HI EVERYONE

so I wanted this out earlier, but I got distracted by my 1D concerts. just to let everyone know I was an embarrassment and Harry noticed me being said embarrassment and made fun of me. so, yeah.

also, all of y'all should follow me on my various social medias. i'm a hoot. they're on my page if you're interested, which you are, obviously. (oh and my real name is nicole, i'm getting over my weird "i don't want people to know i write things" phase. don't be mad at me. i wish my name was tawni. it was rad.)

ofcccc the briarwood boys are just as famous as one direction lmao I legitimately love the hype they create - it's just so enthralling, ukno? I want to be as famous as them. I want people to scream when they see me :( anyway the scene last chapter was nearly identical to the time I met 1D, which was wild. No worries, I don't hate on anyone's fangirling since I'm probably the worst. Like, I cry. For no reason. I also scream a lot. #hotmess

okay, so, some chapters will be longer than others. some might even be split up. i don't know, i didn't get that far yet, but what i do know is they are based on days, and sometimes some days are more interesting than others. so those will be longer. others might be shorter. like, first chapter was sloppy and choppy and all over the place because massie was sloppy and choppy and all over the place. i literally just made that up. i am SUCH a good bullshitter. holla.

ty for your reviews. your reactions were bomb. the macaroon/macaron thing made me lol

OPERATION: SKYE
1. Threaten to spread Skye's darkest secrets
2. Get Alicia to find those dark secrets first
3. Get Claire to schedule a photo shoot
4. Take compromising pictures that would ruin her career
5. Have her agree to perform or else Alicia will post them
6. Or send them to the tabloids
7. Tabloids love that shit
8. Kill her mom (?)
9. Kidnap her (?)

.:.

.:. december 28th .:.

Massie woke to an incessant pounding on her apartment door. A groan escaped her as she stretched and rolled over, hoping the sound would stop if she remained where she was. It did, for a moment, but just as Massie was about to drift off again, the knocking started up, and it was all downhill from there.

She fell out of bed, sheets tangled at her feet, swallowing a yawn. Rubbing the heel of her palm into her right eye, she shuffled down the hall, past her kitchen and through the living room, to the front door. With a peek through the little hole to see who was there, she swung the door open to reveal Alicia.

Her friend stormed past her, dressed to the nines as usual. "What is this?" she demanded, throwing a magazine turned to a particular page at the girl. "Also—where is your coffee? I'm exhausted."

Massie didn't answer that question; Alicia was over often enough to know where just about anything was. She squinted at the page before her, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. It was a picture of her, manipulated at some weird angle, outside the Daily Grind studio in yesterday's clothes. The headline read DERRICK HARRINGTON'S MYSTERY GIRL? but only because with the way he was holding her, it looked like they were embracing intimately. Massie frowned.

"You're lucky I still have a fondness for Seventeen or else there'd be a stampede of angry teens at your door, and you wouldn't know why, Mass," Alicia commented, holding a ceramic mug. "What's worse is you were photographed and put in this." The distaste in her voice spread through the room like wildfire.

"You were the one reading it," Massie retorted, tossing the magazine on a nearby table. "No need for the hostility."

"What even is that?" demanded Alicia. She slipped into the kitchen and Massie followed, throwing herself into a chair. "When did you have the time to rendezvous with Low State?"

Massie accepted the cup of coffee she was handed and blew on it. "I don't even know who Derrick Harvington is."

"Harrington," Alicia corrected. "He's just the guy that you were photographed with, no biggie."

"Are you a fan?"

"I might have listened to their album on Spotify," Alicia admitted with a coy grin. "I am a big fan of their latest single, though. It's all that's ever on the radio."

"Ugh." Massie rolled her eyes. "I'm so over that song."

"Come on, Mass! It's such a jam!" Alicia started to hum the familiar tune and Massie gulped down some of her coffee, wrinking her nose both at her friend's antics and the amount of sweetener in her drink.

"Don't start singing," Massie begged. "It's too early for you to be singing."

Alicia knitted her eyebrows together and sat, her impromptu dance moves of flailing and spinning coming to a halt. "Fine. Whatever. Let's get back to the issue at hand—what happened yesterday with Skye? She back in?"

"Of course not. Why would anything go my way?" Massie drew her finger around the lip of her cup, sighing deeply. "Her mom's a real bitch and she's her manager. They're claiming Skye needs some time to 'better herself' or some shit like that, so she's canceling everything until April."

