In the three hours that I've known her, Frances Hall has proven to be somebody I definitely need to be friends with.

"Oh. My. God. Bloody hell." Frances looks faint as she stares at me, dumbfounded. "You're lying."

"No," I shake my head, getting a total kick out of the current situation. "I do know the band. I used to play outside in the summer with Duff when we were little. We're super close. And-and I uhm, I know Axl really well, all the guys, actually. . ."

Frances leans her head back against the building, the same one we were just in for hours. Paul's already taken off, but that was only after we assured him we'd get to where we need to be next just fine. Other girls walk by almost constantly, with how the open casting call is going on all day.

"Woah," Frances breathes, eyes wide. "The whole reason I started following them was because of a stupid boyfriend I got on my first trip here, to L.A. Actually, it was my first trip to America. That was nearly a year and a half ago. But anyway- he took me to a show, and there was maybe thirty other people there, but I was smitten. I really was. They're so talented! People don't normally peg me for the rock n' roll type, but it makes me feel so alive. My mom saw the Stones once, and she said Mick Jagger winked at her. I think that's where I get it from. . ."

I lose my concentration on Frances as I see Duff's van pull up. He's not late-I was early. Fran (as she's allowed me to call her) and I were both done at the same time, nearly half an hour ago.

"You're going to love this." I grin widely at Fran, throwing the strap of my purse over my shoulder. "C'mon."

I grab her hand, pulling her from where she leans against the concrete wall. Both of our heels are loud against the ground, but not louder than Duff's music. Or Frances' panicking. Her quiet shrieks make me laugh to myself.

It's funny, watching Duff watch me march Fran up to the passenger side window. He cocks an eyebrow at me, as if to say "Who's that?"

"Hi Duff! I want you to meet Frances Hall. She's a big fan of the band!"

It's even more funny to watch Duff sit up a little taller, a smirk coming over his lips the second Frances starts to ramble. He's flattered.

"-Absolutely wonderful! I can't wait to buy the album, and hopefully see you all live again soon," Frances gushes. She's totally red in the face.

I look from her to Duff, my eyes flickering quickly to take it all in.

"Oh yeah? Well how about you come to our release party," Duff proposes. "This Saturday at eight. We're taking over that big warehouse near Sunset and Fairfax for it."

My own jaw drops a little at that, but not nearly as much as Frances'.

An album release party? And no one told me?!

"I'll be there!" Frances nods. Her eyes land on me, expression surprised, like she forgot I was even here. "Well, I better get going! It was such a pleasure, Chasity. Bless Paul for introducing us! And bye, Duff!"

Duff says goodbye, but it gets lost amidst Frances hugging me tight. She pulls me into her chest as if we've known each other forever. I appreciate it, an uncontrollable smile overtaking me.

"Bye, Frances. Don't lose my number, call me anytime!" I wave at her as she walks off, her doing the same when she turns back.

The passenger side door creaks as I open it, hopping in beside Duff. It makes the same long, loud groan as I shut it, dropping my bag to the floor beside my feet after I pull my heels off. I let out a sigh of relief at that, considering how worried I was about blisters.

When I look up, I see Duff eyeing me expectantly. Curiously.

"What?" I mumble. His eyes are so big. So hazel. They're scaring me.

That's when he explodes. "How was it, honey? What happened? How are you? How'd you meet her-"

"Frances."

"Frances."

"Her agent is my agent, Paul. And honestly, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't of survived today," I admit.

I see a look cross him, one full of worry. I'm not sure what to do-console him, or assure him that he's right to freak out?

It was terrible, aside from Frances. It was so scary. Why play it off?

I sigh, letting my shoulders slump back against the leather. My muscles relax for the first time today. Since being with Axl, at least.

"I don't know how it went, Duff."

I don't look at him, but I know that he's still trying to keep himself together. I can hear it in his voice, amidst the confusion.

"What?"

"I don't know anything," I repeat. "Paul said he'd call with the news once there's a decision."

Beside me, I see Duff's demeanor also slump. I keep my eyes glued to the windshield, my vision fuzzy, not focused on anything.

He doesn't ask anything else from me, but I decide to tell him anyway.

All of it.

"God, Duff. I thought I was going to throw up when they called my name. Paul had to help me out of my chair because I couldn't move. Frances was already gone, they called her in before me. It was like I went deaf. I couldn't hear anything, my heart was beating so fast. Once I got in there, they made me do a walk, like I was on a runway. I didn't fall, but my legs felt like jelly. Then I spoke to the casting directors, and I found out that I was auditoning for New York Fashion Week. FUCKING FASHION WEEK!"

"Uh. . . What-what is that?"

"It's one of the most important times of the year. There's a week in February, and a week in September where a ton of fashion people get together to look at clothes, and go to parties, and everyone who's anyone in the fashion industry is there. I just learned that ten minutes ago, when I yelled at Paul for not even telling me what he brought me here for. He told me that he was afraid I would freak out ahead of time, and honestly, he was right for not telling me. But still. I figured it wasn't something as important as Fashion Week! Something small, something local. But no. I just auditioned for Fashion Week. In New York City. In September. Which is so soon. Barely two months away."

"Isn't that like, a lot of money?"

"Yeah. A ton, depending on how many designers want me. Paul said I could get one show to walk in, I could get five. I could get ten. I could get none. So much money! Money that I really, really need, too."

I think that was the biggest factor in my decision to actually contact Paul after that day at the mall. Money. I have none. Sure, money from birthdays and Christmases and from my father when he gets a large advance on a case and he feels generous enough to hand me a twenty. But a steady cash flow? God, I need it. I've never even had a job before. My first generation parents have always been against it.

