Note: A lot of people have been asking me why they call Anne-Marie 'Amy'. Anne-Marie - A.M. Add a 'Y' and it's Amy.


"Oh my gosh, Nick, I can't believe how beautiful it is!" Anne-Marie said, admiring her new necklace from Tiffany & Co. It was a white-gold heart with what seemed like hundreds of cut-outs in it and it had a single diamond in the center. She had a huge smile on her face as she and her boyfriend Nick Clement held hands while walking down Fifth Avenue with the chain slapping against her collarbone.

"Let's get you home, Amy," Nick said. Nick clutched her hand tightly as he hailed a cab. It stopped right in front of them and Nick opened the door for Anne-Marie just like a gentleman should.

"Thanks, Nick," Anne-Marie smiled before saying to the driver. "Between 81st and 82nd on Fifth Avenue, please."

"So...did you pick out a dress for the dinner?" Nick asked.

"Mhm," Anne-Marie said in a dreamy way as she thought about the mulberry red dress that she could pick up next Tuesday.

"Great! I'm wearing a black tie, by the way," Nick said.

The taxi stopped outside the building.

"Just wait up a sec," Nick said before walking Anne-Marie to the door. "See you tomorrow," he said before planting a kiss on her cheek and waving good-bye.

Anne-Marie danced into the elevator before stepping into the sitting room and finally into her own room. She walked to the mirror behind her closet door and admired her necklace against the itchy black short-sleeved turtleneck over white button-downs. She loved her necklace more than anything. And she remembered that when Nick gave it to her, he said 'I love you'. I Love You!


Pete St. Marcus was really nervous as he stood at Bergdorf Goodman as he got fitted for his charity dinner suit. It was a black tie event, so he had to make sure that Stormy was okay with what he was wearing. She always had to know, especially because she always liked for his ties to match her dress. And she usually hated regular ties, so Pete wore a bow-tie. His Blackberry Bold started to ring, and he knew it was Stormy.

"Dude, can you get that for me?" He asked. Pete knew from enough trips to the tailor with Stormy that he wasn't supposed to get off the 'podium'. "Quick!"

Stormy waited for three rings. After that, she guessed that she "wasn't important enough to talk to". So she hung up! She would pick up on the fourth ring on a good day, and even a fifth ring, once in a blue moon. But six was out of the question. He stubby man quickly handed it to him.

"Hello?" He said into the phone.

"Hey, I should be there in ten. I'm crossing Madison," Stormy said. "I'll be there in five or ten."

"Stormy Pierce walking? Where's the paparazzi when you need them!" Pete said with a laugh.

"Sorry, smarty. They're swarming over Britney Spears wherever the hell she is," Stormy said. "Toodles!"

Five minutes later, Stormy was here.

"Ms. Pierce!" said Stubby, shocked.

"Hello, Ronald," Stormy smiled slyly as she glided into the room. Her violet eyes flashed as she turned her attention from Ronald to Pete. She looked at Pete's ensemble with a sharp eye. She circled around him.

"So...? Did you get your dress?" asked Pete.

"Yes, I did," she said with a sigh before shaking out her hair. "It looks wonderful, Ronald. Thank you."

"No problem, Ms. Pierce," Ronald said. He started to perspire.

Stormy reached into her cacao-colored Valentino hobo that had a million ruffles on it before producing a coral-pink bow tie from Brooks Brothers.

"What!? Pink?!?" Pete called.

"Yes, pink. It matches my dress perfectly." Stormy smirked before walking over and helping Pete put it on. Her nails were painted black, courtesy of Knock Out cosmetics. They felt like satin when she accidentally touched his face. Pete wished that he had shaved.

"You look quite polished, Mr. St. Marcus," said Donald or Ronald or whatever his name was.

"Thanks," Stormy answered. She did make most of the decision making in their love-hate relationship. "It's nice."

Whats-his-face handed over a slip for Pete to sign, which he did.

"Now can I change back to my regular clothes?" Pete asked.

"Yes, now go," Stormy said while he and Ronald discussed.

"Hey, do you wanna grab a bite to eat or something?" He sounded casual.

"I have to go. Lunch with the girls. Some other time?" She grabbed an khaki-colored trench and put it on.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and put on a pair of white sunglassers. "Au revoir."

Pete sighed and changed into his jeans-and-a-sweatshirt ensemble, as Stormy would call it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared down at his Converse oxford-sneakers. He wasn't even looking at where he was going and accidentally bumped into a pretty blonde girl who was walking in.

"Watch it!" the girl screeched. "Oh! You're Pete St. Marcus, right?"

Pete looked up. "Yeah, hey. And you're...?"

"Taylor Cummings," the girl smiled.

"Well, let me buy you lunch, Taylor Cummings. It's the least I can do," Pete said, grinning lazily. He held out his arm, which Taylor took. Some people appreciated him, at least.


Crash!

There went the china. Smashed. In millions and millions of pieces. Alexis could hear her parents fighting all the way in her room. She walked over to her antique vanity that had been her grandmother's and pulled out a draw. She selected a silver Tiffany & Co. hair pin that was adorned with diamonds and rubies and all sorts of different jewels. It was her great-grandmother's.

Crash!

That was probably the crystal. Then the yelling began.

Alexis fought back tears and went on playing with the pin, turning it over and over in her hands. The phone rang. It was probably the front desk, telling them that there have been complaints. Alexis had lived at the Plaza for as long as she remembered. She'd had her room since she was born. And the Plaza had began to complain about her parents' arguing and other guests' complaints. She sat straight up when she heard a door open and close behind her. She looked up and the reflection in the mirror was her older brother, Brody.

"Y'okay, Lexi?" He spoke calmly and firmly, but still softly.

Alexis let one tear slide down her cheek and looked up. There was a trail of running mascara. Thanks a lot, Bobbi Brown. Then there was another tear. And then another. Before she knew it, Alexis was crying. She walked over to Brody who was sitting on her bed and buried her head onto his shoulder and breathed in the smell of his warm and fuzzy fleece. Brody calmed his sister down. He knew that it wasn't easy for her. With the economy, Alexis brought in most of the money. Their mother wasn't doing them any favors by pressing on her to do more fashion shows and more photoshoots. Alexis couldn't handle it, and Brody knew it.

"It's okay," he hushed her. "Everything will be okay, Lexi." After a while, Alexis had fallen asleep. Brody covered her with a pale blue cashmere blanket and Alexis stayed like that for the rest of the night.