Wes watched Izzy from across the room, unable to draw his gaze away. Feeling increasingly frustrated, he guzzled the rest of his scotch, setting the glass down on the table with a clank.

"Wes dear, is something wrong?" Patsy placed a hand over his. "Who are you glaring at over there?"

He sighed. "Hank and Gene. They've brought that girl with them, despite Corbin's warning."

Patsy sat up straight in her chair, her head snapping in the direction of his stare. "No! They couldn't have! Why would they do that?"

"Because they're angry about the solo album," he snarled. "This is their way of getting back at me—at us."

Patsy's eyes narrowed. "That's horrid. It's like I've been saying all along, they're ungrateful blood suckers. They've been feeding off of you this whole time and now when you decide to do something for yourself, they turn around and try to ruin you—and us!"

He caught his breath as Izzy suddenly turned, coming eye to eye with him. It was only for a split second, then she turned back quickly—furthering his irritation.

"She has a lot of nerve showing up here after last night." Patsy said, pouting. "Where did she come from anyhow? I've never seen her around before."

"She's staying with Warren. A friend of his fiancé's, I suppose." He didn't plan on letting Patsy know that he knew her—especially how he knew her. It would only make things more complicated.

He watched Gene place his hand on Izzy's. Ripping his eyes away, he tried to focus on the band as he struggled with the growing anger swirling in his chest.

"Look," said Patsy. "They know her—that rude cigarette girl who was just here."

His brow furrowed as he looked. The three women stood, grasping each other like long lost sisters. He huffed as he raised his glass to the waiter. The girl was such a mystery. How was it they she had suddenly popped back into his life at this very moment?

The server brought him another glass. He willed himself to turn away from the her table, focusing on Patsy. He was about to say something when the shouting started. The bustling room quieted and all heads turned as a chair went flying. He turned to see Hank and Gene in the thick of it, throwing punches, fighting against three other men, one of whom was Jerry Davis—the most famous actor in America.

"What the hell?" He flew out of his chair.

He wasn't sure why he ended up rushing straight to her. Perhaps it was the look of horror on her face as she looked on at the fiasco. She'd backed herself beside a tall plant in the corner away from the table. Rita and the cigarette girl stood a few feet away from her against the wall.

She turned to look at him, as if sensing his presence, her eyes wide. Closer up, he noticed the line of freckles across her nose and the soft, darkness of her eyes. That had stayed the same. The rest of her was different. She was thinner and her hair was shorter, giving her an older, more sophisticated look. The dress she was wearing hugged all of the right places, a far cry from the billowing thing she'd worn on the island. Had she changed that much in such a short time?

The debacle at hand forced his attention elsewhere, his consternation intensifying as he stepped forward, reaching out to grab Hank by the back of his shirt. "What the hell is going on here?"

Gene pulled himself off of Jerry who was groaning on the floor and a few other men came to hold Jerry's friends back, the brawl quickly subsiding.

"Hell if I know," said Hank, breathless, his hair disheveled and his tie hanging loose. "But it feels like old times, doesn't it? Most fun I've had in months."

"It won't be so fun when it's all over the papers tomorrow," growled Wes. "But, as usual, you two think of nobody but yourselves."

"That's where you're wrong buddy," said Gene through ragged breaths, his hands on his knees. "We're not like you and Patsy."

"Me and Patsy?" He ran his hand through his hair, fury erupting inside his chest. "You can't be serious! Me and Patsy are your meal tickets, without us, you wouldn't be here!"

"So—that's how you seen us? We were there with you from the beginning, you big headed bastard! We struggled right along with you! The only difference is, you got carried away with all of the Hollywood bullshit, just like Judd warned us about. He's a smart guy, old Judd. We should've listened to him." Gene's voice cracked at the last words.

"I don't understand you," spat Wes. "This is what we wanted. You act like it's such a bad thing—being famous."

"Wes, we can't even date who we want, or even dress how we want. You know me, that's the thing I can't stand the most," said Hank. "Did you know Corbin told me I wasn't allowed to wear such flamboyant clothes because the public might think I'm gay? Or worse yet, I might out shine you? Our entire lives are one big act, and I'm sick of it." His eyes shifted to Izzy standing stiffly behind Wes. "That's why you haven't said a word to Izzy, you can't even acknowledge her. I've never seen you fall for a girl like you fell for her—."

"Enough!" Wes interrupted.

"He doesn't deserve Izzy," said Gene. "He's got exactly who he deserves, someone as fake as he is."

He was fueled by rage when he charged at Gene—the thought of killing him briefly flashing through his mind. He swung and Gene ducked, countering with a swift punch to his gut.

