Intro: Vanessa’s Secret
Wright Entertainment Group’s Costume Ball
October 2005

What the hell am I doing here? And why the fuck am I talking to myself? Better yet, why the fuck am I talking to myself in my head?

Maybe because there’s no one in this party worth talking to. Not that I can see.

Lifting my fourth glass of champagne to my lips, I scan the room for the millionth time. The overdressed ‘princess’ to my left glares at me and I manage to salute her with my crystal flute and muster the nicest grin I could come up with in such short notice. She rolls her eyes at me for the fourth time tonight and I chuckle. Doesn’t she know that princesses don’t roll their eyes? Her fat, balding husband should give her a clue – that’s if he can keep his eyes off of me long enough to clue her in.

Losers. All of them, wasteful, wanton losers.

And that alone reminds me what I’m doing here, why I’m standing by the bar endlessly sipping on champagne, being glared at by the significant others of the men in this room. I’ve been standing in this spot for a good hour now and if it wasn’t physically exhausting to move, I would. The bartender winks at me from behind the bar – again – and I give him a grin to match the one I gave the so-called princess. Doesn’t he see that I’m not interested? Right now he’s serving exactly one purpose only and that’s to serve me alcohol. He’s just another loser like the rest.

The room is full of them, losers, who don’t know what’s coming. They don’t know it now but they will Monday.

First thing Monday morning when they walk into hell and realize they had been gawking at their new boss two night prior at WEG’s Costume Ball – in a very rude manner, I might add. When they realize they have been under surveillance of sorts.

I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.

The look of pure mortification.

I’m ecstatic about that part of my new life, my new job.

Can you imagine the scandal? The woman with angel wings, straight out of Victoria’s Secret’s warehouse and barely anything else on. was now the new Public Relations Director of Wright Entertainment Group. The new boss.

I’m the bitch they’ve been hearing about for the past week. And I’m going to be their biggest nightmare.

Although I may seem to be relishing the thought, I really am not. I don’t want to be here. I don’t really want to clean up snotty artists’ images. But I was challenged, and I never turn down a challenge. I’ve built my entire career on challenges, and nothing is going to change that.

Nothing.

Scanning the room yet again, I can see at least four employees who are in for an even bigger surprise come Monday. Oh yes, I am taking names. One of them is sitting across Joanna Levesque – I believe is her name – although the world has come to know her as Jojo. Her PR Rep, my new employee, is laughing and living it up with her and I guess a few of her friends. I can clearly see why I’m here as I look at them, and that’s the fact that Miss Jojo has been nursing a glass of wine.

The third one in an hour, if I may add.

She’s a sixteen-year-old, star who is obviously not being taken care of publicly. I could care less what that kid does on her off time – she can get shit-faced at home behind closed doors – but when she’s at functions with paparazzi all over the place, alcohol is not an option. She recently transferred into Johnny Wright’s management and that means she’s transferred her image to me. Underage drinking while in my jurisdiction is a lose-lose situation, and she’s in for a rude awakening. I’m making another mental note and facial inscription of her assigned Public Relations Representative before turning my line of vision across the room. As far as I’m concerned he’s fired, along with the wannabe Barbie doll in Nick Carter’s arms on the dance floor. The only public relations matter she is discussing with Nick has included his hands on her ass and her tits in his face. At Wright Entertainment Group, we don’t fraternize with the mortgage payers.

God, they have no idea who their new boss is.

The bartender places another glass next to my now empty champagne one, with another wink. As if.

“You can keep putting drinks on the bar for me, sweetie, but what you’ve got on your mind isn’t happening,� I say to him with a big smile on my face. The bastard has the nerve to roll his eyes like the little bitch that he is, before pointing across the room.

“This isn’t from me,� he says with a shrug. “And what makes you think I have something on my mind?�

“Cause it’s written all over your face, honey,� I shrug back, picking up the drink and swirling it in my hand.

“Do you want to do something about it?� he asks seductively and I do have to admit to myself that he is kind of cute, if you like the California surfer boys’ look. Which I don’t. His skin looked like my leather briefcase. Thanks but no thanks.

“Not a chance,� I say nonchalantly. “What is this anyway?� I ask, finally lifting the glass to my lips.

“Sex on the beach,� he says and I don’t miss the attitude he gives me. Bastard. If only I could fire his ass, too.

“Who was corny enough to have ordered this for me?� I ask, completely ignoring the fact that he’s pointing somewhere behind me. The wings attached to my back are serving their purpose but they’re still a pain in the ass to maneuver around in.

“Lifeguard,� he says pointing behind me again then disappearing behind the bar briefly. “Listen, you’ve been blocking my view of all the other hot celebrities for the past hour. Why don’t you move it along?�

“What’s the matter, Hon? Not enjoying my company?� I ask mockingly, knowing he’s just mad because he realizes he’s not getting any from me tonight. Or any other night. “And believe me, I am NOT any kind of celebrity. Or a wannabe, like yourself either.�

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a fucking bitch?� he asked without so much as a blink, actually making me have an ounce more respect for him which is more than he had ten seconds ago. If he wasn’t a loser bartender with an attitude problem, spending his days at the beach and his nights at the bar, I might have given him a chance after that comment. Unfortunately, the only attitude problems I deal with are my own. Others can check their attitudes at the door when dealing with me – another thing I intend to make clear on Monday.

“I’ve been called worse, sweetie. But thanks for the compliment anyway,� I say with a grin, before turning to find the moronic person that ordered a drink for me.


I sip on my drink and slowly scan the room but I don’t see a lifeguard. What I do sense is a person standing next to me, definitely a male, which makes me roll my eyes in anticipation to which one of my clueless employees it is trying to hit on me now. But I’m not annoyed enough to turn towards the voice. The wings on my back cover both my side views and I’m thankful for that.

“I see you’re enjoying the drink. Does that mean you’re accepting my offer?� Ahh, it’s the corny lifeguard, getting right to the point.

“Does ordering a drink for a woman at an open bar, make you feel like the man?� I ask as I don’t bother turning towards him. I know who he is, I recognize his voice from the interviews I’ve been listening to for the past week. His voice sounds a bit hoarse, which means he’s had quite a few drinks and I’m making yet another mental note of that fact. I stand there casually sipping my drink and continuing to add to my list of people to get rid of on Monday. I can’t see him because of the wings but I can tell that he’s standing there just as cool and collected as I am and I can respect that.

“I’ll make sure to buy out the bar if you prefer,� he says with a light chuckle, making me smile behind the glass that’s hovering at my lips.

“Well. I wouldn’t want you to do that,� I say casually. “Because I wouldn’t want you to think you’ve got a chance in hell with me, Justin. Why don’t you go get another angel a free drink? I can get my own, but thanks for trying.� This time I turn slowly toward him, a smile adorning my face.

“So you do know who I am?� he asks with a grim face. While he’s used to impressing people with his charm, it’s not working and I can tell he’s a little taken aback, but I could care less. I read all about him and heard even more, proving to me that musicians are creeps.

Oh, I know who he is. He’s part of the reason I’m here in Los Angeles, part of the reason I’ve rearranged my entire life. I look at him over the rim of my glass as I take one last sip of my free drink before placing the empty glass in his right hand. “Doesn’t everyone?�

“I guess you can say that,� he says just as casually followed by a shrug before he places the glass on a nearby table. He may be hitting on me, but he’s not falling over backwards trying like the rest of the losers tonight. And if I didn’t already have no respect for him I would let him believe he’s got a chance. But the truth of the matter was no one had yet to challenge me enough to get me interested at all. “I’m sorry but if I’d met you before, I’m sure you had a lot more clothes on and I wouldn’t have recognized you,� he says this with yet another wink – why do men insist on doing that? It doesn’t do a single thing for me. I let out an exaggerated breath out of boredom.

“Am I bothering you?� he asks, and I get a glimpse of his drunken eyes when he looks down at me, which makes me shrug.

“Just boring me,� I say honestly. He could have come up with something better than to hit on me by getting me a drink from an open bar. Men!

I must’ve really pissed him off because he let loose. “Well excuse me, bitch! I wouldn’t want to bore you to death,� he snaps and is even more surprised when I just stand there, with no reaction, the same bored expression on my face. “I just thought I’d help you out tonight. Clearly you’ve been bored all fucking night, with that attitude you’re sporting. Way to be sociable at a party.�

“Well, at last someone is paying attention to me instead of my assets,� I say glancing down at my chest before mocking him with one of his winks. Shouldn’t he be recording somewhere? What is he doing here? Hitting on part of his management? I mean he doesn’t know who I am, but still. “I was just calling it a night when you interrupted me. The free drink from the open bar was a good try, but thanks anyway. Wish you luck on finding another angel to take to your beach, but make sure there’s no cameras around, honey!�

“What?� he asks confused. I don’t bother answering and turn slowly toward the exit. I can feel his eyes on me along with half of the male species in the room as I slowly walk toward the exit, my hips swaying to give them a little extra something to drool over. Removing the wings from my back, I drop them by the coat check. I have no use for them anymore and shake my head when the lady at the coat check tells me I’ve dropped my wings. Does she really think I don’t know that? The damn things weight at least ten pounds, moron! I grab my long trench coat from her, slipping it on and walking towards the door without another word. I’m done with this night; I’m ready to get to work.

I glance behind me toward the hotel’s grand ballroom, my wings lying on the entrance floor. I can’t help but smile at Mr. Timberlake as I turn and exit the hotel.

I was never an angel anyway; quite opposite in fact, I’m the devil in disguise.

Chapter One: Good Morning, To Those of You Remaining!
Wright Entertainment Group, Inc. Offices
Los Angeles, California

“Are you listening to me or are you day dreaming again, Nessa?�

I’m not being rude, I hear him. The man wiping down the new double-sided mirrors surrounding my new office just momentarily distracted me. Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t distracted for the reasons you might think. The forty-something year old man is wearing overalls and a handkerchief on his head, quite gross if you ask me. Obviously he’s unaware that we’re in here watching from the other side because if he did, scratching his balls would have taken second priority. He’s foul and if he hadn’t done a nice job installing the glass, I would have told him so.

Is there anyone in Los Angeles worth my time?

I was pleasantly surprised to have walked into this office and find that not only did I manage the largest of the offices, but also that my personal office overlooked the entire floor. I’d asked Johnny to have the glass installed for me and he’d protested for about a millisecond before informing me that the glass would be up by the time I entered the office on Monday. Point seven million three hundred thousand and one, for Johnny. He's good!

“Where did you find this guy, Johnny?� I’m still not being rude, as I look down at my new Prada stiletto shoes and grunt. I just bought these yesterday and I already have a scuffmark on them. Shit. I have no choice but to get another pair and have to deal with that bitch of a sales lady at the store. No way am I going to be caught walking around with scuffed shoes. First impressions always count and that little scuff was already bugging the hell out of me. Oh well, I'll just move on to things that I can control right now. Such as the grotesque window-washer. “If he scratches his balls one more time, I’m going to have to recommend the STD clinic I passed this morning.�

“He’ll be out of here soon, Nessa. Relax, will ya?� Johnny chuckles and I can’t help but smile as I look up at him from behind my desk.

“I am relaxed, Johnny,� I still have a smile on my face and I’m wondering if he’s nervous for me. He seems to be; he’s told me to relax three times already and honestly I couldn’t be more relaxed. I am, for once, excited. The thought that in about an hour, I will introduce myself as the new boss, kind of makes me have to change my panties, if you know what I mean. But nothing has made me quite that excited, at least not anymore. Not in a long time.

Another thing I'm hoping will change in L.A. Nessa needs love too, you know.

“You’ve called me that all week,� he says with a grin on his face. “I thought we were family.�

“We are, Johnny,� I make sure to pronounce his name as I tap my pen, a welcome to WEG gift, against my new oak desk. “But this is work, and I can’t walk around here calling you Uncle Johnny, can I? I demand respect, you know that, and walking around here calling the CEO Uncle Johnny, cries pussy. I’m a professional woman and while I may have one of those, I expect people to see me as the contrary of one. A big penis is mo..�

I don’t get to finish my sentence because he’s covering his ears and laughing. I don’t understand what’s so funny but seeing my Uncle Johnny laugh eventually makes me crack a smile.

“A professional woman, huh?� he asks, shaking his head as he stood. “I’m getting out of here before I hear things I may have to call your father about.� Johnny and my dad were old fraternity brothers and might as well have been brothers, as close as they remained. I knew nothing I did for WEG would stay quiet. If Johnny knew something about me, my dad would know too, almost immediately.

“You aren’t staying for the board meeting?� I question already, knowing the answer. He’s a smart man and I wouldn’t put it past him to avoid coming into this office at all costs. He knows he can trust me to do my job and do it well. After all I was hired without an interview, wasn’t I?

“And watch you butcher my staff? I’ll pass,� he says shoving his left hand in his pants pockets. “Try to go easy on them, Martinez.�

“Easy? Now why would I do otherwise? You trust me, don’t you, Uncle Johnny?� I wink at him and he just shakes his head as he turns to leave my office.

“Call if you need anything,� he says over his shoulder as he opens the glass door to my office.

“I won’t,� I say nonchalantly and as I watch him leave, a smile decorates his features while mine doesn’t fade. He takes one last look around the outside of my office before stepping into the private elevator. He knows I’m watching him and winks at me, giving me a wave before the doors close in front of him.

I can’t help but look down at my right shoe and notice the scuff mark on it again and I roll my eyes in disgust. I see the ball scratching glass-man gathering his cleaning materials and I hope he wasn’t hired to clean the glass on a permanent basis. I can only take so much ball scratching before I flip on his ass. He’s walking toward the elevators on the other side of the large floor and I notice one of my staff members step off the elevator, Ms. Valentine.

She’s adjusting her blouse, a hideous mauve colored thing, and she attempts to iron down the visible wrinkles on her equally hideous skirt. My very first victim -- who is early this morning if I may add -- makes a turn towards the ladies restroom past the ball-scratcher and I’m instantly curious. Why wouldn’t she go to her desk first? Technically there isn’t a desk for her to go to anymore, as of Saturday night, but she doesn’t know that yet.

I stand to walk over closer to the glass surrounding my office and watch as the ball-scratcher enters the elevator. And while that is not even a little bit fascinating to me, the person leaving the elevator is fascinating, for lack of a better word. Nick Carter steps off the elevator and I wish I could take a picture of him and believe when I say that I don’t mean it in a positive way. He’s trying to look cool and collected as he walks toward the conference room but he’s so not and he should get over himself. His hair, although short, is a complete mess. It turns out that Ms. Valentine may be a little rough and if she wasn’t busy roughing Nick Carter, the client she was supposed to be representing, I might have given her a chance to stay on my team. Rough is my middle name but Miss Audrey Valentine just wasn't working out so she can go rough up the unemployment clerk. Poor little bitch!

The sound of one of the other three elevators takes my attention from the recently sexed up Nick Carter and I turn my line of vision toward it. The elevator carried four of my staff members and I look down at my Rolex noticing that it’s still early. They aren’t due to the office for another half hour and I smile evilly. Ass kissing bastards knew the new boss started today.

Three of the four staff members are keepers, the other one, Mr. Stevenson, is history. He’ll find out soon enough when he tries to find his cubicle. Right now, though, they are more concerned about the mirrors staring back at them. They come closer to the glassand I automatically take a step back before realizing they can’t see me. I smile.

Mr. Waterhouse, one of the keepers, comes closer to the mirror and adjusts his tie. Good boy! I lean over toward the glass, face to face with him and I fake kiss his lips, which makes me chuckle. He was currently handling Danity Kane’s image and doing a great job, I plan on congratulating him on that -- although the girls could stand to wear a bit more clothing on stage and I plan to discuss that with him, as well. But not today, today was special.

The other two keepers, Mr. Johansson and Mr. Vargas followed suit, making themselves look more presentable. Good little bastards! They get it. Mr. Stevenson, the unemployed PR, apart from being a bad dresser, asks something along the lines of ‘What the hell is this?’ and I want to reach over and turn the intercom I had installed yesterday on. But I’m settling with reading lips at the moment. If he hadn’t been busy serving underage children alcohol, he’d have a clue. What the hell is this? This is something you’ll never get a chance to know about, Loser!

The men shrugged before taking their big heads to their desks. My excitement rises a notch when I finally I get to see a reaction worth my time, Mr. Stevenson reaches his desk at the end of the cubicle line up. My heart beats a little faster and if possible my exhilaration grows. He stands at the entrance of his once upon a time cubicle and his mouth is gaping open. The poor bastard will be fine; I was polite enough not to blackball his ass. I know what that feels like and although I may be a bit evil, I won’t stoop that low. He reaches into the cubicle office and my view of him is blocked briefly before he walks out of the space, a piece of paper in his hand.

I know what the paper reads; I personally put it in his vacant cubicle earlier this morning. It reads something along the lines of:

Unfortunately your services at Wright Entertainment Group have been terminated. If you feel as though this decision is not justified, please contact your lawyer, as that will be the only way you’ll get a word in otherwise. Joanna Levesque will be notified of your termination and will be advised that it was a decision made for the well being of her career. After all, we agree that we are all here for our client’s personal and public interest. Please exit the building as soon as possible but not before returning your personal identification badge to the security desk at the front lobby. You will also find your belongings there as well. With regards, Vanessa Martinez, Senior Public Relations Director.

That was the best version of pleasantry I could come up with at five o’clock in the morning and he should be glad because I could have been really nasty, telling him what I thought of him but that wouldn’t have been professional of me, now would it? Whoever he goes on to work for can deal with his stupid decisions because I will not. I won’t tolerate bullshit from people who aren’t performing their jobs properly, period. And if one of them thinks they can run it on me, bullshit, they sure as hell got something else coming. I know bullshit, personally, and I’m not afraid to call it. Bring it on.

Time seems to go quickly as I lean against my desk, watching people come onto the floor. Do they meet up in the lobby? All three secretaries came in together and the five interns from Jive came on the floor together as well. I’m making a mental note of that and I’ll be sure to mention it on the staff meeting later today. If you can’t ride the elevator up to work without having a colleague attached to your hip, then you’re in the wrong line of work. I need independence in this business and everyone seemed to be too connected for my taste.

The last of the PR members to enter the room is Mr. Fat and Balding Guy, Mr. Roger Rogers. Poor guy, he must have gone through hell in school with a name like that. I can’t fathom how he ended up marrying the princess but I can guarantee he didn’t look like that ten years ago. I decided to keep him at the last minute this morning, after I found out that his brother works for People Magazine. And while I may have to invest in getting the poor guy a makeover, his connections were worth keeping. At least for now, since I won’t have too much time to find my own.

The elevators seem to be running non-stop, depositing staff and artists with every ding. I can see the girls of Danity Kane engrossed in conversation with the has-been, over-sexed Nick Carter. Give me a break girls! He was so five or six years ago and if I didn’t have respect for Johnny as a businessman and as my uncle, I would suggest dropping his ass from the firm like the other four has-beens. Isn’t one of them into gospel now? I can’t even bother myself trying to remember his name, it’s too damn early and I’m still running on New York time.

And speaking of Mr. Carter, does he really think he can outdo the other so-called heartthrob under WEG’s management? He really must be a complete idiot, but if he’s paying for someone like me to hype his image up, under contract if I may add, then so be it. I can’t help him with the fact that he wants to go into a recording studio and produce another double plastic album. But what I can and will do is help him look better and act in the way his fans, if any, want to pay money to see. As long as he looks good when he’s falling flat on his face, I’ll know I did my job.

Ms. Valentine has finally made it to her cubicle while I changed Nick Carter’s image in my head and the poor little moron is shedding a tear as she reads my notice of termination. Somehow though, the scene before her, Nick with flirting the girls of DK, is what has her all shook up and not so much the letter. Mrs. Johnson, another one of the keepers, is consoling her. If Mrs. Johnson knows what’s good for her, she’ll break out of that space in the next two minutes or she might join Ms. Valentine on the elevator down to unemployment. There’s nothing wrong with consoling someone, but there is such a thing as over consoling and that’s for the fucking birds. You need detachment from personal feelings in this business to keep from getting hurt. No attachments come with no drama, and that's my motto, at work and in life.

I smile as I see Mrs. Johnson leave the space and heads toward her desk. Good girl!

I’ve been staff watching for about half an hour now, I realize as I look at my watch. Not one single person has come to my door. Not one. And I’m disappointed because if being early for work is their best ass kissing technique, they have a lot to learn. I would have taken a measly blueberry muffin as an ass kissing gesture. Lucky for them, I already had one this morning.

Taking a seat behind my desk after turning the intercom to an on position, I turn to my computer screen and finish the email I started before Johnny had stopped in.

To: everyonelovesabarker@yahoo.com
From: vmartinez@wegmail.com
CC: -
BC: -
Subject: I’m not moving back to New York!

Barker,

I don’t know why you keep insisting on trying to change my mind. I already made a commitment to Uncle Johnny and I won’t back down. I’m here to stay, get over it. That’s the end of that. You copy?

Where are you shooting today? Anyone worth mentioning? You aren’t stalking anyone are you? I know the place is crawling with celebrities, so try not to pass the hell out. I’m already bored out my mind here and I’ve only been in the state for two weeks. You need to hurry up and get here. Don’t fall on that runway tonight; you don’t want to let the world know Victoria’s real Secret. You know, like the fact that they hire klutz as models! Thanks for filling in for me again! I owe you!

I’m at work so I have to make this short; I need to show these peons who the new boss is, so I’ll call you later.

Love, V

P.S. Tell Naomi I appreciate the wings, they served their purpose. Bye!

It’s a quarter past eight now and I can see all of the reps are in the large glass-enclosed conference room across the hall from my office. The clients all sit together mingling amongst themselves while the staff looks ... what’s the word I’m looking for? Scared? Yeah, they look scared; Mr. Stevenson and Ms. Valentine have both taken their ride to unemployment, together. Go figure! That left the remaining reps playing guessing games and I know this because I can hear them. Did you see the face he made? She was in it for the warmth of Nick’s bed anyway! The fact that they all seemed to shrug at the recent events makes me smile. Even Mrs. Johnson put in her two cents with an ‘Oh well’ which makes me know I’ve made the right decision to keep her.

The five reps are seated at the large conference table while the various artists sat in the sofas surrounding the room. And while I knew I had to shape up my staff, I also knew I had to shape up the clients. First topic? Promptness.

I wasn’t going to make a move from my new leather chair until the person responsible for delaying my meeting arrived. The person being, Mr. Justin Timberlake or Timber-late, as Johnny had described him. Mr. Timberlake was strongly advised to come into the office this morning, on time and alone. I know this because I was sitting across the breakfast table when Johnny filled him in on his schedule yesterday afternoon. The prick made his thoughts clear about it being ‘bullshit’ that he was being forced to come to a meeting that he felt wasn’t about him. Very colorful thoughts, if I may add, and it seemed as though, Mr. Timberlake seemed to have a foul mouth, something else I was looking forward to.

And what I was looking forward to the most was that Mr. Timberlake was in for a little surprise at the meeting he was being forced to attend.

The private elevator doors open, finally getting my attention and I look past the glass to see the one and only. Unfortunately, his assistant, Trace Ayala, follows him out of the elevator. Strike One this morning, Mr. Timberlake. Didn’t Johnny indicate that personal assistants weren’t invited? That’s another meeting all together, happening this afternoon, Sir. Mr. Superstar was proving to be a complete ass and unfortunately for him, I’m the biggest asshole on this side of Los Angeles considering I’ve only been here for a week.

He starts to casually stroll over toward the conference room but is diverted toward my office door with curiosity. Well curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Timberlake and I hope someone has clued you in to the fact that where you’re headed is the wrong way. Strike Two!

He’s nearly unrecognizable with a sweatshirt, hat and jeans on, as opposed to the swimming trunks and tank he wore two nights ago, but it’s Mr. Superstar Timberlake. He’s stopped mid step by his assistant who tells him the meeting is in the other room. He turns and asks ‘What’s with the mirrors?’ to the shorter man, and I’m again proud of myself for thinking of placing intercoms outside my office. I notice that Mr. Ayala isn’t as scrawny as I imagined him to be and looks a hell of a lot better than his boss slash best friend, at the moment. Mr. Timberlake is clearly taller and fit, but the bags under his eyes indicate Mr. Ayala had a better night. The mirrors, Mr. Timberlake, are so you can see how awful you look, which makes the reason I am here ever the more clearer.

Good morning, Mr. Timberlake, although I’m sure you’re in for an even worse day.

I should be nervous as I walk toward my door, but I’m not. I always walk in with my head held high and today is no different. I have a job to do.

I check my watch once again as I stroll slowly across my office and open the door. The staff members on the floor become ridiculously quiet and I don’t make eye contact with anyone. The sudden silence from outside the conference room catches Mr. Vargas’ attention and I see him whisper something between gritted teeth. Yes, it’s the angel, Mr. Vargas, calm down. Suddenly every head in the conference room turns to look at me. I want to roll my eyes at Mr. Rogers, who is two seconds away from going into cardiac arrest but I resist the temptation. One thing’s for sure though, they seem to recognize me even when I’m not scantily clad.

The girls of Danity Kane look at me and roll their eyes in synchronized form and I try my hardest not to smile at them. I know what they’re thinking, who is this bitch? Well this bitch has now taken Nick Carter’s attention from you, sweeties. Get over it!

I seem to have everyone’s attention in the room as I walk slowly toward the door, but I’m wrong. The infamous Mr. Timberlake has his head on the conference table eyes closed and what’s even worse than the unprofessional display, is that he’s in my chair. As if, you little fucker, strike three!

Mr. Ayala is standing outside the room and he smiles at me before extending his hand out for me to shake. And I don’t.

“The assistant’s meeting isn’t until one o’clock today, Mr. Ayala,� I say stopping to look at him. “I’d appreciate if you’d wait in one of the other rooms. I’d show you around but I’m sure you know the office like the back of your hand. Make yourself comfortable; I’m certain I’ll be speaking to you before one o’clock. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was delayed going into my meeting, by your boss nonetheless, so I must go.�

Everyone in the room is eerily quiet as I walk my scuffed Prada stilettos into the room. Everyone is quiet and looking at me in what I always tell myself, admiration. But I’m not ignorant by any means; I know the look is out of terror and envy. I walk around to stand behind Mr. Timberlake, who quite rudely hasn’t even bothered looking up.

“Those of you holding your breath in shock can take a deep breath and let it go,� I say calmly as I place both my hands on the backrest of my chair. “This meeting was scheduled for eight o’clock, it is now eight twenty-five, so first things first.�

“Justin!� I hear coming from the door and this time I have to roll my eyes in annoyance. Not only was his boss already on my bad side but also now he was interrupting me. Mr. Ayala is gritting his teeth and I can tell he’s frustrated. “Justin!�

“Jesus, Trace! What?!� Mr. Timberlake raises his head off the table, adjusting his hat when it shifts at his sudden movement, and glares at his assistant.

“I think he’s trying to wake you up,� I say calmly from behind his, no excuse me, my chair. “Or maybe he’s trying to tell you to get the hell out of my chair!� I don’t know where that came from and I honestly didn’t want to raise my voice before officially introducing myself, but enough was enough.

If Mr. Timberlake was trying to show me up, he’s really in for a bad day. I’m always a step ahead of the game.

I heard the deep intake of breath that Mrs. Johnson took and I’m seriously reconsidering her position at this firm. What, was I supposed to crawl back into a fetus position every time Mr. Big Time Superstar came around? If anyone is crawling into a fetus position, it will be the superstar himself when I kick his ass for sitting in my chair!

“Who the fu..� I can see the realization in his eyes, when he looks up behind him and sees me along with the smile big enough to light up New York City in a blackout, that I’m directing his way. “Who? Wha…what’s going on? What the fuck is she doing here?� he’s talking to his assistant, completely ignoring me and he’s still in my chair. You’re all out of strikes, Mr. Timberlake! Everyone in the room is still quiet and out of the corner of my eye, I see Miss Joanna ‘Jojo’ Levesque whisper something to Aubrey of Danity Kane. Little bitch, I got a little surprise for her too!

“Let me refresh your memory, Mr. Timberlake, while wiping the look of shock from everyone’s faces while I do it,� I start speaking slowly and clearly, making my way slowly around the large conference table to the far side of the room. He’s looking at me like I have grown an extra head and I could care less. Mr. Carter is grossly checking me out and I don’t miss that even though my eyes haven’t left Mr. Timberlake’s cobalt blue ones. He must be angry and I may have to consider changing my underwear after all. I really do love infuriating people. He may be the biggest star in the room, hell in the company. but I’m the boss here, not him. “Last Saturday night you attempted a lame pick up line on me and failed miserably.�

Mr. Vargas and Mr. Waterhouse think this is amusing as they try to contain their chuckle. After all, they were laughing at Mr. Timberlake, and you don’t laugh in the client’s face. Unless it’s me, of course -rules of the office 101, by Vanessa Martinez.

Mr. Timberlake glares at them and turns his angry eyes toward me again. I’m standing at the other end of the large conference table as I return his glare; only an evil smile accents my features, as opposed to his. “Mr. Vargas and Mr. Waterhouse attempted the same and the same result came from their efforts, Mr. Timberlake, so don’t let them fool you.�

That out to wipe the smirks on their faces in two seconds flat. And it did. Did they think I was going to refrain from calling them out? I may be extremely livid at the moment over Mr. Timberlake’s lateness, unprofesionalism and chair swapping but I run this show.

“Who are you?� he asks mockingly and I want to run over and yank him off my chair by the hood of his sweatshirt. But I refrain.

“Well Mr. Timberlake, apart from being the Senior Public Relations Director, minus the wings as you can tell,� I spin around slowly and for his view and Mr. Carters’ before slowly walking toward my chair and its occupant once again. “Was that a better view for you Mr. Carter?�

“Umm.. I was…umm,� Mr. Carter stutters being caught off guard and I hear Miss Levesque chuckle. Don’t get me started little girl!

“We’ll have to work on your speech impairment, Mr. Carter. I wouldn’t want to hear that coming from your mouth when you’re live on TRL,� Mr. Vargas is going to have a field day with this guy, if I have anything to do with that. And unfortunately for both, I do.

“Now, Mr. Timberlake, where was I? Oh that’s right, you wanted to know, if I may quote you ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ Am I correct?� Of course I am, I get paid to listen to detail, it’s what I do best. What I don’t do is wait for his response, but I catch the dirty look he sends to Mr. Ayala, who is still hanging out by the door, as if he’d kept a secret from him. I place my left hip on the conference table, which makes my already short dress ride up my thigh and he has to move his hand quickly before I sit on it. I lean down close enough to smell his aftershave and while I’m wondering what area of his face he actually shaved since considering he looks like hell run over, twice and say, “I’m your new shadow, Mr. Timberlake.�

Chapter Two: The secret’s out, the devil really does wear Prada!
One Hour Later

I just spent an hour of my life in a conference room full of people I could give a shit about. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I was excluded from the meeting, even though I was mandated to be there. I had to sit there while...while she… I don’t even know what to call it. What do you call a meeting where only one person speaks and the rest of the room stares in shock? Or a meeting in which everyone’s dirty laundry is put on the table?

Having to listen to the ‘alcohol is not your friend’ speech wouldn’t have been that bad—I’ve heard it at least three times a year since I was fourteen—if the person hadn’t blown that poor girls’ spot. I personally didn’t need to know that she had an underage-drinking problem, and would end up in rehab if she didn’t clean up her act. Leave that shit for the tabloids, I say. It didn’t stop this Vanessa person, that’s the bitch’s name, Vanessa Martinez, from telling her that her stupidity and ignorance would come to an end. She called her stupid in a room full of her so-called peers, for god sakes.