"That honestly sucks," supplied Alicia. "What are you going to do? Once this gets out…"

Massie didn't even want to think about it. Griffin was counting on her to fix this whole mess and already a day had gone by with absolutely nothing. There were four days until New Year's Eve, something she didn't want to think about either. Four days until she either saved her own ass or lost everything she ever worked for. She wasn't going to let an eighteen year old ruin her career because she "couldn't handle it" or "needed some me time" or whatever bullshit she was spewing at every reporter. Massie was going to get her back. She was going to. She just needed a plan.

"Did you get anything on her?" she demanded.

Alicia scratched at her perfect eyebrow. "No. She's squeaky clean. Obviously—since that's her image, but…"

"But there's gotta be something!" Massie swiftly cut in, sharing a look with her friend. They seemed to be on the same page here. Or they would be, once all of this brainstorming happened. "She didn't lose herself"—here, Massie mocked the girl's accented Valley Girl-esque voice—"by staying true to her image."

"No, she didn't." Alicia's red lips tugged down in thought. "Of course there's something, but what is it? If I can't get it…" The unspoken "who can?" hung between them.

They stared at each other for a long while, long enough for what was left of Massie's coffee to grow cold. She stirred the liquid with her finger, determined to keep herself optimistic… like Claire. Their blonde friend wouldn't let something like this deter her; not that she'd ever been in this kind of situation, what with being a photographer and all. But Claire… Claire would turn towards the happier things in life, the things that were unshakable, and even though Claire wouldn't like where Massie's head was going—especially while she was trying to be her—the one unshakable thing in a celebrity was their weak spot. Skye had to have one, and when Massie found out what it was, she was going to push that button. She was going to push, and push, and push until she got what she wanted. Massie Block always got what she wanted.

(Except for that car when she turned sixteen, but whatever, no one's really counting that. Move on, please.)

"She'll be in the city for a while, right?" Alicia said aloud, breaking the silence. Massie looked up, about to respond with a rather crude answer—how the hell was she supposed to know that girl's schedule? It wasn't like she stole it from her mom… which she totally should have, fuck—but it seemed like Alicia was talking to herself, sorting through her brain like Massie wasn't even there. "Most celebrities do that. They putz around the city, do their interviews, do the big thing they were supposed to, and then jet off to somewhere else… Skye's probably no different…"

"She'd want to talk to other talk show hosts, too," Massie piped in. "Tell them what's going on."

Alicia nodded. "Just in case her fans don't all watch Dyl's show…" She grabbed her phone again, typing away at the speed of light. Massie watched her, a bit amazed. "There's Letterman, Fallon, GMA, The Today Show… I don't know which ones she'd pick—maybe all? I don't know…" She stopped short, lifting her phone to her ear when it buzzed. "M'busy. Call you back later." And then, back at it, talking at Massie: "She's definitely here for another three days, if she's following the patterns of others before her. She'd leave just before Friday, so Thursday morning or evening, depending…" Alicia pulled up the dial pad on her iPhone's small screen and pressed at her recent calls—"Hey, yeah, sorry I was on a roll. Do me a fav and follow all the Skye Hamilton update accounts. Keep tabs on her at all times. If you find something out, tell me ay-sap… Oh, and don't run the story on Abby Boyd. It's pointless. Thanks."

With a satisfied smirk, Alicia leaned up and looked at Massie. "You should do the same, Mass."

"How do you do that?" the brunette breathed, practically awestruck.

"It's all part of the business," Alicia replied cheekily, "but I'm serious. Get your laptop or your phone and follow every update account. Actually, you don't have to follow them, per se, but keep tabs on them. And speaking of your phone, why didn't you answer me before? I called you eight times and you ignored me each time. The doorman pretended he had no idea who I was. Rude."

"My phone?" Massie questioned. "I didn't even hear it ring."

"Of course you did. You sent me to your voicemail eight times. I knew you were grouchy in the morning, but I didn't think it was at this level."

"No, I seriously didn't hear it," argued Massie. "It's probably still in my coat. I fell asleep plotting last night. I didn't even charge it."

"I'm actually so disappointed in you," Alicia said. "You know I hate looking silly."

"Yeah, yeah." Massie waved her off. "You need to be knocked down a peg, though. Lemme go get it."

