"Stop fidgeting, Xavier," Minnie instructs as the limo pulls up to the red carpet for the premiere. There are fans everywhere, and she doesn't know if Harry has arrived. As the two biggest stars in the film, Xavier and Harry will be expected to sign autographs and do some press as they approach the theater.

"I don't want to do this, Olivia. Can't we just go back to my place and get wasted?" he tucks his shirt into his waistband, and pulls the cuffs through the ends of his Louis Vuitton suit jacket.

Minnie gives him a pointed look, "Do I need to march you past the fans quickly?"

Rolling his eyes, Xavier turns to her, "No, mom. I'll be a good boy. I just wish....."

Before he can finish his sentence, the door to the Town Car opens, and he steps out onto the red carpet amidst a cacophony of fans screaming his name. The noise is overwhelming, and Minnie exits behind him, reminded once more why she hates red carpet events. But she's here to do a job, so she's donned a rather simple and understated Versace dress for the evening. The black lacy hemline falls just below her knees while the long sleeves with the same lace help keep her arms warm in the chilly February night. Her black stiletto heels wrap around her ankles with peek-a-boo cutouts on the sides. As soon as they are out of the vehicle, she is handed a VIP tag because otherwise she might be mistaken for a fan. Hanging it around her neck, she nudges Xavier to move on.

Sticking by his elbow, she reminds him to smile, and she watches the actor in him come out as he turns on the charm for the fans and reporters. Relieved, she distances herself, watching as he shakes hands and signs movie posters.

=============

At home, Meg watches the red carpet event on the television screen while Titus plays with his cars, repeating "Zoom zoom" over and over again until she tunes him out, tunes everything out, simply watching Xavier's face as he flirts with the camera and the fans. Meg's face flushes, and she feels warm. The heat in the apartment must be set too high. Gulping down water, she can't peel her eyes away from the monitor as her (former?) boss parades himself happily down the red carpet.

She shouldn't feel disappointed. Of course he doesn't need HER. He's an actor, and he makes a lot of money for a reason. But still it stings that he's not even remotely upset that she's not by his side. In fact, he doesn't appear troubled at all by other people's kids, kissing babies and patting the heads of young children. So apparently it's only her child that turns him off. If only he'd give some sign that he misses her. That he needs her. Any sign will do.....

"Zaver!" Titus yells at the television.

Meg whips her head around to look at her son who is pointing at the screen. "What did you say?" She asks him.

"Zaver my friend!!" Titus squeals, continuing to point at the screen.

==========

I'm halfway through the gauntlet of fans and journalists when I spot Xavier. Stopping what I'm doing (which is signing a copy of my Grammy-winning third album), I hand the pen back to the young female owner of my greatest accomplishment (so far anyway). Immediately I stalk over to Xavier and wrap him in a hug. I do this for two reasons. One is that I want the cameras to catch it. The kid needs the break, and us looking like the best of friends will help. But the other reason for the hug is my need to check on him. He'd been so abrupt at the airport yesterday, and I am worried about how he will do today without Meg. She's been by his side for the entire film making process.

So I bury my face in his neck and whisper, "How're you doing?"

He takes a deep breath which I sense is to staunch the tears just below the surface and he claps me twice on the back (more as a display I think, but maybe he's truly appreciative). "Thanks for asking, Harry. Olivia has been amazing."

Pride. That's what I feel as I release Xavier from the hug and look at my girl. She's gorgeous in her understated dress. Reaching for her hand, I buss her cheek whispering, "I missed you," before moving away to do some press, this time at Xavier's side. The kid needs my help, as I can tell he's close to the breaking point. I share some jokes for the next couple of quickie interview rounds, and we double-sign some items which will be quite popular with the fans. Continually, I tell the reporters that I'm a "massive fan" of Xavier, and I truly mean it when I say it. The kid is talented. And once a person breaks past his defenses, he's not even a bad human. Just young, immature, and misguided.

After another ten minutes or so, X droops a bit, and I know we need to move inside. With a nod at Minnie, I steer us into the building. Minnie follows closely, and I'm grateful for her presence.

I live for you. I long for you.

Once inside the theater, there are all kinds of beverages, and I know that Jeffrey has made sure they've stocked my favorite tequila, but there's no way I can drink it tonight. Not with Xavier being the lost kitten he is. I order sparkling water instead.

