I woke up this morning feeling tired and exhausted. My feet hurt and my back ached. This was not the kind of pain a 23 year old should be feeling. Why the fuck did I agree to pull back to back shifts, then turn around to do another the next day? Oh, yeah…I needed money. Yeah, Lola Scott was broke. How did I get this way? An unexpected accident ripped me away from Camp Rock. My parents died in a mass transit crash killing over 57 passengers, 64 survivors. I was 16.

In the months after that, I lived with my half-brother, Jimmy, in the middle of a bitter custody battle with his brother, Seamus. Jimmy won on the basis that he was a rookie cop and had a stable income whereas, Seamus was a drunk, abusive man as his wife contested.

It was always interesting to see people staring at Jimmy, strangely when he would show up for the parent/teacher nights. It was hard for them to believe a young white guy was my guardian without being something else…like a pimp, for example. But, it's not that hard. Same father, different mother, I would explain, but people would still not be convinced. Then, I would have to go into the embarrassing details of my ethnicity. I would point to Jimmy and say, "Half Irish, half Italian." Then point to myself and say, "Half Italian, half black." I'd try to suppress my annoyance with the narrow-minded people's realization.

I could've returned to Camp Rock and singing for that matter, but I just couldn't do it. Singing would remind me of my mom, and I just couldn't do it. Plus, life happened. I started working at fast-food places and found that was more realistic for a stable income. That's one of many reasons why I still continue to live with my brother. When I graduated high school, I went to NYU majoring in Anthropology. That was until this Fall semester because of some financial aid bullshit that wasn't even my fault, but still kept me from enrolling this semester. So, I'm working full-time to save up for the Spring.

After my morning routine of fussing with my unruly hair, it was always unruly when I left it curly, and putting on my uniform of a white button down shirt and black slacks and comfortable, black loafers, I left my room and found Jimmy asleep on the couch. He was now a detective in the Narcotics division, and I hate when he goes undercover sometimes. It always put him in danger, and I told him that I couldn't take another loss.

"Get up." I said as I nudged the couch with my knee trying to wake my brother.

"Jesus fucking Christ…" he groaned as he turned over on the couch. "It's my day off…"

"I don't care. I just got off of a fucking double shift and I'm about to go in today. This place is a mess and it's almost time for inspection. Damn…" I said feeling my feet ache already.

"You don't have to work so damn hard." Jimmy said as he sat up. "You're gonna run yourself down if you keep up like this. Take the day off. Maybe we could go to the park or something. Go see the boxing match at the pub…" he said trying to persuade me. "Come on, it's been weeks since you had a good Irish ale and I know seeing Sean getting the shit kicked out of him would put a smile on your face."

"How is seeing my ex getting his ass kicked going make me feel better and how is it going to pay the bills? By the way, the cable bill is due next week."

"I know, I know…I told you, you didn't have to worry about this. I'll worry about the bills this month. You're too young to work this hard." he said as he stood up.

"Yeah, well…I'm working extra hard to pay for the Spring semester, remember? It'll all be worth it when I get my degree and start my career."

"This ain't your career." he said in a matter of fact tone. "Singing was your career."

"Don't start that shit, again…" I said as I rolled my eyes and went into the kitchen and opened a cabinet for the box of granola bars.

"I'm just sayin'…" he said as he threw up his hands in defense.

"Yeah, well, I'm just sayin'…don't start." I said as I grabbed my purse and ipod before turning towards the door. I knew I was on the verge of tears, and out of embarrassment, I bolted out the front door with a mumbled goodbye. There shouldn't be a reason I was still crying…it's been 7 fucking years, and I'm still not over it. On my way to the subway station, my phone rang and I knew it was Jimmy. I answered it.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up. Sometimes, I forget how hard it is for you to talk about the accident." he said in a sad tone.

"Yeah…like talking about it now is the thing I want to do before work." I said in an agitated tone. Then, I realized that being a bitch to my brother was not the thing I wanted to do before I went into work. "Look, I'm sorry. I just miss them, you know. And I'm sort of having regrets about not singing again, don't start."

"I won't. Just think about it, okay? I miss hearing you sing. Besides, once you make it big, you can repay me for putting up with your old woman in a young chick's body thing."

"Ha, ha…anyway, I'll see you later. I'm heading for the subway. Bye." I said as I hung up and turned on my ipod. I boarded the #3 that departed the Kingston Ave. station. It took me basically last year to get the courage to ride the subway after what happened to my parents. That and the fact that I needed to take it to get to my job. Otherwise, I would take something else. The fifteen minute ride was enough time for me to go through my texts. My friends are some crazy ass fools for sending me some chain letter type shit.

Arriving at the Clark St. Station, I make my walk somewhat ten minute walk to the infamous River Café, near the Brooklyn bridge. The place was nice…too nice. I'm surprised they would let me, Bedstuy girl, work there considering it's a somewhat, snooty restaurant. This was the kind of shit I hated about Brooklyn.

"Girl…" said a co-worker as I came in. She was looking at me like I was late, but I wasn't. "I have to warn you. We have big money in here today."

"Wow…I'm not surprised. This place practically breathes 'big money'. Why should I give a shit?" I said as I went to the back and set my stuff down.

"You should give a shit because the 'big money' is one of the biggest music stars."

"Well, Michael Jackson is dead, so it can't be him. Unless we're serving ghosts."

"It's not him. It's Shane Gray." she said and I froze. It was a strange feeling I felt when I heard that name. It wasn't his name itself, it was the distant memory of Camp Rock coming back to me in a flash. "What's wrong, Lola?"

"Nothing…" I lied as I blinked my eyes and shook my head. I didn't need to think about that place, because I would have to think about my last year there. Before my parent's accident.

"You sure?" she asked and I nodded. "By the way, guess who jumped at the chance to get a big tip and, perhaps, some celebrity dick?"

"Janine…" I said rolling my eyes at the restaurant bitch. She had this attitude like she was better than everyone else because she was promoted to head server. She really hated me because I was a close second. The only reason she got that job was because she blew the chef.

"You know it. You got table 12." she said and I went out there and saw that table 12 was close to Shane's table. Shit! I just went out there and approached the couple at my table before feeling a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and there he stood, Shane fucking Gray.