Title: Beautiful Disaster

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Still broke.

After her debut for the following week had been planned and the meeting concluded, Stephanie called one of the other writers and had her take Summer on a tour of the backstage area to see what went into putting together the show. That was probably the biggest waste of time that Summer had ever experienced, well maybe except for the dinner she had with Joel Madden a couple years ago, because then that turned into "Summer Seduced Hilary's Boyfriend!" Other than the fact that the dinner had taken place months before he and Hilary had even started dating, Summer didn't even want the Good Charlotte lead singer. And of course Hilary, like the sheep she was, believed everything the headlines said and called Summer, threatening to rip her limb from limb if Summer didn't stay away from Joel. That headline took months of damage control on her publicist's part, and people still thought that Summer had coerced Joel to cheat on Hilary, although he did still call on occasion attempting to plan a second date.

But that's not the point. Once the dragging tour was finished, she was led to the dressing room of Paul and Mike. "Well, that's it. Next week your name will be on the door with theirs. Good luck and welcome to the company," Cindy, the writer who was pretty much forced into walking Summer through all the backstage antics, said as she turned headed briskly back to what Summer assumed was her office. She obviously couldn't wait to get away from the teenager.

Honestly, it wasn't as though Summer hadn't noticed the looks. And they weren't just on Cindy's face; they were on most of the backstage crew members' faces. Once they saw her, a headline would flash in their heads and they'd wonder if it was true. Did Summer really steal someone's boyfriend? Did Summer really do drugs? Did Summer really strip on tables at clubs? Did Summer really hook up with every guy her name had ever been linked to? She could register the awe in actually seeing her, then the questioning look as they pondered the headline, then the disdain as they concluded that it must have been true. Most people assumed that if it had been printed, it was probably true. But she was used to it and could definitely handle it. Besides, why should she care what a bunch of manual laborers thought of her? She was the one making headlines, not them. People knew her name and cared about what she was doing. Without that, she was no one, and she would be damned if she just let it all slip away.

Summer stared at the door that read DX on it. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. These people didn't deserve to work with her. She was more famous for partying than they were for wrestling – if one would even call it that. Summer had dated her school's wrestling captain when she was a sophomore. She went to his matches and knew what real wrestling looked like. This was faker than Jessica Simpson's hair.

She cringed as she looked at the door again. Unable to stand the thought any longer, she walked away. Finding a deserted hallway, she leaned against the wall before slumping down to the ground. She needed some serious ass kissing right now. Digging around her purse, she finally found her Sidekick 3 and pulled it out. Searching her contact list, she found the name. She waited as the other line rang.

"Well, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again, Darling."

"Karl," she whined into her phone, "I'm pathetic." Low self-esteem always got the compliments flowing.

"Now why would you think a ridiculous thing like that, Darling?" Karl replied.

"Because I'm part of a professional wrestling company," she pouted.

There was a brief silence. "Wrestling, you say? Now what on earth possessed you to go and do something like that?"

She didn't want an interrogation; she wanted sympathy! But then again, as a male model, Karl Lindman couldn't be blamed for messing this up; he had very few brain cells remaining and those were focused on walking and posing. "Does it matter? I'm here!" she snapped. "I'm so lame!"

"No, you're not!" he assured her. "Just because you've been reduced to prancing around half naked with men who are clothed even less than you are, does not make you lame."

At Karl's less than tactful statement, memories of Summer's blossoming modeling career rushed back, as did all the brain-dead conversations she'd held with the models. Maybe she should have called Duncan. A singer would have been a better first choice. All he would have to do is recite a few lines from one of his songs off his new album that would never see a radio station.

"Well I feel it. Come make me feel better!" she requested.

"Are you in England, Love?" he questioned.

"I'm at the Manchester News Arena. Can you come visit me?" she asked meekly. "I'm lonely," she added for good measure.

"How long have you been there?" he asked. Again with the interrogation. Couldn't the dude just come and comfort her?

"A few hours. But I was in a meeting for a couple hours, and then Jeremy left and took Molly with him. I don't know anyone," she answered childishly.

"All right, Love. I'll be there as soon as I can!" he promised.

"Thanks. I'll see you soon!" she said before hanging up. Of course now the rumors would start that she and Karl were dating, but that wasn't a complete lie. She had a few dinner dates with him the last time she was in England. Unfortunately for him, he was just dumber than Jessica. No matter how cute his accent was, she just could not stand listening to, "Do you like my bangs swept to the left? Or to the right?" Those were the questions she was supposed to be asking, though she already knew that to the left was the better look.

With a sigh, Summer realized that she was at a loss of what to do for the next however long it took Carl to get there. Well, Lindsay was already awake since Summer had pulled her out of sleep a few hours ago in the car.

"Bitch. You hung up on me!" Lindsay answered.

Summer shrugged though the redhead couldn't see. "Like you've never hung up on me." It was true that the two needed to work on their communication skills when they were upset, but as two divas, they didn't care and believed that not only were they entitled to hanging up on other people, but it got their point across much quicker than explaining one's emotions.

"This is the second time you've woken me up the morning," Lindsay informed her trans-Atlantic friend.

Rolling her eyes, Summer replied, "Well if you'd been a better friend the first time I called you then I wouldn't have woken you up this time."

"I'm sorry I didn't bend over for you, but it's your job now," Lindsay said, sounding like she was snuggling back into her bed. It was what, noon over there?

"I wasn't asking you to. I was asking you to really get me out of this situation!" Summer complained.

"Shit doesn't work that way. Do you remember when I had to go on national television and say that I fucking loved Hilary? I didn't want to do it, but I had to and I did," Lindsay pointed out.