En route to the front door, she dumped her coffee and rinsed her cup, placing it upside down in her sink. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and left the room to pull her peacoat out of the closet, where she'd hurriedly hung it the night before. It slid off the hanger in her craze, a crumpled mess on the floor by her rain boots. Massie hung it properly, searching through the pockets for her cellular device.

Right pocket: no.

Left pocket: no.

She checked the hidden ones on the inside, too. No.

On her hands and knees, she scoured the floor, bumping her hands against the walls. It wasn't there. It also wasn't in those rain boots either; she shook them hard to prove it.

"Alicia…" she started off, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. "It's not here."

"I know."

"Where could it be? I'm positive I didn't—wait." Massie shot back, resting on her calves. "You know?"

Alicia was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, lips puckered. "Yes."

"How do you know where my phone is?"

"Dylan texted me," she replied. "She's with Derrick Harrington."

"Who?" Massie ran her hands through her hair, unable to see the importance in who Dylan spent her time with. Her entire life was in that phone. She didn't have a landline. No one would be able to contact her. She'd lose her job.

The Latina huffed. "Derrick Harrington, from Low State? The guy you bumped into yesterday?"

"Great. Are they a thing? Why does this matter to me?"

"Because he has your phone."

"He has my phone?"

"Yes, that's what I just said."

"Why does he have my phone?"

"I don't know. Dyl says… Tell Mass Derrick Harrington is here. He has her phone."

"Find out why!"

"Okay, okay…" Alicia typed away, her nails making clicking sounds against her screen. "She says when he bumped into you, you dropped it and he tried to get your attention, but you were gone before he could get to you."

Vaguely, Massie remembered this. "And he waited until now to give it to her? Ask her to ask him why he still has it, the little thief."

"I highly doubt he's a thief, Mass." Scoffing at Massie's evil eye, she added, "He's, like, a billionaire. What would he want with your shitty Galaxy?"

"My Galaxy is not shitty!" Massie snapped. "Find out why he still has it!"

"No."

"No?"

"You're only going to ask about eighteen more questions after I send her that one. Let's just go down to the studio and pick it up. Then you can ask Derrick Harrington why he kept your phone until this morning."

"Because he's a thief, that's why."

"He's not a thief."

"He is."

"Get dressed. I don't think you want to go meet him in your pajamas."

"What if I do? He means nothing to me. He's just a thief." At Alicia's exasperated look: "A billionaire thief."

"I refuse to be seen with you in that getup. Now go."

Massie stood, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "Only because this is my most embarrassing pajama set."

"The fact that it's a pajama set says it all," Alicia quipped.

"There are elephants on them. I love elephants."

"Go!"

"I don't care what Derrick Harrington thinks of me. I'd go in my other pajamas if I were wearing them."

"That's only because they're hot as hell… and practically see-through!"

"I'm gonna change into them, you bitch!"

Alicia laughed. "All right, settle down there, tiger. I thought you didn't care what Derrick Harrington thought."

"I don't. I'm doing it for me."

"All right…" Alicia snorted. "Hurry up, though—maybe the rest of the band is with him!"

"Why do you care?"

"They're cute!" Alicia called back, as if that was a perfectly good reason, and, to be honest, it kind of was.

.:.

So Massie did not end up wearing her slinky, overtly sexual nightie from Victoria's Secret, but she did hurry up—which probably didn't matter at all since the entirety of the subway ride was full of her complaining. As was the short walk to the studio. And the seven minutes—Alicia counted—they spent waiting for Dylan in the lobby. And the fifteen second walk down the stairs, through one of the control rooms, and into the space where The Daily Grind was shot.

It would've started up again, or maybe it did—Massie was talking about phones and thieves and my job, oh my god, my JOB—but it stopped completely once a highly amused voice cut through the brunette's anxious, annoying ramble.

This boy was lounging in the seats, long, lean body spread out so he took up about four of them despite the fact that it looked awfully uncomfortable. His head was hanging upside down, taking the three girls in from a terrible angle, though that did nothing to wipe the smirk off his face.

"Mystery Girl!" he greeted enthusiastically, tossing the hair out of his eyes as if to get a better look. Not like it was hindering his view in the slightest. "It's nice to finally meet you… y'know, even though you and D have had a thing since…" He frowned, trying to remember. "A while. According to that magazine."