I almost lifted my head to look at Nick when bar fights and domestic violence involving girlfriends was mentioned. That of course doesn’t mean I didn’t imagine the cringe on his face. What the fuck is he doing here anyway? I thought he’d crawled under a rock like the rest of the other dicks in the back streets of fucking hell. Where the fuck have I been? Oh that’s right, I was forced to sit in a meeting about other people’s business.

This wasn’t a meeting; it was a massacre of some kind. I’m not too sharp on company policies or any of that mumbo jumbo bullshit, but it had to be illegal. Isn’t there something called client confidentiality or some shit like that? I want to ask Trace—he knows all the legal crap that I don’t bother myself with—but I’m too tired to even speak today and while part of me wanted to be at this meeting—the part where I have to play nice with people who do things for me—my brain said otherwise. I didn’t move from the chair I was in, not because I was tired but because Vanessa Martinez apparently claimed it as hers. I didn’t see her goddamn name on it. Technically it was Johnny’s chair, not hers!

I’m irate and I completely understand why everyone backs off from me as I walk, no wait, stomp towards the elevator. They all seem to know better, because right now I’m on a rampage and they know to keep their distance. And I pity the fucking fool who does get in my way. I can’t believe Trace is keeping up with me considering his legs are significantly shorter than mine. That almost makes me smile, almost. But at this particular moment, I don’t even want to be near him and that says a lot cause he’s my best friend. The only person I am interested in speaking with better be in his fucking office.

I can’t believe what my goddamn ears have heard this week and the funny thing about that, is that it’s only Monday. I’ve heard so much shit from everyone that I’m about ready to fly myself to the studio and not come out for another year. I don’t want to hear any of the bullshit that is being thrown my way at all. I wanted a break! Why can’t they understand that? I worked ten years straight, and the minute I want to do nothing all day, it becomes a problem. Screw that shit! And it’s not like I’ve been sitting on my ass lately, either. I’ve been in Miami with Timbaland for the better part of a month working hard as fuck on the new record and I don’t need to be interrupted while I’m in creative mode. Johnny knows that. Melinda knows that. And Trace especially knows that so I figured when he forced me to come here for this bullshit meeting that it was something very important. Instead, I come to this bullshit? Fuck this, man. Johnny was number one on my shit list right now. This is crazy. When I do decide that I want to record again, I am called in here to have this bitch in my face! Hell no! Who the fuck does she think she is? Who the fuck is she, period?

I’m tired; I had a bad night last night—well not bad, just a late one. My girl is away filming and it seems like my boys sense the moment she’s away from me or something. An hour after Cam left to the airport, Marty was at my doorstep, followed by Danja and the night became a blur.

This is not the way I wanted to start my newest week of recording. My day should have begun around eleven with a nice piece of ass (for the sake of saving my ass, I’ll say that ass should belong to my girl) lying next to me, then a nice long hot shower, a big ass brunch followed by an evening of recording. Instead, my best friend yanks me out of my empty bed, at seven thirty nonetheless, throws me in the shower, and forces me to come to this god forsaken meeting that apparently HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!

Other than the time this Martinez chick told me she was my new shadow and that I was in her chair, she ignored my presence. I could give a flying fuck what she was talking about, really. I was trying to take a nap and she annoyed me to death. I spent the hour looking down at her scuffed Prada shoes, and I wouldn’t know that except Cameron has the same pair, as she stood to the right of my chair. I’m a show freak and anyone who walks around with scuffed seven hundred dollar shoes really irks me. Fuck it, she just really irked me. When this meeting was over, Johnny and I were going to have a few words. And the word fuck would be introduced into the conversation repeatedly I could feel it coming. My head was down on the table the entire time, which clearly sent her over the edge. So far off the edge that it made her spill everyone’s laundry for all to hear. I could have gotten up and walked out of the meeting before it had even begun, I mean I’m Justin Timberlake for god sakes! I do as I please but somehow the thought of aggravating the new person made me stay. And many will agree with me when I say that I can be an asshole, so I stayed, in my chair. She needed to get off that high horse she’s riding with her flashy, fucked-up shoes.

It was getting way past my tolerance level when that fucking meeting finally ended. No one in that room wanted to hear any more of her bullshit. Although the two men to my right seemed to be more interested in her shimmying ass more than what she said. Yeah I watched her too but fuck, what can I say? I’m a man after all. She went on and on about how things were and how they were going to change. She ended her lecture telling everyone that all of these new things would be done without any “whining� to Johnny. That wasn’t just offensive to the people in the room—no one likes to be called a whiner. But when she said it she looked directly at my recently lifted head, she’d really fucked up with me, then. I don’t fucking whine. I simply state what is on my mind and what I want to be done and as WEG’s biggest selling artist, it better be carried out just as I have outlined or all hell would break loose. As you will soon see.

I stood by the elevator doors with a crowd of people around me who quickly stepped back after one glare from me. They certainly knew that look meant that they shouldn’t even think about riding the same elevator car I was. And they didn’t even know me. Damned if I’d be scrunched up with a bunch of assholes that sold fifty thousand units if they were lucky. Danity Kane? Please, I could knock them offstage without even trying and all I’d have to do is stand there. And Nick Carter? Enough said. Does the word flop mean anything to him?

I didn’t even know who the rest of those people were except that Jojo girl who cringed back from me the furthest. Pity. She was probably the only one I would’ve been nice to after the shit job she just received. Normally I would’ve pulled her aside and tried to talk to her for a minute, reassure her that this Vanessa chick was bugging and there’s nothing wrong with having a drink or two. I would’ve told her that Vanessa works for us, we don’t work for her; and not to trip over her little ego driven meeting. But I was too pissed off to be nice and I probably would’ve only scared her more, with my hoodie pulled down to where I could barely see and a the permanent scowl that was etched upon my face.

Finally, the elevator arrived and Trace and I got on but not before I glared at Nick Carter when he had the nerve to try to jump in with us. Like I said, tried.

Trace punched in Johnny’s floor and my anticipation raised a notch. I had quite a few things to say. The doors to the elevator were halfway closed when a hand stopped the doors from closing. The fingernails had that white tip bullshit that Britney used to get and a large diamond ring sits perfectly on the ring finger. I’m not an expert on diamonds, but I can tell it’s not a fake. The owner of the perfectly manicured hands boldly steps onto the elevator without a word and turns her back to us. I’m curious as to how she can afford a hundred thousand dollars ring if she just started her job. I know for a fact that Johnny is well off with WEG but employees around here splurge on things like Mercedes and BMW’s at the most. Diamond rings the size of fucking Texas isn’t in the budget. Now I’m even more curious as to where she got it. This girl was making me increasingly curious and it’s annoying.

I look over at Trace and he gives me the ‘look’, you know the one that says for me to ‘chill and let it go’. I don’t want to hear that shit right now, though. I’m about to tell her to get off my fucking elevator but the doors close and it’s too late.

It’s only eight floors up to our destination, which apparently is also hers. I look at Trace once again before I speak and I catch him admiring our elevator intruder’s ass. Fucking traitor. Any other time I wouldn’t blame him for doing it, but not today. Today I’m abnormally irritated. Today her fine ass and long ass legs that could wrap quite nicely around my waist could vanish and I wouldn’t give a damn.

When I’m done with my thoughts on Trace, it’s too late once again. The doors open up to Johnny’s floor. She steps off the elevator and starts to walk slowly toward the glass doors to Johnny’s reception area. Like I said before, I’m a man and looking at her ass as she walked couldn’t have been helped. Especially the way she switched it with every step she took. Homegirl was a freak underneath her cool exterior—I could spot them every time. Too bad she was rubbing me the wrong way because I could have definitely rubbed her the right way, that is, if I didn’t despise her. But I do, so things were definitely not going anywhere except into Johnny’s office to have her fired or removed the fuck away from me and my career.

“I’m going to go see Melinda,� Trace says before starting to walk down a long corridor leading to the assistants’ offices.

He’s a great assistant, really, but right now, I don’t need one. Knowing someone since birth helps a lot when you don’t feel like talking. Clearly, that’s not the case today and he knows it. Which is why he’s making a clean break from what’s about to go down. I notice that Cruela Deville is standing by the glass doors, apparently waiting for me. Who the hell asked her to do that?

“Good,� I’m speaking to him but I can’t take my glaring eyes off the woman in front of us.

“I’m going to talk to her about some scheduled studio times that weren’t right on the calendar,� he says and I look toward his direction only to find him staring at her as well, only he has lust written on his face while mine screams, BITCH!

“Whatever,� I shrug and I realize it’s a bad habit but I don’t care.

While I’m trying to handle this shadow business, I’m glad he’s doing his job. None of my shit gets to him enough for him to fail at his job. Trace knows me. He knows what I want and does it without question. What’s been bugging me a bit is that he’s been working more over at William Rast, while we’ve both been taking time to train Rachael to become my new assistant. Rachael’s great. I love her. She’s my cousin and I’ll do anything for family—or Trace, but she just doesn’t ‘get’ me in the way Trace does without even saying a word. Just like Johnny and Melinda know me. These are people I’ve worked with for the better part of a decade and things were going just right as far as I was concerned. What I didn’t need was a know-it-all-bitch with a chip on her shoulder the size of a fucking log. Hell to the fucking naw, to quote Whitney Houston.

Unfortunately with Rachael, I constantly have to correct her or change what she’s working on and do so in a nice voice. Sometimes I just want my damn water, room temperature like I ALWAYS drink it without having to remind her for the seventy-fifth time. Hell, I can roar at Trace and he doesn’t give a fuck, just gives that shit right back. But Rachael’s not like that; I have to be nice and patient with her and her mistakes. Fuck. My whole life was going to shit.
As I take the few steps, it takes to reach the glass doors I notice that she rolls her eyes at Trace’s retreating form and I’m pissed. What did he do to her? This bitch had better know who she’s messing with here.

“Problem?� I can’t help but ask. I’m trying to ignore her but the venom that she spews out of her eyes makes me want to rip them out.

“Do you always speak to people who worship the ground you walk in that way, Mr. Timberlake?� she speaks with a calm voice and I have to give her credit for that. I mean I don’t know this bitch from a can of paint but I can tell she’s just as irate as I am.

“He doesn’t worship the ground I walk in, first of all. And second, no I don’t, only the people who stand in my way,� I get a sudden jolt through my body when I touch her upper arm and shove her to the side to open the door. I’m ignoring the prickly sensation that goes through my body at the contact and walk past her into the office. I barely had to push her to the side; I was raised better than that. And while she may be a complete bitch, canceling out the morals, I didn’t use force when I did it. Despite my animosity towards her, I felt a frisson of sexual tension for the few seconds we touched which pissed me off. Shit just kept getting better and better. No way was I fucking around with this bitch, no matter how hot she was. And I can admit she was hot, even though I can’t stand her. But just because a girl is hot doesn’t mean you gotta fuck around with her. I learned that lesson a long time ago, the hard way. She was a perfect example of why sometimes it’s just better to be horny than to get caught up in some shit with a crazy ass bitch.

I stalk past the secretary I made the mistake of screwing a couple of months back when Cam was on location. She now knew better than to say a word to me about interrupting Mr. Wright. I’m glad she’s finally caught on to the one night is ONE night. She was a lousy fuck and a nag; I had to avoid coming here for months. So she better have not come at me with some bullshit about interrupting her boss. Fuck that shit. He better have fucking time for me. I opened the door to his office with the palm of my hand, letting it slam back against the wall loudly.

Johnny didn’t even flinch, lounging back in his chair with a cigar like he was waiting for me. Which I knew his ass was. He knew I wasn’t going to sit back and let this bitch try to run my career. Despite my shitty mood, I had to smile at the sight. He knew me too well, I was becoming predictable, but it was amusing to watch.
“Justin! What the fuck has your panties in a bunch today?� he asked pleasantly, as if he didn’t already know. Asshole. Sneaky asshole, actually.

“What the fuck was that?� I asked in the same tone as I sat down on his leather chair and put my fresh pair of Jordan’s on the edge of his mahogany desk. Screw propriety, this man owed me an explanation and I was getting it. Whether he liked it or not. “Who the fuck is Vanessa Martinez and why the fuck does she think that she’s gong to be my new ‘shadow’, as she put it?�

He sighed and swung his feet down from his side of the desk. I don’t know what that sigh was for, he knew what was coming as soon as the meeting was over, if I had even made it to the damn waste of time. I could be lying in bed with… I want to think about Cameron but all I could imagine was Cruela’s long legs wrapped around me and my hand cupped around her...shit. Who the hell am I trying to kid? Right now, I want to be either in bed having some banging sex or in the studio.

“Vanessa explained everything in the meeting, Justin. She’s taking charge of the Public Relations Department. I can’t do it anymore if I want to cultivate new clients. While we could all live comfortably with what you bring to this firm, you’d have to work three hundred and sixty-five days a year to keep us all up to our current standard of living. You wouldn’t want to mess with that, now would you? I didn’t think so. As far as this shadow business you’re talking about, Trace is moving over to William Rast—against my better advisement, if you remember—and with Rachael’s inexperience, you’ll be left out to dry. I’m not going to be available as much as I was when your first album came out and you need some tuning up,� he’s pissing me off. “She’s already talking to Rolling Stone about a cover and she already has two major appearances scheduled, and you haven’t even finished recording; the girl knows what she’s doing. I know she comes across as a little hard to deal with, but do you think I’d put your career in the hands of someone who didn’t know what they were doing? Trust me on this, Justin. V knows her stuff and she’s going to get you all the publicity you need and then some.�

“And what the fuck does ‘tuning up’ mean? Tuning up? I wasn’t aware I was a fucking machine.� I usually restrain myself from cursing so much around Johnny but I’m making an exception this time. A huge one.

“With the new album in progress you’ll need professionals behind you and,� I put my feet down and stand over Johnny, my face contorted. “Rachael’s doing as well as can be expected in such a little amount of time, Johnny. You know that,� I told him. “What the fuck do you want from her? Look, man, given the proper time and guidance, she’ll work out just fine. You know I don’t like new people around me knowing my business. Things are staying exactly as they are and I don’t want to hear another fucking word from Vanessa or you about it.�

“Don’t count your chicken’s just yet, Justin,� he says to my back as I go toward his door. I’m thinking I’m done and what I said is law, but then he says. “I didn’t say Rachael wouldn’t be your assistant. I’m saying Vanessa will take care of your image and publicity from head to toe. And there’s not a thing you can do to change that. Don’t give me any shit about it again. Do I make myself clear, JUSTIN?!� I turn toward him at his words and I could kick his ass but I can’t disrespect this man. He’s like a fucking third father to me!

“Fucking crystal! But don’t think for one second that I’m going along with this. If she’s so fucking great at her job, let me see it. Until I see some results, I’m not fucking around with some bitch in a pair of jacked up shoes—I yell as I storm out of his office. I don’t even notice who is in the reception area. For all I know the bitch was still standing there but I’m pissed and walking a mile a fucking minute toward the elevator. “TRACE!!� I yell out in the hallway while I wait for the elevator that seems to be taking a century to arrive, when in actuality it’s been about five seconds.

“Way to go, J!� I hear Trace’s sarcastic comment as he appears next to me; Melinda is walking toward me shaking her head.

“Hey gorgeous,� I manage to say to her before kissing her cheek. She doesn’t say anything to me but I can tell she thinks I’m being an asshole. My line of vision is directed to the inside of the glass doors where Cruela is talking to Jill, the nag. Cruela looks at me and has the audacity to wink and waive at me while a fucking smile, a fake one, adorns her face. The fucking bitch!

My business completed and my brand new top of the line Escalade waiting, I was done.

Trace opened the entrance door and I strode through, a scowl on my face. My world had just become a pile of shit, thanks to Vanessa Martinez, Queen of Bitchland.

I’m not a fucking toy to be played with and Johnny knows this shit. My new shadow? I don’t need a new god damn shadow! I have Trace doing that as it is with Rachael waiting in the wings. Why would I need a new one?

Who the fuck is this bitch? And what the hell am I going to have to do to get her out of my fucking face?

“You need to chill the hell out,� I hear from Trace as we ride through Santa Monica Boulevard toward the studio. Chill? It’s official, my day was a hot fucking mess.

“Chill out? About what?� I ask and if he mentions this crazy bitch we just met, I’m taking all that shit I said about him being a great assistant, back. I swear to God.

“Everything, just chill out. You have studio time scheduled for the next three months. You don’t have to do anything but that. So retract the fucking claws, chill out,�
he says as he lights a cigarette and opens the window halfway.

“Whatever! You need to put that shit out, I am going to the studio, I can’t be around that shit,� I snap and he shrugs as he puffs on his Newport again.

“Don’t play the damn diva role, Justin. It’s me you’re talking to here not someone who doesn’t know you. This shit doesn’t bother you and the window is down anyway, shut up,� he’s such an asshole. Sometimes I think I’m looking in the mirror when I speak to him, I swear.

“Why the fuck you gotta bring her up? You know I didn’t like that bitch. Are you trying to ruin the rest of my fucking day?� I ask before turning to look at a woman on a convertible at the stoplight.

“And who the hell are you talking about? I didn’t mention anyone,� he says and chuckles. “I’m sensing a bit of lust, Justin. Be careful.�

“What?� I ask looking at him in shock.

“You know what. Don’t play fucking dumb,� he’s chuckling now and I want to reach over and punch him in his face. “Ohh shit….we’ve got trouble,� he says to Eric in the front seat.

“She hot, huh?� Eric says and I’m a skinny white boy so I can’t reach over and bunch him so I put my headphones over my head and my hoodie is placed over my head, once again. Assholes!

“Blazing,� Trace says and I can hear them because I don’t turn my headphones on, sue me, I’m not stupid. I‘m not going to sit here and let them talk shit without me hearing what they say.

My girl is away for two months, I have eight tracks to record that aren’t even written yet, I have two songs to work on with Jc, I’m loosing my best friend as an assistant, he’s being replaced by my cousin who doesn’t fucking know me as well, I’m horny and I have a Prada-shoe-diamond-ring-wearing-psycho-bitch on my ass. I know I said it was official before but I think it’s definitely official now, my life is fucking shitty. Great!

Chapter Three: Picture Perfect
Three Weeks Later

It’s eight thirty on a Saturday morning and I'm sitting at my desk listening to a message from Mr. Anderson in regards to some club night that went wrong with one of his clients. I want to reach inside my telephone and squeeze the life out of him but quite honestly he’s not worth the effort, nor my manicure.

I can see Barker outside my office door chatting away with Mr. Ayala and I'm even more annoyed. I didn't invite her here to make friends. She’s been in Los Angeles for a week and she has a thousand friends calling to hang out with her. And I'm guessing Mr. Ayala isn't an exception and he‘ll be number thousand and one, if I don't stop it from happening. So you can say I'm a bit bitter, but she should have been here two weeks ago after that Victoria Secrets fashion show. But instead she was whisked away to Milan for four days and then to some ten-day charity event that she just couldn't say no to.

Yes, I'm a big girl but I just moved to Los Angeles and I needed familiarity. And for over twenty years, she’s been my familiarity. She’s been here for a week and if I hadn't asked her to come to the office for a few hours this morning before we could ‘hang out’, as she calls it, she wouldn't step foot in here. She called me here yesterday afternoon after a long night out again and the conversation hadn't ended very well. I knew she couldn't see my eyes roll in honor of her latest chronicle, but I do know that she probably knew I was doing it at the time.

“Stop rolling your eyes at me, V,� she had said before she continued rambling about her latest encounter with her celebrity crush of the month. Or was it week?

I can't think back to a moment where I didn't have her in my life. She’s always been on the other end of the telephone or a foot away from me and although at times I want nothing more than to reach over and strangle her, like Mr. Anderson and every other incompetent staff member of mine, she’s my best friend. My only friend.

She insisted to having me listen to her ramblings about running into Lindsay Lohan the night before at a fashion show and how she thought Lindsay was pretty cool. I honestly didn't give a damn what she thought of the teenage alcoholic but I listened. For years it had been this way, she goes out and does all these ‘cool’ things and I'm the one that listens. Call it being a masochist or whatever but in some ways I live my life vicariously through hers. So while I could give a damn about her perception of another loser celebrity, I love hearing her stories. If she woke up the next day and didn't tell me what she did, detail for detail, I would immediately think something was wrong. Imagine the travesty!

“So what are you doing today?� she'd asked as she yawned in my ear. “We should go to the gym today. I feel like a cow this morning. I'm starting to think I shouldn't have eaten that third cheese and garlic cracker last night.�

“It’s three o'clock in the afternoon, Barker, it’s hardly morning,� I knew she'd just woken up by the constant yawning symphony on her side of the conversation. “And I have a meeting in ten minutes, I can't leave.�

“Another meeting? You promised, V,� she wasn't whining but I could hear the disappointment in her tone. Yes, indeed I had promised. I promised that when I took this new job, I wouldn't be glued behind my desk twenty-four seven. I promised I would have fun. And I am. It’s just that my kind of fun includes paperwork, phone calls and meetings all day while hers include Celebrity stalking and high-end fashion shows. Its what I do and what I love. She keeps telling me that I work too much and that I need to relax. I am relaxed, it’s just when I am asleep and no one can see me.

“You know I have a job to do here and I can't just drop everything when you decide you want to be my best friend again, Aundrea.� Did I mention we fight like cats and dogs? It’s all out of love, I assure you.

“Don't be a bitch, Vanessa. You've been cooped up in that office for who knows how long and you just started. What am I supposed to do? Stay here? Since when?� she'd copped an attitude by then and I smiled because in this relationship, I'm the bitch. Surprisingly, right?

“I didn't say that,� I was sorting through hundreds of photos on the large conference table in my office and she could tell I wasn't really paying much attention to her. Again it’s all part of knowing each other so well. “I'll see you later, okay?�

“Did you have ‘the’ meeting yet?� she'd asked me but I could tell she was acting as if the question was a random one. She knew the meeting had been scheduled for yesterday so the question was stupid. I'm firmly opposed to the term ‘there is no such thing as a stupid question’ and I stick to it.

“You should see some of these photos, Barker. She’s atrocious,� I said to her before flipping through the photos on top of the large conference table in my office.

“When are you going to let that go, V? He’s a loser,� she knew how to piss me off and after that comment I’d simply hung up on her without another word.

When I got home last night after being stood up for ‘the’ meeting, I was furious. I don't know if she was even home or not but I'd gone to my side of the condo, gotten in my Jacuzzi and had gone to bed shortly after that. But because we know each other so well, she’s woken up shortly after I did this morning and had gone down to the gym with me without a word. By the time we'd finished our individual workouts, we'd managed to speak to each other. Don't get me wrong, we weren't mad at each other for very long. I'm typically mad about ninety-five percent of the time. But she’s never upset; she’s always the happy one.

I've never understood that fact, but I never question her about it. She truly is happy with her life and I am too, I assure you. But Aundrea Barker is different in the deepest meaning of the word.

When I was six years old I cried and cried to my parents about taking me to the park where all the kids went. That wasn't such a huge request other than the fact that I wasn't like those kids I wanted to play with. I was the ‘rich’ little girl with pretty hair, cute smile and designer shoes. I was the ‘spoiled’ one, and while you may think that’s the life, I assure you, it wasn't. Yes, I wore designer shoes the moment I left the womb, which explains the shoe fetish that haunts me to this day.

I didn't get to go to sleep-overs and birthday parties like the other kids. Instead I was taken to piano lesson on Mondays, cheerleading on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, gymnastics on Thursday and pageants on Fridays. I've had a busy schedule all my life and I don't know anything different. So at six years old I did the unthinkable, I told my father that I didn't want to be in gymnastics anymore. You can imagine the devastation my parents went through. What was I going to do? What were they going to enroll me in? I already had a tutor during the weekends, so that couldn't have been done on Thursdays. I didn't want to do anything; I wanted to be a kid. I loved cheerleading, piano and the tutoring, at six I was convinced that my life was over. I'd quit on something and that wasn't the way I was being raised, but I was disappointed and relieved at the same time. Once a quitter always a quitter, my father always said. Once free always free, I say.

I went to school the next day and on my rare walks back home with the nanny, I saw her. I didn't know her name at the time and I didn't care. All I knew was that it was Thursday and I didn't have anything to do after school. I asked my nanny, I think her name was Kendra, if we could go into the playground for a few minutes. I don't think I waited for her response, now that I think about it. At the far end of the gated playground, by the sandbox, was a little girl being cornered by a slightly bigger girl with pigtails and a scowl on her face. I didn't know what the mean girl was yelling about but I do remember being furious instantly. I'd never felt that way before and before my nanny could stop me I had a good hold on the pigtails.

When my nanny managed to get me off of piggy, I was crying. I never cried. But I felt this need to protect the other little girl. That other little girl was Aundrea Barker and from that day forward, I would do just that. I was her protector in everyone’s eyes when in reality she was my savior.

But she’s not being my savior right now. She’s flirting away outside my door with my client’s personal assistant and she’s annoying me. Out of all the people she could have handpicked to befriend, she picks Mr. Ayala. And what that means in the long run is that she has picked, Justin Timberlake.

The above mentioned is sitting on the black leather sofa outside my door, headphones are yet again in his ears and he’s the least bit interested in the conversation Barker and Mr. Ayala are having. His assistant to be is on her cell phone next to him and I'm hoping she just stays quiet during this meeting. I find the scene in front of me strange because Aundrea should be all over this one. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean all over Mr. Timberlake, but all over the hype that surrounds the man. And while I do have to admit that he is huge in the industry, I also have to say that Aundrea Barker is what men call ‘the shit’ and well right now, ‘the shit’ could give a damn about ‘the hype’ and vice-versa. I should have let Mr. Timberlake, Mr. Ayala and Ms. Bomar, in my office right away instead of making them wait half an hour like they did to me yesterday but I didn't. Now I have to hear about how funny and nice Mr. Ayala is on the way to Rodeo Drive. Fun.

I finished listening to my messages and I stand to open my door and as soon as I do, I can feel it. I feel the hostility that emerges silently when Mr. Timberlake looks up at me from where he’s sitting. I smile at him and look at Barker with a silent ‘having fun?’ that she immediately rolled her eyes to.

“I'll see you later, Trace,� she says to the short man and if I'm not careful I will roll my eyes at the scene of her kissing his cheek. “I'll be across the street,� she says to me before waving goodbye to Mr. Timberlake and Ms. Bomar. He does wave back to her and surprisingly he smiles at her too. I must have missed their introduction to one another while I listened to my stupid messages.

“Good morning,� I say without a word to Barker as she walks toward the elevator. Surprisingly, Mr. Ayala nor Mr. Timberlake watch Barker as she walks. “If you can all have a seat at the large conference table, we can get started. The sooner I can get views and suggestions across, the sooner we can go enjoy our Saturdays.�

“Right,� comes from Mr. Timberlake, who walks ahead of his two assistants and takes a seat, you guest it. My chair. So he’s apparently still not liking the idea of me and he wants to play games, I see.

I close my door and turn to the conference table and I want to smile when Mr. Ayala bumps ‘the hype’ on the knee and makes him move. Good little assistant!

“Coffee?� I'm being polite, I don't want to give them coffee. They lost that luxury yesterday when I was called half an hour after a meeting was supposed to happen to inform me that Mr. Timberlake hadn't known about the meeting on time and was re-scheduling. It seems Mr. Superstar still doesn't understand the concept of…well…me. I schedule and he shows up. That’s how it’s supposed to work and that’s how it’s going to be whether he likes it or not.

“We're good, thank you,� says Mr. Ayala who I have to give credit to because he has Mr. Dickhead’s itinerary in front of him. Ms. Bomar is sitting back and I can tell she’s nervous. Good.

“Great,� I say and I take a seat in my vacant chair, crossing my jean clad legs and looking at Mr. Timberlake who is sitting to my right. “First I would like to address with you, Mr. Timberlake yesterday’s occurrence,�

“We are really sorry about that, I honestly forgot to remind him,� she actually interrupted what I was saying and Mr. Ayala gives her a look.

“Yes, I'm aware,� I say with the fakest smile I could muster at the moment. “I spoke with Mr. Wright and he promised that he would keep a closer eye on appointments you need to keep, Mr. Timberlake.�

“She forgot, it happens,� he says and my blood boils when he mocks me. “Ms. Mart-tee-nez.� Little fucker!

“I realize you lead a very busy lifestyle, Mr. Timberlake but I am also very engaged in trying to make sure that lifestyle fits the image the record company and WEG aspires for you. When a meeting is set back by something as small as a simple reminder from an assistant you chose against our better advice, things become stressed. People become stressed. I don't like to be stressed, Mr. Timberlake. At all.�

“Again, I'm sorry, I assure you I will make sure everything works accordingly. It was my fault for not letting Rachael know in advance that Justin needed to be here. I left the studio early and I wasn't thinking. I apologize.� Mr. Ayala seems to be catching on to who the boss in here and I have to admit that I like that. He doesn't seem so bad after all and listening about him on the ride to Rodeo almost seems appealing. Almost.

“I have plans in an hour, so if we can start whatever we're here to do I'd appreciate it,� It seems as though Mr. Timberlake doesn't know why we are having this meeting and I look at Mr. Ayala for the explanation.

“Sorry,� he says and for some reason I believe him. What are you doing here, Mr. Timberlake, you ask? Well we are going to talk about that pretty little girlfriend of yours and how she’s bringing you down. That’s what you're here for. But I don't say that instead I clean it up a bit…

“We're here to discuss the media. Mr. Timberlake,� I say with a smile before standing and grabbing the stack of photos I have on my desk. With one swift move I slide them across the conference table, spreading the hundreds of photos across it. Mr. Timberlake doesn't even flinch and neither does Mr. Ayala. Ms. Bomar looks at several photos before returning her attention to me. “These have all been in magazines, tabloids and television during the past three months.�

“You want to have a meeting, on a Saturday, about photographs taken of me while I pump gas? Or go to the gym? Let me guess, you would like me to wear a three piece suit every time I leave my house so that I ‘look’ accordingly to the ‘image’ you want to create?� Mr. Timberlake looks as if he’s ready to explode but as you can probably guess, I don't give a flying fuck.

"More to the point," I turn the conversation in the direction that it was initially intended, "I specifically brought these photographs here so you could get a look at the 'image' you're creating for yourself. Check these photos out and tell me if you see anything similar about any of them." Crossing my legs and pointing my open-toe Jimmy Choos, I wait patiently for him to connect the dots. Should've known that it would all go flying over his head.�

"So you're stalking me and my girlfriend. Is that it? Is that what this meeting is all about? Because really, Miss Mar-tee-nez, I have better things to do with my time than look at photos of Cameron when I've got the real thing waiting for me at home," he chuckled, and passed the photos over for his assistant to get a look at. Sure enough, he didn't disappoint. More and more, I was beginning to like his 'former' assistant. Anything better than the cowering kid who was sitting as far away from me as possible. Very proficient.

"I think what she means, J, is that ... well in every picture either you or Cam are giving the finger to someone. Or scowling. You both look ... well, pissed off," Mr. Ayala was ranking high on my good-boy list and I‘m starting to think we can work together. Maybe.

