Look for the Girl With the Broken Smile

"So, I spend three fucking hours with this insane French lady in the hospital," SJ said. She was at Harry's house, ranting to him, Danny, and Tom—well, Dougie was there, too, but SJ preferred to ignore him—in Harry's living room. "And finally when all the swelling goes down and she can talk, me and my boss and some other people go into her room, and she shouts at me in French that she never, ever wants to work with Vogue and she won't sign a contract." SJ collapsed on the couch and grabbed the cushion Danny was leaning against to bury her face in it.

"Oooh, that sucks," Tom said sympathetically.

"What did your boss say?" Harry asked.

SJ lifted her head from the cushion. "He didn't understand what she said! So I had to translate." She groaned. "And then he fired me."

"What? Are you serious?!" Harry exclaimed.

"I wish I wasn't," SJ moaned. "I had to go this morning and clean out my stuff. And Olivia, the receptionist who's been after my job since day one, looked so fucking happy. I wanted to shoot someone." She buried her face again in the cushion.

"But that's completely unfair; I mean how were you supposed to know she was deathly allergic to peanut butter?" Tom argued.

"Dunno. But my boss fires people for the most rubbish reasons." SJ sighed miserably. "I'm just lucky I managed two months. But if you look at it his way, I completely ruined the most important contract he was going to make the entire year," she said bitterly. She stood up and began pacing in front of them. "The worst part is that if I had actually been on time, I could have eaten something instead of opening that Reeces."

"And maybe if you hadn't been fucking your boyfriend in his car, you could have been on time," Dougie spoke up.

"Oh no he didn't!" Danny's eyes widened.

SJ stared at Dougie. He had that smirk on his face, the one she hated. "Poynter, have you been stalking me?" she replied without thinking.

"Ohhh!" Danny laughed.

SJ felt the color rise to her face. She just realized she made it sound like Dougie was right. Which he was, kinda.

"You're not worth my time to stalk," Dougie scoffed. "I just took an accurate guess."

"Well, you're wrong." SJ tried to stop blushing. "I wasn't fucking—I mean, I—God, Poynter, you're so annoying!" she shouted, exasperated. She felt way too hot—Dougie Poynter always made her blood pressure rise. She ripped off her black cardigan and threw it on the couch, frustrated.

"If you really wanted us to start taking off our clothes, all you had to do was ask." Dougie smirked as he undid his belt buckle, just to mock her.

That was the last straw for SJ. "Poynter," she blew up at him. "Has anyone ever told you how un-fucking-believable you are?" She turned, furious, to stomp out of the room.

Harry looked at Dougie. "Mate, did you really have to go there?" He sighed.

Harry found SJ lying on his bed in his room. She didn't move as he drew nearer. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Come on, SJ," he said. "Talk to me."

SJ sat up slowly and Harry looked at her. Despite the fact they were cousins, they looked almost nothing alike. SJ more resembled her French mother, with the same perfectly straight nose and sharp cheekbones. She also had the model's famed gold-flecked green eyes. But SJ had long straight light brown hair instead of her mother's golden blond locks, and she was small and petite, while her mother was a typical tall model height.

"SJ…" Harry rubbed her back. "Come on, talk to me."

"He's such an idiot!" SJ said angrily.

Harry knew she was talking about Dougie. "I know," he said soothingly. "But that's not the only thing that's bothering you, is it?"

"I just don't know what to do," SJ confessed. "Without my job, how the hell am I supposed to pay my rent? Yesterday I got a note that said they're going to evict me soon if I don't pay this month's rent. And I'm not going to be able to find another job that pays as well as this one did before I get another warning." She sighed and leaned into him.

Harry suddenly had an idea. "Well…why don't you come on tour with us?" he suggested.

SJ raised her head to look at him. "And how will that solve my problem?"

"You can move out of your apartment before you get evicted and come on tour with us for the summer," Harry explained. "Then, when you come back in the fall and go to the LIA, you can live on campus—"

"Don't say that!" SJ felt even more stressed. The acceptance—or rejection—letter had yet to come from the prestigious London Institute of Art, one of the best art schools in the country. "I don't even know if I'm in or not—the letter should have come ages ago. I have to stay here for when it comes. So, no, I definitely can't go on tour with you," she decided.

"Okay, then…" Harry tried to think of another solution. "Er…how bout…I pay your rent?"

"No," she snapped. "Harry, I can't accept that from you."

"You can pay me back once you get the money," Harry tried to convince her.

"No," SJ said firmly. "I won't let you."

Harry knew she would say no. one thing about SJ was that she was fiercely independent. She hated relying on anyone, especially after her father's death.

"Look, Harry. Thanks for trying to help." SJ gave him a quick hug. "But I really have to go meet James now. Walk me to the door?"

Harry took her hand, still thinking. There had to be some way he could help.