The next night, an earth-shattering crash jerked me from my dream. Disoriented by the sudden awakening, my first thought was that there had been an earthquake and I rolled over to ask Sophie if she was alright. It was hard to see without my contacts in but, even in the darkness, it didn't take long to figure out that Sophie wasn't in the bed. Shortly after that realization came the fear that she'd hurt herself somehow, so I threw off the covers and stumbled toward her bedroom door. Once in the hallway, I felt along the wall until my fingers found a light switch. As the corridor illuminated, I allowed my eyes to adjust before hurrying downstairs.

Light glowed from underneath the living room door and I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what I might find inside. "Sophie?" I called tentatively. "Are you okay?"

When she didn't respond, I opened the door and gasped, convinced that I was seeing things. No matter how much I blinked, however, I couldn't make the sight disappear. The floor of the living room was covered in plastic and two previously stark white walls were now covered in haphazardly strewn splotches of paint. Jarring shades of blue and orange mixed with various hues of pink and green, all joined together in a chaotic series of stripes. An odd hum filled the room and it took me a moment to realize that Sophie was muttering to herself while she worked.

"Hey," I began, and Sophie jumped, spinning to look at me with wide eyes. Her front was coated in canary yellow paint and I struggled not to stare. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, my God," Sophie said, wiping her brow with her forearm. "You scared me."

"What was that banging noise earlier?" I asked, squinting until her face came into focus. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, I knocked over a stack of paint cans. Did that wake you up?" When I nodded, Sophie set down her brush and moved to give me a hug. Reflexively, I held out an arm to keep her at bay and she frowned until I motioned at the massive stain on her shirt. She studied it for a moment and then shrugged. "Whoops."

"What are you doing?" I asked again, and Sophie's face brightened.

"Redecorating," she replied with a broad smile.

"In the middle of the night?"

Sophie sniffed. "Well, when else can I do it? I'm always working."

"I guess." I motioned at the wall. "So, uh, are you planning on painting the entire room like this?"

"Maybe. What do you think?"

"That'd be interesting," I managed to say with what I hoped was a straight face.

Sophie crossed back over to the cans of paint still lying on the ground and studied her work. "You're so gullible, Parker," she said, as if I should've known that she was joking from the start. "I couldn't decide which color I liked so I thought I'd try them all out before committing to one."

"I see." I paused, unsure if I wanted to risk making the comment balanced on the tip of my tongue. "Um..."

"What?"

Those are some of the ugliest colors I've ever seen. "Never mind. Don't take this the wrong way or anything but wouldn't it be easier to hire someone to do it for you?"

Sophie rolled her eyes. "That completely defeats the point." She stroked her chin before turning to me and confiding, "I've been really stressed lately so I met with my meditation coach and he told me to find a non-work related hobby. I got bored of running so I thought I'd update my house a bit."

"Oh. Right." I vaguely remembered her mentioning that meeting earlier in the week. "So, do you feel... less stressed?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure," Sophie admitted, chewing on her lip. "Anyway, which color do you think is best?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Soph."

"Who else am I supposed to ask?" She sounded so sad when she spoke that I forced myself to consider the random assortment of colors on the wall.

I pointed at the first reasonable looking stripe that I could find. "That light green one is nice, I guess."

Sophie picked up the can that color belonged to. "'Minty Apple'," she read off the label, then looked at the swatch she'd painted. "I like that one, too."

Pleased with my response, Sophie tilted her head and studied me. "What time is it? Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Honestly, no, I don't." I rubbed my eyes and stifled a yawn. "Come on, let's go to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Sophie replied, and I believed her. She looked more alert than ever, even though I knew she hadn't slept the night before either.

"Sophie..." I paused, racking my brain for an excuse to get her to come upstairs. "Would you mind lying down with me until I fall back asleep, then?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, Sophie's expression softened and she set the paint can back down on the ground. "Of course I will." Sliding an elastic band off her wrist, she pulled her long strands back into a ponytail. "Let me take a shower first and I'll be right there, okay?"

