- All of Me –

Disclaimer: I do not know, or own Josh Hutcherson, or any of the other people that may or may not be mentioned in this story. It is purely an idea that popped out of my messed up head, and it is FICTIONAL! I love Josh and Jennifer, even though this is NOT a Joshifer story. I should mention, the title is derived from the lovely, amazing song by John Legend, called "All of Me". I also DO NOT own that song. I should add it's from Josh's POV. Please read and enjoy, and even rate and review! I love you guys. Please love me back! Love you very much! Thanks! – Ciara

This flight was never going to end.

I had been transported, rather hurriedly, from New York, where we'd been interviewing, back to Los Angeles in a hurry. I seemed to be making a habit of this, being late. I spent last week catching up with people because I had over slept (being hung-over) and missed at least two features on very important shows. Sarah was pissed. Sarah, my agent, was usually sweetly dispositional, with the most innocent expression, and a mega-watt smile. However, the phone call I got this morning was a little more than heated. I didn't even know those words were in her vocabulary. I had pulled off the worst again, and I had already missed two interviews in L.A., and my flight, which I guess was supposed to have left last night, while I was getting shit faced with some super-fans. I'll never do that again.

The problem is, I say that every time.

I had no idea how I was going to function like this the rest of the day. My lone security detail, Bruno, was a good friend of mine by now. He'd been working with me since I was just a kid, and he knew all of my dirty secrets. Hell, he'd actually kept them under wraps, which was phenomenal on my terms. I would have blabbed them immediately, given some of the stuff he knew. Stuff involving Vanessa, and other past flames. God, don't let me wander down memory lane. Before I could wander too far down it, a cool cup of cranberry cocktail, mixed with some ice, was set in front of me on the little lap table of my private jet, which was followed by a packet of Tylenol, which I almost thanked God for. However, it was Bruno I should be thanking.

"Oh, shit. Don't scare me like that. It's too early." Bruno was big. I mean, like seven foot big, and wider than a door in the shoulders. He could probably bench two of me at one time, if not more, and his body told no lies to that. He looked like a pro wrestler, but that shimmer in his eyes and that crooked grin with those big white teeth told people otherwise. But don't get me wrong, he could move. He hauled ass. Imagine the Rock, only black, without the tattoos, hurling himself towards you. I still remember sending "I'm sorry" letters to that poor kid. All he wanted was an autograph. He'll probably never watch my movies again. I still remember how upset Bruno was. He has too little girls, and while he looks fierce, he's a giant, and I do mean GIANT teddy bear. I grinned up at him at an angle, and he laughed with a hearty voice. "Kid… It's after two local time. That means it'll be tomorrow when you land in L.A. Sarah's gonna have your ass."

He sauntered across the aisle to take his seat across from me, and I took this time to take the pills, swallow them with the sweet cocktail, and then stare at him. "Okay, so I'm not perfect. I'm human. Sue me." Bruno just shook his head. "Hey, I'm not your handler, if you had one. I'm just the guy who keeps you from dying." That comforted me. "Great, then where were you at two in the morning, when I thought I was dying. I mean, the volume of vomit, alone… yuck." He cringed, matching my expression as I flashed back to the night, or early morning, before. "Fuck, I'm never drinking again." Yeah, that was a total lie.

We hit some turbulence, and I jerked up in my seat, staring out at the night sky. Yep, it was tomorrow. The glittering lights signaled we were getting ready to land, and they inched closer, cars looking less like ants by the minute. I grumbled to myself through the landing, my head feeling as if my brain was bouncing around in it, empty. The struggle was real. People just didn't know.

With Bruno's help, I was ushered (more like shoved) from the plane's staircase, and into the burning gaze of Sarah. She stood at only 5'2, so she was shorter than me. She did martial arts and Insanity for fun, though, so I put nothing by her. As she reached around the back of my head with a slap, and then pulled the tiny hairs at the base of my neck, the girly sound that escaped me was inevitable. The thumping pain that followed brought forth a groan. "Come on, Sarah! I had to enjoy my time there, right?" She laughed, her perfectly manicured face twisting in anger, her eyes glinting in the dim hanger lights. "Joshua Ryan… I swear. If your idiotic ass didn't make me money, you'd be six foot under in London! Think you'd enjoy your time then?!"