Bingo! I knew I could count on him. At least the 'former' assistant had a fucking clue. Unlike the so called almost-genius-IQ-having-star before me and the recent college graduate next to him.

Smiling, I reached over and handed the photographs to the cowering girl that no one had bothered to introduce me to yet. Doesn’t matter to me. As far as I was concerned, Mr. Ayala would remain Asshole's assistant as long as I was working with them. According to my files, it was a few months, close to a year, so Mr. Timberfuck better pep up! Mr. Ayala seemed to be the only one in the group who knew what the fuck was going on.

"Look those over and take note," I said to the poor girl. "This is prime example on how NOT to be perceived by your fans. Now Mr. Timberlake, not to bring up old history and all that, but when you were with your ex, Ms. Spears, you seemed to have some sense, a lot more of it actually. You know, smiling for photo ops. Treating the press like human beings, like yourself.� I’m literally dying inside because I want to roll my eyes but I continue, “It has come to WEG's attention that since you began this new relationship, you've turned into ... how shall I put it?" I pretended to mull the word over, even though I knew exactly what word I was referring to, "A Grade-A asshole, I think would be appropriate. This is not the way to make friends and influence people."

Reaching over, he grabbed the photos from Ms. Who-gives-a-damn and gave them a second look. He scoffed, the nerve. "First of all, do NOT bring up Britney, ever. That is a part of MY life that is over and done with. Something I do not discuss with anyone anymore. PERIOD. You’ve got a few bad pictures of me, so what? I get fucking tired of being stalked everywhere I go -- tell me how would you feel being followed around when all you want to do is get a burger and eat? Let me know because I can't even do that! Tell me you wouldn't have the same reaction! Because excuse me for saying this,“ he’s mocking me now as he continues, “what’s the word I’m looking for? You're a real ball-breaker, Vah-ne-SSAH. No way would you stand for that shit without giving a finger or two when you're trying to eat and talk in peace. Or WALK TO YOUR FUCKING CAR."

"Touché," I admitted with a smirk as I hold the picture of him getting into his car, middle finger flying high. "I, however, am not the one who decided to pursue a career in show business, especially a career where over fifty percent of my fans are under the age of sixteen. That Sir, was your choice, clearly not mine. So if you want to keep the career image where you're know as 'a hell of a guy', as you said in last month's People magazine, this is not the way to go about it. Am I making sense here? Any clouds lifting from the smog you've surrounded yourself with?"

He bristled, most likely at the sixteen and under remark. "With Justified, I widened my fan base extensively to not include little girls anymore. And I'm sure my adult fans can understand why someone would not like being followed all over town when they're trying to go out for a decent hike." He’s referring to the photos of him and his cousin slash wanna-be assistant , hiking in the Hills last month, where he was caught on film shouting profanities at paparazzi, not to mention throwing sticks at them.

I shrugged. "I don't make the rules, Mr. Timberlake. I didn’t make you famous, you did. I just follow them, strictly. If this talk was coming from Mr. Wright or ven Mr. and Mrs. Harless, instead of myself, I'm sure your reaction would be a bit less volatile, wouldn't you say? Do you have a problem with how I'm here trying to NOT ruin your career? Because hanging around with a pock-faced known coke addict isn't giving you any help on staying at superstardom status."

“Excuse me?!� he standing over me and for a milli-second I think he’s going to actually throw a punch at me for insulting his girlfriend but I recover even quicker. “Look bitch! I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, coming in here and treating everyone like shit! But not with me!�

“I apologize Mr. Timberlake if I have offended you in any way but I only speak the truth, that is, when it comes to my purpose at this position. I am very good at what I do and will continue to be whether you want to agree or disagree. Am I a bitch? Yes, I am and you telling me so, does nothing to my feelings. PERIOD. So I suggest you have a seat, Mr. Timberlake and while how I treat everyone is non of YOUR business, what IS your business is that your ‘girlfriend’ is bringing you down about seven notches on the good human-being scale.� I look up at him and then look at Ms. Stupid and Mr. Ayala, raise my eyebrows to see if they have anything to say before returning my line of vision to a shit-faced Mr. Timberlake and I smile. You don’t scare me, Brat! Suck it up!

“Like I said, fuck you! Oh, never mind, I hadn’t said that yet,� he’s fuming and something inside makes me want to laugh but I maintain my professionalism as I stand. I’m about an inch from being eye level with him and for the first time I realize that he’s quite a bit taller than me. But the height doesn’t intimidate me one bit, I fold my arms over my chest and I look into his eyes. I can see myself in them. Weird.

“If we’re going to have a professional relationship, Mr. Timberlake, you have to stop dreaming. What you just said, will never happen,� I smirk at him and then turn to my desk to grab a court order before pressing it against his chest lightly. I ignore the fact that although he has a thick sweatshirt on, I feel the hardness of his chest. “We WILL discuss these pictures, specifically the ones mentioned on that paper, Mr. Timberlake. Today, tomorrow, the day after that or the next, frankly it doesn’t matter to me. It WILL be done.� He doesn’t grab onto the sheet of paper and it actually slides down his front to land by my shoe.

“Can we have a few minutes?� I’d forgotten the other two were in the room and I look over at Mr. Ayala when he asked the question.

“Of course Mr. Ayala, why don’t I make this easier,� I look at Mr. Timberlake and he’s actually staring at me in an odd way and I have to look away because I’m feeling a bit weird. He’s freaking me out a bit, I must admit. “Why don’t I call you tomorrow and we can schedule another meeting around, Mr. Timberlake’s recording schedule?�

“Listen, I don’t need another meeting to be scheduled, Ms. Cruela! What I do with my own middle finger, girlfriend or ex-girlfriend is none of your business. So you can take your meetings, pictures,� he says this as he shoves the stacks of pictures onto the carpeted floor. I’m a pro at handling diva sessions and Mr. Timberlake was no different. I don’t even flutter my eyes, I’ve seen this all before. Been here done that, “and bullshit and shove them up your fine ass!�

“Justin!� Trace and Ms. Idiot say at the same time and I want to laugh. Do they think this actually bothers me? PLEASE!

“Oh it’s okay, don’t worry yourselves with your employer’s behavior, I assure you that I‘m certainly not. After all, it’s his career, not mine,� I’ve had about ten minutes too much of this drama so I’m going to dismiss myself from my own meeting and I’m going shopping. Screw the diva and his tantrum! “Why don’t you busy yourself cleaning up that mess you boss made,� she actually stands and begins stacking the photos and I feel sorry for her. Stupid idiot! Make him do it!

“Let that go, Rachel!� Mr. Timberlake seems to be flabbergasted that I’m not shrinking back at his harsh words that he doesn’t even realize he yelled at her. She looks up at him and I give her credit for rolling her eyes at him but she DID stop cleaning the mess. At least she’s loyal. “Don’t think this is over!� He’s talking to me now, apparently.

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Timberlake but in no way, shape or form did I say it was. As a matter of fact, you’ve spent the last five minutes indicating that it WAS over, now didn’t you?� I get my bag from my desk and I walk around him and he’s right behind me like a damn stalker. Persistent little fucker! “I’ve got an extremely busy schedule and I must run. You know how that is, Mr. Timberlake. I’m sure you can find your way out.�

“Look! I’m not…� he starts to say but I’ve had enough, so I cut him off. How rude of me.

“Have a good day recording, Mr. Timberlake,� I look behind him and I wave goodbye to the assistants, “I pray to God, to have mercy on you two. Until a later date, have a great day!“ I’m out the door and walking down the cubicle aisles before Mr. Superass can say anything. I can feel their eyes on me as I enter the open elevator door and I‘m not smiling.

Not until the doors close in front of me and I’m at least one floor down, do I yell. “MOTHERFUCKER, WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU‘RE MESSING WITH HERE?!�

The doors to the elevators opens two floors down and Barker is standing there with a smile on her face. I don’t know what’s so funny but she steps onto the elevator without a word. I can tell it’s only a matter of time before she laughs out loud.

“So I’m guessing the motherfucker is Justin, then?� She asks as the doors open once again at the underground parking garage. She starts to laugh hysterically and I’m a stupid sucker for her so I laugh too, like an idiot. I walk past her toward my car and it’s the first time I’ve laughed since I’ve arrived in Los Angeles, like really laughed at something. Funny how that works, I’m laughing hysterically about something that actually isn’t funny at all. I have to deal with this motherfucker for the coming year.

I think some True Religion jeans are in order. They’ll make everything better.

Chapter Four: The Feeling’s Mutual
 
I’m sitting inside one of my trucks and like I have been all day, I’m quiet. Trace and Mike are sitting up front, no doubt trying to ignore me. I’ve had a bad day and if I don’t have a drink within the next twenty minutes or so, I along with everyone else, were in for a bad night as well.
 
We’re riding down Mulholland Drive and I grunt when Mike makes a left onto Laurel Canyon Boulevard. I know he’s planning on going to Parc, a new club down on Hollywood Boulevard. By my grunt I’m sure you can tell that I don’t really want to go there. Trace turns the stereo on after my grunt and for the millionth time indicates that he was still mad at me. I don’t give a shit really if he’s still mad but I don’t say anything in regards to the choice of club they both have chosen either. I’m regretting the fact that I said I didn’t give a damn where we went as long as I was able to drink this fucking sick feeling out of my gut.
 
It’s been seven hours since Cameron left to Toronto again and it’s been four since I’ve turned my cell phone off. I’m under a lot of stress right now and all I want to do is be able to have a drink and forget shit, at least for tonight. I can’t believe this is happening to me again. What the hell is wrong with me?
 
Apparently I’m spacing out as we drive down Sunset Boulevard because I see Trace turning from the front passenger seat and he’s saying something to me. At first I don’t realized he’s handing me his phone but then he throws it at my chest. Picking up the cell phone from where it lands on my lap, I look at the screen and smiling bright at me is a picture of Cameron. She called Trace’s phone, damnit.
 
“Hey,� I say and I’m saddened when she gives me the same lame-ass response. She doesn’t say anything so I’m left with no choice but to speak again. “How was your flight?�
 
“Same as always,� she responds and damn it if I can’t hear the sadness in her voice. I love this woman with all my heart but it’s just that well …I’m bored.
 
“Did you get to meet with the director?� I’m trying to avoid the issue at hand and she can tell. I can tell she can because she sighs and mumbles a yes. “Listen, Cam...�
 
“I know Justin, I know. I wasn’t calling to argue, I just wanted to hear your voice before heading to bed. I’ve got an early shoot in the morning, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?�
 
I don’t know what to say, I feel like if I say anything else I’m just going to feel worse. But I tell her that I love her and hang up. I’m not lying to her when I tell her that I love her but I’m feeling like shit anyway. Before she left we got into the biggest argument we’ve ever had to this day. I can’t even tell you why we did and how it started but it happened and it was my fault. She’d come to see me for two days and all she’d ask was if I would be coming to Toronto to visit her on set, next time we saw each other. That’s it! And I had been an asshole, I AM an asshole. I told her that I needed to record and that I couldn’t be following her everywhere she went. Why would I say that? I’m an asshole, I know, we’ve established that fact.
 
We’ve been together for over two years and she never once protested about following ME around when I was promoting Justified. Yet something today triggered my boredom meter or something. I don’t want to go to Canada; I have to record, I thought before I actually said out loud. I have what I think is a great relationship with a person who has taught me a lot and care about deeply. But I’m bored. Sometimes I feel trapped and confined and I know it’s not her fault. As we make a right onto Hollywood Boulevard my head is brimming with thoughts about my recent dilemma.
 
As soon as the black truck I’m in comes to a halt in front of the red velvet ropes of Parc, the other shitty part of my day comes full force to smack me in the face. The flashes go off in a frenzy as soon as Trace steps out of the passenger side. They know I’m here.

Paparazzi.

Stepping out of the car, Mike’s in front of me and I wait for him to start moving. I pull the hood of my black sweatshirt over my head and I look down at my feet as we start walking past the line of club goers. I hate this part.
 
Someone grabs a hold of my sleeve and pulls, making me stop in my tracks and look up. What the fuck? I’m annoyed but I look up to find an overzealous woman smiling at me. Only because the flashes continue a million flashes per second, I smile back. She says something about saving her a dance and or something before Mike brushes off her hand from my arm and we’re walking the short distance again. Why do they do that? Why do they have to grab at me? All these years and I can’t figure this shit out. If you were someone’s fan, why would you launch at them? It doesn’t make sense.
 
Normally, I would have growled some nasty remark to her but I’m stressing out enough. I don’t need another fucking lawsuit. The phone call that I received from Johnny today still plays clearly in my head. Sometimes I hate when other people are right and I’m proven wrong. Even if it’s just a little bit wrong. He lectured me on being professional and courteous to those who do their jobs to make mine easier, for about an hour if I may add. That was right before I flipped on Cameron as a matter of fact. And before that, I’d left the studio because I just couldn’t work after that stupid ass meeting this morning. That right there was the set-off for the rest of this shitty day. I should have known better than to try to have a good day. Who the hell was I kidding?
 
Making our way to the VIP area, I’m greeted by Olivia Wilde, who walks toward me on her way out. She aggravates me with the look she gives me and I try not to hurl. I’m passing on the offer she clearly gives me as I bend down a little to kiss her cheek. I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who I’m growing bored of, mind you but I have a girlfriend nonetheless. And it’s because of my highly publicized relationship with Cameron, that flashes of cameras catch us in the brief exchange. I shake my head disapprovingly as I walk with Trace who’d been saying hello to Olivia, as well.
 
There’s a circular booth with a coffee table in the center of it waiting for us. When the host hands a bottle of Coors Light to me and I take a seat, I feel much better, atleast I try to. The music is blaring and I can see the dance floor clearly from where I sit. Mike pulls the dark curtains surrounding the area back, the way I like them to be and I relax against the soft cushions of the booth. Trace is already in conversation with a girl on the adjoining VIP room and only after chugging down half my bottle do I realize its Lindsay. I really don’t want to have to talk to that girl tonight, so I stand and walk to the railing overlooking the dance floor. A few of the clubbers down below look up and I give a fake smile to some girls that wave at me. I should have stayed home with a few beers and my Xbox. But I need to unwind and as I grab a fresh beer from the coffee table set up for us, I tell myself to have a good time and relax.
 
I’m turning around to tell Mike I was going downstairs but instead I’m face to face with someone else. All thoughts of having a good time and relaxing come to an abrupt halt and vanish, it’s official. My shitty day has turned into an even shittier night.
 
“Night out on the town, Mr. Timberlake?� Is this bitch really in my face, right now? And is she wearing the shortest skirt known to mankind? What the hell?
 
“What are you doing here?� I ask and I take a big swig of my fresh beer, flashes of cameras go off. Fuck. Give me a fucking break. “Oh, that‘s right, the freaks do come out at night.�
 
“I’m flattered, Mr. Timberlake but I would ask you the same question. Or better yet I would ask this. Don’t you have a radio interview early tomorrow morning, say around six-thirty?� I really detest this woman and I’m about to tell her so, when her friend from this morning interrupts.
 
“V, come meet Lindsay,� she says. “Hey, Justin.�
 
To spite this bitch in a short skirt, I turn the charm on before turning to her friend. “It’s good to see you again.� She smiles back at me and even though the area is fairly dark, I notice how pretty she is, and tall. Tall and pretty like Cameron and….
 
Before I even think it, I waive my bottle in front of the other tall woman and I walk past her toward the stairs. I’m sure I can find someone to dance with down there. I just hope Mike saw me leave and has followed suit. I’d hate to be caught in a mob scene if one of these bitches starts shit. I pray to God they don’t. If I was in a bad mood earlier, I’m beyond words right now. It’s takes about three seconds before I’m dancing with about seven hundred different women it seems, but the only thoughts in my head are the past two weeks and the fact that I can see flashes going off and they aren’t from the strobe lights.
 
I had been completely submerged in the studio with Tim, completely concentrating on our musical connection when Rachel informs me of some changes. She hands me a list given to her by Trace. Apparently while I was busy trying to record an album, Vanessa Martinez happened in a big way. Before I knew it, I was being interrupted in between sessions of recording for measurements and fittings. Apparently my new ’look’ was being crafted by the new devil in a skirt. I was flabbergasted, to say the least, so I called Johnny. Needless to say I vented. Loudly. Then he’d told me to trust him and that was a huge request because he’s already asked me to trust Ms. Martinez and well my response was loud as well. That had been the first time I’d heard about my new ‘look’ and to be honest, it didn’t bother me as much after listening to some brief details about it. A few changes would be good, since I was working on a completely different sound. I was feeling that, I must admit. But then I was sent a package and I was face-to-face with a suit. I don’t even have to say this, but Johnny’s phone rang once again. What the hell was I supposed to do with a suit? I wasn’t going to wear a suit? Period. What was this woman trying to do to my image?
 
I’m still aggravated, although I must say that the suit did fit good. But a suit? Come on, I’m trying to start fresh again not crucify my career. Apparently my mother thinks is a swell idea as well. At the moment she’s in Tennessee thinking I’m upset with her, I’m really not. But I think the whole thing with me wearing a suit for the promotion of this album, tickles her. She’s always wanted me to stop wearing baggy clothes and dress up more often since I was twelve. This is her revenge against my style, I swear.
 
But my mother’s agreement in wardrobe isn’t the biggest problem I have. I have two bigger problems. One is that my relationship is starting to fade away. Completely my fault, I admit. My second problem is that I actually like the suit idea now that I think about it. So that’s not really a problem, more like a revelation at the moment. So my biggest and shittiest problem is the woman standing in the VIP area I just left. She’s in conversation with her friend and Lindsay and the sight of her angers me.
 
I don’t realize I’m even walking towards the stairs to the VIP room until I run smack into the crazy girl from outside. She’s smiling like there’s no tomorrow and I cringe. Is she high? Probably. She tells me that I owe her a dance before winking at me and walking down the stairs. That was easy enough and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t owe her shit. Not a fucking thing.
 
On my way back to my seat I stop to briefly say hello to Robin Thicke and his wife on their way in. They seem cool and any other night I would have bought them a drink or something, but tonight isn’t any other night. Tonight, I’m not being myself.
 
“Where have you been?’ Trace asks from the other side of the booth. I point with the bottle in my hand to the dance floor and he shakes his head. I hate the fact that he knows me too well. I dance around on a stage for a living; I don’t usually go to clubs to dance. I should be relaxing and having a good time with my friends right now, instead I’m nearly buzzed, not talking to my friends and dancing with a bunch of underdressed groupies. He knows I’m in a shitty state of mind, right now, which is why he gives me the shake of the head. “Barker is hot, huh?�
 
“Who?� I don’t have the slightest idea what the hell he’s talking about, right now. I’m spacing out, great.
 
“Barker, V’s friend,� he says and points to the ‘hot’ girl herself laughing with Lindsay about something. I’m not really interested and I barely glance.
 
“Who the fuck is V?� I ask taking a long gulp of my sixth beer.
 
“I meant Vanessa, wake the hell up!� he says with a chuckle before swigging his own beer.
 
“V? What kind of a name is that? That’s fucking stupid,� I’m being so ignorant right now. The three shots I took downstairs must be kicking in. “It’s not even a name. It’s fucking letter!�
 
“Umm okay,� Trace laughs and shakes his head.
 
“What? It is! It’s the fucking stupidest name I’ve ever heard, she’s a bitch with a fucked up name. V! Ha!�
 
“How many of those have you had, J?� he laughs and chugs his beer again. “She’s not that bad, J. She’s actually kind of cool, J. Lighten up, J. Don’t be such a dick, J.�
 
“Why the fuck do you keep saying my name after everything you say, dickhead?�
 
“Do you mean when I say, J? Well that’s not your name, Justin. It’s just a fucking letter! J? What kind of a stupid name is that? Fucking J? How ridiculous!� I get it, I get it, whatever!
 
“Fuck you,� I say giving him the finger. Ironically the flashes go off again. Who the fuck let pap inside the VIP area? Jesus, can a man give someone a bird without being photographed? Apparently not!
 
“I’m going to chat with the women, stay here and be a dick if you want to,� Trace says before getting up and walking toward the ‘women’. What a prick! I’m drunk.
 
“I sure hope you know how to deal with hangovers, Mr. Timberlake,� this fucking bitch has actually taken a seat across from me. Wasn’t she laughing it up with Lindsay two seconds ago?
 
“I sure hope you swallow that toothpick with that olive you have in your glass,� I’m not positive I actually said that out loud and the blank look she gives me doesn’t give me any indication that I did. I’m really drunk, actually.
 
“Tisk tisk, Mr. Timberlake. There’s no need to wish harm on someone trying to have a friendly conversation,� I look at her after grabbing another beer and drinking half of it down and she’s actually smiling at me. Bitch!
 
“Shouldn’t you be organizing my life, V?� I can tell she’s taken back by the use of her personal nickname but she recovers quickly. She seems to be good at that, I notice.
 
“Contrary to your beliefs Mr. Timberlake, your life is not part of my agenda, your image is.�
 
“Really?� She’s about to get the shitty end of the big ass stick, I’d like to call my day. “Tell me this, V. I’m positive you have seen the fuckers with cameras across from us. It wouldn’t be appropriate for you to be caught on film, wearing what I’m guessing you call a skirt. What will the world think?� I ask in mock shock as I drink another shot of I don’t even know, grab another beer from the endless bucket next to me and I keep my gaze toward her.
 
“This is the moment where I give you a short lesson, Mr. Timberlake. Shorter than my skirt, even,� she smirks at me and crosses that long-ass leg over the other one. She’s disgusting! “Do you see all these people around? Don’t answer that, Mr. Timberlake; I’m going to give you the benefit of a doubt on that one. The flashes haven’t gone off since you last flashed your finger. There’s a crowd of people around and right now a flash can go off and my short skirt wouldn’t be the topic. It’s called blending in, Mr. Timberlake. I don’t look any different than the crowd that surrounds you. We don’t even look like we are having a conversation right now. It‘s my job, it‘s what I do.�
 
“Well why pretend to not have a conversation? Let’s not,� I really hope she swallows that toothpick.
 
“Ohh Mr. Timberlake, such harsh words toward someone trying to help. One thing I must mention though, before leaving this enlightening conversation your highness. Ms. Diaz sure looked happy to see the director when she arrived in Toronto earlier. Guess someone in her camp or in her bed wasn’t doing their job, wouldn’t you say Mr. Timberlake?� she says this before smiling and walking toward her friend who was in conversation with Trace and Lindsay.
 
What the fuck was she talking about? See, now I’m really pissed. First she sends over suits. Then she insults my assistants. She stands toe to toe with me like she’s crazy. And now…now she’s wearing a scarf as a skirt thinking she’s fucking hot. She’s not! She’s the ugliest bitch I’ve ever seen actually. She just had to go and mention some bullshit about my girlfriend, Carrie. Carmen? Carol? Cameron! This tall, leggy bitch in a scarf has crossed the line. I’m telling myself to get the fuck up from my seat and let her have a piece of my mind but I can’t. I seem to weigh seven hundred pounds and I’m one hundred and ten percent more aggravated than what I was ten seconds ago. I’m passing out. Great!
 
-------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Jesus! What has happened to me? Why is that light so bright? Who goes there?
 
I can hear someone walking around what I’m hoping is my room. I can’t make out the silhouette and I’m praying to God that I didn’t die and go to hell. I squint enough to see that I am actually in my room. I’m still dressed in my previous attire including sneakers and I realize it’s just the result of another late night. The silhouette is still at the far end of my room where the entertainment center is and I can hear music from Halo being played.
 
“Who goes there?� I actually say this out loud and I realize that I must still be drunk. What time is it?
 
“It is me Sire,� the silhouette responds with a laugh and I can tell is Trace. “Get up, you’re late!�
 
“Huh?� I ask but not before pulling one of my pillows over my head. “Late for what? What time is it? Why didn’t you take my sneakers off? Will you turn that shit down? You’re making my ears bleed. What time is it?�
 
“Let’s see! You’re super late for the radio interview you had at six thirty. It’s nine thirty five. I’m not your fucking maid to have to take your sneakers off; I have my own to take off. The game isn’t even loud, you sensitive bitch! Your ears are probably bleeding because you’re about to explode, from all that shit you’re full of. And it’s now nine thirty six. Any more questions?�
 
“Why are you in my room?� I try throwing the pillow I had over my head across the room, instead it lands at the end of the bed. I’m tired.
 
“Waking you up,� he says but he still hasn’t even attempted to do what he said he was here to do. Such a great assistant. He probably didn’t wake up on time for this stupid radio interview either. Where’s Rachel?
 
“Where’s Rachel?� Why does it seem like I’m asking everything twice? Why am I asking myself about asking myself a question? I need to sleep!
 
“She’s at a meeting with V,� he says and yells something at the game. I’m momentarily confused. Rachel is at a meeting with V? Who the hell is V? That’s a stupid name.
 
“Who?� I ask and my head hurts every time I speak, I feel like shit.
 
“V,� he simply states and slams the wireless controller against the floor. I swear it’s because he’s replaced so many of those fuckers that I have a case of them in the closet. He needs anger management or something.
 
“How many pieces did you break it into this time?� I ask and I’m wondering who the hell V is, still. “Who is Rachel meeting with?�
 
“Four pieces, that’s a record, I think. She’s meeting with Vanessa, I said, for the millionth time, Justin,� he has an attitude as he picks up the controller and throws it in the waste basket with three other broken ones.
 
“Vanessa? I don’t know a Vanessa,� it’s too early to be thinking about Rachel’s friends, as hot as they may be. But then I have a moment of sobriety. Vanessa? Cruela? That bitch is in a meeting with MY assistant? I get out of bed entirely too quickly and if I wasn’t about to blow a vessel I would have probably passed out from the action. She’s requested a meeting with my PERSONAL assistant without consulting me? Vanessa Martinez? You’ve got to be fucking shitting me. “You did not let Rachel go to that meeting by herself. I know you didn’t, Trace!�
 
“Nope! I let her go with Mike!� he yells so that I can hear him from my bathroom where I am currently brushing my teeth. I almost swallow the toothpaste in my mouth when he said it. I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk because I didn’t just hear that. This bothc did not do this while I slept. No way.
 
I look in the mirror and the bags under my eyes remind me that I have a hangover from hell, once again. I have a million scenarios running through my head as to why this bitch is in a meeting with poor Rachel. My mind is running like crazy, it’s actually spinning and the headache from hell has just kicked in. I need a shower.
 
I take off my clothes as quickly as I can as if my life depended on this goddamn shower or something. Why am I rushing and why can’t I stop? It takes me about five minutes to shower and when I step out of the shower my clothes are already on the vanity counter by the Jacuzzi. He let Rachel go to a meeting by herself, the dumbest thing ever, and I’m pissed so the fact that he managed to get my sweats and t-shirt ready for me doesn’t impress me. I didn’t even notice when he came in here. I don’t even want to wear sweats and a t-shirt today but I put them on anyway. When I leave the bathroom he’s still in front of the damn TV and opening a new controller.
 
“Were you serious about Rachel meeting with Vanessa?� I ask and I’m hoping that the fresh shower I just took has cleaned out my ears and I had heard wrong.
 
“Why wouldn’t I be serious?� he asks and is actually aggravated as he puts batteries on the controller. He really needs Xbox AA or something.
 
“What is she doing there?� I’m really interested in his answer but he’s still fucking with the damn controller.
 
“Rachel needs to start doing these things on her own, Justin. She can’t be babied by us for much longer. Can you get this fucking battery in here?� he tosses the thing at me and my reflexes aren’t on point so it hits my chest and lands at my feet. “Pick it up!�
 
Who the fuck died and made him think he can tell me what to do? I’m not dead. “Midget, please!� I say and turn towards my door, grabbing a Nike box from my closet on the way out. “And tell me why the fuck I have to go to this fucking interview if I’m like three hours late already?� That just didn’t make any sense to me. Don’t they schedule these things? I missed it, they filled the spot, I should’ve been free and able to sleep in. Fuck this shit. Life is getting worse by the minute.

Speaking of life getting worse, my phone rang before I could get out of the door and you can guess who it was. Cameron. I really don’t have time to walk on eggshells during a conversation right now. I honestly just have a blank mind at the moment and I can’t think straight. The relationship’s fading, at least on my part, and she’s working overtime to try and get me interested again but it’s not working. I have enough people trying to get me to do shit already, why would I need my girlfriend to be doing the same? If anything it’s only pushing me away.

Thinking fast, I tossed my phone to Trace, who caught it thank God, clumsy ass. “Tell her I’m in the shower,� I told him as he gave me a knowing look.

Fuck him. Fuck everybody. Except my mom, who I am mad at but not as mad as at everyone else. By the time I put my sneakers on, he’d hung up with Cameron. He informed me that I wasn’t going to the radio station anymore, something I was very happy about. Unfortunately, he then told me that we needed to head over to WEG because Rachel had taken it upon herself to go talk to that bitch and apologize for not getting me there on time. That bitch would eat Rachel for breakfast so I put some pep in my step. So she hadn’t requested a meeting with MY assistant? I’m still pissed about it though. Rachel needed rescuing and I would just love to give the bitch a piece of my mind about it. Notice I’m starting to refuse to use her name, not that I did it much before. But the bitch title suits her, I think. Rachel’s just starting out and she’s going to make mistakes. Everybody does. She’s a sweet girl and she means well and she tries really hard for me so the least I can do is stand up for her. Since afterall she’s at the office doing just the thing for me. And if it meant cussing out the bitch, well, then so be it.

I finally made it to the kitchen and I grab a breakfast health drink bullshit, the trainer gave me, before grabbing a set of keys from the drawer on the kitchen island. Eric was sitting on the couch watching cable, waiting for me as he so rudely told me. What the fuck do I pay these people for if they’re going to treat me like this? Then again, I know it’s because of my attitude that they act this way. They feed off of me; if I’m in a good mood then all is fine. If I’m in a shitty mood, like now, then they’re shitty too. I need to try to get out of this attitude but the bitch is making me crazy. I can’t get her and her demands out of my fucking mind. Today is going to be a new day, though. I’m going to be civil and not let her screw me over.

At least I’ll try anyway. That’s the plan, for right now as I tell Eric I was going to drive myself. He tried to give me a fucking lecture about going out on my own at that time of day but then he quickly shut the hell up after I gave him a look. He knows better than that shit. I informed the genious that Mike was already at the office, so I would be alright. Thought so!

“You ready?� I asked Trace, who had time to actually grab a bowl of cereal. When did he find the time? When I was rushing around. He set the nearly empty bowl on the counter and followed me to the door. .

We got in the truck and took off with me behind the wheel. Trace in the passenger seat, slumped down as if he was the one with a hangover, listening to the radio so I wouldn’t feel the need to actually speak. He’s in a shitty mood as well and I could tell it was in anticipation to me being an asshole. Rachael trying to meet with the bitch was only going to be a disaster. We continued in silence, with Trace keeping his fucking mouth shut and pretty quickly we arrived at WEG.

“You gonna be civilized right?� Trace asked, knowing a fight was about to happen.

“You want Rachael chewed up?� I responded. “I’m going to just go in and talk to Ms. Martinez and lay down the line.�

“It’s your call,� was all he said as we arrived at the floor. I got out and walked straight to the bitch’s office without bothering to deal with her secretary. They know by now not to fuck with me considering the mood I’d been in lately. Knocking on the door twice, I opened it without waiting for a response. They work for me; it’s time Miss. Thang, realized that.