Taking my hand, Sophie led me upstairs, yammering about whatever was on her mind as we walked. I wanted to interrupt her and ask what was going on with her, why she was acting so oddly, but I didn't. Maybe I was afraid of upsetting her, or maybe I'd grown used to her denying that anything was wrong... Maybe I even believed her. She's stressed, I thought to myself, trying to rationalize everything.

Still, though, if I couldn't ask her and get a real answer, there had to be someone who could tell me if I was overreacting. The problem was that I didn't know who I could ask. Who knew what Sophie was like -- what she was really like?

When we reached her room, she disappeared into the en suite and I waited until I heard the shower begin to run. After a few minutes, I crept into the bathroom, first stepping over the pile of clothes she'd shed near the door and then bending down to search through them. Where is it...

"Parker?"

I looked up to see Sophie's outline staring at me through the semi-opaque shower door and dropped her sweatpants in a panic, though I knew from experience that I wouldn't have looked like anything more than a blur.
"Sorry," I said, pocketing what I'd gone in there for. I got to my feet and left without offering an explanation.

Heart racing, I typed in the security code to Sophie's phone and felt a sharp pang of guilt when her home screen appeared. I always scolded her for snooping through my things but there I was doing the exact same thing. What made it worse was what I was planning to do later. Knowing that I didn't have much time, I pulled up Sophie's call log and felt surprised to see nearly twenty missed calls from her dad.

Saved in her phone as 'Daddy', it seemed as if he'd called her everyday for at least two weeks; as far as I could tell, though, she hadn't spoken to him once. I glanced at the bathroom door and continued scrolling until I found the number I wanted. Quickly adding the contact details to my own phone, I hurried to return Sophie's cell to where I'd taken it from before hopping into bed.

I glanced at Sophie when she stepped into the room, though if she had noticed anything, she didn't mention it and instead crossed to her wardrobe to dress in clean clothes. Wet hair hanging limply around her face, Sophie switched off the lights and curled up next to me in the bed. Though she insisted that she wasn't tired, after an hour, I heard her breathing slow to a gentle snore. Finally.

------------

In the days that followed, I realized that I couldn't keep up with Sophie's schedule at all anymore. With her recent tidal wave of publicity -- good and bad -- came an endless stream of auditions. When she wasn't at photoshoots or attending promotional events for Armada's line, she was on-set filming or reading for a new show. Michael insisted that working would only help to improve her image and I couldn't deny that Sophie seemed to be enjoying herself in spite of the stress it brought.

As the end of the month drew nearer, Sophie called me at work one afternoon to let me know that Kelly's film had finally wrapped.

"We should celebrate," I told her, and Sophie agreed, though she rejected my offer to come by and make dinner for her that night.

"There's a cast party this evening," she explained. "Kelly rented out a club for us."

"Sounds fun," I said, spinning back and forth in my chair. I looked up when I heard a knock on my office's door.

I saw Melanie's hair peek through before the rest of her emerged, though when she saw that I was on the phone, she turned to leave again. "Hang on a sec," I said to Sophie, lowering the phone. "You can stay, Mel."

Already halfway into the hallway, Melanie stopped her retreat and returned with an embarrassed smile on her face. "Sorry," she mouthed, before tiptoeing over and taking a seat on the edge of my desk.

"Is someone with you?" Sophie asked, and I watched while Melanie smoothed down the pleats on her dark brown skirt. In sharp contrast to the brightly colored outfits that she usually wore to work, today her outfit seemed oddly muted.

"Just Melanie," I replied, wincing when Melanie leaned over and gave my upper arm a swift whack.

"'Just Melanie'?" she whispered incredulously, and I shrugged, hoping that she knew I hadn't meant anything by it.

"Oh, she's nice. Tell her I said hello," Sophie said, before jumping to a different topic.

It was hard enough to keep up with Sophie's train of thought without any distractions but with Melanie making faces at me and pretending to check her watch, it was nearly impossible. After a few minutes, I gave up and told Sophie to call me back whenever she had time to talk. Melanie's expression was a perfect mask of innocence while I pocketed my phone and frowned.

"I always forget how annoying you are," I said, and she slapped my arm again.