"It's a real sordid love affair," Massie snapped, her wit unraveling around her. It would've been funny, maybe, if everything wasn't going to shit. And then, maybe, she would've been able to call upon her snappy one-liners… but, alas, life was shit, and it could not be so. Very sad.

Annoying Smirky Boyband Member grinned at her. "Testy."

"Ignore her." Alicia stepped in, smoothing her hair down and (inconspicuously) smacking her lips together, an obvious sign she was interested. Of course. "She's not used to this nonsense, and she doesn't have her phone, and I woke her up at the crack of dawn, so. She's practically volatile."

"Just like her phone. It's been ringing nonstop and none of us know how to work it."

"It's a shitty Galaxy," agreed Alicia.

"Oh my god, it's not shitty!" Massie defended. "Where is it? Where is your stupid, thieving—"

"Thieving?" Annoying Smirky Boyband Member whispered to Alicia.

"Volatile," she hissed back, clearly preening under his watchful stare.

"I can hear you," Massie snapped, refraining from stomping her foot. She needed her phone. Who knew how many times Griffin called her? Or what if—what if Skye's momager finally came to her senses and felt bad for ruining Massie's life and was going to make her daughter sing?

The amount of calls she missed, the number of voicemails left… it was making her nauseous. Or, more nauseous than she was before.

Dylan, who was keeping out of the conversation, piped in, "The rest of them might be at the food table. I have Danny Robbins coming in to talk about his new movie."

"Where is it?" Massie demanded. "I need my phone."

"I'll take you there. I need to make sure they don't eat all the food anyway," Dylan commented, breezing by Alicia and Annoying Smirky Boyband Member, who were all wrapped up in their own conversation. "They did that yesterday."

Massie was two seconds away from telling her just how much she did not care about them eating all her food and offering to replace whatever they ate today, when she heard her familiar ringtone. Nothing too embarrassing, thank god—not that she cared what these boys—men—what?—she still had no idea how old they were—thought of her and her silly ringtone. Once upon a time, it used to be "Pop" by *NSYNC. Classic.

"Silence it, D. Please. Oh my god."

"I don't know how!"

"Try."

"I am trying!"

"Try harder."

"No need," Massie said smoothly, surprising herself with how composed she was. She honestly felt like crying and hyperventilating, but Outer Massie would not allow that. It was like an out of body experience. She could see herself stride over to Boyband Member She Bumped Into and take her phone, but it was almost as if it wasn't really her.

They all watched her, interested, as she answered the call. Without checking, she knew it was Griffin.

"Hello?"

"Massie, where have you been?"

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed furiously. "I couldn't find my phone," she said. "But it's all good now."

"Make sure you have your phone on you at all times," Griffin warned, "I don't like being left hanging."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," she babbled, running a hand through her hair. "It was a really long day."

"All right, well. How did yesterday go? Did you get in touch with Skye?"

"Yeah, I did, and about that…"

"You know how important this is, Massie. We need Skye—"

"Yes, I know, but—"

"I hate being interrupted."

"I know, but—"

"You have four days. Remember that."

"I need to tell you something about her first," Massie spoke in a rush, words slurring together in her need for him to know. "You see, she's—"

"Is this important?" Griffin cut her off. "Do you have her singing at Times Square again?"

"No, but—"

"Then it doesn't matter to me. I'm very busy right now, seeing as a million and one things have fallen through. Call me when Skye is set, all right?"

He hung up, leaving Massie breathless, with words still tied up on the tip of her tongue. He hadn't let her speak, hadn't let her explain the situation at hand—he never did that before. Never ignored her, never treated her like she was any less than him…

She frowned deeply and loudly, shoving her phone in her pocket and crossing her arms. Dylan looked on. The four boys—men—Boyz II Men—whatever—had decided Massie wasn't interesting at all, eating bagels, or donuts, or drinking coffee, or a combination of the three. The blonde one she bumped into kept peeking at her out of the corner of his eye, though.

For a brief moment, Massie watched everyone interact. And by everyone, it was mainly Low State. (That was their name, right?) They did a lot of laughing—the kind that made your face red and gave you wrinkles around your eyes and mouth. They ate a lot, too, but most of the time, it was one of them trying to steal another's donut just to have them give it up in favor of another. The one who stole it found the food useless after that, dropping it back on the table. It was weird. And slightly endearing.

Dylan sidled up to her, silently offering a donut, but Massie declined. "So, what's up?" the redhead asked in that comfortable friendly tone of hers that did not at all sound like she and Massie hadn't really, honest to god spoken for months.

