds...yes, hundreds of dollars in tips per shift.

I have only been there a handful of times myself. All occasions involved dragging a drunken Nate Hollan out to take him home.... Usually having to peel a girl... or ten... off his damn lap. Never have I been invited to experience the place for myself.

"So is it true about that place??" I ask with curiosity, now forgetting about my own problems. I'm fucking sitting across from a man who is..or was..the head of security of The Vault for God's sakes! 

"Is what true?" He cocks his head to the side, though he knows full well what I'm asking him.

"You know...." I stall. "The upstairs...." I lift both brows.

"I'm sorry?" Evan says with a fucking smirk. He knows.

"You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Banks."

"Oh, cut the crap. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The upper level of The Vault. Is it true that it's an elite, exclusive,  you know...." I stammer. "Members-only club? 

Evan clasps his hands on the table, his eyes fixed on my face, maintaining his bodyguard demeanor and ignoring my question. But a slight curve to his lips gives me all the answers I need.

"It IS, isn't it?! The second floor of The Vault is a damn sex club!" I burst out.

"I never said that, ma'am." 

"You didn't need to!" I scoff, completely flabbergasted. "Did YOU work on that floor??"

"I was head of security, Trisha. I worked on all three floors."

"WAIT, There's a THIRD floor??" My eyes practically bulge out of my head.

"Shit." Evan drops his head, knowing he slipped up. 

"Oh my God. I need to know all about this! I can't believe you worked at The Vault! How did this not show up on your public resume? How did I not know this?!"

"It's a private club. Anyways, I'll probably go back to working security there if Nate doesn't need me."

"Holy shit." I'm beyond myself here. "So you've..... You know.... seen things."

"Oh, I've seen things, all right." He loses the battle, giving in to me and my questions. He sees this is getting my mind off my own shitshow of a life, so he entertains the conversation.

"Ok. You go from the Army to The Vault to the SEX club portion of The Vault?! What is on the other floors? What else don't I know about you, Scofield?! Tell me!"

"Fine." He huffs. "Third floor....Those are the private rooms."

My jaw drops. "Wait. The second floor doesn't have private rooms. So what the hell is the second floor if it's a sex club??"

Evan cocks his head to the side again, looking at me like I'm naive. Because I am. I can't believe I've dragged younger Nate out of that place on multiple occasions.

"It's an open room." For the first time, I see heat rise to Evan's face. An open room? An OPEN ROOM.

"You mean... people are doing it in one big room???" I shift in my seat. God, and here I thought that me and Nate were kinky with the restraints. 

"Yep. There's a section for everyone. Different stations. But it's all out in the open."

"So you are naked with a bunch of other naked people, having sex?" My mind is blown.

"Among other things..."

"Oh my God, it's a dominatrix place, isn't it?!"

"That is a topic for another day." He smirks again, and I feel like I literally have to pick my jaw up from the darn floor right now.

"Wait..." My voice is lower now. "Has Nate-"

"Not that I'm aware of. Though I wasn't there 24/7." Evan answers before I need to finish my question.

"Wow." I am stunned. I don't know what else to say, and we sit in silence again. "Soooo, you're gonna go back to that job you think?"

"It's an option. Pays well. Not as well as Mr. Hollan, of course."

I want to ask for a tour of the place, I'm intrigued, but don't have the fucking balls to, so I leave well enough alone...for the time being.

The Vault. Holy Hell.

We end the conversation when my phone goes off.  I look down and the color drains from my face. Leslie. I've been avoiding all calls since Nate's announcement but I can't keep pushing this aside. I need to smooth things over with Nate's tour manager.

"Hey, Leslie." I shut my eyes and brace myself, teeth clenched,  waiting for the inevitable.

"What the hell, Trisha! Did you know about this announcement?"

"No," I admit truthfully. "I had no idea. He pulled a fast one on me, on everyone."

"So that's it? The Around The World Tour is postponed until further noticed?" Leslie asks with concern.

"Or cancelled all together. I'm not sure. Nate really didn't tell me anything," I sigh. "I'm sorry, Leslie. You know if I knew you'd be the first one I'd tell."

There's a long pause.

"He's going to need to get everyone together. The entire tour crew. He knows that, right? He needs to go over everyone's pay- or lack of,  He's got over 200 people to answer to right now. 200 very unhappy employees that need answers."

"I know," I pinch the tension between my eyes. "I think he's going to be discharged tomorrow morning. I'll set something up for the evening, ok?"

"And there's really no way of talking him out of this decision?" Leslie is clinging to hope, but it's already gone.

When Nate makes public announcements, there is no swaying him. No changing his mind.

The Around The World Tour is over.

****