Genesville

"Name, Mark. I'll take a grande vanilla latte. Drizzle a little caramel on it, and uh...make it fast," Mark Manhattan said, to the young Starbucks worker.

"16oz vanilla latte on the double! Caramel drizzle!" she called back.

"Small hot chocolate?" Jo Sanford told her. The woman looked at her oddly.

"She means uh...tall. Tall hot chocolate. Name, Jo," Mark specified.

"Jo..." he scolded, as they began walking.

"What?" she asked.

"Kids from small towns don't last very long out here. Most of them end up dead or back home. And you should certainly know, that their significant others don't make it much longer," he explained.

"It shouldn't be in that darn on French," she told him.

"Its Italian. See what I mean? You won't make it five minutes in Harlem," he responded.

"Well, that's why I live with you. Not in Harlem. In Brooklyn," she said snappily.

"You shouldn't be down here. You belong somewhere else," he said.

"I have a job. I'm not moving," she told him.

"You ought to," he told her.

"I ought to. People out there are a lot less salty," She explained.

"Mark!" the lady called.

Mark grabbed the coffee and turned to Jo. "Don't do anything stupid." He turned and left for work.

"Jo!" the lady called.

Jo sighed and grabbed her drink.

"Yeah, sure, I'm one of New York's Finest," She said sighing and leaving.

***

"Your request to Burglary was denied," Her Captain said to her.

"I never put in a request," she responded.

"I did. For you. I know the Narcotics isn't the best," he said.

"Nights spent eating potato chips and McDonalds in the back of a black minivan? How much more fun could I have?" she asked.

"Not enough," her partner, Jett Tyson, answered.

"Jett, see, this is one of those moments, when questions are rhetorical," his Captain informed him.

Jett smiled and ate a Red Vine.

"Heeeey. Don't forget we've got to start an undercover tonight," Jo warned.

"I'll put a Stouffer's in the oven," he said smiling, eating another Red Vine.

Jo took the box and ate one herself, before locking them away in her desk. She sipped her drink.

"None for me?" Jett asked her.

"Ahh, sorry, I actually work," she said, smiling.

"Well, aren't you just a Casanova?"

***

The attractive British actor, Mark Manhattan, was heading to work.

One movie critic described his voice as "The irish accent, in combination with his certain Hollywood voice lifts, creates an Irishman Vogue, I suppose. His voice adds a certain drama to any movie, even romantic comedies like Summer in Spain."

Hundreds have tried describing his face, but none have described it quite like Ana Lora.

"He looks a hell of a like Adam Levine."

He's not buff, but built pretty regularly.

Described by a movie critic as "Fit, very fit. More like Tom Hiddleston."

The combination of what Magazines have called then 3rd and 2nd Cutest Men in the World, had formed what magazines called the 1st.

Mark was heading off to a movie where he would play a teenage boy stricken with a rare brain cancer, whose only therapy is piano. He gets to sick to play, and he dies, smiling, and listening to a song.

***

"Are you ready?" Jeff asked her.

"I'm getting there," she said.

She sighed. She slipped on the fishnet tights, then the jean shorts. She put on a bandeau top, and a black wig with red streaks.

She stepped out with a look on her face. "Ecstasy. Right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Jeff told her. Jeff looked a lot like Kevin Costner. His peppered hair and goatee easily melted into his slightly wrinkled face. Jeff had originally done homicide, but after the murder of his own brother, he transferred to Narcotics. He's been doing stings for 20 years.

Jeff was a lot like a father to Jo, and was from a small town to. It wasn't Genesville, but little old Hentsville in Connecticut.

Jo relied very little on Jeff though for guidance in the city, though. Jo relied on Mark. Mark had grown up in London. He would know everything about the city, and he's an actor.

She was only the most famous girlfriend in the world.

***

"Its-Its-Its just tha-" Mark began.

"Cut! Everybody take 5. Producer calling."

Mark sighed and ripped off the fake IVs.

Make up came to him to powder him up.

"He said take five. Take five," he told them. They sighed and walked away.

Mark took another deep sigh. It was midnight, and they were still here. The first 5 days were always the longest, he often said.

He checked his cell phone, because he needed to see if Jo was okay. He knew she would be. He knew she always would be.

But he wanted to be sure. He loved her so much, he couldn't lose her. And imagine! Imagine the press's field day!

He closed his eyes and held his breath as he turned on his phone. Did he miss her call? Did she text? Is she dead!?!?

9:38AM Missed call and Voicemail from JJ Abrams

12:40PM Text from Agent Bill: Hey! Guess what? JJ just called! Big opportunity!

12:32 AM Text from Jo <3: Don't worry, I'm okay. In the hospital, gun shot wound to hip. Surgery.

Mark sighed in relief. Then gasped.

"I gotta get out of here! Jo was shot!"