Just as I thought, Rachel was huddled in a chair and Sargeant Martinez was in the middle of tearing her up a new asshole.

“If you can’t perform your duties and get him to his appointments on time, then maybe you need to think of another line of work,� she was saying, which made my resolve to be civil go right out the fucking window. It wasn’t Rachael’s fault that I wasn’t on time; it was mine. She didn’t deserve to be talked to that way. Nobody curses my cousin out. Except me and even then I have a difficult time doing it.

Cruela finally acknowledge me as if she hadn’t heard me knock or burst into the office. She really thinks the world revolves around her, doesn’t she? She smirks at me and leans back on her chair. “Mr. Timberlake, you finally decided to join the land of the living, I see,� she said as she stood and walked from behind her desk to show off her obscenely short business suit. If the buttons cut down to nothing putting her cleavage on display, was called a suit. What is with her and suits? Not that I care, I’m just saying. “You know you missed your interview this morning. Since you can’t seem to take care of your priorities yourself, I would think your assistant could do it. Obviously I was wrong.�

Bitch. “Wait a minute,� I said. "Don’t blame Rachel for me not getting up. I had a late night and you know it. So I missed a fucking radio interview; they won’t die or anything. Reschedle it.�

She continued smirking. “Let’s get something clear here, Mr. Timberlake. I will not or will I ever take orders from you. No exceptions. Period. And if you’re not going to follow through with publicity then why are you even bothering with your career? You’ve given every paparazzi the finger, you don’t show up for work, and you barely work in the studio. A week here, a week there. The album should be finished and you just seem to be messing around. And it is Ms. Bomar’s job to hustle you along and it’s not working, quite frankly. Have you considered keeping Mr. Ayala on? Because God knows you need him,� she says looking at Rachel, who doesn’t say anything to my surprise, then looks at me with that fucking smirk that makes me want to actually hit her.

Hell would freeze over before I would admit that Cruela was right; Rachel needed more training while Trace had everything down from schedules to how I like my water. But he’s busy working on the clothing line and I am not jeopardizing that for him. He’s worked day and night on that project, he deserves it. Speaking of, he’s sitting at the large conference table we had that other shitty meeting at. He’s not talking. I’m on my own. Great best friend!

“Trace is busy right now, I‘m sure you can understand that! Asking him to stay is not the right thing to do. Rachel needs more time and nobody sits and browbeats my assistants but me. As a matter of fact, you don’t lecture anyone in my camp anymore, including me, understood? I’ve had enough of your high and mighty shit, calling useless meetings so you can parade around in fucked up shoes and embarrass all of WEG’s clients. Either I deal with Johnny from now on or I’m moving to another management company.�

Nothing. She still stood there smirking, and then she walked back to her desk and rummaged around in it for a few seconds, pulling out a sheaf of papers.

“What I have right here is what is called a contract, Mr. Timberlake. You signed it; you’re stuck with us. And you’re stuck with me, and the sooner you get used to that idea the better things will be for you and all of us. I’m not trying to ruin your career; I’m trying to fix it. You can’t come back out with the same image; you’re a grown man now you’re not the fifteen year old boy you once were, things aren’t going to disappear and things need to change. Like I said before, the sooner you accept that, the smoother things will be. Now, feel free to leave. I have work to do. Good day, Ms. Bomar. Trace,� she nodded at him and went and sat down, ignoring us completely.

This was complete and utter bullshit. No way was I putting up with this. My first instinct was to go see Johnny and give him hell, but then I thought I needed to really sit down and think things over. I needed some peace and quiet, first to get rid of this hangover and then just to think, period. Then I was going to think about my representation and if I could ever manage to work with this bitch. I had to give it to her, the more she talked the more sense she made. But I wasn’t firing Rachel – I’d talk to Trace about helping her out more, teaching her my wants, needs and expectations and how not to be intimidated. If anyone gave her shit, she needed to know how to use MY name to get what I wanted.

I’m having these thoughts in a matter of seconds and my head is bounding. I can’t really deal with this shit right now. As much as I want to stand here and tell this bitch off, I physically can’t right now. I turn and walk out of the office without another word. How unlike me. What the hell?

Because this is all about what I want. And what I don’t want. Vanessa managing any part of my career is NOT what I want. God this was going to be a long day. Again.

As I make my way past the fucking employees who seem to be more like fans, as they women drool and the men stare, I only have two questions in my head.

Why the fuck did she call Trace by his first name and insists on calling me, Mr. Timberlake? And why the fuck am I jealous?

Chapter Five: Highway To Hell

One Week Later

I swear if the car in front of me switches lanes, just to switch back ten seconds later, I’m going to have a bad case of road rage. How is it possible to be able to switch lanes in the middle of this mess called the four oh five? It’s five thirty seven on a Friday night and I’m sitting in the middle of traffic. You’d think that having six lanes would control this misery but it only adds to the frustration that is, Los Angeles traffic.

I normally would be one of the lucky people that are heading toward the other direction away from the city, but today isn’t a normal day, by far. Today I am working overtime and while that isn’t anything new, this is my first time out of the office to fulfill that time. I’m extremely ecstatic about that and this is the part where you insert the sarcasm. I’m on my way to San Diego, that is of course, if the mental case also known as the lane switcher, stops changing lanes. I have a schedule to keep and I have to be where I need to be in two hours. By the look of this damn traffic, it looks like it’s not happening. I’m never late and the fact that I will be, only adds to the shitty week I’ve had at work.

I don’t necessarily need any more shit from anyone, so when the fucking car switches lanes again, I flip out. I curse loudly out of the convertible I am driving and honk my horn repeatedly. What a fucking jerk! The guy in the car behind me honks his horn uncontrollably as well and I turn to give him a piece of my mind as well. But he’s simply trying to get my attention with a wink and yells his number at me. He does realize other people can hear him, doesn’t he? Like I’ll really call the moron.

It’s only till about twenty minutes later that I’m finally able to get my car out of coasting mode. At this point I’m about an hour behind schedule and yes, I’m speeding. I don’t get pulled over and I’m proud of myself for it. I make it to San Diego in record time although I’m still late to my standards. I’m annoyed that I’m late but I’m professional enough to take that shit out on the punching bag in my gym when I get home. I have bigger fish to fry, like the reason I’m in San Diego on a Friday night, for example.

I get settled into my hotel room as quickly as possible and manage to take a shower and dress in about forty-five minutes. At eight thirty I’m in the lobby, waiting. I hate waiting normally, but since I’m waiting for this specific person, I really hate it. When I said I was late, I meant my own sense of schedule. I don’t do late and late doesn’t do me. When I’m late, I’m still early. That’s my motto.

So when twenty minutes pass and I’m still waiting, well you can see why the judge would give me a pardon. Because I’m ready to kill someone, one specific person actually.

I’m heading toward the elevators, I think the concierge can see the steam coming from head and I smirk at him. I’m stopped by the sudden call of my name. It’s actually yelled across the lobby and I’m thankful it’s a little late in the night, so the lobby is fairly empty. The mere presence of this individual screams, unprofessionalism and irresponsibility, neither of which I am fond of. I try not to let my distaste for the twerp show as I walk with her to the front entrance of the hotel. She’s going on and on about how sorry they were for being late and blah, blah, blah. I’m over her!

There’s a blacked out Cadillac Escalade waiting outside and silently, in my head, I grunt. Sport utility vehicles are for men who need to compensate for something they’re lacking. It’s a known fact, I swear. What is also a known fact is that sport utility vehicles aren’t for women who’s wardrobe consists of ninety percent skirt. Short ones.

A large burly black man greets me politely with a smile and I smile back when he takes my briefcase. He opens the rear passenger door for me and I’m greeted with the face of a disgruntled passenger, Mr. Timberlake. Out of the corner of my eye I see the look the large man gives Mr. Timberlake and I don’t miss the roll of eyes the pop star gives back. Chump! Carefully I climb onto the large vehicle, taking the first available space. The empty spot happens to be next to the apparently annoyed passenger. I can tell he’s aggravated for having to stop his recording session to do this but a deal is a deal.

I’m not to keen in doing this either but I’m not slumped away to the side of the door acting like a little bitch about it. He better keep his distance tonight because after all the shit he had Johnny go through this past week, he’s lucky to be alive. I’m a professional woman though, so I smile politely in greeting and face the front of the car. He’s looking as uncomfortable as I feel, as we ride silently in the car.

Ms. Bomar has opted to ride in the front with the large man and I’m thankful. She’s concentrating on something on her Blackberry device and I hope is that damn scheduled I’ve sent to her a million times. How can one not keep up with something that is clearly stated for her? I can’t fathom being that unorganized. How can she keep up with the demands of the dickhead sitting next to me? I bet a million dollars she doesn’t and the only reason she’s still his assistant is because he’s doing it to spite me. Tisk tisk, Mr. Timberlake. What did I say about challenging me? Not good.

When we arrive at the radio station, I’m surprised but not impressed when Mr. Timberlake extends his hand to help me out of the car. I don’t take it, I can get myself out of the car thank you very much. He rolls his eyes at me and I don’t wait for him or his two companions. I stop briefly only to take my briefcase from the bodyguard and I continue my walk toward the door in the back lot.

The listeners don’t know the ’Egotistical Bastard’ is coming to the station tonight and I arranged it that way. I personally didn’t need to be mobbed by his fans at this time of night, or ever for that matter. So, it’s fairly quiet as we enter the building and check in. An intern of some sort shows up in record time and she makes google eyes at Mr. Timberlake. I threw up inside my mouth at the display. What’s so special about this guy? I’ve seen better at a….umm well I’ve seen better. The intern seems to be talking a mile a minute and I’m bored. I walk ahead of the group, heading toward the room the intern already told us we were going. She has to be tripping on something because I swear she told us the history of the building in the time it took to take fifty feet across a hallway.

“Are you doing this interview yourself, Your Highness?� So much for keeping my cool tonight. He had to go and open his mouth, didn’t he? “Since it’s obvious that you’re eager to get to the room before I am.�

The intern almost runs into my back when I stop walking and I can’t help it this time, I roll my eyes. I realize it’s a bad habit, but when times get critical, shit happens. The intern takes the sudden moment of hostility from Mr. Timberlake to tell us the room was to our left at the end of the hall. I thank the lovesick puppy as politely as I can before she walks away.

Mr. Timberlake tells his assistant that she could go do whatever she needed to go do and that he would call her if he needed anything. What can he need at ten o’clock at night from his cousin? Kind of creepy if you ask me. Meanwhile, I turn and walk toward the room without waiting for anyone. When I enter the room, I cross my arms and wait for him. I’m keeping my cool and that’s something I promised Johnny I would do. But tonight might be a long run because it’s the first time I’ve encounter Mr. Timberlake since he threatened to leave WEG. So tonight might be hard for me, just like Mr. Timberlake’s fucking head.

He doesn’t look at me once he makes it to the door with his bodyguard. Ms. Bomar was apparently eager to leave because she’s not with him anymore. He tells the large man that he’ll be in the room and that he’ll be fine and to not let anyone other that staff inside the room. He’s not going to be fine in this room, if I have anything to do with it.

“Can I speak to you for a minute, Mr. Timberlake?� I ask but I don’t really require an answer since it wasn’t much of a question. I was going to speak. He closes the door behind him and I raise my eyebrows in question when he locks the door. Did he really want to be in a locked room with me, right now? Not a smart choice, Mr. Braveheart.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, V,� he says mockingly as he strolls over to the sofa and takes a seat. “I’ve been to this station before and I know for a fact that fans do get in and roam the halls. I didn’t lock it to trap you in here with me. You’re welcome to leave. In fact, you‘re recommended to leave.�

If only he knew the risk he was taking by simply speaking to me right now, he wouldn’t be so cocky. He’s acting as if he’s supposed to be intimidating me. Like I said, as if.

“First of all, Mr. Timberlake, please let that be the last time you make a reference to my underwear. You don’t know anything about them nor will you ever. Let’s get that understood. Second, if you really wanted to lock me in a room with you, you’d have to plan a little better and pick a room with less weapons.� I say looking directly at him. “Third, I would appreciate if you would refer to me by my name. Vanessa or more preferably, Ms. Martinez. You Highness isn’t a very professional way of addressing me, although you may think it fits,“ he rolls his eyes at me and I’m forced into an even bitchier mode. “And while we are on the subject of names. V, is not a proper name to address me by either. It’s a personal name given to me by MY personal friends and family. We DO NOT have a personal relationship nor are we friends and we will keep it that way. This is business, Mr. Timberlake and if you’d like to succeed you must succumb to the rules. I’ve given you the respect of addressing you properly I expect the same from you. And by expect I mean demand, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Is that it, Ms. Martinez?� he’s mocking me now and the way he says my last name almost makes me tell him he should just call me Vanessa. Almost.

“No, it’s not. In regards to your comment about me doing the interview,� he looks up at me as he stretches across the sofa and pretends not to listen to me. I know he’s listening and I don’t give a damn if he burst a vessel while pretending or not. When I speak, everyone listens. It’s the way the cookie crumbles in the Martinez empire. “If I was allowed to do your interviews for you, I would. And not because I would be doing you a huge favor, but because I would be doing myself an even bigger one. It would save me the aggravation and headache it takes to cover up bad interviews. Or the constant apologies it takes for a radio station, magazine or television to reschedule something that someone didn’t show up for. But as we both know, I can not do the interviews for you and please believe me, Mr. Timberlake when I say that if you didn’t have to be here right now, you wouldn’t be. Trust me. Now, is there anything else you’d like me to verify, explain or demonstrate for you?�

“You can explain why you’re such a bitch, for starters.� I don’t even flinch at the comment because nothing he says is new to me.

“I was born this way, Mr. Timberlake. I’m good at what I do and I don’t take anything less from people who claim to be professionals. Anything else?� he accommodates his long body on the sofa and closes his eyes. Someone needs to tell him that he isn’t sexy. At all. Not even a little bit.

“I have my own theory on why you’re such a bitch, V.� He smirks when he uses the damn nickname again and I want to throw my shoe at him so that I can be as ignorant as him. But I’m not, I’m better than that so I listen although I‘m uninterested about his theory. He didn’t know me nor will he ever. He could take that theory and shove it. “You need to get laid.� Ha! That’s his theory? Why do men have the same lame ass theory when they feel intimidated by a professional woman?

“Don’t be confused, Mr. Timberlake. You will never know what I need,� I’m now leaning against the table across from him, my ankles are crossed and my arms are holding me up. I’m not phased by this conversation at all.

“And yet you seem to think you know what I need,� he replies and he opens his eyes to look at me. I’m not blind nor an I stupid, so I don’t miss the visual run-through he gives my legs before focusing on my face.

“Personally, Mr. Timberlake, I could give a rat’s ass about what you need. But it is my job to give a rat’s ass about your career and most importantly, your image.�

“Tell me, why did you choose to work with my image, when you clearly don’t want to,� he sits up and looks at me and he honestly looks tired. I’m not worried that it will come through on a live radio interview, though. Although his taste in women lacks, he does have bad interviews, when he does show up, that is. But I’m not telling him that. I’m surprised I even said it to begin with.

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Timberlake, but I didn’t choose you. You were given to me, so to speak. And at no time have I indicated that I didn’t want to help your image. Quite contrary of that. You, Sir, where the one that came into this working relationship with that mind frame. While I don’t necessarily enjoy having conversations with you, personally,� he opens his eyes wide in shock when I say that but he doesn’t say anything. “I do enjoy my job immensely. Anything else?�

“You know, you have a lot of nerve treating people the way you do,� he’s actually pointing a finger at me and if I hate one thing in the world is when someone points a finger at me, accusingly. I’m not a child. “I don’t know how you’re getting away with all this shit with Johnny but it’s fucked up.�

“Are you insinuating something, Mr. Timberlake? Because personally I like having conversations that don’t beat around the bush. If you’d like to ask me something, please do. As I will do the same, if ever the time would come that you would know something that I don’t already know.� Now he’s really pissing me off but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of actually knowing that. I remain nonchalantly, leaning on the table. I cross my legs once again and Mr. Timberlake is right back to his drooling over my legs. I’m used to people looking at my legs, I’m a model. I admit I’m feeling a bit unnerved and I don’t really know why so I shrug it off. I remain cool, raise my eyebrow in question. Is he going to ask the million dollar question or not?

“I know for a fact that you aren’t doing ‘favors’ for Johnny. He loves and cares about his wife entirely too much.� he looks at me to see if I give any indication that what he’s saying is false. I don’t.

“Mr. Wright does have a beautiful wife that he adores, Mr. Timberlake. I agree.� I’m not volunteering any information, so if he wants to keep fishing till he’s blue in the fucking face, he’s welcome to. I haven’t been asked the question about my relation to Johnny, so far and it looked like Mr. Nosy was about to ask. I don’t have anything to hide and technically, Mr. Timberlake doesn’t work for me. The ‘secret’ would be fine with him, I suppose.

“Then who made you the Queen of WEG, Ms. Martinez? And why?� It seems as though he has as many names for me as I do for him. I’m not telling him but I’m flattered by the queen comment. Just a little.

“I’ve looked at my business card, Mr. Timberlake, and none of them say Queen of WEG underneath my name. What it does say is Public Relations Director. The why would only be proven to you in time, I can’t explain that to you without showing you results. And results only come when a party of two agree to disagree and work together.� I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not the queen of anything so I can’t explain something that isn’t true.�

“Now who’s beating around that bush?�

“I’m not accustomed to beating anything,� I look in the direction of his crotch and smirk. “Like others do when they’re lonely. If you have something specific that you would like to know, professionally of course, I suggest you ask now. Your girlfriend should be here to take you to the studio shortly.� I sounded jealous with that statement and I’ve learned that Mr. Superstar is quick and dare I say it, witty. He’s going to try to make me swallow those words in about three point two seconds. I’m not jealous in the least, she was just annoying. He’s just a guy. What is it with women and this man?

“My girlfriend?� Here it comes. He gives me a shitty smirk that I want to wipe off his face with sandpaper. “Be careful there, V. If someone heard you, they’d think you were carrying around the big green monster.�

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Timberlake, you aren’t my type. At all. Period.� I’ve had enough of standing in these stilettos so I sit across from him on the vacant couch. Purposely I cross my legs and he follows his glaring routine. “You should be careful where you direct those blue eyes of yours, Mr. Timberlake. You wouldn’t want someone to think you were checking me out,� he doesn’t look embarrassed that he was caught checking out the merchandise and I must admit that I respect that. Fess up or shut up, another one of my mottos.

“Don’t you go flattering yourself, Ms. Martinez.� he goes back and forth with my name and it’s irritating me. “Your attitude is shitty and that is not MY type. At all. Period.� At least he pays attention when I speak. He gets a kick out of mocking me, I guess. I get a kick out of making him feel like an ass, so we’re even.

“See, that’s where you’re confused. My attitude or my shitty attitude as you so cleverly put it, have nothing to do with my legs.� Of course I’m not his type. I’m not blond, I don’t snort coke and my mouth isn’t as big as a whale.

“That’s how you got this job, wasn’t it? You wore an equally distracting skirt to your interview?� Yes, he has me figured out! Fucking idiot!

“I’m flattered that you think my legs are worthy of employment, Mr. Timberlake. But I didn’t have an interview,� put that in your pipe and smoke it, Superstar. “I didn’t need one.�

“So you’re not doing ‘favors’ for Johnny. You didn’t have an interview. And you’re not family because I know basically all of Johnny’s family. I would have remembered you, or heard of you at least. How did someone like you get a job like this?�

“By someone like me? Ouch, Mr. Timberlake.� I just stare at him with a bored expression. “Clearly you’ve assumed a lot of things. All of which are dead wrong. You do know the consequences of assuming, don’t you? Except this time you only made an ass of yourself, not me.� There’s a knock on the door and he quickly gets up to answer. His new girlfriend is on the other side and he turns up the infamous Timberlake charm. The girl almost melts before him like an idiot. Stupid girl! I think he actually winked at her when she said she’ll be out in the hallway whenever he was ready.

“I’m going to do this interview now, Ms. Martinez, as per your request. If you don’t mind, of course.� he still has a bad attitude after all the lectures he endured this past week. Shame, shame! I just know he better drop it before entering the studio’s door.

“If I minded, Mr. Timberlake, you wouldn’t be here. I would have simply given your schedule to your assistant and count on her to forget to remind you,� I smile sarcastically and I can see the anger clearly when anything negative is mentioned about his cousin.

“Fuck you,� he says before opening the door to leave.

“Now, now. Mr. Timberlake, be careful. If someone hears you, they might think you actually want to,� I don’t know what got into me but I actually give him the same lame ass wink he gave his new girlfriend. I almost throw up my lunch. Which reminds me that I haven’t eaten.

“Bitch,� he mumbles as he walks out of the room. Thank God! Another minute and I would of hit him.

The interview should last a good half hour and I take that opportunity to do some paperwork for Joanna Levesque. That girl is heading in the wrong direction and I’m planning to steer her in the correct one, whether she likes it or not. I’m also planning a nice stint in a rehab center in Australia, far far away, without the media finding out. When I look in my briefcase, I realize that incompetent temp that I fired earlier today didn’t get a chance to prepare my take home work. She’s lucky she was just a temp! Moron!

I have to listen to this interview going on with Mr. Dickhead anyway so I kick my shoes off and stretch across the sofa. The radio station has been broadcasting on the speakers located in the ceiling and they’re playing one of the superstar’s songs. It’s a slow number and although I fight my eyes to stay open, they seem to have a mind of their own. They drift closed and I’m out for the count.

Obviously I was more tired than what I thought. I’m being awaken by being tapped on my big toe. How awkward is that? Why would he pick that particular body part to get someone’s attention? I mean it worked, but still. I say he because I open my eyes to see Mr. Justified hovering over the armrest. He has my shoe in his hand, looks at the four inch heel, at my foot and then looks at me.

“You have incredibly small feet for how tall you are,� thanks for the memo, Mr. Manolo Blahnik. He places my shoe neatly next to the other one. I for once don’t have anything to say. Not because of his stupid comment but because I’m embarrassed. I fell asleep on the job? Jesus! I fucked up! I don’t even know what to do with myself. I don’t know what happened at the damn interview. I don’t know anything right now. How could I have fallen ASLEEP!? I keep asking myself this question as I go to stand to slip into my shoes.

I must still be asleep because for a minute I loose my balance and I stumble. I don’t fall to the floor because Justin has got his hands around my waist, holding me up. Now I definitely know I’m half awake because I just referred to him as Justin.

I’m jolted awake when the contact of his hands on my waist occurs. What the fuck? Was he dragging his shoes on the rug on his way here? I swear I felt a burst of shocks going up and down my spine. I jump a little and take a seat on the couch to put my shoes on, while sitting this time.

“Thanks,� I’m obligated to say although I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that I can still feel his hands on me. I’m feeling like a complete weirdo here.

“Be careful, Vanessa. Someone might hear you and there goes your reputation,� he says before opening the door and walking out.

I get myself together quickly and head out the door. The stupid intern is waiting for me. She hands me a cd and I’m guessing right now, that it’s the interview that I slept through. She gives me a clipboard with a few release forms I’ve seen before, thank the Lord. I sign the papers and say goodnight. She’s not even cute!

When I walk out to the car, I find the bodyguard outside. He’s holding the front passenger door open for me. Ms. Bomar has taken my previous seat, I see. Completely fine with me!

We get on the highway back to the hotel and somehow the ride seems longer. I’m completely baffled. I have this feeling of anxiety coursing through my veins. I can blame it on the fact that I fell asleep, while I was supposed to be working but I know that’s not it.

It seems as though hell has frozen over because, god forgive me for this sin, but I’m feeling anxious about having Justin’s hands on me again. Yes, Justin. What the hell?

I knew this was the highway to hell as soon as I jumped on the four oh five. The fucking lane switcher made me take the wrong exit, now I‘m in horny hell. Literally speaking, of course. Son of a bitch!

lovestonedchaptersix Chapter Six: It's you on me and me on you

Three Days Later

I’m on my way back home to Los Angle-less from Ontario, where I was visiting Cameron on set for the past two days. If there is one thing and one thing only, that I know I love, is private planes. I’m lounging back, relaxing and there isn’t anyone around. I can’t hear anyone trying to whisper but not succeeding, that yes indeed it is Justin Timberlake sitting in front of them. It’s great!

Physically, I’m a bit sore but I’m anxious to get home. Sadly, I missed my dogs the most but I’m anxious for other reasons, like for example; getting into the studio. Tim should be expecting me shortly after I arrive. He called me yesterday to give me some pretty awesome news. He talked to the record label and told them that he would pursue his own album. So while in the beginning stages of recoding and arranging mine, he’s decided that he wants to do his own thing. I’m excited for him and I’m even more excited that he’s asked me to work on it with him, as well. I’m flattered that he has asked for my input and I’m looking forward to it, like I said.

My time with Cameron was what she would call, gnarly and awesome. She’s such a California Surfer Chick, it’s cute.  We made up or should I say, she forgave me for being a dick and all that shit. I plan on going back next week when she has another break. She’d just received a package from MTV while I was there and we spent an entire afternoon watching video footage from when we went to Africa. We went shopping for hours, buying things that neither of us needed for ourselves. I bought my mother a thousand things she didn’t need either. We ate at different well-known Canadian restaurants. I got murdered at the gym by Cameron’s personal trainer, which is why I’m sore. That woman was a slave driver. I guess it’s why Cameron looks the way she does. I’ll stick with Jason, my own trainer, thank you very much.  And after spending what should have been a good few days off with my girlfriend, whom I love, I was completely and utterly BORED. What is wrong with me?

I’m actually more excited to get back to the studio than to actually go back to Ontario next week. I’m a piece of shit, I know.

Mike is waiting at LAX because Eric decided to take a commercial flight to Maryland, for what? I don’t know and I don‘t care. I’m glad to see Mike, though because a group of kids on some type of field trip are crowding the gate that I exit out of. Unfortunately, I AM recognized and a few girls yell my name. I smile and keep it moving in front of Mike. My name is still being called by the girls and I turn briefly to wave goodbye and a few flashes go off. Gotta love tourists! I have to try to be semi-decent to these freaks because I do have an album coming out soon and it’s in my best interest. That of course is a strict recommendation from Johnny and the bitch from hell.

The mere thought of this woman brings chills to my skin. Like when Rachel called me today to remind me that I had a meeting at the WEG offices tomorrow. Annoyed wouldn’t necessarily describe my response and I’m wondering what the hell Ms. Martinez wants with me now. I’m sure I’ll be enlightened tomorrow as to why I’m needed in the office when I should be recording, another strict recommendation. We’ll see what kind of bullshit she’s up to now, and it‘s not like I give a damn what she says anyway.

Rachel’s home when I get there and she’s just finishing feeding the dogs. Thank god, cause I didn’t want to have to do it. She’s tells me she’s going to some seminar bullshit that Trace signed her up for and she’s gone within fifteen minutes of my arrival. Trace is nowhere to be found which is fine by me. I’m sure he’s still trying to save that shitty ass relationship he has gotten himself into.

I want to take a quick shower and head over to the studio in an hour, so my playing session with the dogs doesn‘t last very long. The dogs follow me around excitedly while I take something out from my closet to put on. The choice isn’t hard by any means. I take a William Rast t-shirt from the stack on my sofa, some jeans from the closet and a pair of sneakers, from the shoe closet, to match the t-shirt. I’m set.

Mike had to do some shit with his wife, so he doesn’t ride with me to the studio.  What is up with these bodyguards today? No one is available? I mean I usually go to the studio by myself anyway because I don’t have a set time to leave, but still. I could be there two hours or I could be there for fourteen. It all depends on the vibe, I guess.

When I arrive at the studio, I run into Missy and she’s all smiles like always. We shoot the shit for a few minutes before she tells me she better get to the airport. Inside, the music from the studio is blaring and there’s about a dozen heads in there. I’m hoping some of these people clear out before we start recording. I hate big crowds in my comfort zone. It makes it not comfortable, if you know what I mean. As if they read my mind, about seven guys I know from being around Tim, get up and leave. They all stop at the door to give me a pound and tell me what Tim is doing is the best shit he’s ever done. I’m pumped!

I don’t see Tim anywhere in the studio when I set my keys down. I know he’s in here somewhere because I saw his car outside and he drives himself everywhere in LA. I take a seat on one of the producer’s chair and start a conversation with one of the A&R guys that are always around and start up a conversation about the track that is playing.

“The man of the hour!� I hear Tim say from behind me with a few added beat box sounds. I turn around, still in my chair to greet him and the smile that was on my face disappears.

Tim is indeed behind me but he’s not alone. He’s smiling from cheek to cheek and his arm is around Ms. Martinez’ waist in a friendly embrace. What the hell is she doing here? What the hell is she doing with Tim? When the hell did they meet? What the hell?

“What’s going on my brotha from anotha motha?� Tim asks before hitting my back with his hand in greeting. “You didn’t tell me you knew V, man!� I look at her and she smirks at me and I want to slap her. She hasn’t even said hello. The bitch! I mean I haven’t either but fuck that! This is MY territory here. What the hell is she doing here?

“You never told me you knew her either man.� I shrug at Tim and turn my back to this bitch in the process. “This shit is hot,� I’m referring to the track, of course.

“We gonna work on that tonight,� Tim says. “Whatcha think, Baby Girl? Yay or Nay?�

“Sounds good,� she says and smiles at him. She looks different today and I don’t really know what the hell it is. It’s not because she’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Oh well never mind, I know what it is. She’s actually smiling and not that bullshit fake ass smile she gives everyone. She puts her arm around Tim’s shoulder as best as she could, since Tim is huge and hugs him to her side. They seem close. Eww. “It always does.�

“Girl, I know!� Tim says arrogantly and laughs. I laugh too because it’s a personal inside joke between him and I. We know we’re good!

“You better stop teaching all these artist you work with, all that arrogant attitude, Tim. It’s not getting them anywhere,� she says and she actually has the audacity to look at me as she says it. Can I hit her? Would my mom be ashamed is I turned around and snuffed her? Like would all the people in the room think I’m the biggest asshole in the world? I mean cause she’s asking for it. Who’s with me?

“Who you talking about? Justin?� Tim asks as he takes a seat next to me. I’m trying to ignore their conversation but Tim slaps my back for my attention. “Justin’s the most talented and devoted person I’ve ever worked with. He has the up most right to be arrogant. Right, J?�

“You stupid, man.� I say with a laugh. “Speaking of arrogant. How do you know umm, what was it? Baby Girl?� I ask and I look at her with the same fake as smirk she gives me all the time. She ain’t nobody’s baby girl. Whatever.

“Ohh, watch yourself, man. She’ll make it sting!� Tim says in a serious tone before laughing it up with her. She’s laughing! At me? I hate her!

“It’s okay, Tim. Mr. Timberlake and I haven’t gotten off on the right foot. He’s working on it though. Right Mr. Timberlake?� I’m working on it? Bitch! You better act like you know!

“I’ve known Vanessa for years. Where did we meet? I forget,� Tim asks her and he looks really baffled.

“It was at one of Diddy’s white parties at the Hamptons. Every time I see you I have to tell you that. Get it together, brotha!� Did she just use some type of slang? Let me find out. Who the hell is this person, wearing jeans and dare I say, a t-shirt? I didn’t think she owned one.

