Over a month went by before I thought about Sophie again.

Michael kept me busy at work, to say the least, and I spent most days feeling like I was a pledge again, cowering under his watchful eye. I started spending more time with Scott, although it felt kind of weird to spend my weekends at the fraternity house when I wasn't even in school. Maybe it was because being president had been the thing I was looking forward to most for this school year, but I always left feeling a little bit sad.

According to Mom, Dad had channeled his workaholic tendencies into recovering from his surgery and was close to being cleared to go back to work. Well, at least to start looking for work again. I know it's bad, but I secretly hoped that the doctors wouldn't sign off on him until he'd had a little bit longer to relax. Mom said he'd taken up designing miniature home models, which wasn't that weird for an out of work engineer to do, I guess. I just hoped that the next time I went home to visit, my room would still have a bed and not a workbench in its place.

In my spare time, I'd started really getting serious about putting together my application for LAU's film school. Unfortunately, I'd developed a horrible case of writer's block and spent my lunch breaks wandering around the streets, people watching and trying to get into the minds of characters that would impress the admission committee. So far, I'd gone through about four hundred ideas, three reams of printer paper, and countless hours, only to have a blank script saved to my computer's desktop.

As I strolled into my office one afternoon in late November, Melanie beckoned me over to her desk. She gave me a suspicious look before saying, "Your one-thirty appointment is here."

My eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? My what?"

Melanie nodded as she repeated, "Your one-thirty. She's in your office now,"

I stared at her and Melanie's face twisted into an anxious grimace. "You don't have a one-thirty, do you?"

I shook my head and my redheaded friend swore profusely under her breath as she quickly got on her phone to call security. More curious than concerned, I slipped away towards my office when her back was turned. No one ever tried to sneak in to see the intern and I wanted to see who'd gone out of his or her way to seek me out.

As I stepped into my dust-free office, I looked around in confusion for the person I was allegedly supposed to be meeting with. No one was sitting in either the spare chair that I kept next to the copiers or standing around waiting for me to return. It wasn't until I peered over my massive computer screen that I saw a familiar blonde slouched low in my swivel chair, her ballet flats resting on my desk.

"What are you doing here, Sophie?" I demanded as I walked around to stand squarely in front of her. I nudged her feet with my palm and she gave me a lopsided smile as she lowered them to the ground.

"I could ask you the same question," she said, spinning around lazily in my chair. She stopped and looked up at me innocently. "Whom did you piss off to get stuck with this office?"

"No one," I grunted, feeling both embarrassed and annoyed that she'd pointed out my meager workspace. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see how your wounds are healing," she said simply. I scoffed in disbelief.

"Is this supposed to be the apology I asked for four weeks ago? You're a little late,"

She shrugged. "To be honest, you happened to run into me—no pun intended—on a particularly bad day. I wasn't at my best, as the tabloids made sure to point out for a week afterwards."

"What, did you break a nail?" I asked sarcastically. "Or did your Chihuahua escape from your Prada bag?"

Sophie smirked and replied, "Prada, huh? Weren't you wearing Armani the other day, too? You do know what they say about men who know designers..."

I glared at her, knowing very well what she was implying. When I didn't take the bait, her face fell slightly. "I was just kidding, you know. Lighten up," she said, suddenly glum. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I really wasn't myself when we met."

"Oh, really?"

Sophie looked up at me with a frown as she heard the skepticism in my voice. "Yes, really. I'd like to see you acting like little Mr. Sunshine after getting fired from your first job in two years and having photos taken of you during what was then the lowest point of your career."

"Was?" I echoed. Sophie hung her head, golden locks falling forward to hide her face. When she spoke, her voice was shaky, yet the undertone of bitterness was obvious.

"After I got dropped from the latest Kohn movie, my, uh, publicist decided to take a random vacation to Tokyo. I got her resignation letter two weeks later. My agent promised that he'd go talk to the movie's producers to try to get me re-cast but, what a surprise, they felt that my image would hurt the film's 'marketability'." Sophie raised her fingers up and down as she pantomimed quotation marks. "The thing about agents, as I'm sure you know, is they're about as trustworthy as a snake in the grass—no offense, of course. So, despite paying good ol' Brian's salary since I was three, I decided that it was time to let him go after word got back to me that he'd actually gone to promote another client."