"'Just Melanie'," she repeated, shaking her head. "The least you could say is, 'It's just Melanie, the most amazing person in the world.'"

"I'll keep that in mind next time," I said, glancing at my computer's clock. "Want to go for lunch?"

Melanie rolled her eyes. "Why do you think I'm here?"

I gathered my wallet and keys but decided to leave my jacket draped across the back of my chair as I followed Melanie out of the room. Although there was over a month left of spring, the summer heat had already begun creeping into the air, bringing with it hoards of tourists and embarrassing sweat stains. After learning the hard way that the building's air conditioning didn't work in my office, I'd started spending a good portion of each day wandering around the agency in search of a draft.

"What's new?" I asked Melanie once we reached the first floor lobby.

A giant pair of sunglasses rested on her nose and she tilted her head to study me before responding. "I'm going on a date this weekend," she said, unable to hide her smile as we stepped through the front doors and into the unforgiving sunlight.

Ordinarily, I enjoyed Los Angeles' barren landscape but the city's palm trees did very little in terms of providing shade. I could feel a sunburn begin to creep its way across the back of my neck and flipped my collar up before the redness got any worse. "With who?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Michael?"

"No, not -- would you please drop the Michael thing?" Melanie shook her head. "Please?"

"Who is it, then?" I asked, genuinely intrigued. I'd met a few of Melanie's friends when we'd hung out after work in the past, though she'd made it clear each time that she had zero interest in any of the guys in her regular social circle.

Rather than replying, Melanie's smile faltered slightly and she blushed. "My GRE tutor."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Melanie replied. She sounded defensive and after seeing her hands curl into tight fists, I decided against teasing her further.

"Is that how you met?" I asked. "Tutoring?"

Melanie's cheeks were so red that I guessed she was only one shade away from turning purple. "No, um, not exactly." She tucked her hair behind her ears and made a face. Looking around to make sure no one was listening, she whispered, "I met him online."

"Like, online tutoring?"

Melanie stared at me in disbelief as we neared the restaurant that we usually went to for lunch. Confused by her reaction, it took another minute until the meaning of her words dawned on me. "You mean online dating?" I blurted, and Melanie swiftly smacked me in the gut.

"I hate you," she muttered, gaze trained on her feet while I held the door of the café open for her.

Inside, the hostess asked us to wait while she seated the couple in front of us. I watched the three of them disappear and shifted from foot to foot. "Don't take this the wrong way, but aren't you kind of..."

"What?"

"Young? For online dating, I mean."

Melanie sighed and pushed up her sunglasses so they balanced on top of her head. She jutted her lower lip out in a pout. "Well, not all of us have celebrities throwing themselves in our direction, you know," she whined, folding her arms across her chest. "Honestly, I'm desperate. I've been single for so long that even my dad has started making jokes about me joining a convent. How sad is that? Meanwhile, five of my friends from college got engaged this month. Five!"

She shook her head with disgust, though I suspected that had less to do with her friends' engagements and more to do with her lack of a significant other. "It's really hard to meet guys once you're out of school, too," Melanie continued, looking at her bare ring finger forlornly. "It's, like, unless you met your boyfriend in college, you're stuck with whoever's left over and everyone kind of sucks. I mean, I know it doesn't matter that much and I'm young, blah, blah, blah... But, there's still this weirdly competitive pressure to find someone -- anyone."

Melanie must've seen the panicked expression on my face because she started to laugh. "Guys don't think about that stuff as much as girls do, huh?"

"No," I admitted, secretly hoping that Sophie didn't either. "Well, I don't. Maybe some do."

"Yeah?" Melanie lifted a hand to her forehead and pretended to scan the room. "Where are they?"

When the hostess returned to seat us, she led us to a corner of the restaurant that overlooked a wall of TVs. Most showed whatever game was on at the moment but one had been turned to a daytime talk show. Centered around a panel of bickering women, The Scene had primarily grown in popularity because of the wild statements made by its hosts. Never afraid of controversy, the panel often made comments that ranged from being mildly offensive to utterly explosive.

