Haley woke up with a headache, even though she'd only had the one, albeit huge, shot. She looked at herself in the mirror, shaking her head. Had that really happened? Had she had a chance at a one night stand with a superstar heartthrob and turned him down?

She had.

Though seeing herself this morning, it was hard to believe Luc had described her as "pretty." Her eyes were puffy, her hair was a greasy, swirly mess, and she felt as awful as she looked.

She stepped into the shower while smelling the coffee brewing, and tried to wake up and prepare for the day that awaited her.

She wrapped a towel around her long hair and tucked another around her body, stepping out of the tiny bathroom she shared with her two roommates.

They, of course, came from money, and had summer vacation homes waiting for them when they moved out, unlike Haley.

The prospect of returning to Carter's Hollow for the summer was unappealing in the extreme.

She'd enjoy seeing her cousins and their children, of course, but she didn't want to deal with the whole "why aren't you married/what in the hell are you doing in New York City?" litany that would swell into a chorus the longer she stayed.

No, she had to find a way to stay in New York.

Her phone buzzed with a text as she sat in class, surprising her. She didn't have a lot of friends, and she didn't get a lot of texts.

It was from her editor, Kerry, asking if she could come to a meeting in the afternoon.

Haley hadn't heard from New York World in a few weeks, and was excited for the meeting.

She put her phone in her lap and texted back that she'd be at their Midtown offices at the appointed time.

She canceled lunch plans that she had with Molly to make sure she'd be on time for the meeting and headed for the subway as soon as class was over.

She emerged in Midtown to a glorious day, a day that announced that spring had definitely come to the Big Apple. There was a slight breeze, but it was warm, with none of the bite of the evil, winter winds that blew down the canyons of the Avenues, and the trees were starting to bud out, showing hints of green where before they'd just been barren brown.

She entered the building, leaving the brightness of the late spring day for the cool quiet of the carpeted halls. She took the elevator up to the twelfth floor, where New York World Magazine had its offices.

She saw Megan Murphy, another stringer like her, and they chatted until it was time for the meeting. Megan was a journalism major at Columbia, a clever girl that Haley liked immensely.

Kerry entered the room precisely on time, a small dynamo of a woman with a million things to do, always.

"So, let's get down to business," she began. "We've had an idea for a story from Megan, and wanted to run it by you others to see if it might be a possibility." She nodded to Megan, who took over.

"Well, Pete Santangelo is my friend's neighbor, and he sort of gave me the idea when we met a few weeks ago. An awful lot depends on you guys, though," she continued, gesturing around the room at all of the writers assembled.

"Pete is a super nice guy, very happily married and all that," Megan said. Everyone in the room knew about Pete's fairytale marriage to his wife, Daisy. They were famous in the entertainment world as a couple who would never split up.

"Anyway, I've been invited to go on tour with Pete to see how things are done, to see how he keeps up a successful career, and I was thinking it would be fun to do parallel pieces about different performers, how they run their tours, with Pete's as the yardstick. I mean, he brings his kids on tour with him, along with his wife, you know? He doesn't put up with any hanky-panky, as they say.

"But he's the exception, I think we all know," Megan concluded, looking around the room. "I thought it would be interesting to see how other performers run their tours, to show how seedy some tours can get. I mean, we've all heard the stories about drugs, sex, all that?

"But it depends on you guys being able to get on with other tours and really work your way in, to see what really goes on, you know?"

Kerry stepped back in, her words brisk. "So, anyone else think this could work?"

Jeremiah, who was sitting across from Haley, raised his hand. "I like this idea, but how do we know we could even get jobs on these tours? Doesn't everyone and their sister want a job on a tour?"

Kerry shrugged. "I could pull a few strings, probably. And summer's coming up, which is when a lot of tours kick into high gear."

Haley spoke up. "I think I already have an in with a tour, believe it or not," she began.

"Really? Whose?" Kerry leaned on the table.

Everyone looked at her expectantly.

"Luc? deLaurentis?" Haley said.

"Really?" Kerry sat back. "That would be amazing, he's huge."

Haley bit her lips together and tapped her pen on her pad, feeling a little smug. "He's very popular right now," she said, trying to sound modest and unexcited. The truth was that she might be able to get in the magazine again if she could deliver something good, something interesting about Luc.