Sophie scowled at the memory and I found myself pitying her. "So now, you are..."

"I'm a free woman," Sophie said solemnly, her eyes taking on a faraway look before quickly regaining their hard edge. "But as fabulous as that may sound in a police drama, in reality, there's nothing more pathetic than a washed up child star being released into obscurity."

"What's so bad about not being famous? At least you won't have paparazzi on you all the time," I offered comfortingly. Sophie gave me a withering look.

"Isn't it obvious? I'll die." Unsure of how to respond, I watched as a jumble of emotions flashed in her eyes. After a while she said flatly, "I need your help, Parker."

Surprised to hear her speak my name, it took me a moment to remember that she'd kept the business card I'd offered to her as proof that I worked here. I guess that also explained how she'd convinced Melanie that I was expecting her.

"What can I do?"

I watched as she stood up, drawing herself up to her full height. I hadn't noticed just how tall she was before, but she was one of only a handful of girls that I knew to be capable of standing eye level with my chin. All of the others had been on LAU's women's basketball team.

She stepped towards me, closing the space between us, and I stepped back, widening it again. "What?" I asked nervously. Instead of answering, Sophie shifted her attention to a lock of her hair

"You know, I'm almost twenty," she began, sliding two fingers along the golden strands and stopping when they'd reached the tips. She frowned as she eyed a few split ends and starting breaking them off with deft movements.

"So?"

"So," Sophie let the pieces of hair that she'd been collecting in her hand fall to the floor. "I've been an actress for seventeen of those years. Do you realize what that means? While other kids spent their time at soccer practice or playing dress-up, I was going on auditions and being paraded around set like a monkey in make-up. When those kids grew up and got a car at sixteen, I was trying to figure out how to follow up an Academy Award nomination, which apparently I couldn't. Two years later when those sixteen-year-olds went to college to start their careers, I found out that everyone expected mine to be over."

"I really don't understand—"

"I don't know anything but this," she gestured her arm in a wide circle and I took it to mean Los Angeles and the lifestyle that she'd been thrust into. "Seriously. When my job offers started slowing down, I thought maybe I'd go to college, too, so I bought one of those SAT prep books... I couldn't even get through a full section without wanting to cry. I mean, I have no idea what a parabelly is or how to solve for it,"

"Parabola," I corrected automatically and she glared at me.

"See? I don't even know what I don't know," she whined. "But I know this. I know scripts, I know how to schmooze and smile, and be charming on-camera and off. I know how to be the vision that the director wants, and how many people can say that?"

I shrugged and she answered, "Not many. Parker, I am an actress and everyone knows that I'm a good one."

"Then what's the problem?"

Sophie sighed. "The trouble with being a child star is that eventually, you grow up. And when you grow up, it's over."

"That's not true," I argued, thinking of all the young actors and actresses that I'd idolized as a child. Most of them had been within a few years of my age and nearly all of them still turned up on TV and in films. "What about Kitt Bradford or Lana Leiman?"

Sophie scowled in irritation. "They don't count," she snapped. "They cheated."

"How the hell did they 'cheat'? Last time I checked this is the real world, not Candyland."

"You really don't know anything, do you?" Sophie asked and her eyes narrowed dubiously as she studied my face. "I knew you looked too young to have been an agent for very long."

I opened my mouth in protest to tell her that I wasn't an agent at all, but the sound of harried footsteps rushing towards my office distracted us both.

"Parker, are you alright?" Michael demanded as he came barreling through my open door frame. His tie was uncharacteristically askew and I noticed a fleck of mustard clinging to the side of his mouth. "Melanie called me and told me there's been some sort of emergency, what's going—" he stopped as he noticed Sophie standing next to me. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment and I could see his gears turning as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.

"Hi," Sophie said brightly, stepping forward and offering Michael her hand. "We haven't met before, but I've seen you around the studios. I'm Sophie Winters, it's nice to meet you."

Michael took her hand, and while obviously still dumbstruck, he replied casually, "Mike Donahue. I'm sorry, but can I help you with something?"

Sophie nodded. "Yes, I'm here to meet with Mr. Jennings about being represented by Geller and Klein,"

"What?" I sputtered in shock as I rounded on her. "You're here to do what?"