"What isn't?" Massie sighed, scratching at her scalp. "I think my life is ending."

"Ending?" Dylan echoed, raising an eyebrow. "How so? Did your talk with Skye not work out the way you planned?"

"You know how bad my luck is these days." Massie picked at the half-eaten donut in Dylan's hand, chewing on the teeniest bit. "I embarrassed the shit out of myself yesterday."

"What happened?"

"The abridged version? Skye's mom is a bitch."

Dylan opened her mouth to respond, but it was a different, cruder voice that came out of her painted lips. "Skye Hamilton, America's Sweetheart?"

"The very one." Massie rolled her eyes at the thought of the blonde with her buttery ringlets, her blue, blue, blue eyes, her blinding smile. It was so effin' irritating.

"She's my favorite." The sarcasm in his voice was so palpable along with the snide tone in which he spoke. Massie felt as if he were her soul sister.

"Yeah?" she said. "Same."

Boyband Member She Bumped Into gulped down his coffee in a massive swallow and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Chris used to get pictured with her all the time," he explained. "Publicity things."

"We're not supposed to tell people that," This Chris snapped. It didn't look all that much like he cared. "But yeah. Basically."

"Sorry," Massie said.

"Don't be." He laughed, waving off her (insincere) apology. "I don't know why her management team picked me of all people."

Dylan snorted. Clearly she knew more than Massie did.

"If they were smart, they would've picked Josh," Chris continued on—for Massie's benefit? Maybe. "He's much more of a romantic."

Josh—the one in a football jersey—snorted. "Hardly."

"I'm calling bullshit right now," Chris argued lightheartedly, knocking him in the shoulder. "You're much more a hand holding guy than me."

"Right, sure."

"I had to hold her hand and, like, do touristy shit with her, man." Chris shook his head. "Not me at all."

"And you think I wanna do that?" Josh demanded.

"No, but it makes more sense," Chris responded swiftly, like they'd had this conversation before. "With you, it'd be like, 'Aw, Josh and Skye Spotted in NYC'! But with me it's like 'Is The Low State Player Finally Settling Down?' or 'Skye Hamilton: The Girl That Can Tame Chris Plovert'. Are you for real?"

"Wait," Massie interrupted. "Are those real?"

The last one, the silent guy with curls that rivaled Boyband Member She Bumped Into's, laughed loudly. "Yes. I've saved them all. I even have one hanging on my fridge. Look." He scrolled through his phone, gesturing for Massie to look over his shoulder. "How hysterical is this?"

Massie pursed her lips. "Is she wearing a sweater with dolphins on it?"

"Of course she is," he replied. "She loves herself some animal sweaters."

"Paired with skirts and tights. Never forget," Chris added solemnly.

Despite herself, Massie giggled. "I'm sorry?"

"No, no, I had to match her outfit once. I don't wear shit like that at all. Our stylist even knows that."

"You look… very put together," she offered.

"Thanks," he said in monotone.

"Well, now that you know some things about Chris, Josh, and Skye," Boyband Member She Bumped Into captured her attention, "what's the deal with you and her?"

Massie wrinkled her nose; she'd almost forgotten the whole ordeal. "She's canceling the first half of her tour so she can have some me time."

Chris cackled.

"Why?" Josh asked. "Isn't she the happiest person in the world?"

"She's definitely the human embodiment of Disney World," The Silent Curly One agreed, scrolling through what looked like his Twitter feed. He had about a billion and one notifications.

"I don't know, but I'm so mad," Massie told them, even though she'd just met them. Hardly, but still. She had no idea who half of them were, but here she was, and there they were, and it all seemed to come tumbling out. Stress could do so much. "I work for the Times Square Alliance and we're in charge of the Ball Drop this Friday, and she was supposed to perform…"

"But she's backing out?"

"Because of her need for me time, yeah." Massie swallowed, ignoring their gazes. "So I've been following her around. I'm going to blackmail her. Y'know, once I get something to blackmail her with. I made a list."

"A list?" Dylan asked.

"Yes. I need to be completely organized with my blackmail while my life falls apart around me."

Dylan snorted something like "Typical" but kept her mouth shut regardless.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Boyband Member She Bumped Into muttered.

"Sure. I'll send you an email about it," Massie agreed. He smiled boyishly, cocking his head to the side.