At least Jeff isn't here to roll his eyes at me, seeing as how he's off supporting a new act. He likes to be hands-on in the beginning of a working relationship. These days, he's much more hands-off with me which is why I've got Tommy as my representation for this event.

When I hand X an identical glass of water, he takes a sip and looks offended, "What the hell, Harry? I want a drink."

"Nope. Not going to happen, my friend. Besides, to the uneducated, this looks like we are drinking, so smile and make a toast," I wrap my arm around his shoulders, spinning him to face the rest of the cast and crew gathered around us.

Taking the cue, Xavier raises his glass, waiting until everyone has done the same, "To the best cast and crew on any film anywhere!"

"Here! Here!" I call, clinking my glass of sparkling water with his.

We all head into the theater where Minnie is supposed to be seated elsewhere, but Xavier and I keep her alongside us, pulling her into a seat between us. It feels a bit like we're co-conspirators, but we really couldn't have made it to this point without her. Either of us.

I live for you. I long for you.

==========

Xavier's anxiety is as high as it's ever been.  If only Harry had let him have a drink to settle his nerves. He can't focus on the movie, and it's not because he's worried that it's crap. It's because he really wishes that Meg were here with him. What he wouldn't give to see her in a gorgeous evening gown as his date. But he'd fucked up. He knows it. And tonight isn't the night to try to fix it. He has this obligation to get through first plus an interview tomorrow. Sunday of all days. Dammit.

Thank goodness for Harry. Xavier doesn't know how he would have survived the red carpet one minute longer without breaking down.

His mouth can taste the whiskey he wants. Or beer. Or vodka. He just really desires that numbness that comes when the alcohol hits his veins.

What if Meg won't take him back? What if he's fucked up so badly that she doesn't want to see him anymore? What if she got another job with some other actor? Or quit the personal assistant business altogether? It would all be his fault. The guilt over his reaction eats at him during the film, and he can't concentrate at all. Ultimately, he has no idea how the movie turned out even though it's playing on the big screen right in front of him.

============

Sitting next to her and not being able to touch her is killing me. I want to hold her hand. Or put my arm around her. Or bend her over the row of seats in front of us and take her like an animal. Damn. How long has it been since I've had the pleasure of feeling her walls wrapped around my wang? I'll tell you how long.....42 hours and 23 minutes. If you want to know the seconds, I can probably tell you that too. No matter how you look at it, it's been too fucking long since we've....well....fucked.

Right this second I'm plotting how to get into her bed again. Maybe if I ask about the dog? What was her name? A flower of some sort. Rose? Violet? Daisy! That's it! If I ask about Daisy, maybe she will invite me over to see how she's settling in.

She arrived with Xavier, though. Dammit. What if they are planning to go together to the party after the premiere? Maybe I can find a way to get Xavier home safely from the party, then I can convince Minnie to let me take her. Yes. That's exactly what I mean to say. To let me take her.

She shifts next to me, crossing her legs, and the rustle of the fabric of her dress makes me semi-hard. Hell's bells. This is NOT a good situation for me. I've still got hours of socializing and celebrating tonight before I can even consider playing hide the sausage with her. And I don't mean the dog Daisy. (Smirk intended.)

Minnie nudges my leg with hers, and I realize that the credits are running. Credits at premieres are fun because often crew members are at the showing with family members, and they get to see their names on the screen, so there are cheers happening throughout. It's a happy mood all around – except for Xavier. 

===========

Minnie feels Xavier tense up next to her, and she wonders if Meg has somehow managed to show up, but it's only Meg's name on the screen that has X's eyes locked on the giant letters as they scroll past. He can't take his gaze off of her name "Personal Assistant to Xavier Tarrango ......Meg Bauer."

Taking his hand, MInnie pats it a few times, but she's not sure if Xavier even feels her touch: if it even connects with his brain. His breathing is harsh, and she's worried he's having a panic attack.

"Xavier," she whispers to him, tugging on his arm. "Xavier."

After a few more yanks, he turns to Minnie, his face stricken. "What if I can't get her back?"

Minnie looks at Harry who takes the lead, standing so they can exit their row. As the main stars, they won't catch any flack for leaving early, and the three walk out together, tightly grouped.