“You know Diddy?� I ask and I don’t mean to sound as surprised as I am. Tim chuckles and this bitch is looking at me like she’s bored. Seen that already, Ms. Martinez. Change it up! “I didn’t know you were so into the music scene.�

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mr. Timberlake,� she says and walks her tall plump ass to the couch to grab her bag. So what? Whatever, so she has a nice ass. I like a lot of junk in my truck, fucking sue me. “Anyway, I have to go do something quick, but I’ll be back, Tim. Did you want anything? Food? Steroids?�

“Keep making the jokes, Baby Girl,� Tim says pointing at her with a smile. He actually likes this woman because Tim doesn’t associate much with people. It took me about six months of seeing him repeatedly for him to actually warm up to me. “I don’t need anything, thank you though. Justin?�

“I should be back in a little bit,� she says before I even answer if I needed anything. See, now I want something. Lots of stuff. Like, umm….

“Yeah, I’d like something,� I say as she’s heading out the door. She turns to look at me and that bored expression is on her face again. Bitch! “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. Can you pick me up some Tea? From a Starbucks. No sugar, lots of honey. A bag of strawberry Twistlers and some Runts. Two room temperature bottled waters. And a pack of Orbit gum? Bubble Mint flavor. Thanks, Vanessa,� I turn my chair around and occupy myself with the sound board.

“I didn’t realize Ms. Bomar was with you, Mr. Timberlake. Is she around? Because she should be the one you should be giving your list to,� she says this and Tim apparently thinks it’s funny because he’s laughing it up again. Traitor! I turn to tell her to get the shit I asked for and to fuck herself in the process but she’s gone.

Tim goes on and on about how tough she is for about half an hour. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came here. He tells me that she’s really a sweetheart. Yeah okay, Tim! Insert sarcasm here. He’s raving and ranting about how good she is at what she does and all this bullshit and I’m wondering if the world has been taken over by this broad. She ain’t shit!

An hour after fucking around in the studio, Tim lets me listen to a track that he’d been working on. He tells me he’s going to have Dr. Dre and Missy in it and that he’d like me to do the hook for it. He gives me the concept of the song and no matter how much I try to concentrate, I can’t. Where the hell did she go? I mean it’s none of my fucking business where this bitch goes but I’m just curious.

I’m getting ready to go into the booth and I’m halfway there when she walks into the studio. I try not to look at her but whatever, she’s the only female in the room. Who the fuck else am I supposed to look at? She walks in carrying two large boxes of pizza and a plastic bag in her right hand. Tim and two other guys get up to help her and she’s relieved of her shit in a matter of seconds. Gee, she’s just a chick! She ain’t crippled.

I turn and go into the booth and to warm up I do a few seconds of beat boxing, while putting my headset on. I can still see everyone in the studio and Tim is already at the board. It’s show time! I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going to come out of my mouth, but I don’t write anything down either. I tell Tim to play the track where the hook should be inserted. It’s a hot track and I’m vibing to it. I look past the glass that separates me from the studio and I can’t help but glance to the area where she is. I’m not looking at her, I swear.

She’s talking to Tim’s cousin who’s sitting on the couch. He’s practically drooling and he says something that makes her laugh. She laughed! Like straight out laughed. She throws her head back and she’s laughing like he was the fucking greatest thing that ever lived. She’s fucking revolting, I swear.

“You ready?� I say into the mic and suddenly she stops laughing long enough to actually pay attention to what I’m doing. She’s probably trying to figure out how she can ruin this shit for me. I want her dead!

“You tell me,� Tim says and he lets out a howl in tribute to my greatness. Hey, he said it, not me.

“Play that shit then,� I say with a laugh and the track plays in my ears. When the hook part comes up, something takes over me. It’s something I can’t explain. It’s what brought Cry Me A River out. It’s what brought Take Me Now. It’s the chemistry that Tim and I have. It’s what Pharell and I had. It’s me in the studio. “Bounce,� I say in a low voice.

Everyone in the studio is paying attention and I couldn’t tell you where the rest of that hook came from but it comes out, like I’ve been writing it for years. “I got the remedy, it's you on me and me on you,� I keep singing and god damnit, I can’t keep my eyes off her. Tim actually looks back at her, she’s talking to his cousin again, and then he turns back around to face me. He has a fucking smile on his face and I know what he’s thinking. Not!

I keep going over and over the hook until I get it the way that I want it. Then Tim goes over it and over it until it’s the way he wants it. For three hours, apparently. And I only know this because Cruela Deville has decided to mention it.

“Alright, Tim! Three hours of your greatness was enough for me,� she says with a laugh, yawning. Does she think she’s cute? I think not. What I do think is that she needs to stop fucking laughing like she‘s, well ummm cute or something. “It was nice running into you again,� she gives him a hug and I’m shocked, a kiss on the lips! What the fuck was that for!? I’m flabbergasted! On the lips? Huh?

“If I would have known you were going to be here I would have brought my wings,� Tim jokes and I’m confused. If she wasn’t here visiting him, why the fuck was she here? Was she here for me? Oh, hell naw! I didn’t invite her here.

“Boy, you know damn well you don’t have any wings,� she laughs again and grabs her bag from the couch. A Coach bag if I may add. Someone’s PAID! I’ve been sitting by the booth, staying away from her the entire time. And then she tells Tim and his cousin to call her. What!? “Call me,� and she hugs Tim again. What’s with all the hugs?

“I will. See you around, V,� Tim says with a wave before turning to the sound board again. Tim’s cousin waves at her and when she turns toward the door I see him looking at her ass. Pervert!

“Wait!� I say when she’s about to walk out of the studio. Did she say goodnight to me? I didn’t hear her. And I do know she said goodnight to Tim’s cousin who was still sitting his lazy ass down on the couch. She turns and looks at me as if she were annoyed. Don’t even go there, bitch! “I thought you were here visiting Tim.�

“Ahh, there you go thinking again, Mr. Timberlake,� she smiles and damn if I don’t wish she would smile like she means it. “I did tell you I was your new shadow, didn’t I?�

“This isn’t one of my recording sessions,� I say and she shakes her head. What does she know? Nothing.

“You’re here, aren’t you?� she says and walks out of the studio. Did she just really leave me hanging like that? Oh, fucking hell naw!

“I’ll be back, Tim,� I say and walk out of the studio behind her. She’s at the end of the hallway when I catch up to her. “Do you normally dress like that when you’re working?�

“I’m sorry, Mr. Timberlake. Did I offend you with my jeans and t-shirt?� She’s being sarcastic, so I know not to say shit. “The way I dress is quite frankly none of your business. Nor does it affect my job in any way,� she keeps walking away. She’s so rude!

“So is flirting with Tim’s cousin, your way of working?� she stops walking and I can tell that comment fucked with her because her shoulders stiffened.

“Excuse me?� she asks turning to face me. We are standing in the middle of a parking lot and apparently next to her car. It’s a convertible Mercedes Benz and I look at it quickly. Nice!

“You say you were here working, as my shadow, as you put it. So why were you flirting the entire time? Is that part of your job description?�

“Are you a jealous person, Mr. Timberlake?� she walks over to me, her hands are at her hips. She walks like a fucking model, for god sakes! I hate models!

“What?� I ask in shock. Me? Jealous? Of what? “Jealous of what?�

“Jealous. Period.� She says with a shrug. She looks less, I don’t know…..stuck up, today. Maybe it’s those stupid jeans.

“I’m not jealous of anything,� I say and she’s entirely too close to me right now. I can smell that shit she’s wearing and it’s driving me fucking nuts. What is it? Fucking come and get me perfume? I ain’t coming to get a goddamn thing. I have a girlfriend. Carla smells better anyway! I mean Cameron! Fucking bitch! Get the fuck away from me!

“Well be careful then, Mr. Timberlake,� she says as she turns to get into her car. “Because you just sounded like you were a whole lot of jealous.�

“What?!� I say to her but she puts her car in reverse and pulls out of the studio. I’m not jealous. I’m not. Of what? Tim’s cousin? Please!

I’m fucking pissed now as I enter the studio again. I’m thirsty too. She didn’t even get my shit. She was supposed to be working? Well hell, I’m the client and nothing has been served to me, here. I enter the studio and Tim is doing something with the A&R guy and I decide to finally have a piece of this cold ass pizza.

Tim’s cousin isn’t in the studio anymore and I’m hoping he didn’t go out the other door to meet her or something. I mean I don’t give a damn or anything. But still.

This pizza fucking blows and I need something to drink. There’s a bag on the floor, underneath the coffee table. I go to see what’s in it but something else catches my attention. There’s a large Starbucks cup sitting on top of the table. It hasn’t been touched, I can tell. It’s clearly marked ‘Tea’ on the outside. The receipt taped to it indicates that the tea has no sugar and extra helpings of honey. I look inside the bag and there are two bags of Twistlers, a pack of gum and a box of Runts. The two bottles of water are also on the table. What the fuck? So she can remember shit, big fucking deal. So Rachel needs for things to be repeated, Ms. Martinez. Point taken.

Now, where the fuck did Tim’s cousin go?

------------------------------------------------

Next Morning

I’m not happy. It’s nine o’clock in the morning and I should be in bed still. Instead I’m riding in an elevator with the three little pigs. The three men are obviously new employees or something because they haven’t introduced themselves yet. Normally the employees of The Firm also known as Wright Entertainment Group, will introduce themselves to the artist, seventy thousand times. They want to get in good with us for their own benefits. Don’t ask me, I don’t know.

They know who I am and I’m not being arrogant when I say this but I mean, who doesn’t know? The elevator doors open to the Public Relations floor and they actually move aside so that I can get off first. I’m just a dude, guys! I mean I pay for your meals, but still.

I walk over to the receptionist outside those stupid mirrors and she looks at me funny. Well, good morning to you too.

“Good morning Justin,� she says and looks down at the big appointment book in front of her.

“Good morning,� I say as cheerfully as I can. “Is Ms. Martinez in her office?�

“Yes,� she looks at that stupid book again and looks up at me. “I’m sorry, do you have an appointment with Ms. Martinez today? I don’t see it on here.�

“My assistant said she called and scheduled an appointment for today. I don’t know what it’s about but I didn’t come here for nothing. I’m sure she forgot to inform you of the meeting.�

“Ms. Martinez doesn’t forget things like that, Justin. Believe me,� she says with a smile. “But I’ll let her know you’re here anyway.�

“It’s alright I can show myself to her door,� I say and start walking behind her desk toward the mirrored door.

“Oh no, wait,� she says walking behind me. “You can’t go in there right now,� she’s saying but I’m already opening the door to her office. “She’s in a meeting.�

When I open the door, she is in fact in a meeting. Three reps that I recognize from the office are sitting at the large conference table. She’s sitting in ‘her’ chair with her glasses low on her nose. She looks up at me and she stares. Wasn’t she supposed to be meeting with me?

“Can I help you Mr. Timberlake?� she says curtly. The reps look up at me and then back at her. What the hell where they looking at? So I interrupted, big deal.

“I have a meeting with you,� I simply state and the secretary has now opted to go back to her desk. She’s gonna get yelled at, I bet.

“No, you don’t,� she says and takes her glasses off. She leans back on her chair and I notice how one of the rep’s eyes go to her thigh. She needs to make those stupid skirts longer.

“Yes, I do. I was told to come here for a meeting at nine. It’s eight fifty seven,� I say looking at my watch. “Am I that early?�

“Well you’re early alright,� she says getting and again she’s walking toward me like fucking model. Why does she have to walk like that? “I’ll take a wild guess and say that Ms. Bomar informed you or a supposed meeting.�

“Look! You called and scheduled a meeting with her. Don’t come and try to tell me you didn’t because I know you did,� I say with my hands inside my hoodie’s pockets.

“Oh, well I did call,� she says with a serious expression. “You should really consider a new assistant, Mr. Timberlake. I can’t stress it enough.�

“What do you want to see me for?� I ask and that guy is really loving the ass shot he’s getting from her right now as she’s standing in front of me. Perv!

“I don’t,� she says. “At least not today. TOMORROW at nine, we do have a meeting. But today, I have other meetings. As you can tell you interrupted one of them.�

“But,� I start to say but she shakes her head.

“Now, Mr. Timberlake, if your assistant gave you the wrong information. I suggest you take that up with her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to run,� she says opening the door to her office wide so that I can step out.

I leave the office but not before rolling my eyes in her direction. Whatever, I may look like a bitch doing it but it feels good. At least I didn’t punch her in the face. Or slap her. Or kiss her. Or throw her on top of her desk and make her say my name. Or fuck her senseless. I just rolled my eyes.

What? Where the hell did that come from?
 
 

Main - Next

Chapter Seven: Runway from Hell

A Week Later

It’s only the beginning of my day but it feels like I’ve been here all day. Walking in, first thing in a morning to a collection of incompetent staff members can do that to someone. Thank the Gods that Barker has decided to grace me with her presence. If she hadn’t shown up when she did I would have probably strangled Mr. Rogers. I swear if his connection with People Magazine wasn’t so strong I would have canned him long ago. I’ve come to realize that men in this field, or any field for that matter, are like toilets. They are either dirty, unavailable, out of order or full of shit! Do I have to do everything around here?

Speaking of men, it’s ten thirty and I have yet to see my nine o’clock appointment. I haven’t even attempted to reach the assistant from hell because today is just not anyone’s day, in my book. Two weeks ago he came in here unannounced and uninvited and interrupted a meeting, anxious to have one himself. Then he shows up late for the correct meeting only to feel like a complete ass when he realized the meeting wasn’t only with me. He had Jive executives, Johnny Wright and myself waiting for over an hour. Very professional, Mr. Timberlate.

I haven’t seen him since that meeting and I’m hoping this meeting we have today is brief. I’m all for getting into Mr. Timberlake’s head any day but not today. Today I have camps, a complete staff full of morons and a headache from hell. Today, Mr. Timberlake better have the proper attitude.

“Are you listening to me or are you spacing out again,� Barker says to me with an annoyed roll of her eyes.

“I don’t space out, Barker,� I state confidently. “I’m listening to you, I’ve heard every single word you’ve said.�

“So what did I say then?� She should know better than to challenge me but she does it all the time, nonetheless.

“You said you were planning on going out tonight after the show and that I should come,� I say with a smile as I organize the paperwork I need for my meeting, which Mr. Timberlake is now forty five minutes late for.

“That’s not all I said,� she says and I smirk.

“You also said you invited Trace to the show and hoped I didn’t mind,� I say with a raised brow in question. “That was it, right?�

“Whatever,� she says. “I know that’s probably too close for comfort since he’s Justin’s assistant and stuff.�

“He isn’t his assistant anymore. Besides just because Trace agreed to go to the show doesn’t mean Mr. Timberlake is going. And if he did, I wouldn’t care either. This for charity, Barker.�

“I know but I know you and you don’t like mixing your careers and I didn’t want you to be pissed if I invited them.�

“Them? I thought you said you only invited Trace,� I finish up an email on my laptop and close the lid before looking at her. “And modeling isn’t a career, Barker. It’s a hobby.�

“A hobby that has gotten you all over the country,� she smirks. “So I may have invited both of them when I saw them at P.A.R.C. last night.�

“Mr. Timberlake was out at a club last night?� I question and my blood boils. He needed to be in the studio last night finishing very important tracks.

“Why the hell do you keep calling him that? It’s creepy, V.�

“It’s his name, Aundrea. What do you want me to call him?�

“Oh I don’t know, maybe Justin? Just an idea.� She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “So what do you say? Come out tonight?�

“It’s Wednesday night, I can’t,� I say and she’s disappointed yet again. “I have meetings in the morning.�

“Alright alright, whatever I won’t ask again.� She seems to be okay with my response and gets up from where she was lounging on my office couch. “I have a fitting to go to for tonight but I’ll be free for lunch.�

“I’m sorry Barker, I can’t today. I have a million things to do before I leave on this thing,� I say and she responds by making a talking gesture with her hands.

“Yeah yeah yeah, heard it all before. I can’t believe you’re going on tour with Justin Timberlake, that’s crazy,� she says and she’s beyond excited. Why? I don’t know.

“It’s not crazy, it’s my job,� I say and I don’t mean to sound like a bitch but I have a bad case of PMS, sue me.

“Touchy touchy,� she says with a laugh. I can always count on Aundrea to not take me seriously. What a friend. “Anyway, I see Mr. Timberlake getting off the elevator. Wow,� she says and makes me look up to see what she’s talking about.

Mr. Timberlake is getting off the elevator but it’s not your regular Timberlake. It’s a Timberlake in a suit and may god strike me but he looks good. Really good. He’s opted to shave that damn hair on his face as well. He looks damn good actually.

“About time,� I say changing my line of vision before I am caught looking at the enemy by my best friend.

“You can’t say that he’s not fine, V,� she says with a smirk. “Look at him. You’re full of shit.�

“I can say he’s a lot of things and fine isn’t one of them,“ Okay so I’m lying but whatever. I’m not about to actually say it out loud. Hell no. “I’ve looked at him plenty of times, B. Every time I work out at the gym and hit the fucking punching bag, his face is what I imagine. Now get out of here, I‘ll see you tonight.�

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bitch? And a bad liar?� she asks with a laugh. I shrug and tell her I get that all the time and she makes a face at me and I can’t help but chuckle. She open the door to my office and waves her hand over her head. “See ya tonight!�

“Bye,� I say and instead of standing there looking at the man still by the elevators, I organize my things on my conference table.

Okay, so maybe I’ll see how that suit I picked out fits him. When I look up and look through my glass barriers I can see him. And the smitten little bit of attraction vanishes. I’m flabbergasted at what I see. Barker has made her way to the elevators and is standing in front of Mr. Timber-I’m gonna kill him-lake. But that’s not what is shocking me right now. The fact that Mr. Timberlake has brought his girlfriend with him has my jaw on the table. What the hell is this? What the fuck is she doing here?

Barker says hello to her, I’m guessing that because she has the fakest smile on her face as she shakes Ms. Diaz’ hand. Fucking gross! My day is hell! My dear best friend turns slightly toward me and she knows that I’m watching because her eyes bug out of her head. She turns toward the couple again and they don’t even seem to notice what she did, it happens too fast for the stupid blonds. But I caught it and my jaw is still on the table and I thank the heavens that I had the bright idea for the mirrored wall.

I can’t even explain the feeling that runs through my veins right now. The mere site of this woman makes me want to gag. Eventually I knew I would have to see her because of Mr. Timberlake’s unfortunate connection with her, but not today. Today just isn’t the day. At all. My blood is boiling and I realize I may be overreacting a bit but I could give a flying fuck right now. She need not to be in my office. She doesn’t need to be anywhere near Mr. Timberlake. Period. She’s a lying sack of shit who doesn’t know what she’s got. What does Mr. Timberlake see in her? She’s ruining his career too.

I watch as he strolls with her toward my office. My secretary grins at the both of them and I want to throw up. That bitch is gone by the end of the day! Mike, the beefed up bodyguard stands by the elevators and right now that’s probably the wrong thing because I’m about to be very aggressive with Mr. Timberlake.

I straightened out my suit jacket when I stand from my chair and I find myself taking a deep breath. I’m almost to my door when I see Mr. Timberlake smile at her and gag me please, kiss her lips. What the fuck? They are sitting on the couch outside my door and they are snuggled together like two sick fucking puppies. Grow the fuck up! He’s whispering something in her ear as I open the door, they don’t even budge from their sick display of affection. My stomach turns to knots and fuck it, I’ll say it. I’m hating every second of it.

“Mr. Timberlake,� my voice is giving no indication on how I’m feeling. I don’t even know how I’m feeling. Hurt? Shocked? God forgive me but maybe a bit jealous. Whatever.

They apparently did not hear me come out of my office because Mr. Timberlake jumps out of his seat as if he got caught with his hands in the cookie jar. What’s his problem? I’m disgusted to see how couples have each other’s back when Ms. Diaz, eww, stands and extends her hand to me. Mr. Timberlake is still staring at me like a deer caught in headlights and I look at him questioningly. Meanwhile, Ms. Days of fucking sunshine has her hand still extended. I’m obviously not shaking it, put it down bitch!

She does put her hand down and clears her throat. This is probably another gesture of some couple’s handbook or something because that wakes up Mr. Timberlake. This has all happened in a span of three seconds it seems, my head is spinning.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,� she’s actually talking to me. Who the hell told her she could do that? Oh, I forgot, she’s Cameron Diaz, America’s fucking sweetheart. Fuck that! He looks at her at the revelation from her and I know that whatever she’s heard about me didn’t come from him. Another check mark next to Ms. Bomars’ name on my shit-list.

“You’re late Mr. Timberlake,� I say and his face turns sour. Good.

“And you’re being rude,� he says shrugging and I want to slap him.

“Not more rude than being two hours late, I assure you.� I still haven’t acknowledged the open mouth idiot standing next to him. She’s about to say something too, I know it. But I’m not giving her a chance to do so. “Have a seat Mr. Timberlake, Ms. Diaz can wait outside.� I’m halfway in my office, when I turn around and I see him mouth that he’s sorry to her. What the hell is he sorry for? That she can’t come into a private meeting about him? Please! Give me a fucking break. Wasn’t she filming somewhere? What is she doing here?

“Excuse me, Ms. High and Mighty, if Justin would like me to be in the meeting, I believe he has the authority to do so.� Is she actually inside my office speaking to me like she’s lost her god damn mind? Seriously?

“Cameron,� he says and I smile. I have to give him credit because in the short time that we’ve interacted, he seems to know what’s coming.

“I can search and search all day to find that excuse for you, Ms. Diaz, but that would probably be the hardest task I’ve ever encountered. There simply isn’t an excuse for you,� Mr. Timberlake’s eyes nearly land at my desk at my words but he doesn’t say anything he’s simply standing there. Did he do this purposely? Did he bring her here purposely? No, that can’t be. He wouldn’t have the slightest clue. “If Mr. Timberlake had any say in whom I have meetings with, Ms. Diaz, I wouldn’t be here, now would I? This is why I’m the Director and he’s the client.�

“I must be hearing things, Ms. Mendez,� she starts to say and I’m sure she knows what my proper name is but she wants to fuck with me. Okay bitch, go for it!

“Martinez is the name,� I say as I take a seat at my desk. I don’t miss the fact that Mr. Timberlake follows me there with his eyes. He really should concentrate on the red faced girlfriend to his right instead of my legs.

“I must be hearing things because you weren’t making an offensive remark at me,� she’s stepping it up, isn’t she? At me? Don’t you mean, toward me? Moron!

“Is this really necessary?� Mr. Timberlake is looking between us and I actually feel bad for him, for a second and then I’m over it.

“Let me tell you what isn’t necessary, Mr. Timberlake,� I say as I cross my legs. “Let’s start with the unnecessary fact that you are late yet again to a meeting that only benefits you. The unnecessary part your girlfriend plays in this meeting. And let’s not forget the unnecessary fact that we’re having this conversation. Period. This meeting is in regards to your career, not Ms. Diaz‘ career. In the future I would appreciate and demand that only people closely working with your career are involved in these meetings. Is that understood, Mr. Timberlake?�

“You’re just one big ball of joy, Ms. Whatever. I don‘t know what your problem is with Justin and I being together but I suggest you get over it. I‘m not going anywhere. � She’s talking again? She’s not going anywhere? Please! This time her arms are crossed in front of her barely there chest. “It truly is a terrible pleasure to meet you.� She smiles at me with that big ass smile she has and turns to her boyfriend. “I’ll meet you downstairs,� she says before kissing his cheek. You’re leaving my office, now aren’t you bitch?

“What the hell just HAPPENED?� Mr. Timberlake is raising his voice at me and I stare at him. Don’t go there, Mr. Timberlake. “You have no right to treat people like you do, I don’t have to put up with this bullshit. I walk in here and you attack my girlfriend? THAT’S THE PROFFESIONALISM YOU CLAIM TO HAVE!?�

“Last time that I checked, Mr. Timberlake, I wasn’t hard of hearing. Please lower your tone,� he’s apparently expecting to have a blown up argument but he should really know better. I do more damage in soft spoken words. “And attack isn’t probably the best choice of word in this situation. At least not toward me. Your girlfriend walked in this office without being invited, did she not?�

“That was only after you refused to shake her hand. It’s offensive and rude. But I forgot that’s all you’re about, isn’t it? You like to crush people emotionally and laugh about it. You’re sick.�

“Take a look at this Mr. Timberlake,� I say as I pick a photo from the stack on my desk. I place it on my desk and point to it. He looks at the picture and rolls his eyes. It’s a photo taken of him at a hotel in Canada a few days prior, where he refused to sign autographs and take a picture for two fans . Two! “Tell me Mr. Timberlake, is that offensive and rude? Did you feel like umm I don’t know. Like you didn’t want to?�

“What’s your point?� He asks as he takes a seat on one of the chairs across my desk.

“The point is Mr. Timberlake that you are two hours late and when you show up with an uninvited guest to a meeting, I don’t want to socialize. I want to have a MEETING.� Is he actually angry that I didn’t fall in love with his stupid girlfriend? Fuck you!

“Bullshit!� He says and leans back on his chair. My chair! He adjusts his pencil tie, loosening it a bit. He’s soo not sexy. Because he wrote that song with Tim last week doesn’t mean it’s true. He’s not bringing anything back but a fucking headache. Headaches aren’t sexy.

“Excuse me?� What the hell does that mean? Is he trying to call me out?

“I can search and search all day, Ms. Martinez but finding an excuse for you would take a lifetime,� he smirks at me and I want to slap him.

“Cute, Mr. Timberlake,� I say and I smirk back. “While you think I am bullshitting, you might also like to know that your tour schedule has been finalized.� I say handing him a folder with the information for his tour. The one that I am unfortunately joining.

“Right to business, huh?� He asks and shakes his head. “What is wrong with you? You walk around here, hell everywhere you go, acting like your shit smells like fucking roses. You‘re not that hot, Vanessa!�

I laugh and he’s looking at me weird. “First of all Mr. Timberlake, let me verify something for you. My shit does not smell like roses, but damn near close to it. I AM the SHIT,� I lean across my desk and I smile sarcastically at him. “Second of all, I never claimed to be hot. You did!�

“What?!� He says shocked. “I’ve never said that, don’t flatter yourself. You seem to do a lot of that.�

“On the contrary, Mr. Timberlake. I don’t have to because you seems to flatter me to pieces,� I’m being sarcastic again and he’s getting annoyed. Well that’s what you get, Mr. Timberlake. “You can look over that paperwork and let me know of any small and I mean SMALL details I can change for you. The dates are set so I don’t have to tell you that those can’t be changed. Any questions?�

“Why did you bother getting all those things I asked for that night at the studio?� Well that’s unexpected to say the least. I was expecting the continued bitching he’s known for.

“You asked, Mr. Timberlake,� I simply state before turning to my laptop and lifting the lid.

“I asked?� He sounds surprised.

“What is it that you’re not understanding about my response, Mr. Timberlake?�

“I asked, so you got them for me?� Umm yeah.

“Yes,� I say and turn to look at him. He’s leaning closer to my desk and I can smell his cologne. He smells good. I turn to my laptop again.

“Simple as that?�

“What is the purpose of these questions, Mr. Timberlake?� I say with a raised brow when he stands.

“I asked for something and you got it? It doesn’t add up.�

“What doesn’t add up?� Now, I’m curious as can be. I look up at him and I can see the perfect way the suit fits his shoulders. For once he’s not wearing those damn sneakers he always wears. He’s not sporting a sweatshirt and bags under his eyes. He looks like a man. An attractive man that smells like heaven in my office. The situation I’ve put myself in. Fuck! “Kills me to say, Mr. Timberlake but you are who you are and you do seem to get what you want. You simply caught me in good spirits. Besides, I was proving a point to you.�

“The point was noted and thrown in the garbage, V,“ he says and damnit if his eyes don’t get sexy when he says the letter. It’s a fucking letter! Who does that? Who says the letter v with sex written in their eyes. “So what you’re saying is that all this time, all I had to do was ask you for something and I get it?�

“Now, don’t get carried away, Mr. Timberlake.� I say with a bored expression. I honestly can’t fucking act any other way because my nerves are on ends. I’m feeling like that night at the radio station and I couldn’t sleep that night. Damnit! “Once in a lifetime thing. If you didn’t grasp it at the moment, you won’t get another chance. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do. You can see your way out.�

“You’re a bitch,� he says with a shrug. Not even the nice Roberto Cavalli suit makes his mouth cleaner. What a shame.

“Likewise,� I say with a smile and wave to him as he exits the office and I can‘t help but mumble to myself. “Fucking asshole!�

Eight Hours Later

Charity Lingerie Show
Downtown Los Angeles

What I hate the most about these things in the preparation of it all. I know I have three changes and they all require special attention, for some reason. Why do I always get stuck with the theme inspired ensemble? Why can’t Barker get them? She can walk better than I can, she’s the model. But now, I get fitted for the special piece, it doesn’t fail. I hate it.

I’ve been doing these shows for years and while I may complain to everyone backstage, I’m happy to do it. Tonight’s show is to benefit children’s hospitals across the country and it’s the instant gratification I get from volunteering my body, so to speak, that I enjoy the most.

When Barker and I were in high school we got in trouble for cutting my brother’s dogs’ hair. My brother was being a jerk at the time, I don’t even remember what he did to us. My parent’s had the bright idea that it would be up to my brother to decide what our punishment should be. He chose what he thought would be the worst possible punishment for us. He made us volunteer, work for free. I was devastated. I had to work? For free? No way! But my mother being the person that she is, took us to volunteer at a fashion arts school. Needless to say, we’ve been volunteering our time and looks to as many charities as we could. Joke’s on my brother, that dog was ugly anyway!

Barker is getting her make-up done across the congested backstage area and I’m standing around in my six inch heals. The designer hands me what looks like cotton balls at the gay pride parade and calls it some kind of scarf. It’s actually hideous but it goes with the lingerie I’m wearing. It’s a little chilly back here now but I’m dreading the beginning of the show. We’ll all be back here sweating our assess off in a few minutes, I assure it.

“That’s cute,� Aundrea is standing next to me now, wearing a very pink ensemble with a white boa and the revealing thongs to go with it. She looks great as always and as the make-up artist comes over to her to add more powder to her face for good measure, I realize once again why I don’t do this professionally. It’s annoying! Everyone’s in your face. Your boobs are being manhandled and put into tight corsets. Your feet are crammed into shoes that are too small. You hair is tease the hell out and the look lasts about thirty seconds, depending on the length of the runway, then you do it all over again. It’s also exhausting, I much rather have to deal with the Mr. Timberlakes’ of the world. Speaking of which, I haven’t heard from him since he walked out of my office this morning. I would have expected a list the length of this runway of things he’d like to change about that tour.

But he’s probably busy with his big mouth girlfriend!

“It is a pretty cute one,� I say in regards to her remark about my attire, or lack thereof. “I could do without this thing,� I say wrapping the stupid cotton ball scarf around my shoulders. “You should see the other ones I’m wearing later. I’m stealing them, I swear.�

“Girl, don’t be stupid,� she says with a laugh. “Like they even give you a chance to leave it on when you step off that runway. They basically start stripping you and you can’t do a damn thing about it,� we laugh at the true statement as we enjoy the rare quiet moment before the show.