I sheepishly shrugged as she quite impeccably hauled my 200 pound ass to the limo, and shoved me in the backseat, causing yet another yelp and wave of pain as my brain bounced around uncontrollably. "Oh, shit… that hurts! Stop!" She crawled in behind me, adjusted her black skirt, and kicked off her heels. She grumbled, flipped through some notes in her phone, and then smiled, some sick twisted smile that brought forth a kind of fear I didn't know existed. Damn, it was the nice ones that were evil. "Well, Joshua. Your days of being unorganized are behind us." She sighed what I thought to be of relief, and then leaned her head back, frowning. "I just hope you guys get along."

I didn't even ask. When she told the limo driver to take me home, I prayed it wasn't something too harsh. Maybe she got me a handler, like Bruno had suggested. The hulking black man sat in the corner of the limo, taking up most of the extra space, and grinned back at me, which I knew meant he was thinking the same thing I was. I had a baby sitter.

The sight of my house looming in the distance calmed me a tiny bit, the thought of falling into my own bed, and sleeping bringing a smile to my face. The home looked pretty untouched, so I figured it was just me. Shoving the key into the lock, I twisted, and paused to say goodbye to Bruno. He just shook his head, muttering something about good luck. Before I could even open the door properly, I was slamming the heavy wood into something, or someone. She yelped, and I heard a thud. The door being free now, I ran inside, staring down at her. I half hoped it was Jennifer, but it wasn't.

In fact… I don't know who she is. "Holy shit… I'm sorry."

"Geez!" she muttered, glaring up at me from under perfectly trimmed bangs that graced her forehead, and brought out beautiful cerulean eyes. "What a greeting! What did I ever do to you?" she demanded, and I found myself, still hung-over, stumbling over words. "Well, you're in my house, uninvited." She paused, thinking of something to say, and launched herself from my tiled entry way to point a dainty, tanned finger at me. "Don't even." She paused, straightened herself out, and stared expectantly back at me.

Only now could I get a good look at her.

She had a softly rounded face, kind of like Jennifer's, with bright blue eyes and blonde hair framing her face. Her fringed bangs fell just at eyebrow level, and I could tell those were perfectly manicured as well. She paused and blew air through a set of pearly pink lips, briefly revealing pretty, white teeth. Did they buy me a model? I reassessed her, taking in her body. She wasn't a model, too short. However, she had the body, or at least I thought.

Just under my height, she was probably around 5'4. She wore those "buy them already shredded" type jeans, which were bedazzled on the pockets, and I wagered they looked the same on the back. She had an athletic build, and I could almost bet money she had some type of abs underneath that loose black t-shirt. I asked myself if perhaps she'd just gotten off a plane like I had. She definitely looked better. "Hi, I'm Josh…" I finally fumbled out of my brain, shoving my hand towards her. "What can I help you with, beautiful stranger?"

I bet, if she hadn't of been mad at me for my previous assault, she might have laughed. She at least blushed, her lips slightly curling in a smile. "Hi Josh. My name is Emily, and I'm your new assistant. Sarah says you need to be on track." I almost laughed, but I refrained, which she was probably thankful for. It's not nice to laugh at girls who think they're professional. She wasn't from L.A., that was for sure. That accent was more southern, like Kentucky, almost. "Can I ask where you're from? That's not a "From around Here" accent." She finally released a laugh, and shook her head. "I'm from Oklahoma, actually. I'm a college friend of Sarah's."

I nodded, wondering to myself if I'd ever spent time with anyone from Oklahoma. Actually, recalling now, I had never set foot there. Just flew over a thousand times a year. "Ah... nice." She gave herself a second to look me over, a slight pink hue coming to her cheeks. A fan? Was I a selfish, conceited prick for thinking she actually liked me already? Geez, I needed help. "You look like shit… but, attractive shit. We can work with this…" I frowned, and watched her reach out and straighten the collar of my shirt. Bruno had practically dressed me, I was so messed up. Normally, I wouldn't look this bad.