Jeremiah leaned forward. "There are lots of acts mounting major tours this summer, I'm sure I could get hired on somewhere, too. I have experience doing electronics work for my uncle," he explained.

Haley thought his muscular build and obvious strength wouldn't hurt him, either.

"Okay, so that's three of you, right off the bat." Kerry sounded pleased. "So let's all run with this and see how it goes." She glanced at her phone. "In the meantime, I have two other meetings to get to, so let's end it here, okay?" She looked around the room. "Keep me updated, please. I have three other possible cover stories I'm looking at, so give me your best work right off the bat, okay? None of this 'I'm going to polish it up' crap like you usually pitch." She smiled to take the sting out of her words. 

"You're excused," she said to the room at large.

Kerry left the building musing her possibilities.

Luc was definitely interested in her, in at least getting to know her better. She wondered if she could somehow wrangle this into a job on his tour, perhaps selling merchandise or something? Or being someone's lackey, like an errand girl who fetched coffee and stuff? She'd have to think of the best way to approach him with this, so she didn't come off as stalker-y or weird.

She pondered as she found a hot dog vendor and ate her belated lunch.

Hm.

* * *

Luc stretched his long form on the lounge chair, which sat on the balcony of his penthouse suite, taking a sip of his cocktail as he did so. He turned to face the sun, which was almost warm today.

Next to him, Lewis was supine also, though his drink of choice was a beer. A cigarette dangled from his hand.

"I really wish you wouldn't smoke those around me," Luc complained. They're bad for my voice, bad for the environment, and just plain bad."

"I'm playing the world's smallest violin out of sympathy for your plight," Lewis replied without turning his head. He lifted his hand and rubbed two fingers together.

The two were silent for a bit, somnolent in the sunshine.

"You get any last night?" Lewis' voice was nonchalant.

Luc shook his head. "Went to bed early," he explained. "Plus, Gigi was there, which made things a little awkward, you know?"

Lewis nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. He followed it up with a swig from his beer bottle. "Well, unlike you, I got extremely lucky last night," he said smugly. "Something about these young girls, their tits, man, and the way they're willing to do fucking anything you want. I wouldn't mind seeing her once or twice more."

Luc, who hadn't asked for any of this information merely nodded. "What was her name?"

Lewis shrugged, reaching for another bottle. "Name? I don't know from names, dude, who cares what her name was? She was hot, and could give head like a motherfucker." He turned to grin at Luc. "I saw you talking to the hot server with the blonde hair and pretty eyes, what happened to her?"

Luc shrugged, taking another drink and turning over to his stomach so the sun wasn't quite so bright in his eyes. The sounds of New York traffic drifted up from below. "Nothing. We talked a little, that's all."

Lewis sat up on one elbow to regard his friend. "You struck out? You struck out! How in the hell did that happen?"

"I didn't strike out," Luc contradicted mildly. "I enjoyed talking to her, that's all. If I wanted to fuck her, I would've fucked her."

"Right, how?" Lewis' voice held skepticism. "You're never going to see her again, dude."

"I'm going to see her again," Luc again contradicted. "I got her number, and we're talking."

"You 'got her number'?" Lewis repeated in disbelief. "What are we, in high school? You going to text her about the algebra homework later?" He gave a derisive laugh. "I'm talking about fucking, about getting laid, bro." He shook his head. "You're Luc, you could get literally anyone, and you got shot down by a college waitress."

"I did not." Luc was getting irritated. "I could get her anytime I wanted, I assure you." He sat up as an idea came to him. "In fact, how's this? I bet I can get her into bed before the summer tour's over."

"How's that going to work? She's not coming on tour with us." Lewis lay back down and closed his eyes.

"I'll get her to come on tour with us somehow, and I'll fuck her before summer's end," Luc said with authority.

"What are we betting?" Lewis asked, interested in spite of himself. "None of this means anything if we don't bet something."

Luc considered. "My new boat," he finally said.

"What? The yacht?" Lewis was surprised. "That's your baby, man, you just got that!"

"I know, I know, but like you said, it's only interesting if you bet something."

"So you lose, and I get the boat. I lose, and what do you get?" Lewis' voice now held only curiosity.

"The satisfaction of beating you and being right, the knowledge that I can, indeed, nail anyone I want." Luc grinned at his friend. "It probably won't even take all summer."

Lewis shook his head. "Sometimes I think you mega rich rock starts are crazy," he murmured.