Aundrea is one of the first to be on the runway so our conversation about my other get ups, ends abruptly. Before I even line up where I’m supposed to be, the designer comes to me with some adjustments. He has two blue hearts in his hand along with a little teddy bear patch. He squirts some kind of fabric glue on the bear and presses it to my lingerie bottoms. The two blue hearts that he still had in his hands get glued to the tops of my gold shoes. I look like a piece of candy, and oddly I feel a bit trashy. All for the kids, I guess, since the first setup is inspired by kids apparently. Like kids can actually wear this little get up! The stage is decorated with lots of toys and candy coincidentally and I fit right in. It’s show time!

The moment I step onto the runway I know something’s wrong. Someone’s watching me. Yes, I understand that there are thousands of people staring at my assets at the moment but I can feel a set of eyes on me. I don’t falter though and because of the bright lights, music and congestions of half naked women on the runway, I don’t see the end. The runway is covered in glitter and I wonder who thought of the idea of having us walk on an endless runway covered in this shit.

The shoes I’m wearing fortunately hold me up and they seem to actually help with the walking on this stupid glitter. As I approach the end of the runway and take my cue, I see who’s eyes are the ones I felt. Mr. Timberlake, Cameron Diaz, Trace and a blond chick that looks familiar are on the first row. Is that the girl from Reba? The flashes go off as I stand there with my pose and I can’t help but look at Mr. Timberlake. He’s sitting directly in front of where I am. His jaw hangs to the damn floor, what’s his problem? Never seem a woman in lingerie? I doubt that.

My pose lasts about ten seconds but it seemed like I was standing there forever. I’m doing what the designer asked of me and when I turn around I flirt with the crowd, winking and blowing a kiss. Unfortunately, the crowd was Mr. Timberlake and his entourage. When I’m walking back down the runway towards my quick change I pass Barker, who smiles at me. She’s so beautiful, I love my sister.

What happens backstage at one of these events is incredible. When my foot lands off the last step, it’s a fucking blur. I’m pulled over to the make up area and I’m completely stripped. I swear if they weren’t all gay men, I would probably file charges of rape. The colorful attire I had disappears and I am instructed, very sternly, if I may add, to step into a little black number. I love this piece and I swear, I’m getting it. I get a little white feathered boa to go with it. The shoes are the cutest black slip-ons with white bows that complete the look. The designer tells me the jewelry is a loan from Jacob and that I should be very careful with it. Umm okay! Do they really think I even have a chance to loose it? I‘m not on the runway for ten minutes, it‘s barely fifty seconds.

Again when I step onto the runway, I get a sudden feeling of discomfort. The lingerie isn’t enough material to be the cause. But when I approach the end of the runway I’m again forced to focus on Mr. Timberlake. He’s still sitting there, looking uncomfortable. Ms. Diaz gives me a death glare and suddenly I get the urge to kick her in the jaw. I’m on a runway so acting on impulse isn’t going to work. I was directed to strut at the end of the runway, so I did. Ms. Diaz doesn’t find the show amusing because she whispers something to Ms. Bomar who I notice is now sitting next to her. Ms. Bomar gives the same stupid jaw dropping look her cousin did. Yes bitch, it’s me.

While Ms. Bomar and Ms. Diaz rudely have a conversation when they are supposed to watch the show, Mr. Timberlake says something to Mr. Ayala. I can clearly see when Mr. Timberlake mouths the word DAMN over the loud music. Ms. Diaz is so involved in her conversation that she misses her lovely boyfriend, checking out the merchandise. Pay attention to your man, Ms. Diaz. You wouldn’t want someone to snatch him.

When I make it backstage again, it’s a bit on the slow pace because the designers and the charity people are giving speeches. I have about five minutes before I have to go out again in my final change. I get to actually sit down briefly for my hair and make-up. When I say brief, that’s what I mean, about a minute’s worth. Trust when I say that it’s a blessing because like I mentioned, it’s an exhausting job.

Barker comes to me and complains about her shoes and the wedgie the bottom of what she’s wearing is giving her.

“How is it possible that this thing is small on me now? I just tried it on two hours ago and it was perfect.� She says pulling at it.

“Two hours ago you hadn’t shoved down three burritos,� I laugh.

“Shut up, you ate too!� She says with a chuckle.

“I had half of one. I told you, you’d be bloated but you didn’t listen. You’re the professional here.� I say with a shrug as my hair is curled then combed then curled again. Damn indecisive hair stylist. I‘m about two seconds from doing it myself. How hard can it be to have my hair down? Seriously?

“You look like you‘re wearing a wedding gown.� She says about my final number.

“This is the one I really want,� I say in a hushed playful voice.

“Going to be hard walking out of here dragging that long ass white lace train behind you, V.� She says in a hushed voice making me laugh. “Justin will like it though.�

“What?� I ask in shock. What the hell was she talking about? Justin will like it? She doesn’t get a chance to respond to my current shock because she’s whisked away to her cue. Justin will like it? Where the hell did she get the idea that I would actually care what that man liked?

I have the runway to myself until the designer steps on and walks the length of it. Suddenly I’m nervous. Why? I don’t know. Well, I do know and it’s because of what Barker just said. Why wouldn’t he like it? Why do I care? I mean what’s there not to like? It’s a beautiful lingerie and not for nothing, but I do look pretty good in it. Why wouldn’t he like it?

I’m asking myself a million questions as I strut down the runway. I can see people ooing and aahing as I make my way. But I’m not satisfied. He better like it!

If he was uncomfortable before he looks as though he’s going to fall off his chair. Ms. Diaz and Ms. Bomar are nowhere to be seen, and neither is the Reba girl. Mr. Timberlake and Mr. Ayala are both sitting there, applauding. I give my best pose and smile when I get to the edge of the runway and I stop for the cameras. Mr. Timberlake is still applauding and I notice the suit he’s wearing is another one of my selections. It’s a completely shocking turn-on. What the hell?

Although the lights are bright and the audience seems to be darker than where I’m at, I can see his blue eyes. If I have to admit something is attractive about Mr. Timberlake, I would have to say are those eyes of his. He’s not smiling or remotely looking amused. He’s simply looking at me and applauding the designer as he steps on the runway with me. Our eyes connect for a milli-second before my cue to exit arrives. The show’s over.

It takes about an hour to wind down from the show and dress and by this time, I’m really exhausted. Barker rushed out here to meet some friends of hers so I don’t have to wait around for her. Since I’m the last one of the girls to leave, one of the beefed up security guards walks me to the elevator leading to the private parking garage and I thank him tiredly. I can’t believe how tired I am as I start walking toward my car. I put my gift from the designer, my white lingerie, in the backseat neatly. When I turn I am face to face with a set of blue eyes.

“Holy shit!� I say holding my hand to my chest. “What the hell are you doing here?� My nerves become on end, a very unusual feeling for me and I feel a bit intimidated. I’m never intimidated. Period. But suddenly the situation I’m in ensues the feeling. The parking garage is empty except the two cars we’re in and I’m wondering how I missed the black BMW next to my car.

“I parked here,� he says coolly and actually leans on the side of my car. I just had it waxed, Mr. Timberlake! But I don’t say anything, just look at him. What the hell is wrong with me? I must be more tired than I thought. “Working late?�

“Excuse me?� I ask and he’s staring at my legs. A creature of habit I see. I’m wearing a pair of jean shorts because I’m still a bit hot from being backstage and a pair of Barker’s flip-flops. I can’t say I look the greatest at the moment.

“Are you always the last one out?� He asks curiously and he folds his arms over his chest as if the conversation was going long.

“What business is that to you, Mr. Timberlake?� I say and I close the open door to my car and look at him. He’s changed his clothes and is now sporting the signature t-shirt and jeans. Unfortunately he still looks just as good as he did before. I hate him.

“So not only are you a Director of Public Relations, you’re also a lingerie model?� He says with a raised brow. Is he drunk? He’s going from subject to subject and I’m too tired to keep up.

“Are you asking or figuring out the obvious out loud?� I ask. I need to get out of this situation because right now I’m out of character. I’m tired and not feeling like myself around him, so there’s no way I’m sticking around for this shit. I can’t. I refuse to do it. I’m not attracted to him, and that’s my final answer. “Good night, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Oh, no you’re not leaving me like this again,� he says and I notice his glossy eyes. He has been drinking! And what does he mean, leave him like this again? Huh?

“Leave you like what, Mr. Timberlake?� I ask and he’s holding my door closed. What is he doing? “What are you doing?�

“Leaving me all fucked up in the head,� he responds with a shrug. “Fuck it, just leave.�

“Have you been drinking, Mr. Timberlake?� I ask and I’m worried that if he was, he was about to drive.

“You know,� he says pushing off of my car. “You think you’re hot shit and one of these days you’ll learn not to fuck with people’s heads like you do. I think it’s going to go bad, one of these days, I’m sure of it.�

“I’m sorry, Mr. Timberlake I believe you’re confusing me with someone who gives a damn about your theories,� he’s aggravating me just by standing there. “Why don’t you go ahead and use your theories on your girlfriend’s acting career? Don’t for one second think you know me.�

“What is your fascination with my girlfriend, Ms. Martinez? You’re sounding, I don’t know how to say this,� he says pretending to ponder his words over. “A whole lot of jealous, maybe.�

“Exactly what does your girlfriend have that I would be jealous of, Mr. Timberlake?� I’m actually curious about what his response is going to be. “And don’t go flatter yourself telling me it’s you, because clearly there is nothing, and I mean nothing, to be jealous about.� I say looking at him up and down with a bored expression on my face.

“It’s simple really,� he says and I have to hold my ground when he steps in front of me. My left hand is on my hip and my right is holding my keys as he stares me down. He smells incredible and it’s sickening to think so. God, what is it with this guy? He actually gets closer to my face and instead of the alcohol on his breath that I’m expecting to smell, I smell the mint gum he’s chewing. He hasn’t been drinking, after all. “My girlfriend has,�

“Your girlfriend has what, Mr. Timberlake?� I ask and I find myself whispering. I roll my eyes and it’s a weird feeling when someone else’s eyes are inches away from yours.

“Orgasms,� he whispers and looks into my eyes. What the hell is he trying to do? Seduce me? Please. He can’t seduce me. The tingly sensation down my spine means absolutely nothing. I’m fucking tired. Yeah, that’s fucking it. He’s not shit!

“Again, Mr. Timberlake I think you’re mistaken me with someone you think you know,� I say stepping back and opening my door. I need to get the hell out here. “Whether or not I have orgasms has nothing to do with you or your theories. And for you information, I do have orgasms. Multiple ones.�

“You’re a bad liar, Vanessa,� he says as he holds my car door open. “You’re also a fucking tease!�

“What?!� I say and I can’t believe my damn ears. Is he serious? I get out of my car and stand in front of him. “Explain that to me, Mr. Timberlake, because right now that seems highly interesting to me.�

“My girlfriend also has the ability to give me what I want,� he says with a shrug and this time leans against the side of his own car. “I can go on and on about what my girlfriend has and you don’t.�

“Tell me, Mr. Timberlake. If your girlfriend has so many thing to offer, why the hell are you in a dark parking lot waiting for me? Why are you here? Where’s your precious girlfriend, Mr. Timberlake?�

“I parked here,� he shrugs. “I left with Trace earlier and I had to come and get my car. You happen to be coming out at the same time.� Does he think I’m stupid? He was here waiting for me. Right? Why else? I mean, why not?

“Don’t fool yourself, Mr. Timberlake. Whatever it is you think you’re going to get from me, clear it out of your mind. It’s not happening. Not tonight, or ever. So get back in your car and go back to that girlfriend of yours who you think has more orgasms than I do.� So I’m thinking one thing but saying another. Another sign of my tiredness, I guess. Do I sound jealous?

“The flattering of yourself has really got to stop, Vanessa. Clearly there‘s nothing, and I mean nothing, to be flattering yourself over.� He says the words but his eyes betray him when I get into the car and his eyes go to my legs. It’s unnerving. And quite honestly, exciting. A completely different feeling than when I was on the runway tonight and all those people were looking at me. Completely different.

“You have rehearsals tomorrow, Mr. Timberlake,� I say turning on my car and reaching to close my door. “Try not to be late. AGAIN.� I close the door to my car and slowly drive out of the parking lot. I look in the rearview mirror against my own will and I find him looking in the direction of my car. He puts his hand to the back of his neck and rolls it. He looks stressed and I feel horrible.

“Another lonely night, Vanessa.� I say to myself as I make a left onto Sunset.

Chapter Eight: The baddest in town!

Universal Studios Lot
Rehearsals

She is model.

I knew it. I mean I didn’t literally know but I knew because of the way she walks. The way she sways her hips and the way her legs carry her, effortlessly. And a dead giver was the fact that I hate her. Of course I would hate her, I hate model bitches. Hate them. And just because she can wear those skimpy little numbers she wears doesn’t make her a top model. It only makes her a fucking bitch and a damn tease. Who did she think she was being on that runway half dressed?

And the way she thought that I was in that parking lot to see her, was ridiculous and wishful thinking on her part. My car was there and I needed to pick it up, plain and simple. It just so happened that her car was parked next to mine. A coincidence at it’s worst. I didn’t intentionally ask Trace to drive us all back to the house so that Cameron could get ready to head back to Canada. I didn’t pretend I was tired so that I didn’t have to ride to the airport with Cameron, I really was tired. But I wasn’t going to leave my car in a parking lot across town, fuck that. So what, if I saw her walking to her car at the exact same time. It was pure coincidence.

She may have thought that I was waiting on her but I wasn’t. I wasn’t! Okay well maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to tell her that I wanted to change something on my rider list. Maybe. I was getting ready to leave but then she came out with her hair a it wild from the different shit she had done to it. And she had these stupid, stupid short shorts that well…were short. And I was curious to know why she was leaving so late. That was it.

But then she opened her mouth to be rude yet again and that only makes me be an asshole. So what, that she was a model? So what? I didn’t mean to say that she fucks with my head out loud, it just came out. She acts like she doesn’t give a damn about anything when in reality she does. I mean she got me Runts! I don’t really care if she cares about me but really, who does that? And what’s up with the way she talks about Cameron? She’s never done anything to her. And the way she treated her at the office, what the hell? I’m through with being disrespected by this man-eater.

And what’s with the way she’s acting lately? She acts likes she’s scared of me or something. She rushes around to get me out of her sight like the fucking bitch that she is. Like at the parking lot for example. She was just dying to get into that flashy car of hers like she thought I was going to rape her or something. I may be an asshole but I wouldn’t hurt her. I mean, like why? When I got close to her and told her she needed to have an orgasm she was all nervous and jittery. I thought she was going to actually hit me or something cause her eyes got all glossy and shit. It kind of threw me off a bit cause I thought she was going to cry or something. Cause I mean it couldn’t be that…no it wasn’t that. She couldn’t have been nervous for other reasons. No way, she fucking hates me as much a I hate her. And I hate her fucking guts. She couldn’t have been nervous because she wanted me to like kiss her or something like that, right? Right.

I honestly couldn’t think of anything that Cameron had that she didn’t at such short notice. Right now I could come up with a list of a hundred things, like ummm, let’s see. Just because I can’t think of anything doesn’t mean there aren’t things. Anyway, even though it was an impromptu type of shit, I know I’m right. She needs to cum so hard that her fucking mother feels it. That’s what she needs. She needs a guy to I don’t know, suck her like she’s never been sucked before. Seriously. Someone that could wrap her long-ass legs around his shoulders and dig the fuck in. I’m pretty sure she would be incredibly delicious and all rough and shit. She would probably grip my hair all hard and curse a lot. I mean not my hair, just generally speaking. Cause I mean I wouldn’t touch her. No way! I’ll probably slice my throat before I even think about touching her like that.

I guess she’s doable and all that but I wouldn’t do her. She’s a bitch! I hate bitches who think their shit is too good for you. And she’s definitely full of herself. I would never put my lips of her shit and suck her so hard, my mother would feel it. Never! And I’m positive of this because I see her walk into the my reserved rehearsal studio and my stomach turn to knots. Or is it butterflies? Whatever! She makes me feel some type of way and at this particular moment I don’t want her here. What is she doing here?

Luckily for her, she hasn’t been around much these past two weeks. I had a million things to do. From creating a set list and putting finishing touches on the new tracks I’ll be performing plus doing a twenty thousand interviews. It’s a little harsh on my brain and body, getting used to all of this again. Although, I am tired and physically drained right now, I do love it. I’ve missed this and I thank God every day for allowing me to be this lucky.

I’m apparently being asked something by Ruben about the track we are about to rehearse but I’m too distracted by this bitch on the other side of the room. She’s talking to Johnny about something and she’s showing him so paper she has in her hands. For a second she looks up, like she felt my eyes of her or something. Just as quickly as she looks up she roils her eyes and continues her conversation with Johnny. I don’t even think Johnny noticed the look she just directed towards me because he’s reading something on the sheet of paper she gave him. He needs to see what I’m talking about every time I tell him what a bitch she is. That’ what he needs to be doing instead of reading whatever she gave him.

I don’t even want to rehearse right now. It’s the first run-through of this fucking song I recorded last week. I’m glad I’m going on this little pre-album tour thing but shit, I can’t concentrate. I fiddle with my ear piece just to buy time and see if she leaves. When I look up to see if she’s done talking to Johnny she’s still standing there. She’s not talking to Johnny anymore though. She’s standing there talking to Tim’s cousin again. When did he get here? I swear the meaning of closed set means absolutely nothing. Tim needs to get in here and take care of his stray fucking cousin. I’m beginning to get in a shitty mood, I‘m actually borderline. She’s all fucking smiles with this chump. And he is a fucking chump, he hangs around Tim for his fucking money. I swear to God, they both better leave! They could leave together too, I don’t care, I don’t. I really fucking don’t.

“You gonna keep us here all night man?� I can hear Ruben talking to me from his spot in front of the keyboard but I don’t look at him.

“You getting paid, right?� Didn’t I say I was in foul mood all of a sudden? I guess my mic is on and everyone in the room, including her, look up at me. I’m not even going to bother looking at her because she’ll just make me angrier. She’ll come over here talking about proper etiquette and treating the people who work for me with respect and all that bullshit. I don’t want to hear that shit right now. Or ever actually. “I’m kidding man!� I say turning toward him with a laugh while Ruben gives me the finger.

“What up, JT?� It’s Tim’s cousin behind me. Do I really have to talk to this mother fucker right now? I return his extended pound and say what’s up. I honestly can’t even remember his fucking name right now, let alone this stupid conversation he wants to have about one of Tim’s tracks.

“I’ll hit you later about that shit,� I say cutting the conversation. “Got rehearsals now,� If he had any common sense he would fucking know that. Maybe he didn’t notice it was a rehearsal because he was pimping it out with Vanessa!

“I hear you have added a new song to the set-list,� She’s approaching me now. Just what I need.

“Is there a problem with that?� I snap at her. She’s such a bitch. And what is she wearing? It’s nine o’clock at fucking night and she’s still in her suit. She needs a fucking life! I hope she doesn’t walk around this fucking tour wearing those little ass skirts.

“Is there a problem with your attitude, Mr. Timberlake?� she asks. She stands next to Dre, that’s his fucking name, and looks at me.

“Not at all,� I say with a fake smile. “I was just talking to Dre here but he’s on his way out. Meeting his GIRL in ten minutes. Right man?�

“I do have to run,� he says with a laugh that it totally meant for her. Is he fucking flirting with her? In front of me? What a fucking homo. “Good try playa!� he says to me with a laugh and says he’ll see her later before walking away. He’ll see her later?! Where? The hell he is!

“You aren’t going anywhere with him,� I say before I even realize I’m saying it out loud. What the hell am I thinking? I don’t give a damn if she leaves with him. It’s none of my business who she fucks. Is she fucking him? I swear to God…

“Excuse me?� She says and gives me a look of disbelief. “What the hell did you just say to me?“

“Nothing,� I say and turn to Ruben to tell him something about the music. I’m honestly too embarrassed to even repeat what the hell I just said. I’m just going to rehearse and forget she’s standing right there. I can’t see her but I know she’s standing there looking all commanding and shit.

“I will not be ignored Mr. Timberlake!� She says and she’s raising her fucking voice in front of all these people like she’s the fucking queen. I run this show! I don’t give a fuck what I said she’s not going to try to belittle me in front of all my god damn employees.

“I really could give a rat’s ass what you will or will not be, Ms. Martinez! I have to rehearse now, so get the fuck out of here!� I know I’m being glared at by Johnny from across the room but I’ve had enough! She’s not going to come in here and shake her fucking ass around here for some money hungry mother fucker! Not on my fucking watch, hell no! Who the fuck does she think she is?

“You are out line, Mr. Timberlake!� She’s gritting her teeth and she’s pissed. “What the hell is your problem, you arrogant son of a bitch?�

“My PROBLEM?� See, now she has me yelling and loosing my cool. Through the corner of my eye I can see everyone is looking at us and I don’t give a damn. I hate this bitch and if someone didn’t already know, well they know now.

“Yes, you problem! What does the prince of pop have crawling up his pretty little BEHIND?� I know she didn’t just go there.

“What’s the problem?� Johnny says when he comes over to us. He’s angry as well and right now I don’t know who he’s mad at. I don’t care either.

“The problem is this, Johnny,� I start to say in a stern voice. “I want her out of my life!�

“Out of your life?� She chuckles in the nastiest possible way, even for her. She must be extremely pissed. “You really think highly of yourself, Mr. Timberlake. Being in your life isn’t a God damn privilege, it’s actually more of a disease.�

“Nessa, that’s enough!� Johnny says and I’m shocked when she actually backs down. I don’t say anything and look at Johnny.

“Do you see what you’ve put me to work with Uncle Johnny? He’s an arrogant son of a bitch that doesn’t know what’s good for him. Even if it bit him in the ass.� She looks at Johnny and then at me before smiling and walking away. What a fucking bitch! I know she wants to continue her rampage and I’ll be happy to oblige. I have a few choice words for her as well, a lot of them actually. But the only thing playing in my head was what she said.

“Uncle Johnny?� I ask Johnny and he looks at me and I swear I’ve never seem him look so, I don’t know, disappointed in me, I guess.

“Grow the up, Justin!� He says before he storms out of the fucking room too. What the fuck did I do? I look around the room and shake my head. Nosy assholes!

“You wanna pick this up later, man?� Ruben asks.

“Nah, it’s cool. Go for it,� I say and because I’m the fucking man around here, the bands starts playing and everyone acts as if nothing ever happened. Nothing did happen. Nothing at all.

I start singing the new track and although I wrote the song, I’m confused. I sing the opening lyrics and I try to zone out. I can tell the band is feeling it and I can almost imagine the crowd in front of me. I close my eyes and try to concentrate on something other than her. I can’t, when I open my eyes, I see that she’s walking into the room with Tim’s cousin and she’s all smiles. Didn’t she just tell me off? Shouldn’t she be venting somewhere? She looks cool as can be in her short skirt and suit jacket, enjoying the hell out of the conversation she’s having with Dre. Nothing phases this woman, I see. Not even me. The nerve! What’s so fucking charming about him? Wasn’t he fucking leaving?

“She looks like a model, except she's got a little more ass,� I sing and I can’t believe my fucking ears. What the hell did I do? What did I write? I can’t bring attention to myself by stopping, and I can’t keep my eyes from drifting over to them either. I’m stuck between a hard dick and fucking rock. Great! “Don't even bother, unless you've got that thing she likes, I hope she's going home with me tonight….�

She actually looks up at me and gives me that bored fucking look she always gives me. I’m not fucking boring! She is! I’m actually fucking ready to whoop someone’s ass. More specifically, Tim’s cousins’ ass . What the hell is wrong with me? Did I really write this shit? Why didn’t I realize I was writing a song about her when I was actually doing it? I swear I’m starting to think that my zoning out at the studio is causing shit like this to happen. Look at how Never Again turned out.

“Those flashing lights come from everywhere, the way they hit her I just stop and stare,� And I do just that. I’m frozen on my damn feet and I’m missing the cues from the band. Hell I’ve missed the entire song, it seems. She’s staring at me like I have two heads and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m out of the room. Rehearsal is over!

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Next Morning

“Stop at the Starbucks on the way,� I say to Rachel, who’s driving me to rehearsals. I’m too tired to even drive right now. My head hurts and I know it’s because of the hard partying I did last night. But I can’t skip out on rehearsals today. Not after yesterday’s rehearsals and Johnny calling me all night. I’m not a complete idiot, I didn’t answer.

Rachel pulls into the parking lot of one of the million Starbucks Coffee on the way and cuts the engine. “Herbal tea, extra sugar, right?�

“Try again,� I say and I don’t know how many times I’ve gone through this. I’m annoyed and she can tell. I don’ t mean to be an asshole but come on! Trace knew what I liked from Starbucks, why couldn’t she just study the damn list? Why couldn’t she have been productive and had already gotten the shit before I even woke up? Trace always did! It’s going to be a long day!

“Sorry,� She says and I feel horrible. I should probably stop taking her out with me as often too. I know what it’s like to have to work on a hangover.

“Lemon, extra honey,� I say to her and I’m not annoyed at her so much. I’m annoyed that Vanessa is right about Rachel. She’s inexperienced for this shit. But I’m not giving the botch the satisfaction. If I have to sit down with Rachel and write shit down for her, I will. Ms. Martinez can kiss my ass. “No sugar, Rach.�

“Got it,� she says before getting out of the car. I’m reading some current album reviews when a convertible parks in the vacant spot next to me. It’s her!

I don’t even know if she sees that I’m in the car but she grabs her purse from the passenger seat and gets out of the car. She’s wearing those stupid jeans again. They aren’t the ones with the blue emblems on the back like before but they were jeans. I hate myself for even remembering the fat that the ones she wore before had blue emblems on the pocket. I’m fucking losing it. When she closes her door she walks past my door and doesn’t look my way.

“It’s rude to stare, Mr. Timberlake,� she says before continuing her walk to the coffee shop’s door. When she open the door, she almost runs into Rachel. I can hear her say good morning to Rachel in that fake ass voice she uses, before entering the shop.

“Good fucking morning to you too!� I say out of my window. I don’t know if she heard me or not but it felt good to say it, so fuck it!

“She’s such a bitch!� Rachel says when she hands me my cup and starts the car. “You should have her fired, J.�

“Why?� I asked and I’m wondering if I said it out loud or just in my head. It’s obvious I did say it out loud because Rachel almost gets whiplash when she looks at me.

“Why? Are you serious right now? Are you still drunk from last night?� She’s asking these questions seriously cause she’s not laughing. “She treats you like shit, Justin! That’s why! She hates my guts. Always talks down to people. She hates me for no apparent reason. She treats you like you’re no one when in reality she wouldn’t have a fucking job if you didn’t exist! She’s a bitch from hell. THAT’S WHY!�

“Whoa! There’s no need for the shouting!� I say holding my head. Fuck! “Why do you think she hates you?! You have to admit that she’s a tiny bit right about your ability to remember shit, Rachel! You constantly forget the smallest little things and I‘m stuck sticking my fucking neck out for you. Am I wrong?�

“WHAT?!� She yells as we pull into the lot’s parking area. “I’m trying here Justin but sometimes your head gets a little big and it’s hard to keep up with you! One day you want herbal fucking tea with extra sugar and the next it’s lemon! Make up your fucking mind! I can’t believe you’re defending her! Are gonna fire me now, because she said so?�

“No one’s defending anyone. I can’t stand the bitch, either! But you have to admit just a little bit that you slack sometimes. That’s all I’m saying! I’m not firing you! You’re my cousin and you come first. Fuck what everyone else says!�

“Whatever, Justin! We’re family and all you seem to think about IS what other people think!� She says before getting out of the car and slamming the door. I know she’s gonna go off all day and fucking cry about it. Well I don’t really have fucking time for this shit!

“Well this is fucking great,� I mumble to myself as I walk toward the door. Why is everyone aggravating me? I knew it was going to be a long day. I just knew it! My cell phone is vibrating in my pocket and I just know it’s Cameron. I haven’t spoken to her in two days and because of all this rehearsal shit I couldn’t come to see her. I know she’s not happy. “Hello?�

“Hey!� She says and although I’m in a foul mood and my day is starting out bad, I smile when I hear her voice.

“Hey,� I say back as I walk inside. The music is blaring inside one of the rooms and I can barely hear her when she’s telling me how much she misses me. Unfortunately I can’t really say the same. I’ve been so busy with this tour planning that I’ve barely have the chance to bathe, let alone miss her. I’m a terrible person. “I will call you when I get home tonight, okay?�

Again I feel incredibly guilty when I tell her that I love her as well and hang up. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Maybe is all the stress about my new album or something. I have a lot of things on my mind and one of them walks in the door that I just walked in from. She places her Chanel sunglasses on her head and walks past me, without a word. Bitch.

“Good morning, Ms. Martinez,� I can’t keep my mouth shut around her and it’s only making things worse in the end.

“You already said good morning, Mr. Timberlake. I believe good fucking morning to me, is what you said,� she doesn’t turn around as she talks to me, instead keeps walking down the long corridor to the rehearsal room. She’s not going to keep walking away from me!

“You’re a fucking fraud,� I say and I’m leaning against the wall with my head resting on it. I can’t see her but I can hear that her shoes aren’t clicking against the hardwood floors. She stopped walking. The shoe sound picks up and I know she’s coming toward me.

“Are we really going there, Mr. Timberlake?� She asks and she’s standing in front of me. I look at her and I can see myself on her shades. It’s funny the shit you notice when you nerves get into gear.

“We aren’t really going anywhere, Ms. Martinez. I’m standing right here,� I say with a shrug. “But by all means if you wish to go there, go right ahead.�

“If anyone’s a fraud around here it’s you! You make people believe you’re hot shit when you aren‘t anything but an arrogant son of a bitch!�

“So I’m the fraud,� I state with a chuckle. “Are you sure it’s not you, Ms. Martinez? You say I make people believe I’m hot shit? This little job that you have is why people think I’m hot shit. If you don’t agree, you shouldn’t make people believe that about me. Isn’t that in your job description? Or didn’t Uncle Johnny explain that to you?�

“Fuck you,� she grits through her teeth when a group of people rehearsing in the other room head down the hall. When they clear out, she looks at me. “I’m not standing out here with you to argue like child that you are. If you want to continue acting like the spoiled little brat you are, go right ahead. I do my job very well, I have very high recommendation from people well above your celebrity, Mr. Timberlake. There’s no use in arguing about it, especially not with you. But try to remember one thing, Mr. Timberlake.�

“The anxiousness is killing me,� I say sarcastically.

“I always and I mean always,� she says in almost a whisper as she stands as close to me as I did in the parking lot two weeks ago. What the fuck is she doing? Is this payback of some sort? “Get things done my way.�

“Is that right?� I ask and everything happens so fast that I can’t get a grasp of what I’m doing, or that it‘s actually me doing it. The coffee cup she had in her hand lands on the floor next to the one I apparently had already dropped and she’s pinned against the wall. My hands are on either side of her head and I’m looking into her eyes. My torso is flushed with hers and my body tightens. She’s so close, I can smell the caramel from whatever she was drinking on her lips and my eyes close for a second as I breath her in. When I open my eyes, her eyes are opened wide and she’s looking at me in shock. But she’s not fighting me which actually makes me press into her more. “Is this your way, Ms. Martinez?�

“What are you doing?� She asks in a whisper and she’s breathing just as hard as I am. I can’t talk and I can’t move my body away from her either. It feels too good. I’m stuck. “Get off me,� she whispers again but her body language is speaking volumes. Her right leg shifts and the movement causes my dick to harden against her even more. She doesn’t want me to move at all, hell I don’t want to. I’m fine where I’m at.