"Sophie's on TV," Melanie whispered as she scooted her chair closer to the table's edge. She reached for her napkin and draped it across her lap while I turned to look.

Largely unscripted, The Scene was also known for demanding the sort of interview that I expected Sophie to avoid like the plague. Sure enough, though, there she was, sitting in the show's hot seat while the hosts bombarded her with questions. The sound on all of the televisions had been muted so I read along with the closed captioning as the mouths on the screen moved.

Sophie sat rigidly in her seat and I could see her smile tightening around the edges while she twisted the rings on her fingers with small, sharp turns. The host speaking to Sophie leaned so far across the table that she was nearly standing. On the TV, the captions read:

Jones: I've got to hand it to you, Sophie, you've done a great job at overcoming the issues you had in your past. Your career has really taken off again over the last few months.

Winters: Thank you, Harper. You know, it's been challenging but I'm grateful for the opportunities that I've been given.

Jones: That's wonderful. You've signed on to quite a few projects recently, haven't you?

Winters: Yes, I have. A couple movies, some fashion promotions... I'll be busy for a while, but it's good. I like it that way.

Although I couldn't hear her, Sophie's lips moved so quickly that I wasn't surprised when the closed captioning began to lag behind. Unable to keep up with her rapid fire speech, the subtitles for her dialogue eventually read [Unintelligible]. Most of the hosts seemed pleased with whatever she was divulging and Sophie paused to laugh along with the panel about whatever she'd said.

[Laughter].

Meanwhile, the camera panned over to a plump dark-skinned woman at the end of the table with bright coral lipstick and narrowed eyes. A well-known actress from the seventies, Shelby Rivers spoke without a filter, often making the comments that bordered on cruel. She served as the show's foil to Harper Jones, who was never anything short of positive.

Rivers: Look, since no one else is saying it, I feel like I have to. Sophie, you and controversy go together like turkey and gravy, like dogs and fleas. Aren't you worried that one day you'll wake up and find that someone's swooped in and taken all of your jobs? Someone just as talented but without all of the baggage?

Sophie's smile faded and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Beside me, I could feel Melanie's gaze flick between my face and the drama unfolding on live television.

Winters: Excuse me?

Jones: Shelby...

Rivers: What? I want to know.

Winters: What exactly are you asking?

Rivers: You're almost more well known for your scandals than your acting. Aren't you afraid that your time in this industry is being cut short by your antics?

Winters: I don't think it is--

Rivers: On top of that, rumor has it that Richard Callaway's played a big role in getting you most of your recent job offers. Would you say that you pushed for the two of you to stay together in an attempt to preserve your own career?

Sophie's expression darkened even as the other hosts jumped in to scold Shelby. Melanie clucked her tongue sympathetically and I knew that Sophie must be seething. What I didn't expect was for her to stand up and begin removing her microphone.

Winters: Can someone un-mic me, please?

Jones: Sophie, wait--

Winters: Seriously, I want this microphone turned off. Now, please.

Rivers: Are you upset because what I've said might be true? Is that why you want to leave?

Although she'd already managed to take off her microphone pack, Sophie's fingers lingered over her earpiece. She seemed to hesitate for a split second before shaking her head.

Winters: I'm leaving because we all agreed on what questions you were going to ask me before the show and now you're trying to blindside me. It's ridiculous, it's unprofessional. I didn't come here to talk about whatever you think is going on in my life, I'm here to promote a movie. Okay? That was the deal, that's what I agreed to talk about. Nothing else. And, anyway, Shelby, if you're going to attack me, maybe you should ask yourself why you haven't been signed onto a movie in eight years.

With that, Sophie yanked out her earpiece and tossed it onto the panel's table along with the microphone and battery pack. Although the hosts all looked stunned, no one seemed more surprised than Shelby as Sophie turned and stormed off the set. I had a feeling that no one had ever spoken to the former actress like that, especially not someone who'd been on the receiving end of one of her roasts moments before.