Ignoring me, Sophie went on, her eyes not leaving Michael's face, who looked as surprised as I felt. "Mr. Jennings—can I call you Parker?—and I met coincidentally last month. He gave me his card," she slid the traitorous white slip of paper from her pocket and I shut my eyes with dread, "and told me to contact your office. I didn't initially plan on following up with him, but as you may know, I'm currently reviewing my management personnel."

I was both amazed and horrified by her ability to spin what had actually happened into something that wasn't quite a lie, but certainly wasn't the truth, either.

"That's not... That didn't happen, Michael, I swear," I cried, panicked. But he was focused on the business card that she'd handed him. After a long beat, he crushed it in his well-manicured hand. Sophie merely looked on with a bemused expression.

"I'm afraid there's been some misunderstanding," Michael said tersely. "Parker cannot represent you."

Sophie cocked her head to the side with a slight smile. "And why is that?"

I could feel Michael's gaze piercing me like a dagger as he hissed through gritted teeth, "Because he isn't an agent." 

Sophie let out a surprised gasp that sounded more than a little rehearsed to me. She spun around and whispered angrily, "You lied to me?"

I looked between her and Michael desperately as I mouthed helplessly for words. "I never... I didn't. I mean it, Michael, she's twisting what happ—"

"I left my agent because of you!" Sophie exclaimed, her voice rising and I shook my head furiously.

"You said you fired him because he screwed you over!"

"After he found your card!" she wailed miserably.

"I'm sorry we can't be of help to you," Michael interjected, with a feigned cordiality. "This has all been an unfortunate understanding, but I'm sure an actress of your caliber won't have trouble finding another agency that suits your needs. Do you need your parking validated? Parker, why don't you take Ms. Winters to the reception area and..." Michael paused, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he watched Sophie retrieve her cell phone from her small, leather purse.

"Do you mind if I make a quick call before you throw me out?" Sophie asked, her bottom lip jutting outwards in a noticeable pout. Michael's lips curled into a poor excuse for a smile but he gave her a curt nod. I looked at Mike as if to say that I could handle it from here but he stayed firmly rooted to where he stood.

The room fell silent except for the audible sounds of ringing coming from Sophie's cell phone speaker. I hadn't realized that I'd been holding my breath until I heard the muffled voice of a man come on the line; I let out a deep sigh.

"Hi, Don," Sophie said cheerfully as she and Michael eyed each other with strange expressions on their faces.

I'd actually seen the look they were giving each other once before, during an Animal Planet special on the mongoose. Instead of studying for my mechanical operations exam last year, I'd spent two hours watching Indian mongooses and cobras locked in ferocious televised battles. At the time, I'd thought it would be cool to see that kind of action in real life but as I watched Michael coil defensively as Sophie stood poised to strike, I began to regret what I'd wished for.

"It's Sophie. No, no, I'm not in trouble again. Yes, I know about the deposition next week, don't worry; I'll be there. Yes, I promise. I'm actually calling because I had a quick question for you. If I were to sue someone for fraud, what elements would I need to show in order to win?"

Michael drew in a sharp breath and glared at Sophie with murderous eyes. She smiled sweetly at him in return.

"No reason in particular. I was just curious. Now, hypothetically, if someone gave me their business card and led me to believe that he was a talent agent, so I fired Brian but then found out this first guy isn't licensed, would I have a case?" As the garbled voice gave his opinion, her cat-like smile grew wider. "Really? That's interesting. See, I have this little problem—"

"Hang up," Michael suddenly lurched forward to snatch at her phone. Just like a cobra. Sophie stepped smoothly out his reach. Just like a mongoose.

"I'm sorry, one moment." She covered her phone's microphone with her hand and asked Michael tauntingly, "What was that?"

"I said, hang up," Michael snarled making another grab for the device but once again, Sophie pulled away in time.

"I'm sorry for bothering you, Don," the leggy blonde said with an annoying smugness in her tone. "It looks like my problem just solved itself. I've got to go, see you next Thursday!"

Sophie hit her phone's End Call button and beamed at Michael. "Did you have something to say?"

"My office," Michael spat, his face red with rage. "Now."

Sophie began to follow him out. I moved to sit down at my desk but Michael whirled around and snapped, "You too, Cone Head."

I swallowed and had a flashback to the last time Michael had used my pledge name. I shuddered at the memory and prayed that whatever he wanted to discuss in his office wouldn't involve me having to stick my hand into a jar full of cockroaches.