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Chapter Two

Back to 9:30 on a Wednesday night. At age 14, I still sleep in my mom's bed with her while her fiance is away at work. 

"When does Justin come home?" I whispered in the dark. My head was burried in my mom's shoulder and she was brushing through my hair with her fingers. 

"Saturday," She whispered, "We talked on the phone today."

"How do you deal with him being away so much?" I asked with a sigh. 

"I love him. He loves me. We have to deal with the fact that this show he's doing is in New York...you know..."

"I just know it's hard for you."

"It's going to be even harder when we're married," She laughed quietly then rolled over onto her side. 

"Yeah," I whispered, "Good night, momma,"

"Good night, baby." Mom whispered. 

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When I woke up, I could smeel that Mom was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast. I walked down the long tiled hallway and into the kitvhen where she was. She had one set of our french door wide open letting in the thick, warm Los Angeles air while she cooked away. Mom loves cooking. 

"Good morning, beautiful!" Mom said. Her big blue-green eyes met mine and the skin on the edges of her eyes wrinkled because of her huge smile.I was suprised to see her so happy only because she usually isn't when Jusin is gone. This morning she seemed happier to see me than she was ever happy to see him.

"Morning." I said as I sat on a stool at the counter. My arm rested against the cool granite and I felt relieved from the heat Mom was letting in our house. "Wait..aren't you doing an interveiw thing today?" I asked, suddenly remembering the magazine interveiw she had planned.

"Yeah," Mom answered, "But it's not until 12:30."

"Mom!!! It's noon right now!" I shrieked. Mom has herself convinced that she doesn't need another assistant, that she can remember these things by herself. Well, obviously she can't.

"What?! Oh...my God!" Mom clanged around with her pans and bowls mid omlet making. She was running around the kitchen trying to kind of half clean and half turn off the burners on our huge stove.

"I'll clean up! You go get ready." I said. She looked at me, suprised. She knew that by doing this I would be sacrificing most of my time to get ready, but we both know that mom won't leave the house with a messy kitchen. I nodded at her.

"Thank you, honey." Mom literally ran out of the kitchen and down the tile hall into her room (our currently our room) to get dressed. I jumped off the stool and padded across the room to clean up. I looked out the doors as I washed the pans. Standing there in my kitchen, I kind of realized something pretty big that I'd never htought of before. It wasn't anything bad, I just realized it. My mother had taken me with her to almost every little interveiw or event she's had to go to since I could walk. I mean- she obvoiusly didn't bring me on the red carpet with her, but she'd brought me along to do every interveiw, she'd brought me to pick out all her gowns, to get her hair done, to watch the premire of all of her movies...everything. I was never just a nuscence of a kid that she had to find a sitter for evert night or a kid that was a chore to take care of 25/7. I realized then and there that I was my mom's very best friend. She wanted me in every part of her life...every step. I don't know, I guess I just kind of understood then how importants I was to my mom. I always knew she needed me, but then I realized that she wanted me too.

By the time I was done being lost in my own thoughts, the kitchen was clean. I glanced at the clock on the oven. 12:10. I walked down the hall and into my room to get dresses. My bed was neatly made since I hadn't slept in it for over a week. 

"You almost ready?" I shouted to my mom in the other room, even though I knew she wasn't going to be even close to ready. 

"Not really...my hair's a mess and we don't have time to stop by the salon!" Mom shouted back.

"Well figure it out! Your hair means a lot to people!" I laughed. My mom hated when I cracked jokes about her famous hair. I pulled off my pajame bottoms and pulled on a pair of demin shorts. I wasn't the one being interveiwed, so luckily I didn't have to dress formally. Mom had a strict rule that I wasn't aloud to answer any of the paparazzi's questions or do any kind of interveiw until I was at least 15. She already hated that I had to be drowning in fame at such a young age because of her, she didn't want me to experience anything more myself. But, I did need to look decent just in case the shutterbugs see us, which they usually do. Shutterbugs are what mom calls the dreaded paps or paparazzi. 

I yanked off my huge t-shirt that was actually Justin's, I had borrowed it from his dresser the day he left. I liked wearing his clothes because they smelled like him. A lot of days I feel like I miss Justin just as much as Mom does. He was more of a dad to me than my real dad ever was. I pulled on a light weight white blouse. I looked at myself in the mirror as I brushed my hair. I had light, dirty-blond hair. Mom's a natural brunette- so she claims I got my dad's hair. Luckily, I got my moms's pretty blue-green eyes and fair skin. The thing is- I lay int he sun way to much and my skin is dry and tanned. 

Just as I finished coating on my mascara, an anxious mom stumbled through my door. 

"We gotta go!" She said, pulling on her left high heel while leaning agianst my door frame. She look stunning. My mom is known for simple yet beautiful fashion coices. If she didn't have to dress up, she wouldn't. Shewould wear jeans and a t-shirt every single day. Today she wore a peach colored sun dress with lace around the shoulders. Her hair was tossed over her shoulder in light, effortless dark blonde waves. 

"Okay!" I said. I set my mascara down and grabbed some sunglasses. You never know how many shutterbugs there might be. There could be just two or three that you can tell to back off, but there might be a huge hoard of 30 or 40 that you need the glasses for. You don't want to be blinded by the flash. I wish there was something I could werar tha would keep me from becoming deaf from the 'click' of all the cameras.