The show cut to a commercial and, while part of me was proud of Sophie for standing up for herself, I also knew that clip from the segment would be played on repeat for God only knew how long. A sinking feeling in my chest told me that both Michael and Sophie's publicist were probably ripping their hair out at the moment and that realization made me hopeful that lunch might give me food poisoning. Michael still hadn't fully forgiven Sophie for forgetting about their meeting and this latest fiasco would undoubtedly push him nearer to a meltdown. Although admittedly somewhat twisted, I decided that I'd rather spend the afternoon bent over a toilet than listen to Michael complain for the rest of the day.

"Oh, my God," Melanie said, pulling me out of my thoughts. She stared at me with wide eyes. "Oh, my God, can she do that?"

I shrugged. "Guess so."

Truthfully, though, I was probably the most surprised of anybody by Sophie's decision to leave. It seemed so out of character, almost as if she was trying to live up to her reputation rather than downplay it like she normally did. Then again, if I was being honest with myself, then I had to admit that how she'd been acting recently wasn't all that different from how she'd behaved when we first met. Still, I'd always assumed that her old attitude had been born out of desperation; I didn't know how to explain why she was acting like this now.

Avoiding Melanie's gaze, I slid my cell phone from my pocket and turned it over in my hands. "You know, I've actually been thinking about messaging Richard."

Melanie snorted. "Why? Do you need a new dealer or something?"

"Obviously," I replied. "Did I ever tell you that I talked to him a few weeks back?"

When Melanie said no, I went on, "He cornered me while I was on Global Studios' lot to drop off something for Sophie. It was weird."

"Of course it was weird," Melanie said, rolling her eyes. "He's Sophie's ex-boyfriend."

"Yeah, I know, but that's not what bothered me about it."

"What did?"

I hesitated, knowing from her tone that Melanie would never approve of what I had planned. As I tried to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to say, Melanie waved over a waiter so that we could place our orders. A pimply man about my age appeared with a notepad in hand and Melanie shot me a dirty look before rattling off a list of everything that she wanted to eat.

When the waiter turned to me, I mumbled that I'd have the same and handed him my menu. Once the man was out of earshot, I said, "Richard told me that she has... Issues."

"Yeah, she does. She's dating an idiot."

"Melanie--"

"Did it ever occur to you that he might be trying to get into your head?" Melanie frowned, the space between her eyebrows creasing. "Even if she's over him, he obviously still has a thing for her."

"I don't think it's like that." I licked my bottom lip, wishing that I could explain why I didn't doubt Richard's motives. "It was the way he said it, almost like he knows something that I don't. Something that I should know, I mean."

"They were together a long time. Maybe it's something that you don't want to know."

"Maybe."

Gnawing on my thumbnail, I glanced at my phone's darkened screen and considered the possibility that Melanie might be right. After everything he'd done in the past, after all the ways he'd hurt Sophie, maybe I was being an idiot for giving Richard the benefit of the doubt now. On the other hand...

"You don't know what she's been like recently," I blurted, unsure if I should tell Melanie all of the details about Sophie's behavior. "She's..."

"Stressed?" Melanie guessed, as a waitress stopped at our table to drop off two smoothies. Melanie stuck a straw in her glass and began sucking up the bright orange blend. "Busy? Under a lot of pressure?"

"All of those things," I agreed. "But--"

"But," Melanie jumped in, "if you want to screw up your relationship, then go ahead."

"She's acting like a completely different person," I argued, unwilling to accept what Melanie was implying. "I'm trying to understand--"

"Then, you need to talk to her, not Richard," Melanie countered. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small jar of lip balm. Dipping her finger into the clear jelly, Melanie dabbed the glossy goo onto her lips and shrugged. "Whatever, I know you're too stupid to listen to me but when it blows up in your face, don't say that I didn't warn you."

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A/N: Hello, readers! I've made it to Virginia and decided that my goal is to update twice a week until this story is finished.

Thank you to everyone who's supported me and also to those of you who reached out to me about acting as a beta reader. I could still use a few more, if anyone is interested. :)

As you might have been able to guess, this chapter parodied The View, along with various disastrous celebrity interviews that I've seen over the years (here's to you, Joan Rivers, Paris Hilton, and Robert Downey, JR). On that note, did anyone else find the recent Cara Delavigne interview painfully cringeworthy?!