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Story Notes:
This is a prequel to my story "Fix".
As always, I've ticked off the warnings I know of as of now, however these are all subject to change so check back if you're worried about it!! :)
Prologue


Through her tears, she peered out the limousine window at the spotlights outside of the theater. Velvet ropes had been lined along the sidewalk leading from the street to the front doors and pressed in against them were flocks of rabid photographers, cameras poised and ready to shoot. She pulled the chest of her dress up, adjusting her breasts and tossed her hair. Her face felt stiff from the cakes of make-up she was wearing - perfectly applied by only the best professionals to ensure she looked the most amazing she possibly could at her debut on live television.

"How're you feeling?" Craig asked, leaning closer to her. His big, bulky black frame gave her a sense of protection that she hadn't felt in -- well, before Nick, she hadn't ever felt it. But lately, even with Nick...

"I'm okay," Krystal answered, smiling weakly. She swiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh God, Craig, no I'm not okay. I'm dying here." She turned in her seat, the sequins on her tight-legged dress squeaking across the leather seats. "What if I trip? What if I hit a bad note? I'm so scared."

"You'll be okay," Craig promised. He laid a huge hand on her shoulder, "You're an amazing girl," he added, "No worries, right?"

Krystal nodded. "I just... I wish so much that --" she stopped and shook her head. "Nevermind."

Craig sighed, "I wish he was here, too."

The limousine pulled to a halt. They were two back from her first red carpet entrance. Krystal's heart was slamming against the inside of her ribs. She felt like she could die on the spot.

"Was he scared?" she asked, "The first time he went to one of these things?"

Craig's smile stretched across his face, "He was scared last week went he went to one of these things," he replied with a chuckle.

Krystal laughed. "Well then," she took a deep breath as the car moved forward again. "So it never gets easier?"

"It gets harder, actually," Craig replied, "Because the bigger your name is, the more impressive you're expected to be."

"Well that's a comfort," Krystal giggled.

"In a twisted way," Craig answered. He moved his hand to his ear piece and listened intently a moment. "Okay, we're next. Deep breath, beautiful. Ready?" he reached around her, his big, heavy chest pressed against her tiny, pale body. She swallowed, then nodded. Craig opened the door.

Krystal's heart was pretty sure that her heart was pounding louder than the screams of the crowd that greeted her as she stepped out of the limousine.

Instantly, about five reporters converged on her. "Krystal! Krystal Armaletto!" The people behind the barricade started screaming, waving their hands, and Krystal stood, shell shocked for a moment before her instincts took over to carry her through.

"Is it true you were hospitalized for cutting this week?"

"Over here, sexy! Hey! Over here!"

"Look this way, Krys!"

"Are you really an alcoholic?"

"Hey a lil more to your right, baby girl!"

"Gossip mills are saying you're depressed. What says you?"

"Krystal, look over here!"

"Does Nick Carter really beat you?"

"Where is Nick, Krystal?"

"Krystal over here!"

"Hey everybody!" she screamed, throwing double peace signs. Her feet were clad in combat boots under her elegant red-sequined cocktail dress and she tossed her hair, smirked, and yelled, "WHO'S READY TO GET IT ON!??"

Craig grabbed her arm firmly and pulled her along past the screaming, reaching crowd. Flashes from the cameras worked like strobe lights and Krystal moved and threw winks and blew kisses and popped her hips all the way up the red carpet to the venue, her dress twinkling like it was a Christmas display. When she reached the steps, she held up her arms over her head, blew one more kiss, and bounded through the doors.

As soon as they shut behind her, she collapsed against the wall, her eyes closed, breath and hands shaking, and prayed she'd managed to look happy so he would come back.