"Well, you're not so bad yourself…" I added, smirking at her. She blinked those baby blues back at me, and I almost got weak in the knees. I loved exotic looking girls, obviously by my past choices, but damn did those eyes hit me where it hurt. "So... What are you assisting me with?" I asked, my tone hinting slightly. It made her laugh again, a sort of tinkling type of laugh, which carried on in a sing song way. At least I could enjoy that part of her laughing at my antics. "I'm here to keep your shit straight…" she began, shaking her head, "Because, by the looks of it, you're failing miserably."

I set my bag down, and shrugged. "Okay… So is this the type of working relationship where you go get me coffee and breakfast?" The Tylenol was starting to kick in, and the fog in my brain was fading out. She shrugged. "Yeah, as long as you're buying, and I get some too." Fair enough. "Okay… that's cool. You like Dunkin' Donuts?" I tossed her my wallet as I drug my bag behind me down the hallway. Only then did I begin noticing things. My house was clean. I didn't tell my maid to come, because I'd not be here… So this Emily chick cleans too? I smiled, hearing her heels click down the hallway behind me.

Maybe I was too metrosexual, but when did girls where heels while traveling? Turning, I glanced at her feet down the hallway, learning she was wearing baby heels, as Jennifer had once called them. Or was it kitten heels? They were not even a full inch, and daintily wrapped her tanned feet in black and silver. She paused, followed my gaze, and then looked back up at me, laughing. It was sort of a judgmental laugh, and it worried me. "Don't tell me you're into feet…" I shook my head... "Oh no. I'm more of an ass guy." She chuckled, and continued following me to my room.

She paused, helping me set my bag down on the bed. I finally got a chance to see her backside, and me being an ass guy, I was not disappointed. She was definitely in shape. Her thighs were kind of thick, like those girls who do marathons and weight training. Even her ass was tight. I bet she was tanned all over. Even her nails were done. I bet she did all of this before coming to L.A. so she'd fit in. Too bad the accent gave her away. "Speaking of ass, yours is not too shabby." She glanced down backwards at her own ass, and laughed. "Yeah, I worked hard for that. Glad it's paying off." Damn, a girl with confidence. I was screwed.

She shoved the now empty bag into my closet, and tossed a few more hangars on the bed so I could put clothes on them. "Damn, you're a do it now, type of girl, aren't you?" She nodded, and began to help me. "Hey… breakfast." I blinked at her, expecting her to jump up and leave. "You need to get settled first. Nothing good comes from eating right after a hangover." I guess she knew… Hell I knew too, but I was too tired to care. "So, Emily. What else are you entitled to do, as my assistant?" She caught the innuendo, there being a bed in the room, and busted out laughing. I was glad she wasn't put off by my sexual joking. Or was I?

"Well, I'm staying in the guest house. I guess that means breakfast, lunch, and dinner, driving you around, keeping you on time, waking you up when necessary, and… being your ally and confidant. Sound good?" I nodded, almost surprised at her summary, and shrugged. "Too bad Friends with Benefits isn't included…" She reached out and slapped my shoulder so quick I didn't even have time to react. "Ow!" I added, frowning. "I'm just saying… you're hot. Don't take it the wrong way… It's a compliment. I think you're sexy, and beautiful, and all that. I tend to say a lot of things out of context, so don't hit me too much. Although sometimes I'm serious. I don't know about right now... I'm still too hung-over... But you'll figure it out eventually."

She slunk down to sit on the bed, and shrugged. "It's fine... I was raised around boys. I'm used to it. I can deal. I just wasn't expecting it so early in the game. At least get to know me first!" She grinned up at me, her blue eyes sparkling, and I could tell she was joking. "Yes Ma'm. Now how about that breakfast?" As she took off down the hallway, her heels clicking, I called out thank you, and then sent a silent one to Sarah. Damn she knew how to win.