"Jeff, you know I can't…but, Jeff, how am I suppo-…this is ridiculous, Jeff! I don't care if the execs think I should be-….UGH! Jeff, are you listening to me?" The curly haired brunette paced the small waiting area of the small town airport with her phone to her ear, pausing every few seconds to let the person on the other end speak.

An older woman behind the counter sat and watched the woman with growing amusement. Her smirk growing with each step the brunette took. She knew who the girl was, she'd seen her films and had been watching The Oscars the night the girl won for Best Actress for her portrayal of a drug addicted prostitute who was rescued from her dark life by a handsome DEA agent only to have to deal with his death due to a drug raid gone bad. The older woman sighed at the thought of the movie, it was a sad movie and she wondered why none of the happy movies ever had anyone nominated. Well, the happy movies that weren't animated.

The older woman's thoughts were interrupted by the tinkle of the bell over the entry door, announcing the arrival of someone new. Glancing over at the door, she smiled at the blonde woman that seemed slightly stunned by the huffing and puffing coming from the brunette pacing a few feet away from her. The blonde shot a confused look at the woman behind the counter before sending an equally confused look at the pacing form. The older woman flashed the blonde a warm, welcoming smile and waved off the pacing brunette.

"Hi Betty!" the blonde spoke with a smile and leaned over the counter to give the woman behind it a one armed hug, the other hand busy keeping the messenger bag hung over her shoulder from sliding down.

"How's it shakin'? Ohh, are those cookies fresh?" The blonde woman reached over to pick up one of the cookies.

Betty feigned shock at the last question and swatted at the blondes hand.

"Spencer! Are you insinuating that I would have anything less than freshly baked cookies in this building? Tsk tsk!" Betty leaned to her right, grabbing a set of books and handing them to Spencer.

Spencer took the admonishment with a grain of salt and offered a smile in return while opening up the offered books to glance over the contents and with a slight nod, signed her name and glanced up as a door from heading into an inner office opened letting a tall, skinny teenage boy out.

"Hey Griff, how're you? How's school?" Spencer asked the boy, getting a shoulder shrug and slight blush from the boy.

Another huff from the pacing brunette caught the attentions of the other three in the room, causing them to move to watch the scene in front of them.

"I'm at some tiny ass airport, in the middle of nowhere, as we speak waiting for some pilot – some pilot that they call 'Crash', by the way, God, I am so going to die in a horrific, fiery plane crash."

Spencer turned her head to look at the boy just in time to see Betty smack the boy in the back of the head, earning both a slightly pained yelp and a muffled 'Sorry' in return. Spencer snorted a laugh, leaned back resting her elbows on the counter behind her and crossed her legs at the ankles in front of her.

"What pilot calls themselves Crash? Well, what sane pilot that can actually fly a plane? Anyhow, I'm waiting for Crraaash," the brunette rolled her eyes at the absurd name, "to fly me back to LA, so you can tell your friends, the suits, at the studio that I will be back as soon as humanly possible. Jesus Christ, if you think I want to be in this place any longer than I have to be, you're fucking crazy!" The brunette snapped her phone closed, and threw herself into the nearest chair with a loud and childish 'hmph', crossed her arms across her chest and pulled her sunglasses down from their perch on top of her head.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she noticed the audience she'd gained while having the heated discussion with her agent. She sat up a little and offered a half smile in apology for her outburst on the phone. She let her eyes roll over the three, the young boy that had offered up the name of her pilot, the older woman behind the counter and…

Well, heeelllooo hot blonde! Aren't you a nice bit of eye candy for these tired eyes…nice legs. Surely those are contacts. They have to be, no eyes are that shade of blue. Besides, I'm from Hollywood, I know fake. Ugh, like that redhead the night before I left, no one can tell me those were real. Speaking of breasts, nice pair you've got there, blondie.

The brunette rolled her eyes at her thoughts and stood to address the group that had taken to watching her.

"Umm, so, not to be too bitchy, but when is this…this "pilot" going to get here? I've got to be back in LA no later than eight A.M. tomorrow, I start shooting my new film and if I'm late, well, apparently the film industry will come crashing to its knees or something."

At the amused smirks of the two women and the practically drooling teen, she rolled her eyes again.

"Uh huh. Well then, parlez-vous Français? Sprechen Sie Deutsches? I'm running out of languages here. You people do know who I am, right?"

Spencer raised her eyebrow at the brunette.

"I'm Ash-"

"Ashley Davies, no need to tell us, we know. This is Betty and her son Griffin, Griff for short." Spencer cut her off, not wanting to listen to the brunette extol her own virtues, and pointed to her friend and her son.

"And I," Spencer pointed at herself, "am Spencer, your pilot."

Betty smacked Griff on the back of the head again with a muffled "Crash" that earned another yelp and a whiny 'Sorry' from the boy.

Ahh shit, hot blonde is Crash? The Crash that I pretty much called inept and insane? Sonofabitch.