Lyrics belong to Strata "never there"

: I am patiently waiting here to see
Which of us survives
When all of this collides with reality:

"Faith!" I looked up from the magazine I was reading
in the hair and make up room. In pranced Krista, my
bubbily blonde costar, and good friend.

"Hey Krista," I smile as she hops into a chair,
pulling down her sweatshirt hood to allow the artists
access to her short blonde bob.

"How was your weekend?" She asks, leaning forward to
sort through the pile of Us Weekly, and Star
magazine's. "Why do we have nothing but gossip rags
in this place? I mean hello we know half these
people, its not just a guilty pleasure to read about
them. Its like reading about your co-workers." She
dropped the pile in disgust. I laughed, and tossed
her the Los Angeles Post I had just finished.

"How about that?" I asked.

"Death, murder, mayhem, sometimes I don't know which
publication is worse," she sighed.

"I try to take it all with a grain of salt. Murder,
is Britney pregnant, three-car pile up, Angie and
Brad. It's all just tragic." I let my head be tilted
up by the make up artist, dropping the magazine into
my lap.

"Good points. So no gossip rags, no news. Dish on
your weekend," I saw her wink to me out of the corner
of my eye as she was pulled back for her hair to be
brushed.

"A little crazy," I admitted.

"Uh oh, things not happy in Jessica land?"

"Don't call her Jessica, you know she hates that," I
remind her.

"I know, that's most of the reason I say it," she
grins. "The girl's wound tight, and you're so loose."

"I'm gonna take that in a good way," I frown. "I'm
gonna pretend I can think of one."

"So what happened? It did involve Jessica, I can tell
because you didn't deny it."

"We got in a little fight when I didn't deny our
relationship to Bailey's little sister, who is a big
fan."

"Well you haven't denied it to any of us," Alissa, who
was doing my make up smirked. "Shut your mouth for a
minute." I complied as she did my lips.

"I know, but you all are apparently fine," I told her
once she was done.

"Just so long as the general public doesn't know?"
Krista asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

"That's kinda fucked up," Krista replied.

"Here, here," Logan, our "oh so gay" other stylist
cheered.

"Well Logan, unlike you it is possible for us to hide
it."

"Excuse me," he waved me off, going back to Krista's
hair.

"Why would she want you to hide it? That's like
hiding you. It's all I'm saying."

"I know," I nodded, as Logan began to blow dry
Krista's hair. "I know."

Later I sat on the stage, off in my own little world,
half listening to the others who were filming, and
half thinking about Buffy again. Honestly I was
drifting more towards full thoughts of Buffy. Jess
and I had been kinda distant from one another the
whole weekend.

She had slept most of Saturday, hung over, and waking
up only enough to watch the Tivoed episodes of
"Passions", snack on Doritos and drink Diet coke. I
ran out and got us Subway fro dinner, and then she was
out for the night again. Sunday she went off with
friends and I chose to be out of the way when she got
home, and stay out of the way until she went to sleep.

"So you thinking about filming, or Jessica?" Krista
asked, settling into the chair next to me.

"Honestly? Neither," I admitted. "So full truth on
Friday night?"

"I wanna know," she nodded eagerly.

"Well, after the fight, I was talking to this girl
Buffy."

"Oh, a girl?" She raised an eyebrow. "A hot girl?"

"Very hot," I nodded, grinning. "Blonde."

"I knew you loved us blondes," Krista shook her own
blonde mane for emphasis. "So what happened?"

"We kissed in a bathroom, well, she kissed me."

"And you stood there limp and oh so defenseless?"
Krista didn't look like she was buying that.

"Well, kinda. I mean my back was pressed up against a
door, and she was pressed against me."

"And this door had no handle?" Krista raised an
eyebrow, I only glared at her. "Sorry. So does this
hot mystery woman have a name?"

"Buffy." I glared harder as Krista burst into
laughter, our director turned and gave her the major
evil eye and she calmed her laughter to a quiet
shaking of the shoulders.

"Buffy? I'm sorry, but that is so valley girl I can't
even stand it. Are you going to call her?"

"I don't have her number," I shrugged.

"So you wish you did though? Tsk, tsk, what would
Jessica say to that?" Krista shook her head, and I
couldn't help but grin.

"We both know exactly what she would say. God, Krista
what am I gonna do about this girl?"

"Jessica, or Buffy?"

"Both I guess."

"Ditch Jessica. If this Buffy chick was macking it to
you in the bathroom, I like her style."

"You can be so dirty."

"I know but the blonde hair just creates this shell of
innocence no one seems to see through," Krista
answered with false honesty. "I feel just awful about
it."

"Right," I answered sarcastically.

"Krista, Faith, on set now." We both jumped up
heading for the stage. We ran through our scene a few
times, then were let out for lunch. Together we
headed back to craft services, filling up plates and
heading out back for the picnic tables.

Sitting down I started digging into my pizza, starving
as always. Krista looked on in awe as I devoured the
first piece in about a minute flat and started on the
second. I shrugged to her and she began picking at the
salad and baked chicken she had chosen.

"Honestly, you have the most killer metabolism," she
shook her head.

"I know." I grinned, ripping open the bag a bag of
chips.

"Oh, do you Cat's new number?" Krista asked. "She
gave it to me a while ago, but I didn't put it in my
cell, and now I have totally spaced on where I did put
it."

"Yeah, you want her new cell number right?"

"Do people have home numbers anymore?" Krista asked
raising an eyebrow.

"Only crazy old people," I picked up my cell,
scrolling through the phonebook while stuffing chips
into my mouth.
Alissa…..Anna…..Anita……Bethany…..Britney….. I dropped
my bag of chips. "Oh shit."

"What?" Krista leaned forward, trying to see my
phone, I turned it so she could see the screen, I
pointed.

"Right there."

"What? Oh, shit, the Buffy?"

"I never met any other one," I stared at the phone,
right under Britney, Buffy. I clicked on her name and
up popped her information. 323-555-9867, Buffy
Summers. And under notes, 'call me ;)'