“I hate you for this,� I whisper against her lips before my tongue is down her throat. I don’t know what I’m doing and I honestly could give a damn. This feels too damn good to stop. This feel too damn good to care that I have the Public Relations Director pinned up against the wall of a very public hallway. It feels too good to even think about the fact that she’s kissing me back. And it sure feel too good when that right leg comes up against me and my pulsating dick rubs against the seam of her jeans. I can’t help but grunt and she fucking moans at the contact. I’m seriously about to loose it in every aspect of the word. If she makes an attempt to move her hands from where they are pinned on my chest, I‘m fucking her right here. Fuck the consequences, fuck everything. If she touches any other part of me, I swear I’m going to make a fucking fool of myself, cause she feels too fucking good.

I don’t know what the fuck is going on right now but I do know that my hands grab her ass and squeeze. In a swift move I lift her against the wall and I’m grinding into her. I can’t fucking stop, I hate these fucking jeans! I swear I do! I can feel the heat coming from her through my jeans and I want to die. My mouth is still attached to hers like it’s been since I lost my mind ten seconds ago. Her hands come up to my face and she pulls me closer to her, my God! What is she doing to me? My hat flies off my head and I’m completely and utterly lost, it‘s a wrap for me. And if that wasn’t enough, she moans again. Oh God, I need to get these mother fucking jeans off! There’s a door on the other side of us and I need to get her in there. Now!

My movement to carry her, apparently brings her back to earth. The next thing I know I’m against the wall I was originally leaning on. Where did she get the strength? She’s standing in front of me and she looks absolutely mortified. Well damn! She’s breathing heavy and her white shirt is halfway down her shoulder. Did I do that? Shit! She picks up her purse and sunglasses from the floor and angrily looks at me.

“If you ever put your fucking hands on me again, I swear to God I will kill YOU!!� She says storming down the hallway.

What the fuck just happened? I want to straighten myself up before someone comes out but I can’t. I’m standing there with my hand on my head and a bad case of blue balls. I slid down the wall until I’m sitting with my knees up and pick up my hat. I’m still out of breath and I try to calm my heart down a few million notches. Jesus!

“What the fuck did I just do?� I ask myself, resting my head on the wall and placing the hat over my head.

“The band is waiting for you,� I hear Rachel coming down the hallway. I look up and she’s inspecting the area in which I just nearly fornicated in. “What the hell happened to you?�

“Umm, nothing. I’ll be right in,� I really hope she’s not in one of her nosy moods today because I’m not explaining anything. To anyone. Ever.

“Why are these cups on the floor?� She’s asking me as I stand and adjust my hat on my head.

“I dropped them, I’ll be right in, Rachel,� I say again so that she gets the hint and goes away.

“You’re just a bundle full of joy today, I really should call Aunt Lynn,� She says with a smirk, placing the two cups in my hands. “You know what’s funny?�

“I’m not in the mood for jokes, Rach.� I say and put the two cups in a trash can nearby. “Or your threats.�

“You only had one cup and now you have two,� she says shaking her head. I know where she’s going with this but I really don’t want to hear it. “That’s not the funny part though,�

“I’ll be in there in a minute, Rach,� I say in a stern voice so she can shut the hell up.

“Wait, here comes the funny part. I just saw Vanessa Martinez through the window. And guess what?� She says with a raised brow.

“So she walked by here, big fucking deal, Rachel! What’s your point? I bumped into her and she dropped her coffee. I wasn’t planning your fucking demise with her.� I don’t know why I’m lying, well I do know. It’s because I’ve just basically been caught red handed. By my cousin, at that. “There’s nothing funny about that, is there?�

“Oh well that’s not the funny part either, Justin,� She says with a serious expression on her face that worries me. She’s angry and I can tell she thinks I’m betraying the family blood line or something. “What’s funny is that Vanessa’s shade of lipstick matches the one on your face,� she says before walking away.

I rest my head on the wall and let out a sigh of frustration. Now there are eye witnesses to what I just did. Great! I’m not worried about the girlfriend aspect of my life. She’s not going to find out unless I tell her or god forbid Vanessa does. I trust Rachel and although right now she thinks I’m working with the enemy, she would never stab me in the back. Cameron wouldn’t believe her anyway. Trust me, I know. I don’t just trust anyone to be my assistant and know every aspect of my life. Rachel has my back. I know it.

What I don’t know is where the lead suspect to all this went and I’m hoping it isn’t anywhere near the rehearsal room. Before I enter the room I make sure to stop by a set of glass doors and wipe my face in the reflection. I’m relieved when I walk in and she’s not around. I distract myself from the state of euphoria that I’m in from kissing her, long enough to interact with my band. It’s a hard thing to do when your dick is throbbing and wants nothing more than to snuggle into a hot wet…

“Ms. Bomar, may I see you for a few minutes?� She’s at the door and she has a clipboard in her hand. She doesn’t look at me, at all. She looks put back together like she did when she walked in the entrance ten minutes ago. Fucking flawless!

“Sure,� Rachel says before looking at me before rolling her eyes. She’s pissed!

Vanessa turns and leaves out the same door she just came in without another word to anyone. The least she could have done was glance my way. I mean I don’t care that she didn’t but still. She’s acting like nothing happened out there. And shit, I wish I could do that too! If I have to get hard every time I fucking look at her then she needs to feel some type of way too! Fuck that! She was the one all up on me like a fucking leech, so she better act like she knows. Okay, so maybe she didn’t have a choice since everything happened so fast but still. She could have pushed me away like she did at the end. She could have stopped me if she wanted cause no matter how much I wanted it, I would have backed down. I would have.

What the fuck am I talking about? I can’t stand this woman and now I’m thinking all this shit? She’s nothing but a stuck up little bitch who thinks she owns planet earth. She treats Rachel like shit. She has Johnny wrapped around her finger. She talks to me like I’m some type of mold growing on her kitchen counter. And she’s fucking ugly! Who the fuck am I trying to kid? She’s as far from ugly as I am from being in a rock band. I’m completely and utterly sure that I have lost my fucking mind!

Rachel comes in the room about an hour later and if she looked pissed before she left, now she’s right on the edge. She picks up her purse and asks if I need anything when the band and I finish up a song.

“No I’m alright,� I say before chugging down half a bottle of water. “What happened?�

“Nothing,� She says as she checks her Blackberry for messages. “I have to run to the dry cleaners to get that suit you told me about. Are you sure you don’t need anything?�

“I’m good. You’re not going to tell me what she said to you?� I ask sitting on one of the chairs in the room. “I can’t stick up for you if I don’t know what’s going on. What do you think?�

“You know what? I’m not so sure you want to know what that meeting was about so that you could stick up for me. I think you just want to know what she said. Period. So that you can carry on with this little disgusting battle of the sexes you two have going. That’s what I think.�

“What are you talking about? She’s nobody,� I say with a shrug and I believe what I’m saying. She isn’t anyone. That is until she walks in the room with the damn clipboard in her hand and walks in our direction. She’s somebody alright. Some body, that is.

“Here we go,� Rachel mumbles and shakes her head.

“I have the final rider list for you, Mr. Timberlake. If you would sign on the highlighted area here I can make it happen,� She’s looking at me and talking to me but that’s it. No expression. No emotion. Nothing. I snatch the clipboard from her hand and she doesn’t even flinch. “Very mature, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Thanks,� I say back and hand her the signed sheet of paper attached to the clipboard.

“I’ve taken the liberty to make all of your hotel reservations during the tour, that of course being that Ms. Bomar forgot to make them,� she says looking at Rachel then at me. “Nonetheless, will there be possibilities of any groupies joining you on this tour?�

“What?� I ask and find that Rachel is echoing my words. She’s just as shocked. Did she just ask me if I’m going to have groupies?

“WILL YOU BE TAKING GROUPIES INTO YOUR HOTEL ROOM, MR. TIMBERLAKE?� She’s pronouncing every single word like we’re retarded or something and I want to slam her against the wall. Wait! I already did that!

“What kind of fucking question is that?� I say trying to keep my voice to calm and patient notch.

“I don’t even want to know. I’ll be back in an hour, Justin.� Rachel says leaving me in this little corner with this witch. Good job, cousin!

“Groupies? Are you joking, right now?� I ask looking up at her as she stands with the clipboard in her hand and pen on the other.

“I’m not laughing,� she says. “I have to make sure your security is covered when you go in and out of those hotels, Mr. Timberlake. So if you have guests, I would appreciate if you’d let me know. I’m assuming Ms. Diaz will be making an appearance as well. I don’t need to remind you that the equipment the paparazzi has belong to them, correct? No more assaulting camera men from either of you?�

“Is this conversation leading anywhere because frankly I’m sick of hearing you talk.� I’m over this bitch! I really am!

“I’m sick of a lot of things as well, Mr. Timberlake. I don’t advertise them as well as you, but I’m sick of it.� She says smirking at me like she always does, as though she’s laughing at me and mocking me. Nothing drives me up the wall farther than that little smirk she gives me. I want to kill her!

“Sick of what, Ms. Martinez? Your own voice? Isn’t it a drag?� She wants to mock me, well how you like me now bitches?!

“Oh no, I’m sick and when I’m done being sick, I’m tired. I’m sick and tired of your immature and unprofessional ways, and quiet frankly, all of your shit.� She says with a smile and manages to look so fucking mean when she says it. She reminds me of those obsessive fans who get angry because you don’t want to take more than one picture with them. Scary bitch! “Now that it’s out of the way. All the shit, that is. I spoke with the designer of the suits you’ll be wearing and he will be here tomorrow to take your measurements one last time.�

“For what?� I ask and I really could give a damn but now that I have her acting unprofessional, I want to keep it up. This front she puts up need to come down as fast as those little skirts she wears. Or up, whichever way you look at it.

“It’s a precautionary process. You may have gained a few beer related pounds that you aren’t aware of and the suits might have to be readjusted.�

“Are you calling me fat?� I ask before I actually chuckle. Is she serious? I’m not fat by any means, maybe my dick. At least my waist isn’t nonexistent like hers. Well that’s a fucking lie, she has lots of curves. Nice ones too for what I’ve seen and touched. Enough of that though.

“No, I’m calling back gossip magazines that have pictures of you drinking it up last night. That’s who I’m calling, to yet again do MY job.� She says and flips through the sheets of paper on her clipboard.

“You seriously need to get over yourself,� I’ve never had a problem biting my tongue and avoiding confrontation but I can’t help it with her. She winds me up to the extreme and I can’t stop my vocal chords.

“I spoke with Mr. Wright and he informed me that the first tour date is being changed to the House of Blues in Anaheim instead of the Hollywood one. A date was added, which you know about, in Boston not New York. Everything is finalized and ready to go.�

“So you’re ignoring me?� I ask and she looks bored. She must have taken really good acting lessons because the expression on her face is faultless.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Timberlake I wasn’t aware that you were speaking anything that would be of interest to me.� She says and looks down at me. She reapplied her lipstick I notice and I can’t help but smile and shake my head.

“You’re something else,� I say with a chuckle.

“I also wasn’t aware that I was a comedian, Mr. Timberlake. If you have no further questions, I will see you on opening night.� She starts to walk away and I hate when she does that. Why can’t she ever finish a conversation with me? She always walks away!

“Cameron will probably be there,� I say and I don’t even know why I would go there. But if I’ve learned a few things about Ms. Martinez is that she has a high distaste for my girlfriend. I can’t believe I’m using the woman I love as bait right now but it’s said and done and I can’t take it back.

“Good for you, Mr. Timberlake,� she looks over her shoulder when she says it, and keeps walking. She doesn’t look any more vicious than she has during this conversation and it pisses me off. She’s giving up? No more being a bitch? Just like that? Or at least bitchier, I should say. Because fact of the matter is, she’s always been a bitch.

I have two more hours of rehearsals and I’m not going to be productive if she’s around, I know this for a fact. I know that I shouldn’t care that she’s acting as though her tongue wasn’t down my throat half an hour ago, but fuck it I do. I don’t care that I have a very publicized girlfriend, whom I do love. I don’t care. Maybe I’ll care tomorrow but I do know I don’t care today. I will get this bitch out of my system. Even if it kills me.

Two Hours Later

Nonchalantly I look for her for about five minutes before I find her across the hallway in a large conference room. She’s working on a bunch of paperwork on the table and she looks up at me when I enter the room. This is dangerous. I shouldn’t be behind closed doors with this woman. I should move my hand from the door knob that I’m locking and get out. But I’m not. I’m walking toward her and she has that look on her face. That face of pure mortification and I don’t feel one ounce of guilt because behind that look I can see that she’s not mortified at all, she’s actually anxious.

“Did you forget to add something to your list, Mr. Timberlake.� She tries to look as though my presence in a locked conference room doesn’t bother her. She crosses her legs and swivels the chair so that when I stop my trek toward her, I’m standing directly in front of her.

“You know I’m not here about a fucking list,� She raises her eyebrow at me in question and keeps her emotions in check. “You know why I’m here.�

“If I knew why you were here, I wouldn’t have asked, Mr. Timberlake. What is it that you want?� She asks and crosses her legs in the other direction. Is she nervous? I have to give her credit for being so laidback and not letting this situation falter her demeanor.

“You know what the hell I want,� I say before placing my hand under her crossed knee and moving her leg so that they are both flat on the chair. Suddenly, I’m on my knees in front of her and my hands goes to her inner thigh. She took her jacket off and she’s wearing one of those little tank tops thingies Britney used to wear. I can see her tight stomach muscles contract when my hands move up to the inseam of her jeans. I haven’t spread her legs but they are spread wide enough for my hands to get in there.

“It’s not happening, Mr. Timberlake,� She says looking down at me. I want to strap a piece of duct tape on her mouth. She needs to shut the fuck up. She’s ruining how much I’m enjoying having my face so close to her. I want to taste her so bad, I actually could give a damn what she’s talking about.

“Shut up,� I say before my hands go to her fly and unbutton her jeans. This is happening whether she says so or not. She hasn’t made an attempt stop me, which means she’s letting it happen. Her right arms is resting on the conference table and her left on the chairs large armrest. She wants this as bad as I do. I know she does.

“Fuck you,� she says when my hands squeeze behind her and start pulling down on the back of her jeans.

“Oh, I will,� I say and I don’t even have to tug on the waist of her jeans much before she lifts her ass off the chair for me to slid the jeans down. I want to fucking whimper when I notice that she’s not wearing any underwear, she’s gorgeous. I look up at her and she gives me that stupid raised brow. She’s going to kill me. My dick is harder than it has ever been in my entire life. I’m losing control. “What the fuck are you doing to me?�

“I’m not doing anything, Mr. Timberlake. You seem to be the one doing something,� she says to me and I’m annoyed that she still looks bored. How the fuck can she still be bored? She’s sitting on a leather conference room chair, her jeans are at her knees and Justin Timberlake has his hands on her inner thighs. Bored isn’t what I’m looking for.

“I’m doing something alright,� I say before slowly spreading her legs as far as the jeans on her ankles allow. It’s a good spread, I can say that. She’s completely open to me and I do let out that whimper I’ve been holding back when I see the tiny ring. She’s fucking pierced! “Jesus Christ!�

“Vanessa, actually,� she says and I drag her ass to the edge of the chair.

“Shut the fuck up,� I say and before she has a chance to say anything I have that little ring in my mouth. I realize for the first time that I really am love stoned, in every sexual meaning of the word, of course. She squirms a little and I hastily grab her ass and bring her down to my face. I’m addicted to her taste and I can’t stop my tongue and lips from sucking on that ring and the flesh that it’s piercing through. She tastes like no other woman I’ve been with. When I look up to see her face my eyes open wide in shock and close again. What the hell? What’s going on? When I open my eyes I see Rachel standing over me with a confused and suspicious look on her face. Where did Vanessa go?

“Are you spending the night here or what?� She asks and I’m confused. I sit up and rub my eyes. The rehearsal room is empty and I can see that it’s night fall through the window on the far side of the room.

“Where’s Vanessa?� I ask and I’m not really asking her as much as I’m asking myself.

“What? That bitch left hours ago, before you even finished rehearsing. Are you alright?� She’s looking at me in an odd way. Confusion written on her face. Shit! It’s probably mirroring my face. Cause I’m baffled. I was dreaming? Holy shit! It seemed so real, I can almost taste her.

“How long have I been asleep?� I ask while I try to get a grip of what just happened.

“Like ten minutes or so. What are you? High?� Rachel asks as she grabs her oversized purse, which I had been using for a pillow. “Stop using my purse to lay your big head on, Justin!�

“I wouldn’t talk about big heads, Rach,� I say with a laugh. Anything to keep me from thinking about this dream I just had. Or was that a nightmare? No, definitely a dream, quite possibly a wet one.

“Shut up,� she says with a laugh. “You ready to go?�

“Yeah,� I say standing and grabbing a fresh bottled water from the table beside the door. “I can’t believe I just fell asleep that easily.�

“You rehearsed for five hours, I would think you were tired. I would have fallen asleep too,� She says as we make our way to the car.

Funny that she says that, though. I don’t remember rehearsing at all. I’m not physically tired in the least. I’m more mentally exhausted than anything else. I have a long, stressful ass tour ahead of me starting next week. And believe when I say, it will have nothing to do with the show.

Chapter Nine: Let the show begin…

Sexyback Club Tour
Opening Night

I have to be honest with myself here, this thing has just barely begun and I’m feeling a bit intimidated. This feeling doesn’t happen very often but it’s there nonetheless. I arrived at the venue a little over an hour ago due to my extended stay at the office to finish up some things. I’ve been prolonging this day for the past nine days. I hadn’t been doing the best, mentally, these past few days but I’m good right now. I can’t blame anyone but myself for this. I’m the one that broke very strict rules I’ve set for myself, at work and in life. I’ve spent nine crucial days trying to concentrate on work, to no prevail because all of it was related to my current issue, Mr. Justin Timberlake.

I feeling beside myself and a bit out of control. What did I allow to happen? Why would I have allowed something so uncharacteristically of me occur? What was I think? I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. I’m not used to living my life this way. I acted like a two dollar whore and I hate myself for it. Of course that doesn’t mean I’m walking with my head down. As if. It was a rare moment of weakness for me and it will never happen again. Ever. I can’t believe I allowed it to happen in the first place. I give myself the speech I’ve been giving myself for the past nine days and keep telling myself that it was a blur in my life that is over and done with, as I leave the small dressing room of the venue.

I wasn’t surprised to see the line of people lined up around the corner of the place when the driver made his way to the backstage lot. His fans have been anticipating his return for a long time, that I knew. I really wish Barker was here with me right now, as I walk around staff members and crew, in the backstage area. I’m no stranger to these types of event but I’m still feeling a bit queasy. I know it’s not the fact that I’m backstage at a House of Blues and alone, that’s not it at all. It’s the fact that I’m heading toward one of the artists’ dressing room. I’m antsy, for crying out loud! What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m extremely disappointed in myself and I can’t stand it. I pride myself in being the best that I can be. I’ve succeeded in every aspect of my life, that is, until the day in which Justin Timberlake backs me into a corner and I fucking melt like a stupid whore. I’m the scum of the earth, even though I know I don’t look the part.

I really should have changed into some jeans before leaving the office instead of standing out like a swore thumb in this crowd. Another unusually uncharacteristic feeling, I thrive on being the center of attention. Not tonight, though. I get stopped by a few members of security on the way to the dressing room. I answer the questions that they have in intensive detail. I’m only prolonging this meeting as much as I can, I know. The longer it takes me to get in there and speak with him, the better. I haven’t seen or heard from him since that day, and I’m glad. Ms. Bomar has been oddly resourceful these past few days, I must say. I didn’t have to send a reminder to a reminder about anything, which is strange. I guess the little talk I had with her helped a bit. Or was it that she was trying to keep her cousin from seeing me? I mean why would she do that? She didn’t see what happened, did she? Oh my god!

My nerves are shot to hell but I’ve had to take acting lessons here and there for modeling jobs, so no one can tell, but I can. When I reach the door with a big gold star and Mr. Timberlake’s name on it, I knock. I can hear people inside and I adjust my white sweater and my laminate as I wait for the door to be answered. A long minute later, Trace answers the door and he’s laughing about something.

“Hey, Vanessa,� he says smiling at me. I guess Barker was right, he is kind of cute. If you like the boy next door type, which I hate. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.�

“I’m doing great,� I’m lying, I’m a fucking wreck. “I hear William Rast is coming along really well. Congratulations are in order.�

“Thank you very much, that means a lot coming from you,� he says and I don’t know if I should take offense to that or not. I don’t have time for this shit. He’s standing in the doorway with the door halfway opened and I’m wondering why he hasn’t let me in.

“Are you letting me in or am I standing here for my health?� I ask before he realizes that he hasn’t opened the door and chuckles. Barker was also right about him being a bit slow, I see.

“Oh shit, my bad,� he says as he steps back and opens the door. I wasn’t expecting to see Mr. Timberlake so quickly but I did. The door opens all the way and Mr. Timberlake is laying on a long couch with his headphones on. He’s stretched out, his eyes are closed and I can hear his headphones from where I stand. I should ask if that’s really a good idea but I can’t. I have other questions running through my mind at the moment. Like why Cameron Diaz is laying comfortably next to him? My face has to be flushed right now, it has to be because I’m hot. I really am. “Do you want me to wake him up?� Trace asks and I look around the room for something else to look at beside the two bitches on the couch.

The Reba girl who’s real name is Joanna, is sitting on the other couch and she smiles at me. I don’t have time to make pleasantries right now, so I smile back and look somewhere else, quick and short. The voices I heard was the loud television playing in the background, I believe Friday After Next is playing and I realize that I need to get out of here. “No, that’s okay. I can speak to him when he wakes up.�

“Are you sure? I can get him up,� Trace says pointing over his shoulder. He’s standing in front of me but he’s not tall at all and I can still see Mr. Timberlake’s face.

“I’m positive,� I say looking past his shoulder once again. I could honestly go over to the couch and pull her fake hair out. I’m beyond angry at her sight, I wasn’t counting on her being here. It adds to my already fucked up state of mind. “Have him come see…�

“Babe, your elbow,� Mr. Timberlake grunts a little, shifting so that Ms. Skins and Bones readjusts her body. What does he see in her anyway? She’s a bag of fucking used bones. Pathetic. She’s apparently dead asleep because he grunts again and opens his eyes. “Fuck.�

“Vanessa is here to see you,� Trace says turning toward him without giving me a chance to tell him not to. Shit!

“What?� He says and looks in the direction of the door. He sees me standing there and the look of complete guilt emerges on his face. He keeps staring at me like I have a big elephant’s nose on my face. Speaking of big elephants, there seems to be one in the room as our stare continues.

“Number one groupie?� I ask sarcastically and I know I’m in no position to starting an argument with this man. I can’t blame what happened entirely him, I’m not playing the victim at all. But the fact that his bitch is laying next to him brings the…well…me, out of me. I know the proper word is bitch but who is keeping tabs?

“What do you want?� He asks and gives Trace a look that I’m guessing means, why I was allowed in the room.

“I needed to brief you on the two interviews you have prior to the show but clearly you’re not available.� I say and look at my watch. “Please see me when you aren’t so…pressed,� I say looking at him. Ms. Surfer Chick shifts a bit making him scowl in pain. Fucking cow! “Sound check is in twenty minutes, Mr. Timberlake.� I say before turning and leaving the room and wondering if he’s going to follow.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A hour later

“I promise I’ll be there,� I’ve been on the phone for the past ten minutes. It’s the only person I fear in this world. The only person I have one ounce of respect for. My father. “Yes, Daddy. Tell Mother, I will call her tomorrow.�

I have to promise to be at my niece’s birthday party a month in advance in order for him to let me off the phone. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world and it bothers me that the person that drives me to be who I am, doubts me. It’s the story of my life. My life with Raul Martinez, CEO of Latin RCA Records, Inc.

“Daddy’s little girl? I would have pegged you as daddy‘s hell child.� I hear coming from behind me. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there since my back was turned but he looks like he’s been there quite a while. Fucking prick!

“Do you normally listen in to people’s private conversations, Mr. Timberlake?� I say looking behind me as he steps completely inside the room. I would be a complete liar if I said he looked like shit. He’s wearing my personal favorite suit. Of course he doesn’t know that but he’s wearing it, nonetheless. It’s a simple gray charcoal number that I used to love on my dad. He’s opted to go with the purple tie tonight and the combination of the suit and the fresh white Jordan’s complete the look I had in mind.

“Not as much as you like to stare,� he says and closes the door behind him. “What are you looking at?� He asks as he walks around the couch I’m sitting India style in. What is he trying to do? This is not going to work again, Mr. Timberlake. Back off!

“I was simply looking at how much better I’ve made you look, Mr. Timberlake. You’re mother would be proud to see her child in a suit.�

“My mother is very proud, thank you very much for caring, Vanessa. And I am not a child, by any means,� He says with a smirk. “You would know that if you wouldn’t be such a bitch.�

“And why exactly would I know that, Mr. Timberlake?� I don’t know why I even bother to spend time arguing with this man. I really don’t. The calling me a bitch bit, is overplayed.

“Let me put it in lame model terms for you, Ms. Martinez.� He’s mocking me now and he leans against the wall to the left of me, looking at me. My composure doesn’t falter when I look at him in the eyes. I’m fighting a battle here, because he is gorgeous. “I’m like that great pair of shoes that doesn’t come in your size.�

That actually made me laugh out loud and he looks at me strangely. Is he actually using fashion jargon with me? I look at him ready to give him another piece of my mind, in fashion talk nonetheless but my smile fades quickly. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, at all. It’s the same look he gave me when he told me he hated me and put his tongue down my throat.

“Why don’t you laugh like that more often?� He asks and it wasn’t what I expected at all. I’m a little taken aback.

“What?�

“I heard you on the phone,� he says and puts both of his hands in his pants pockets. He looks as nervous as I feel and I’m pissed.

“Yes, we established that you’re not only a multi-million dollar business but also a snoop.�

“It goes without saying that what I said about you being a fraud still applies., he says and it pisses me of when people question my ability to do something. Anything.

“You don’t know anything, Mr. Timberlake. Not about me and not about my job.�

“I do know that I just heard you being a completely different person on the phone. You’re fake! If you acted just one second like the way I just heard you be, you’d have a lot more respect from people.�

“I have a lot of respect from people, Mr. Timberlake. Don’t get confused,� I say matter of fact.

“That’s not respect you get from people, Vanessa. It’s fear, which is something all together different. Open those hazel eyes of yours, smell the fucking coffee. You’re not making any friends here.�

“That’s where you’re mistaken, Timberlake. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to do my job. Period.� I say sternly. “Look in the mirror Mr. Timberlake. Take a close look at yourself and then come tell me that I should do things differently. I don’t need any friends, I have the ones I’ve chosen already. And I especially don’t want to be friends with you, Mr. Timberlake. This is business and to me, business is business. If you have a problem I suggest you jump off a bridge.�

“So tell me, Vanessa…�

“Do me a favor, Mr. Timberlake. Since we aren’t or will never be in good terms according to you. Refrain from using my first name. That’s strictly reserved for my friends.�

“So tell me, Ms. Martinez,� he says sarcastically as he takes a seat on the coffee table directly across from me. “Is having your tongue down my throat part of your business?�

“I would appreciate if you would move away from me, right now,� I say moving as far into the couch’s backrest as I could. “I thought I made that perfectly clear.�

“Why would I believe when you say you’ll kill me if I put my hands of you again, Ms. Martinez? You’re a fucking fraud. A liar,� he says as he places his hands on either side of my couch’s armrests.

“Speaking of lies, Mr. Timberlake. Isn’t your girlfriend here?� I ask as he leans closer to me. I can smell his cologne and for a brief second I close my eyes. When I open them, he’s right there. “I’m not a liar.�

“Well then kill me, Vanessa,� he says as he closes the gap between us and places his lips on mine. I can’t move. It’s happening again, I’m the fucking scum of the earth. I want to push him away but my hands are paralyzed and I can’t find them, let alone use them to push his soft lips away. Jesus! They are the softest lips that have ever touched mine. “After you,� he whispers against my lips. I guess he’s waiting on me to initiate the kiss. I’m not doing it. I refuse.

In my mind I’m telling myself that but my body is doing another because my previously paralyzed hand comes up to the side of his face and I kiss him. What the fuck am I doing, yet again? Am I crazy? When I’m seconds away from being lost in his lips, he pulls away. He stands and walks to the door without another word.

“Wha…�

“My girlfriend is waiting,� he says and walks out. MOTHER FUCKER!! Your girlfriend’s waiting? Hell no! He will not initiate my career suicide and decide to think about his stupid girlfriend! Son of a bitch!

---------------------------------------

Later

The show’s about to start and everyone runs around backstage. I’m sitting in a room where two interviews just took place but I can see the chaos that is the backstage area. I have a headache and I honestly wouldn’t turn down a drink right now.

Mr. Timberlake did well in the interviews, even after one of the interviewers continued to sneak in questions about Ms. Diaz. He dodged the questions well and the person was momentarily distracted until it was too late to ask again. The interview lasted all of fifteen minutes and I could count how many times Mr. Timberlake acknowledged that I was in the room. None.

He sat there charming as can be, answering questions and joking around. But not once did he acknowledge that I was there. Not a glance. Not a word.

Not that I minded or anything. I much rather have a conversation with a potato than to talk to him, to tell you the truth. Every conversation I’ve had with this man has turned sour. I can do sour, very well. What I can’t do is these past two conversations we’ve had. Not the words but the actions that have taken place. I pride myself in keeping control but Mr. Timberlake seems to flip my world upside down. How could I allowed that to happen? No one remotely shakes my world, let alone, flip it. And it scares the hell out of me. It makes me act in ways that aren’t professional and morally correct. I can barely stand to be in the same room with him. So why is it that it angers me that he walked out on me earlier? Why is it that I didn’t stand up for myself and rip him a new asshole like I always did?

One thing’s for sure, I have a highly distaste for this man. I can do without him in my work load and in life. I can do without the Justin Timberlakes’ of the world, period, running around kissing executive business women. Especially those who don’t ask for it. I’ve barely showed him interest on his career, let alone thought about him in a sexual manner. Well, except that one day at the radio station, but I was legally exhausted. There’s a problem bigger than my distaste for him, though. And that’s the fact that I enjoyed every single second of his touch. I’m in trouble. Why is this happening? It angers me to have to admit it but I know why. I know why I can’t push him away and my resolve turns to shit. It’s because he is The Justin Timberlake of this world. The one and only. The fact that his lips on mine send me into oblivion, well that’s only half the battle.

“Will you be watching the show?� I hear coming from the door. I didn’t realize anyone had entered the room because of my own sickening thoughts. I’m already seeing the side effects of this idiotic mistake I’ve made. I’m spacing out at work. I’ve gone bananas.

“No, I’m actually on my way out to the hotel,� I say picking up my things from the desk in which the interviews had taken place a few minutes prior. “I hear opening night is always fun for your boyfriend. Enjoy it!�

“I’m actually on my way to the airport. I have an early shoot in the morning and I have to fly out tonight,� she says, which makes me turn to look at her. She’s leaving? On the opening night of his comeback? What kind of a fucking girlfriend is that? How supportive. I knew she was a lousy girlfriend. I knew it!

“I’m sure Mr. Timberlake already has enough support tonight, anyway,� I say with a shrug and she smirks at me. No she didn’t. “Overwhelming him with support from those he loves, might be drastic,� I say sarcastically.

