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Emma

When they had reached Justin's house, he made a beeline for the nearest car, a black Lexus. Motioning over his shoulder for her to follow him, he slid inside and revved up the smooth engine.

The short ride there was characterized by an awkward and uncomfortable, broken only when she gave him directions.

As they neared her apartment, Justin noticed the roughness of the area deepening.

She saw his worried expression and sighed. "Yes, I live in a place like this. And no, I don't do drugs, sell the, or work as a prostitute."

Justin's eyes narrowed in confusion. "But in the letter, you said-"

"God, Justin. Don't believe everything you read."

He was silent for a moment, then opened his mouth again. "Where do you really work?"

"To be honest, I'm just a Hooters girl." She chuckled. "Not very exciting, huh? I just parade around in revealing outfits serving beer after beer to drunken old men. Oh - turn left here."

She led him out of the car and inside an old, dirty-looking building made of crumbling red bricks. They climbed up a staircase and stopped in front of a thick wooden door marked "17" in peeling white paint.

Emma turned to face Justin and was about to tell him good-bye when a stocky-looking woman with coarse gray hair approached them.

"You have two days to leave." She said to Emma.

The young woman's jaw dropped. "What?!?"

"You haven't paid your bill for over three months now!"

"But - But Marsha, you know I'm only paid minimum wage, and you overcharge me for this dingy place anyway!"

The older woman's nostrils flared. "This is Los Angeles, sweets. Things are not cheap here." She twirled on her heel and began making her way down the hall.

"Wait!" Emma called after her. "How much do I owe you?"

"Two thousand, seven hundred bucks."

Emma's heart sank. "Can I give you three-hundred-fifty of it now, and later-"

"No. Not later!" The woman turned around once more and walked down the hall, shaking her head. "Later, later, later. That's all I ever hear from her!" Marsha coughed. "Two days, Emma!" She called over her shoulder. "Two days!"

When Marsha had faded from sight, Emma slowly put her key in the keyhole and turned it. The lock snapped open, and she pushed open the door, racing inside and hurtling herself onto her ugly, green, falling-apart couch.

She wouldn't meet Justin's eyes when he entered the room behind her, shutting the door softly before plopping down next to her on the couch. He winced and moved slightly as he felt a loose spring dig sharply into his hip.

Clearing his throat loudly, he stared expectantly down at her.

Emma's head shot upward; her glare was icily fiery. "What the hell, Justin? What do you want me to do? Play Little Miss Perfect Host and offer you a cool beverage as my already-pathetic world falls completely down around me?!?"

Justin sighed. "Emma…"

"Fuck you, Timberlake. God, I'm surprised you aren't already back in your fancy-ass mansion, sipping twelve-hundred-dollar wine and enjoying your incredibly naïve life. Because to be honest, your life is almost as pathetic as mine is."

He drew in his breath, a stunned look crossing over his features. "But… Emma…"

"Don't you "but Emma" me!!! I don't need your goddamn bullshit right now, Mr. Timberlake. I just don't need it!"

"Stop. Calling. Me. That." He hissed through clenched teeth. "I was… I was trying to ask you if you wanted to stay at my place for a while until you were back on your feet."

Genuinely shocked, she stared for a moment, studying him. "Oh."

"Sometimes you can be a complete bitch, you know that?"

"Go to hell." She shot back defensively.

This time he was the one to roll his eyes.

Standing up quietly, Justin stretched and began to make his way toward the door. "I'll be here tomorrow to bring you over. Pack your things… Oh and leave this furniture here." He added in obvious distaste. "It's repulsive."

She gaped at him open-mouthed. "I don't ever wanna even see you again; I'm sure as hell not gonna move in with you!" She retorted in disbelief.

"Yes you are."

"I'm telling you, I will not."

"And I'm telling you that you will - unless you'd prefer it if I went to the cops and told them about you little uninvited visit to my house." His dark eyes flashed devilishly. "Maybe living in a jail cell would better suit your taste?"

Emma opened her mouth to reply, ready to tell Justin exactly what she thought of him. But she didn't get the chance.

The apartment door closed with a loud slam.


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