=============

"We can take my car to the party if you want to send yours away, X," I say, leading them towards the back entrance as I text my driver. "There's plenty of room." That's because I'd rented a stretch limo for the evening, unsure what the night might bring.

Minnie nods, steering Xavier with one hand while she dials their driver with the other. My co-star looks like he can't stand on his own, and I don't know how to help him. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol, but maybe I should change that. The kid looks worse than he did on the plane yesterday if that's even remotely possible.

Guiding him into the car ahead of me, Minnie is trying to snap him out of it. I tell the driver to drive around for a while before we go to the party. We need some time to get him out of his funk.

Pouring myself a tequila, I take a sip or two before passing the glass to Minnie who gulps the remaining bit down, coughing heartily afterwards.

"I can do this," she mutters, "Not my first rodeo."

Sharply, I look at her. This is only the second time I've seen her not fully confident. Shaken a bit. Pouring three glasses of tequila this time, I pass them around. Holding up my glass, I decide to make a toast.

Minnie patiently holds up her glass too, prodding Xavier who finally lifts the glass, his eyes dead.

My voice shakes a bit, as I'm not really sure this is the right thing to do, but I plunge forward anyway. "To Meg," I proudly say, holding my glass up high, "Without whom, I would have killed you in the first week of filming."

I pause, waiting for Xavier to burst into laughter or tears or try to maim me. Any are likely options.

Instead, he clinks his glass with mine, "Thanks, H. To Meg." He downs the tequila, and then the sobs start.

Stricken, Minnie looks at me, obviously unsure what to do at this point.

"Mate - you fucked up," as the words leave me, I'm still not sure I know what I'm doing. But sugarcoating anything isn't going to help.

Xavier nods his head, the tears dripping from his chin now. "I just....." he sobs, "I can't believe I...."

Patting him on the shoulder, I clink my glass with his empty one, "You're not the first guy to cock up. The person you're really mad at is you." With those words, I also recognise the truth in them, so I knock on the partition, telling the driver to take us to Los Angeles K.O. (LA.KO) Boxing Club. It's almost closing time, but I know the owner.

It's probably an odd thing for a stretch limo to pull up to a kickboxing club, especially when two well-dressed chaps and a gorgeous lady in Versace step out into the parking lot. If I weren't so confident that this is what the kid needs, we'd be on our way either to the psych ward or Meg's house. Neither would be good for him right now.

Ian hides his surprised look when we enter; it's clear he's genuinely happy to see me though. "Harry! What brings you by so late?"

I pull him to the side, keeping Xavier and Minnie in my sightline. "I know you're about to close. Can we buy some clothes and just workout for about 30 minutes? It would mean the world to me, and it might get you a new client."

Offended, the owner gawks at me, "BUY some clothes? Are you insane? I will gladly gift you some workout clothes if the two of you will wear them publicly just once."

Laughing, I agree to his terms, and in just a few minutes, Xavier and I are dressed out in new workout clothes, our Gucci and Louis Vuitton suits draped in the dressing room. Minnie has planted herself on a bench to watch.

"I don't know anything about kickboxing, H," Xavier whines, but once I demonstrate a one-two punch, he tries it out.

"Stand in a boxing stance," I tell him, modeling how to put his right foot in front of his left with both feet as far apart as his hips, hands in fists near his chin. "Then you want to throw a quick punch, followed by a stronger punch with your left hand. Keep your wrists straight and your grip tight."

The teenager practices the one-two punch sequence a few times in the air, and then I encourage him to try with the bag. After about 10 minutes, he's winded, so we move on to a kick.

"Now," I instruct him, "Stand to the side of the bag with your feet about shoulder-width apart." I check his stance, and then I notice Ian watching me closely. "You wanna come do this, old man?" I ask, but he declines.

"Enjoying watching you, Styles," the owner yells back.

Checking Xavier's positioning, I continue with my lesson, "Bring your back foot forward, then lift your other foot sideways and kick. After you kick the back, bring your foot down. Step back to a starting position and into a squat."

Xavier watches me perform the move a few times, and then he tries it himself. After about ten times, I direct him to change sides. He has a bit of trouble keeping his balance, and his kicks aren't too powerful, but he's got the basic idea. We've now used about 20 minutes of our time, so I encourage X to keep practicing the two moves.