"Please. No one remembers that. Besides, it's a completely different situation. That took you like two seconds to say. I have to be on the fucking show for who knows how long," Summer grumbled. Seriously though, the two scenarios were as different as Ashlee's pre and post-surgery nose. Although Summer wouldn't want to say that dreaded sentence in front of a studio and to a nationwide audience either, it paled in comparison to this. This was pure humiliation. Lindsay had two seconds of embarrassment, which most people praised, claiming that she was being the bigger person of the two when in actuality her mother had threatened to ban her from after-parties for two weeks. Summer had no doubt that by next week, she would be the laughing stock of young Hollywood. Even Kristin Cavalleri would be laughing at her. Summer's eyes narrowed at the thought of the untalented teenager and her upcoming movie.

"Are you lost?" a deep voice asked. Summer could hear the smirk on the guy's face.

With a roll of her eyes, Summer looked up at the guy. And the smirk? Perfectly in place. "No. Are you?" she shot back, the Laguna Beach star still on her mind.

His grin didn't falter. "Come on, I'll take you back to the main hall," he offered.

"I said I wasn't lost," she informed the guy, not bothering to hide her thoughts of his idiocy on her face.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall opposite the one that she was sitting against. "Then why are you on the ground looking so angry?"

"Because I wanted to sit down and I am angry," she responded in a monotone voice. "Is that okay with you?" she feigned concern.

He shrugged. "I'd prefer it if you'd introduce yourself," he retorted, that damn smile still on his face. Didn't the dude realize that she was in an empty hall because she wanted to be alone? And that was something that she couldn't accomplish with him standing there.

"The polite thing to do would be to introduce yourself then ask my name," she fired back. Seriously, who was this kid? And who the hell did he think he was, butting into her business like this? If he was some lowly little crew member, she was going to have to get his ass fired.

"Most people call me The Legend Killer, but you can call me Randy."

Was this kid for real?

"And you would be?"

How cute – he pretended that he didn't know who she was. "Way out of your league," she finished, eyeing him up and down. She had to admit that he had a hot body, decent face. But that attitude… it was kind of intriguing. True, she had met hundreds of guys, mostly aspiring actors, who thought they were the shit, but the only other person she knew with that big of an ego was Paris, elevating Randy to an exclusive level of conceitedness.

"And why's that?" he asked, still smiling charmingly at her. He couldn't be a mere stagehand. No, he was one of them – a professional wrestler, which would explain the body.

For the first time since she had first started talking to him, Summer smiled at him. But not her overly-rehearsed grin that she gave the paparazzi. It was a knowing smile. She had Randy completely figured out. He thought he was a young stud, and in this world, he might be. But she knew that the second they stepped outside of the arena, no one would know his name. And she was sure he knew that too, which was why he was taking advantage of his notoriety as much as he could inside the building. She stood up and with unfaltering eye contact answered, "Because people only care about you when you're in your little tights. Out on the street, you're just another face in the crowd. People don't know your name. They don't follow you for pictures and autographs. You only exist in that ring for a couple hours once a week."

Randy was left speechless, and Summer knew it.

"I guess I'll let you walk me back to the main hall. I'm supposed to be meeting someone soon anyways," she reconsidered his offer.

Randy let out a terse laugh and shook his head before extending his arm. "So I guess the rumors are true," Randy commented offhandedly as the pair began their walk.

"Which ones?" she asked cheekily.

"You're as deadly as you are beautiful," he said without even a glance in her direction.

That was a good line, she had to admit, but she couldn't resist fishing. "You're either implying that I'm ugly, or that I'm dangerous."

"Well, it's definitely not the ugly."

Only a half decent answer. Where's the rest of it? Realizing that she wasn't going to get a "rest of it," she tilted her head towards him and questioned, "So who told you that?"

"Every diva in the company who reads those celebrity tabloids."

Oh, right. There were other divas. Well that wouldn't be a problem. As long as they stayed out of her way, she'd stay out of theirs. If they were as dedicated to their readings as Randy made it sound, they would know better than to cross her. "You can't always believe what you read."

"Well, then let's say it's from first hand experience."

"If you thought that was 'deadly,'" she quoted him, "you're not going to last very long in Hollywood."

"And everyone says that you're not going to last here."

What? People honestly think that she couldn't make a lame as job like this work for her? She had learned to throw a tantrum when she was three, cry on cue at three and a half, and make other people cry by four. This was just a stepping stone. "And are you part of everyone?"

"No."

Liar. Though subtle, she could still pick up on his tiniest of hesitations. So he didn't think she'd make it either? Fine. His loss. She turned that coy smile back on before stopping him in the middle of the hall. Looking down at the ground for a moment before speaking, she raised her eyes to his and said, "Thanks. I know a lot of people think that I can do this, but I'm going to prove them wrong. And it means a lot to know that you didn't just judge me from what other people said." She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek before throwing her arms around him.

Returning the embrace, he muttered, "Who am I to judge?"

Summer pulled back, satisfied at her performance. Taking his arm again, she began walking back to the main hall.

These poor people had no idea what she was capable of…

Oh, well. Their fault!

Author's Note: Three reviews?! Well, I guess there really wasn't much to review, but this chapter adds a little more meat, right? So I expect lots more for this chapter (PLEASE)! Remember, the more you review, the more I'll want to right. As far as Thicker Than Water, I'm having a little writer's block, which is why I started this one. Haha! So yeah, I'm working on getting over that and getting this story going too! So please, please, please review! Thanks!