"You're in school, Chasity. We've had to work since we were kids. So did our parents. Our whole lives. We want more for you. Just be a kid."

But boy, do I need a job now. I've graduated. I'm eighteen. I need a car. I need to move out of my parent's house, make them proud of me. Michelle and I have always talked about sharing a cool, trendy apartment together. And if I'm actually going to be a model, I'm going to need clothes and shoes and bags. I need to actually fit the part.

If I can even do this, that is. If I even get a call back. If Paul's boss doesn't hate me enough to rip up the contract I just barely signed. If the powers of the Universe and time and space are on my side. If I'm meant to model at all.

And I really hope so. I want to see Frances again, Paul too.

If not, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. It's funny how your entire life can ride on one decision.

I feel my eyes prickle, and that's when Duff squeezes my hand.

"You will get a call back, honey," He insists. "You'll be gallivanting around with all those fashion people in no time! I can already see it. You blowing me off because you're too busy wearing fancy clothes and shit. This is too perfect for you to not get it. Besides, you've always been high maintenance."

I narrow my eyes at Duff as he snickers, his face getting red.

"Oh, please. You spend more time doing your hair than I do!"

"Actually, Michelle takes longer than the two of us combined. And speaking of her," Duff squints at the clock before looking afraid. "We're late to pick her up. Fuck."

"Pick her up from where?" I ask while pulling the thick seatbelt over my middle.

Duff peels out his parking spot after looking around to make sure he doesn't hit any models.

"From the Rolling Stone office."

That jogs my memory. "Oh yeah, that's today, isn't it? Wow," I nod. "Michelle got a job at Rolling Stone. She said she would, and she did. Just like that."

That girl amazes me. I wish I could be more like her sometimes. More sure of myself, I guess. She makes things happen so easily. Everything she has her heart set on, she gets.

"I know," Duff breathes, hardly able to believe it too. "I knew she had a trick up her sleeve when she asked me to talk to that Kid. She had him wrapped around her finger in five minutes. The poor guy called his boss right there in the dressing room. You should've seen it, Chas. It was insane."

That's when I watch the gears turn in Duff's head. I know what's coming, but I still can't come up with a lie fast enough.

"Where did you even go? I didn't see you for the rest of the night. I mean, it's all kind of fuzzy, I don't remember much, but still. . ."

"I uh, I was watching Motley Crue. They were great, I really think it was a good choice to have both of you guys be on a lineup together."

As Duff drives, his brow furrows. "Yeah, but how did you get home? Did you even go home? Did you sleep at our place? I don't remember driving. I literally don't remember seeing you at all."

Don't tell him about Axl. Don't tell him that he didn't see you because Axl was making you cum in his front seat out in the parking lot, his hand shoved down your shorts-

"You know, it was all a blur for me too, and I was sober! But um, Axl drove me home really quick, he insisted, especially because it was still somewhat early in the night, and traffic wasn't too bad yet. I was kinda tired anyway. Being at the barrier was a lot. . ."

I trail off when I see Michelle waiting on the sidewalk in a black blazer over her t-shirt and jeans. She looks pissed. I telepathically thank her for providing as a subject changer, the perfect distraction from my terrible, terrible lie.

The truth is that Axl did drive me home, but I honestly don't know how, when I was practically in his lap the whole way. Kissing him, wishing he'd touch me more. But he's a tease. Not even five minutes after he made me scream, made me shake and have my first real orgasm, he was pulling out of the parking lot. He still had his hand down my pants. A tease. Ugh.

But nobody needs to know that. Michelle might suspect something happened, but if so, she hasn't shared any theories.

She especially doesn't now, as she slams the sliding door of the van as hard as she can after getting in the back.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Duff exclaims, turning around in his seat. He gives me the same look he gave her. The expectant one. The curious one. But he seems more careful this time around.

Michelle's shoulders are straight, rigid. She has on a total bitch face. She doesn't break it, not even when I speak.

"Hi! I missed you today."

Nothing.

Duff tries again. "Did 'ya get fired? On the first day?"

She cracks then. Explodes.

"No!" She scowls, as if that's an insane thing to say. But then, she softens completely, her voice dropping. "Nothing like that happened. Just drive, Duff."

"Awwwhhhh," Duff drawls. "What happened, Michelle? I already heard Chasity's crazy first day on the job. How was yours?"

"Be honest," I add. "I wanna know!"

Michelle doesn't budge. "Nothing. I was just. . . Scared."

"AWH!" Duff makes a pouty face. "God, I never thought I'd hear you say that. From Chas, of course, but not you, Michelle-"

"Hey!"

"Oh, shut up! I've never worked before, let alone up on the sixteenth floor of the fucking Rolling Stone office, surrounded by men who are older than you, Duff. Ones who don't give a shit about me. All I did today was get them coffee. Kevin promised me I'd be able to get in on a story or something. Anything but fetching coffee like some stupid errand girl!"

Kevin. . . Kevin. . . Kevin. . .

That must be the Rolling Stone Kid's name. Huh.

"You're not stupid, Michelle," Duff counters. "You're smarter than I am. Way smarter."

"They're just men, Michelle." I say simply, looking back at her. "Prove them wrong. You should go out there and find a story. Interview whoever, take pictures, write it, do whatever you need to do. Then they'll see. Don't give up! I'm so proud of you, even if all you did was get coffee today."

Michelle frowns, her eyes glassy. Her hair is messy, and I can tell she's been running her hands through it, a habit her and Duff both have when they're stressed. "Thanks, Chassy."

"She's right," Duff nods. "I'm proud of you, Michelle. You too, Chas."

I smile at Michelle, wondering how we made it to this point in our lives. We both have jobs.

Now, I just hope I can actually keep mine.