Gene had been a boxer in high school, a fact that might have stopped Wes if he wasn't driven purely by emotions at the time. He groaned, doubling over for a few seconds. Then adrenaline kicked in and he threw himself at Gene again with all his might, sending him crashing over the table.

"Shit," said Hank, looking on helplessly from the side.

The flash of camera erupted through the room, causing them both to pause mid swing. The paparazzi had snuck their way in at a most opportune time.

"Out! All of you. Out! " Herman Hover, the manager stormed over. "Every last one of you that's been fightin', you know the rules." He waved the lot of them, including Jerry and Wes, out of the building.

With collective groans and curses, everyone packed up their things and headed towards the door. The band resumed playing as they made their way out.

Patsy came to stand next to him when he was outside in the cool night air. The tightness of her face and flaring of her nostrils signaled she was upset. Extremely upset.

He exhaled, avoiding her eyes, kicking at the gravel as he fished a cigar out of his pocket. To his left, Izzy and Rita followed Hank and Gene out to their car. She gave him one last glance as she disappeared inside of it.

"Who is she?" said Patsy, a tremor of anger in her voice.

"Who?"

Her eyes were cold as ice when he forced himself to meet them.

"Izzy."

"What do you mean?" He popped the cigar in his mouth, shrugging into his blazer.

She huffed. "Why didn't you tell me you knew her?"

He ran his hand over his neck. She'd heard Hank. "Darling, I met her once, briefly. It was before we met, while we were staying with Judd at his cabin. I barely know her."

Her eyes narrowed, swirling with anger. "But, yet you fell for her."

He closed his eyes, swallowing. Damn you, Hank. "It was a fling." He shook his head, puffing on the cigar. "No—not even a fling. Nothing happened. I left and she stayed. I never thought I'd see her again."

Tears shimmered in her blue eyes. Her lip trembled. "I knew something was strange about the way you were looking at her. And you didn't tell me. Why didn't you tell me if she means nothing to you?" She patted her tears with a handkerchief, her eyes questioning him, making him feel more and more horrible.

"Sweetheart—I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you more after the pool."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you still think her pushing me in the pool was an accident? Well, I don't. She had it out for me the minute she saw me with you. She probably talked Hank and Gene into coming here so she could cause a scene again."

He almost laughed at the thought. There was no way he could imagine Izzy doing such a thing. He reached out to pull Patsy close, kissing her on the forehead. "Baby, I don't think Izzy would do something like that."

She stiffened in his arms. "You said yourself you don't know her very well. She needs to stay away from me—from us. And Hank and Gene, you need to be careful or they'll ruin you. Corbin is going to be furious when he gets wind of everything that happened tonight. I'm willing to bet that picture will be in the headlines tomorrow. I know it hurts, but it might be time to let them go."

Hank and Gene's words continued to sting in the back of his mind as he drove Patsy home. Everyone changed when they made it in Hollywood. Of course they weren't going to be the same guys they used to be, now that they were a household name.

He wasn't the same scrappy boy from Jersey, that was for sure. And he was never going back to that life. If Hank and Gene couldn't understand that, then maybe it was time for them to pack up and quit.

He'd always wondered if they were jealous of him. He was the lead singer, the front man—which meant he made the most money and was the heartthrob of most girls.

But—it also meant that he worked the hardest. Long nights in the studio, hours after the two of them had gone to bed. He'd sacrificed his most of his free time and given up his social life to push group to success. Sure, Corbin could be controlling. But the man was a genius when it came to producing hits. Hollywood was all about image.The public wanted their stars to be perfectly glamorous every hour of every day. It could be tedious, but it was the price one paid for stardom—it came along with the job.

Gene's dig on Patsy had been the last draw. She was skilled in the ways of Hollywood, but she definitely wasn't fake. She'd done a lot for all of them.

Then there was Izzy. He didn't know if Gene was using Izzy to get back at him, or if he was truly interested in her—but both scenarios worked at his nerves.

He realized his grip on the steering wheel was turning his fingers white. A glance at Patsy's shadowed profile confirmed she wasn't going to forgive him anytime soon.

They pulled up to her penthouse and she turned to him, a solemn look on her face.

"In a few weeks we'll be in France. It will be good to get away," he said, desperate to cheer her up.

"It will," she said, studying him. "Wes, are you committed to me—to us?"

He leaned over in the seat, running his fingers along her thin chin. "Of course I am."

She gave him a small smile. "Completely?"

He leaned over to kiss her. "Completely."

If you're celebrating, Happy Thanksgiving!!