Sonny Monroe was trying to get to sleep. It didn't seem to matter what she did, nothing would work. Warm milk, exercise, herbal tea, none of it worked. So here she was, watching late night TV. There wasn't much on. Sports, infomercials, tabloid shows, she was interested in any of them. But she flicked around, looking for anything.

It didn't help that she was back on the road again, away from her own bed. This tour wasn't as demanding as her last one. But now, she had the opposite problem from the last tour. Instead of being overly tired, she couldn't sleep. It would come a few hours at a time. Sometimes, it would be days before she got a good night's sleep. Sonny knew that she needed to sleep, but there was nothing she could do about it.

"What is going on with C.D. Cooper?" a tabloid anchorman asked. Sonny paused on the station to see what was happening. "He was spotted at the Viper Room with his girlfriend, fashion designer Tawni Hart, when this happened."

The camera is backpedaling, so he can keep Chad in the shot. "C.D.! C.D.!" he shouted. "How was the club?"

"Fine," he replied, flashbulbs going off around him as another photographer came up.

"When does the new tour begin?"

"That hasn't been decided yet."

"Tawni," the other reporter said, grabbing her arm to pull her away to get a picture by herself.

"Hey," Tawni yelled at the reporter. Chad was livid when he saw it. He pushed the reporter away from Tawni and grabbed a camera and threw it on the ground, shattering it. Chad turned towards the camera man.

"Let's go," the reporter said and he and camera man fled.

"I guess we didn't know just what kind of temper C.D. Cooper really had," the anchorman said. Sonny flicked the channel.

"Tomorrow on the Late Night Show," the commercial advertised. "Leonardo DiCaprio, Lance Armstrong, and musical performance by C.D. Cooper."

"Can't sleep?" the man next to Sonny asked, as he rolled over.

"No," she replied, turning off the TV. "I don't know what it is Joshua. But for the past few days, I just can't fall asleep."

"I think I know what can help," Joshua said, getting out the bed and over to his suit case. He opened and began to rummage around until he found what he was looking for. It was an orange pill container.

"Here he said," he said, tossing the bottle to Sonny.

"What is this?" Sonny asked.

"Some sleeping pills. I got them last year when I had terrible bout of insomnia. They really did the trick."

"I don't know," Sonny said, apprehensively. Joshua got back into bed with her.

"There fine" Joshua said, trying to comfort Sonny. He rubbed her back and massaged her shoulders. "You need some sleep. We've got some big days coming up."

"You sure?" Sonny asked.

"Of course," he replied, pulling her close to him. "I used them and I turned out fine. Let me get you some water." Joshua went into the bathroom and got a plastic cup of water for Sonny. "Here."

Sonny took the cup and one of the sleeping pills. She swallowed it.

"Now just lay back and relax and in a few minutes you'll be sound asleep."

"What's going on, C.D.?" Max asked Chad, after he had called him into his office. "I'm not liking what I see in the press." He was pointing to tabloids with pictures of Chad getting into altercations with different paparazzi.

"They were getting my way," Chad tried to defend himself. "They wouldn't leave me alone and they were grabbing Tawni, trying to get pictures of her. What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," Max practically yelled back. "You can't push these guys around. Because if you don't play the game, then they will turn on you."

"You still didn't tell me what I am supposed to do."

"Just walk to your car, keep a low profile when you go out, or be prepared to have your pictures taken. "

"That's ridiculous," Chad argued. "Why should I have to live like that?"

"It's the way the game is played," Max explained. "Look, you need the paparazzi to take your pictures when you want. You need to be interviewed. You need to be seen. The downside is that they need pictures of you. They want you to react so they can sell magazines."

Max leaned back in his chair and Chad just sat there. Suddenly, an idea came to Max. He picked up a pen and wrote on a piece of paper. He tore the section off and gave it to Chad.

"What's this?" Chad asked.

"That's Samantha Ryan's phone number," Max said. "She works at Global Rhythm. She is a lot more sympathetic to our end of the deal."

"What can she do?" Chad said.

"It's another deal we can make. You give her an exclusive and she can help you manage the paparazzi and other unpleasantness. She's good at keeping the monster at bay."

"I don't know," Chad said.

"Just think about it. She can even out the downside of up, as we say."

Chad sat alone in his house. His cell phone was in his hand and Samantha's number was in the other. He wasn't sure that he could handle all the pressure that his new life would put in on. What harm could come of it? She could really help him out. Chad dialed the number.

"Hello," Samantha said, answering her phone after a few rings.

"Hello, Samantha Ryan, this is C.D. Cooper. Max Geiger gave me this phone number. He said you could help me in dealing with the paparazzi."

"For Max, yeah I can help you," Samantha replied. "You know my terms, right?"

"You get an exclusive interview with me."

"That's right."

"Okay, when do you want the interview?"

"Not right away. I want to make sure that you're still going to be a big star. That will make the interview better for me. Until then, I'll help you."

"So what's going to happen?"

"I'll come over and coach you on how to handle these things. Have you ever noticed how some celebrities never get caught up in this game? People like George Clooney?"

"Yeah."

"There's a reason."

"You worked with George Clooney?"

"No, but there are people, like myself, that know how to play the game and we get our benefits for helping you. Are you free tomorrow, say for lunch?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll meet you at Antonio's at 1:00."

"Thanks Samantha."

"Call me Sam. I'll see you tomorrow, C.D."

Chad hung the phone, thinking things were going to work out.