One of them started another conversation, Josh picked up a bagel, Dylan almost yelled at him, and Massie's phone beeped in her pocket.

She pulled it out and unlocked it, just to find it was a Twitter notification. She checked it, uninterested, and exited out of the app before it really hit her. SHUpdates was the name of the account she'd just left. Quickly, it was opened up once more.

The tweet was published about two minutes ago, and was just a picture of Skye Hamilton, her mom, and someone else she couldn't make out with the message Skye at lunch in NYC! It had a bunch of retweets and favorites.

Massie bit her lip and shoved the phone in Dylan's face. "What does this look like to you?" she demanded.

Dylan held the device in her hand, squinting. "The Hard Rock Cafe," she said after a beat of scrutinization.

"I have to go. Thanks for bringing back my phone," she said to Boyband Member She Bumped Into, "do you want to eat dinner together later?" she asked Dylan. All of this was in the same breath.

"Yeah, sure," the redhead responded casually. "I'll see if Claire wants to, too?"

"Sure. Ask Leesh. She's still out there with the other guy."

In a whirlwind, Massie was out of the studio and down the block—destination: the Hard Rock Cafe. It was then that she realized she never had the chance to interrogate that guy over her phone.

Oh, well. Real life calls.

.:.

The Hard Rock Cafe was swamped with fans. Or people who looked like fans. Most of them were wearing Skye's latest tour shirt. And crying. Or both. It was gross.

Massie didn't feel all that bad about shoving past them, not even when she accidentally elbowed a smaller girl right in the face. (Okay, maybe she felt a bit guilty about that one, but.) She marched towards the front of the mob where two burly security guards—Skye's, no doubt—stood, muscled arms crossed over their chests.

She smiled her best smile at them, trying to summon her inner Alicia-esque vixen. Neither of them blinked an eyelash. She frowned.

"Hi," she said, steeling herself.

Nothing.

She waved her Times Square Alliance ID. It normally worked in cases like this, allowing her access to all the things that other people could not get into. Her job had some perks; this was not one of them.

The guards glanced at her swaying hand, then faced the crowd once more.

Massie sighed. Did Skye, like, buy out the restaurant? Why were they standing here? "Can I get through?"

"Do you have a reservation?"

Did she need one here?

"Uh, no."

"Then I'm afraid you can't."

"What? Why?"

"Miss Hamilton wants some time to herself. She will see fans after she's done dining," the bigger of the two stated gruffly. "Please step back."

"I'm not a fan," Massie snapped, giving them her coolest glare. "We hired her for a job and I need to speak with her about it."

They looked at each other. "Is she expecting you?"

"N—" Massie paused. "Maybe. She might've forgotten. We made these plans forever ago."

One of the guards certainly looked sold, but the other wanted more information. Massie wished they could've been hired on brawn alone; they didn't need to be overly smart, just capable of saving Skye if need be.

"What's your name? I can call her up."

"Massie Block," she said. She instantly regretted it. She should've given a fake one.

With a swift nod, the man stepped aside and quickly dialed a number. The other watched both Massie and the crowd. If she hadn't been so apprehensive about his size and muscle, she might've made a run for it.

She could, probably, but only if she set her mind to it. He was big, this guy, no doubt about it. He didn't look fast, though, and if Massie could out run him…

But it was too late. She took too much time deliberating and now the other guard was back, and he didn't look pleased.

"Her manager says they are not expecting you and they never made plans with you," he told her icily. "She also says she spoke to your people already and she would like for you to leave her and her daughter alone. Now, if you would please go—others have been waiting much longer than you."

Massie gritted her teeth together and stormed off, feeling humiliated and angered all at the same time. This girl was eighteen and she was single-handedly throwing Massie to the dogs time and time again. Griffin was going to fire her without a second thought once he found out Skye was not going to grace that stage in Times Square. She wouldn't be able to pay her rent, she'd be forced out on the streets, she'd starve…

It was all so dreadful to think about that Massie wrapped her arms around her body and waited in that horrible mob of people for the next two hours.

At one point, they all started singing Skye's newest single, and then her first, and then her entire album. Massie felt a headache coming on. With no medication to ease the pain, she rubbed her temples and sighed, counting to a hundred and back while these girls sang in the worst, most off-key voices she'd ever heard.

Skye never came back out.

I made up the ID thing, so don't call me out on it. The next chapter might be a continuation of this day, it might not. I'm not positive.