“Listen,� she starts to say as I go past her toward the door. My head is jumbled with so much Justin Timberlake crap that not even the presence of Cameron Diaz can make it worse. Okay, never mind. I’m pissed. “I want to apologize for the way I acted in your office the other day.�

Is she apologizing? Why? I could give a damn if she’s sorry but I give her a fake smile and reply. “Sure,� I say, maintaining the fake smile. I hope she doesn’t think I’m going to apologize to her. I could slap the bitch for even entering my office. She’s lucky I was being nice that day. You don’t just walk into a black woman’s office, uninvited, let alone a Puertoriquen one. I have the blessing of being both, so I know.

“Well, you don’t have to be such a bitch about it,� she says and I laugh. Is she serious right now? Bitch? She must get her comeback lines from Mr. Timberlake while they snuggle after sex. Eww.

“Oh, trust me,� I say with a smile that I actually mean. “You have no idea how much of a bitch I can be. Have a crashing flight, Ms. Diaz,� I say before walking out of the room. Bitch.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Two A.M.

I can’t sleep.

I spent two hours trying to work on paperwork that needs to be done, but I couldn’t concentrate. I tried watching TV and that didn’t work. I ordered room service, but I don’t think that’s going to help. I’m trying to relax in this hot bath, I drew for myself, but I can’t. It’s pointless. Before I turn into a prune for no reason at all, I start to get out of the gigantic tub in my hotel suite.

I can hear someone knock on the door, as I dry off the excess bubble bath suds from my legs. I throw my robe on and walk out to the room, releasing my hair from the messy bun on top of my head. It’s kind of chilly in the room and I grunt when I realize I didn’t turn down the air conditioning before getting in the tub. Now not only am I frustrated, I’m freezing.

I wonder who could be at my door at two o’clock in the morning. Did something happen? I didn’t hear from Uncle Johnny tonight which means the show went well. But then I remember that I ordered ice cream, that I don’t plan on eating.

There’s another knock and I take my time walking to the door. I’m paying high dollar, my own, to stay here, the least they could do is wait. This person is in for a rude awakening tonight. Don’t mess with me. When I open the door, I’m shock to find that it’s not only my ice cream.

It’s Mr. Timberlake and my ice cream.

He’s standing outside the door, his left hand in his jeans’ pocket and my vanilla ice cream on the right. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I can’t say anything although in my head I can think of a million things. He’s not showing any expression on his face at all. Not that stupid smirk he’s known for. Not a smile. Nothing.

“Late night craving?� he asks, holding up the cup. I don’t take the cup he’s extending to me but I do adjust the belt of my short robe. It’s not going to help my state of undress, I have nothing underneath it and I can tell Mr. Timberlake is aware of that.

“Last I checked you were a music artist not a hotel employee,� I say crossing my arms. The hallway is completely silent and it worries me. Mr. Timberlake and I are alone. “What are you doing with my room service?�

“What does it look like I’m doing?� he asks pushing the door opened wider and walking into the room. I back away from him and jump a little when he slams the door behind him. Unfortunately for me, the back of my knees hit the edge of the mattress and I land on the bed in a sitting position. He drops the cup of ice cream on the beige carpeting and it splatters on my leg as it lands.

“What the hell are you doing here?� I ask looking up at him. He’s entirely too close to me and I can see his chest heaving uncontrollably. He needs to get the hell out of here.

“I’m providing the room service tonight, Ms. Martinez,� he says looking down at my ice cream covered foot.

“Get out of my room,� I say trying to cover my thighs with the tiny robe. “You wouldn’t want me to call security, Mr. Timberlake.�

“You wouldn’t do that,� he says with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s looking down at me like he wants to attack me, it’s scaring me. I’ve never been in this situation and it’s scaring me for all the wrong reasons. I’m terrified. “It would only make your job hell.�

“Get out of my room,� I say again as I go to stand from the bed. It doesn’t work out quite the way I was planning because he pushes my shoulders with both his hands and I’m now laying on my back and he’s hovering over me. I can’t breathe. I can’t say anything.

“You talk too fucking much,� he says to me as his mouth comes down on mine. He lets his body drop down to mine and I can feel him completely. My robe is still conserving my modesty, I notice, because I can feel the satin material rubbing on my breasts. We’re both gasping for air but he continues to kiss the hell out of me. I can’t stop him. I don’t want to stop him.

Then he stops kissing me. He looks down into my eyes and starts moving down my barely covered chest. “Vanilla is my favorite ice cream, Ms. Martinez.,� he says as he trails his hands down my body. He’s standing over the bed again and gently grabs my left leg and raises it. “I’m sure you know that, though. Being that you know everything about me, right?�

I know my robe isn’t serving any purpose now because the small amount of material that covered me, is now resting wide open. I close my eyes and I don’t know if it’s of embarrassment or excitement. Does he expect me to answer his question? I can barely concentrate on breathing, what makes him think I can answer questions?

He doesn’t wait for my response, instead he goes to his knees in front of the bed and I feel his mouth on the top of my foot. His tongue cleans the vanilla ice cream off my foot with one lick. I can’t control the sound that comes from deep in my throat. I can’t handle this. I can’t do this with him. I hate him. I’ve decided this is not right and when I sit up to tell him to get the fuck out, he grabs my hips underneath the little material of the robe and drags me down toward him. My thighs are on either side of his face when I look down from the shock of it.

“Lay the fuck down, Vanessa!� he says sternly as he takes his right hand from under my robe and pushes me down. My body bounces on the bed and I don’t have time to kick his ass for pushing me like that because he says, “shut the fuck up,� and sucks me so hard, I scream. Jesus Christ! Where the hell did he learn to do this?

My breath catches when he nibbles on the ring I have. I can here him chuckle and if I wasn’t in a complete state of ecstasy I would ask him what was funny. He doesn’t stop his tongue and he squeezes my thighs, bringing me closer to him. I can’t contain the sounds of pleasure that come out of me. My eyes are closed and all I can feel is his very experienced tongue on me. He starts at the bottom, licking away all that is me. He licks his way up slowly, paying close attention to the place where he’s just inserted his finger. I’m losing my mind. My hands are on either side of my hips and are griping the thick comforter of the bed. He licks the crevice where his finger meets the most intimate part of my body and I have to keep from falling off the bed.

He doesn’t remove his finger from where it’s in but continues his small licks up to the ring piercing my center. I can’t take it. He knows what’s happening because he inserts a second finger and begins a rhythmic motion with them. His mouth is completely over my most sensitive area and he’s sucking and licking on that ring like there’s absolutely no tomorrow.

It happens in a flash and I let out a scream of pleasure like I‘ve never done before. My vision blurs and the only thing I can see are stars. His mouth is still on me and he’s sucking on me as hard as he can. He takes me in, licking and sucking and squeezing my thighs until I start to come down. Just when I think I’m able to actually move, he starts the process all over again. This time I’m so close and he doesn‘t have to do much, I moan when he makes a sound himself. The satisfied moan he gives makes me see stars and it happens again.

As I come down from wherever Mr. Timberlake just took me, I panic. What the hell am I doing? What just happened? What the fuck did I do? What have I done? Holy Shit!

I sit up swiftly causing him to sit back on his legs in surprise. He stands up from the floor and looks down at me. I don’t even think, I stand up and push his chest hard. His back hits the door and he closes his eyes momentarily in what I’m guessing is more shock than pain.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!!�

“Is that any way to thank someone for their services, Ms. Martinez?� He asks as he leans against the door nonchalantly. “You’re being rude.�

“FUCK YOU!!� I say because I can’t even stand right now, let alone argue. I just want him gone. I want him out of my room. Out of my face. Out of my head!

“My tongue already did,� he says with a shrug. “Wouldn’t you say?�

“GET OUT!!� I say picking up the ice cream cup from the floor and throwing it at him. The cup is made of a makeshift porcelain plastic so it bounces off the wall and lands across the room when he dodges it.

“Be careful, Vanessa. This is a multi-million dollar business you’re throwing things at,� he looks angry and if I cared, I would ask him what was wrong. But I don’t. I don’t give a shit what he’s feeling right now. All I know is that I want him out. Now!

“GET OUT!!!�

“You know, you do someone a favor and this is how they repay you,� he actually shakes his head at me, like I’m an ungrateful little child. The bastard.

“I don’t need your fucking favors, Mr. Timberlake! GET THE FUCK OUT!!�

“Oh, I beg to differ, Ms. Martinez,� he says as he unlocks the door. Leave! Get out! “You needed my services more than you’re willing to admit.�

“Get out or I swear to God I will call security,� I say angrily adjusting my robe trying to preserve my modesty. I realize it’s not going to matter now, since he’s seen what there is to see. At least what’s below my waist.

“Sweet fucking dreams, Vanessa,� he says as he opens the door and walks out without another word.

FUCK!

I throw myself on the bed and I’m so angry, I can only do one thing. I cry.


--------------------------------------------

I’m woken by the ring of the telephone on the nightstand next to my king sized bed. When I answer, a recording of a robotic woman indicates that it’s time for my day to start. I lay on the bed, snuggling under the comforter for five minutes before my eyes jerk open. I sit up quickly on my bed and I look around the room. It was a dream. I was having a dream. I shake my head and laugh out loud.

I’m an idiot.

I have to be, to think that what Justin Timberlake did to me was real. I wouldn’t even have allowed anything like that to happen. No way!

After a few minutes of laughing about it, I decide it’s time to get up. The subject at hand has three interviews and a photo shoot for his album cover today. Lots of work.

When I pull the covers and step out of bed, I grunt when my foot steps on a cup. It rolls to the wall with the pressure my foot has put on it and I freeze. The ice cream cup I threw at him stares back at me.

Who the fuck was I kidding?

It wasn’t a dream at all and I really am in hell.

Chapter Ten: Betrayal at its finest…

I’m a traitor.

I’ve betrayed the one person in this world that I trust the most with my life. The one person who has never turned their back on me. The one person who I can always count on for anything. The one person who loves me for who I am, no questions asked.

That person is me.

I’ve betrayed myself. I’ve let myself down.

How could I have let my mind wander in the direction of Vanessa Martinez? Worst yet, how could I have actually entertained the thought and followed through? She’s making my integrity crumble at her fucking feet and it has got to stop.

I couldn’t sleep after I left her room last night. Her room!! What the hell was I thinking? What the hell made me take that ice cream from that dude? What actually made me knock on that door?

My initial intentions were to stop by her room and tell her that I wanted to cancel one of the interviews scheduled for the next day. That was it. I was supposed to knock on the door and demand the interview be cancelled. We were supposed to get into an argument about why she was such a bitch. I would have gone to my room alone, since Cameron had to leave, and everything would have been fine. But things aren’t fine right now. They are as far from fine as it can get. Things are really shitty now.

I wasn’t thinking that, though, when I took the ice cream from the dude and knocked anyway. I knew I shouldn’t have done that at two o’clock in the morning. I knew it. It was too late then, my hand had forcefully knocked twice against my better judgment. Its like I lose control of my own body and it gets whacked out when she’s around. I can’t stop it and what makes it worse is that, deep down, I don’t want to stop it.

The realistic part of my brain, the one that hates her guts, was saying that she was going to come to the door looking like shit. With her hair matted from sleep and eye boogies all over the place. Making me disgusted, in turn shaking this thing that was plaguing me. On the fucked up side of my brain, the one that knows she’s hot as fuck, kept saying, fuck it, go for it! After all, it was a simple cancellation request.

Then she opened the door.

The realistic part of my brain, the one screaming don’t do it and mentioning Cameron, went right out that fucking window behind Ms. Martinez’ fine ass . I forgot why I was standing there in the first place, to tell you the truth. The only thing that was registering in my head was her fucking tits and those mother-fucking legs of hers. And may God strike me but it was the best set of both I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of sets, trust me. And she was gonna answer the door looking like that? That dude with the ice cream was in for a fucking treat instead of delivering one, let me tell you.
Oddly enough I’m jealous of what he would of seen, had I not lost my fucking my mind and knocked on that stupid door.

After walking into her room uninvited, not thinking of the consequences, things became a little hazy for me. I was in some type of zone in which I’ve never been before, like I was on an unidentified drug. All I was thinking about was touching her. She really did look good enough to eat. And by God, if I didn’t dig right in. At first I just stood there looking at her. It was that moment everyone gets when they’re about to make a huge mistake. The moment when you think about every possible thing that can go wrong if you make the move. The moment came, went, and I was still standing there. I could see almost every inch of her legs and my craving for ice cream increased. A lot. I think I may have been a little rough too, but I didn’t have time to think about that or actually care. She wasn’t fighting me one bit, which made my lust for her worse.

I think if she would have resisted me, even just a little, it wouldn’t have happened. But it did and unfortunately for me, I can’t blame it on her. It was indeed her room. And it was in fact me who was in her room. I was one of those things that didn’t go together with the rest of the room. I didn’t belong there. I shouldn’t have been in there. I shouldn’t have, I really shouldn’t have, but I was. Hard dick and all.

I knew she didn’t have anything on under that tiny thing she wore, I could see every single curve that was covered. I was as hard as a rock, and I hadn’t even attempted to touch her yet. My mouth went dry and I acted without thinking it through. But the moment had already passed, I was going down. Literally.

I once again shove my tongue down her throat after thrusting her on the bed, another sign that my head is fucked up. I don’t treat women like that, unless she wants me to, of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. Well I do, but that’s not the point. I didn’t want to stop kissing her but her tits were driving me crazy. If she kept rubbing on me like she was I would have probably not enjoyed what I was planning on doing because I would have fucked her right then. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed that act immensely or anything.

The legs that I’ve been craving to touch since the moment I saw her were calling my name. I swear to god, they did. And those shits were as smooth as butter. The ice cream that I licked off the top of her left foot was the best damn dairy product I’ve ever consumed in my entire life. I would have concentrated on the ice cream remaining on her foot but the movement of her left leg caused the robe to move to the side. And boy, did I get a view. Distraction wasn’t even the word.
I’ve seen countless views, in between women’s legs and the scenic kind, and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. She was perfect. It was like that light shining back at the end of that tunnel everyone always talks about before dying. And it was true, I had died and entered Vanessa‘s heaven. I was in complete sinful heaven, I thought, until I saw it. The ring that I saw in my dream was as real as my dick pressing against the mattress in front of me. How I knew that it was there, I don’t know, but it goes to show how fucked up my head really is. The moment that my lips touched hers, down south, I was gone. I wanted to swallow her whole when she let out a shriek of pleasure. I almost came in my pants, I swear.

In spite of what one would think, for having the sourest attitude known to mankind, Vanessa Martinez, was the sweetest pleasure I’ve ever indulged in. To me, I thought everything was good and I was two seconds from stripping her out of that fucking robe. Then she becomes the fucking Incredible Hulk that she really is! No longer is the squirming and moaning woman around. She vanished just as quickly as I had brought her out. Shit! She pushes me off her and I land on the floor looking up at her. Before she gets a chance to kick me while I’m down, I stand.

What the fuck is wrong with this bitch? All that was running through my head and of course I wanted to fucking cry. Why couldn’t she have saved that shit for after I had finished fucking the hell out of her? I had a hard-on the size of Texas, and was in need of some hot shit, more specifically her hot, juicy shit. But no, she wants to turn into a fucking witch! She looked crazy then! Telling me to get the fuck out of her room and all that other bullshit she was saying. I wasn’t even listening, I was too angry. Fuck her! I just finished giving her two of the best fucking orgasms she’s ever had. I was on my way to giving her countless other ones and all she can do is fucking scream at me to get out?

Bitch.

I know she enjoyed every second of what went down, no pun intended. I know she did and she can’t deny it. I would go as far as to say that she loved it and can‘t stop thinking about it. I know this because I too can’t get it out of my head and I enjoyed every second of it. I enjoyed it so much I want to do it again. And well…there lies the problem.

My lack of sleep has caused me to look like a hot mess this morning. I’m on my way to a photo shoot that I’d rather not do right now, but it’s not an option. I have to do it; it’s the cover to my almost completed album. I claimed that I was bringing sexy back and sexy has to be translated into the promotion part of my career.

Rachel hands me a cup of what I hope is coffee and not tea, as we walk out of the elevator and onto the hotel’s lobby. She’s not saying much to me today and I’m thankful. I don’t want to have to do anything today but take pictures, do an interview and get on my bus to head to the next city. I don’t want to deal with the crowd of girls outside the hotel or the flashes of their cameras, but I have to.

I look around that lobby to see if I catch the cause of my restless night but I don’t see her. I’m hoping she decides to skip this part of my day, because I couldn’t honestly deal. I can’t be around her right now, with my senses still piquing. I can’t.

“Did you get any sleep last night?� Rachel asks when we’re in the car and heading toward the shoot. “You stayed out pretty late, I hear.�

“Not really,� I say with a shrug. “You know how I get after the first show.�

“No, actually I don’t,� Rachel chuckles.

“Well, you will,� I say with a yawn. “What time is this Rolling Stone magazine interview?�

“At eleven thirty,� she says and looks at a clipboard in her bag. “You should be out of the shoot by ten, so you’ll get a bit of a break in between. Vanessa called and…�

“And what?� I don’t know why I’m so jumpy this morning but it doesn’t change the fact that I am. I also know why I feel this way; I just don’t want to admit it. The mention of her name triggers me in the oddest way.

“And she said she would be missing the second interview, but that you should arrange to meet with her for a few minutes today in regards to some pictures that the tabloids have.�

“When did she call?�

“During the show last night,� she said after giving it thought. “She’s too good to stick around and watch the show, I guess. She’s so fucking boring,� Rachel says with a disgusted look.

“She was probably busy or something,� I say and Rachel gives me that look she’s been giving me lately. The ‘no you didn’t’ look. “Being a bitch and stuff.�

“Yeah, okay,� she says but I know she’s being sarcastic. When I step out of the car, Eric leads the way into the lot in downtown Anaheim, and I don’t say anything else to Rachel. One thing that I have to be honest about, is that Rachel knows me. My attitudes and the way I act when something’s bothering me. No one can tell when I’m troubled except my mother, Trace and Rachel. Cameron doesn’t even have the ability to figure me out. But Rachel keeps giving me the look that my mother gives me when she wants me to spill something. I’m not spilling anything that I myself don’t know about. I refuse to talk about what’s on my mind. With anyone. So I walk behind Eric and I ignore everyone in my path. I don’t care if I look bad in doing so, but I don’t want to deal with the fuckers and their cameras. Not today.

I’m directed to the dressing area after the photographer goes over what the record label and management want and what I want. Which are two completely different things. I want to wear jeans and a t-shirt, casually lounging on a couch. They want me to wear a suit and pose with a disco ball. Yeah fucking right! You can guess which idea I told the photographer we were going to do. I don’t care what Jive has to say. This is my album and I will do what I want. Period.

“Justin! You ready?� Rachel asks from the outside of my dressing room. I‘ve been in here for a good fifteen minutes changing into another t-shirt I picked from a rack in the room. I wasn’t going to wear a suit at eight in the morning, no way. I followed the suggestions for the tour, I will not on this one.

“I’m only changing my shirt, Rach,� I say when I open the door and walk out. She gives me a raised brow and shakes her head at what I’m wearing.

“You’re the boss,� she shrugs. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day,� she says before walking away to answer her phone. She’s been doing pretty good these past few days and I really am proud of her. I have to remind myself to tell her that when I’m in a better mood.

The set has been turned from the original white backdrop to a nice rustic setting and a couch is set up for me like I asked. I should be gloating in the fact that I’m THE man, for making all these people do all this work after the original plans were set, but I don’t. I don’t feel like smiling for anyone and I’m afraid it’s probably going to show on the photos.

Where the fuck is she? Isn’t she supposed to fucking be here?! Why the fuck can’t I get her the fuck out of my head? I know I thought it would be best if she didn’t show up this morning but I’m quickly changing my mind. Seems to be an unusual occurrence for me lately.

How can after all of this, I’m only thinking of myself? Momma always did say there’d be times like these. Especially times like the one that’s about to go down.

I’ve been taking pictures, changing the different backdrops and changing my t-shirts, for a good hour. The photographer is telling me to look toward the hand I have over my right leg or some shit like that, when the door to the studio slams shut.

Vanessa Martinez is standing in front of the door with her right hand in her pocket. She’s not wearing a skirt today, miracle. Her dark shades prohibit the ability to tell what she’s looking at but I have a pretty good idea. She expected to come in here and have a completely different setup, I can tell. Well it really sucks to be you, Ms. Martinez. Although, right now, it really sucks to be me.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Mr. Timberlake?� she says and I’m shocked out of the staring contest that I obviously was the only contender of. “Mr. Timberlake will be with you in a few minutes, Mark,� she says to the photographer. She knows him? “Please have your crew make the changes I asked.�

“Sure, no problem. Take your time, Vanessa,� the photographer says before looking over some of the shots I’d already taken.

She doesn’t wait around for confirmation that I even wanted to ‘see’ her, she just continued to the dressing rooms. She passes Rachel, who’s still on the telephone and even though I’m a few steps behind her, I see the evil look Vanessa gives her. Rachel mouths an ‘I told you so’ as I pass her and I playfully give her the finger.

I know I really shouldn’t be following Ms. Martinez’s plump ass toward an empty room, but my dick is the one that’s following her and well…it‘s attached to me, after all. She’s walking hastily toward the room on the end of the hallway. She walks in and drops her purse on the table located right inside the door. I enter the room and close the door behind myself before taking a seat on the vacant couch across the room. She still doesn’t look at me and the shades are still over her eyes.

It’s not until she places her briefcase next to her purse that she places the shades on her head. She takes a sheet of paper out of the briefcase. Is she going to show me that fucking contract again? I’ve seen it a million times.

“Why do you insist in showing me a piece of fucking paper I already know I signed?� I ask when she extends her hand out with the piece of paper.

“It’s not the contract you signed with us in the beginning of your career, Mr. Timberlake,� she says before dropping the sheet of paper on my lap. She doesn’t stay close to me, instead she walks over to the door and opens it wide. I chuckle. “What you find funny, can wait until later, Mr. Timberlake. That sheet of paper is another contract. The one that you signed a few weeks ago where you agreed to have Wright Entertainment Group guide you into a successful career. One where you agreed to make any changes necessary to have your tarnished reputation cleaned up a bit. You know, the reputation your girlfriend, gave you.�

“Oh, so now you’re worried about my girlfriend?� I ask standing, making the sheet of paper land on the floor. “You weren’t so worried about my girlfriend last night.�

“The set is being changed back to it’s original look, Mr. Timberlake. You will put on that suit, you agreed and signed on the dotted line about. You may choose to like it or you may not, I personally don’t care which. What I do care about is that signed piece of paper that gives me permission to do my job. You will do it.�

“Or what, Vanessa?� I say and cross my arms over my chest. “What the fuck are you going to do?�

“I advise you not to test me, Mr. Timberlake. You clearly don’t comprehend the extent of my capabilities. Put on that suit!�

“Are you fucking threatening me?!� I know she didn’t go there. “I’m not fucking scared of you, Vanessa! I thought I made that very clear. Surely you remember last night.�

“You’ve wasted an hour of Mark’s time, I suggest you don’t continue to do so,� she says and it angers me that she’s completely ignoring me. She may be standing here physically but she’s not here. What the hell is her problem? I realize that it may be a little embarrassing to admit I broke it down for her last night. But hell, I’m not myself either. I’ve fraternized with the enemy, she wasn’t the only one in the fucking room.

“So you’re choosing to ignore me now?� I ask and I really didn’t mean to ask, I’m just pissed.

“I’ve been ignoring you since nineteen ninety-nine, Mr. Timberlake. What’s another decade?�

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?�

“Yes, I do know that,� she says digging for a folder in her briefcase. “Speaking of bitches. Can you tell me who Ms. Diaz is kissing behind that tree? I am aware of the fact that you’re a cheating son of a bitch, but I wasn’t expecting it from Ms. Diaz,� she slams an issue of the National Enquirer on the table and adjusts the shades on her head.

“What the fuck it this?� I ask picking up the magazine. I could tell the photos of Cameron were old, but not old enough to have been before she met me. I’m not upset over them, at all. First of all, I’ve learned that in this business, nothing is what it seems. And second, Cameron would never do anything like that. I’ve given her all the attention she needs along with all the space she needs, as well. So the mention of her cheating on me is hard to believe, I know for a fact that woman loves me, I’m positive. “What does this have to do with me?�

“Obviously you don’t give your girlfriend any thought, Mr. Timberlake,� she’s standing in front of me and I can smell that stupid shit she always wears. Why can’t she stink? Why can’t she be ugly? Just, why? “Your name is printed at least twenty times in that magazine. It’s my job to clear it out of there. Is there anything you would like to comment on the story or are you going to let me do my job and take care of it?�

“Aren’t you going to do what you want anyway?� I ask, and she’s shocked that I’m actually giving her some type of credit. She looks up from where she’s looking over paperwork, and continues to look through them. She’s obviously as uncomfortable as I am, standing there, because she’s never acted this way. She has always looked me in the eyes when she speaks. Today I’ve barely gotten to see them.

“Yes, I will do what I am responsible for doing. It’s simply a courtesy to ask if you have anything to say about it. Clearly you don’t. I won’t waste more of Mark’s time, you can go get dressed now.�

“So that’s it?� I ask and put a hand to my head. I want to either kick her ass for being so standoffish or kiss her. I obviously can’t do the latter, so I’m stuck with a headache. “You’re going to pretend like nothing happened?�

“Nothing happened, Mr. Timberlake. I no longer need you in my presence, please excuse me,� she says looking up at me and then at the door.

“I do recall something happening, Ms. Martinez and we need to discuss this,� I say and my voice rises a notch. She better act like she knows and tell me what’s up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Timberlake. Nothing remotely important happened to me,� she says with a shrug and looks up at me. “Go get dressed, you have an interview in two hours and you need to be out of here on time. You’ve just used up your free time, taking unusable photos. Now you‘re wasting my time. I don‘t like for my time to be wasted.�

“Don’t fuck with me, Vanessa! Don’t think you’re too fucking good to give me your precious time. You’re either volunteering it or I’m fucking taking it. Either way, I’m getting it! Stop acting like talking to you or taking up your time is a fucking privilege! It’s your fucking job!�

“You weren’t doing much talking last night, Mr. Timberlake, which makes it a waste of time,� she says, setting the paperwork on the table and looking at me. “Get out!�

“Oh, so now you know what I’m talking about, huh? When it’s convenient for you,� I say and slam the door shut, making her jump a little. “Now, it was a waste of time? You seemed to have enjoyed that time a whole lot, if I remember correctly.�

“Get out of here, Mr. Timberlake. Don’t test me! And I would appreciate if you’d stop trying to push buttons that aren’t there to push!�

“Stop with your stupid threats, Vanessa. They’re empty and ridiculous. Why can’t you just admit that I turned you out last night? That’s all I really want to hear,� she laughs and I want to kick her.

“You think highly of yourself, Mr. Timberlake. You should really consider taking it down a notch or two. Hyping yourself up like that can get you into a lot of trouble,� she shakes her head and returns to her paperwork.

“What other fucking trouble can there be? I’m already in a whole lot with you,� she’s not laughing anymore but she’s looking at me with that fucking smirk, she usually gives. Funny enough, I feel better because the bitch that was before me two seconds ago was even worse than this one. I can only do one bitch at a time and this is the one that makes me want to fuck her brains out.

“If you’re worried about your girlfriend, I assure you that she will not become aware of what you did. I can promise you that. I will not be sharing that information with anyone. Ever,� she says before sitting on the desk chair.

“Fuck my girlfriend,�

“I believe that’s your job, Mr. Timberlake,� she says picking up the magazine and examining it before she slams it down on the desk again. “Or is it?�

“I wasn’t done fucking talking. I told you that you talk too fucking much,� I say and throw the magazine across the room. “You’re so involved in the sound of your own fucking voice, you think the world is fucking yours. What I said is fuck my girlfriend being aware of what happened. Fuck that! What about you? Aren’t you fucking aware of what happened? Or are you as heartless as you fucking seem?�

“It was nothing and it will continue to be nothing in my book, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Nothing?� I ask in shock. How the hell can she say it was nothing? She’s fucking lying! I know she is!

“I can sit here all day telling you this, Mr. Timberlake. You’ll have no album cover shot and you’d be late to two interviews. But in the end you will have the same result. It was nothing,� she stands and walks in front of me to head to the door. Her hair brushes past my chest and my senses are on over drive. I catch her wrist as she passes me and she jumps at the contact.

“Why do you do that? Why do you act like you don’t care?� I ask and I don’t know why. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much that she’s brushing me off, like she didn’t have her shit in my face less than nine hours ago.

“Because I don’t, Mr. Timberlake,� she says through gritted teeth and she yanks her wrist from my hold and walks out of the room.

It takes me ten minutes on the phone with my mother, five with Johnny and another ten with Trace on the phone, before I exit my dressing room. In a suit.

Needless to say, I’m pissed. Why does everyone think they know what’s best for my career? Like I wouldn’t know or something. It’s my career after all and I’ve been doing pretty fucking good for the past ten years. You’d think they’d trust my judgment. But no, now I have to wears a suit and pose next to a disco ball.

When I walk out of the room I can see Vanessa talking on her phone and she’s walking back and forth as she does so. The actions scream frustration and I’m glad because I’m frustrated too. I don’t ever remember feeling this frustrated.

The make-up chick that didn’t leave me alone during the first set of photos comes to me and puts some shit on my face. She tells me that Mark is ready whenever I was. I’m not ready because I don’t want to take these fucking pictures.

The door to the studio opens and Tim comes in with his fucking cousin tagging along next to him. What the hell are they doing here?

I’m not listening to whatever the photographer is saying to me because my full attention goes to the three people across the room. Vanessa is not on her phone anymore, she’s giving Tim and hug and I see red when she gives Dre one as well. What!?

“So we can start whenever you’re ready, Justin,� the photographer says. I heard everything he said although I wasn’t giving it much attention. In this business I’ve learned to pay attention to your surroundings while listening to the person in front of you. This is no difference. I know he explained that he wanted me to pick up the large disco ball and pose with it the best I could.

“Okay,� I say and while I walk over to the plain white backdrop they set up again, my line of vision is directed toward the threesome. I pick up the disco ball and a few pictures are taken. I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing. I can see that Tim is now sitting next to Rachel by the window and they are talking about something. I don’t really care about those two. Who I apparently car about, I’m shocked to realize, are the other two. Vanessa and Dre are having the best conversation fucking ever, it seems. She throws her head back in a laugh and he sizes her up.

Can they be more ridiculous? They need to get the flirting shit out of my face! Before I have a chance to think about what I’m doing I throw the disco ball on the floor. It cracks a bit and a chunk if the mirrored pieces flies off. The sound of it makes everyone alert. The photographer continues to snap pictures as I take my right foot and I step on it. It crumbles under my new shiny shoes and I wish it was Dre’s head. Everyone is staring at me in shock, nobody says anything. The photographer tells me to continue what I am doing and keeps the camera flicking.

When I’m done crushing the whole one side of the disco ball, I walk over to one of the director chairs in the room. I pick it up, set it in front of the white back drop, next to the smashed disco ball and take a seat.

“Take some pictures now, Mark!� I say as I slouch on the chair, the photographer doesn‘t waste any time and starts snapping pictures. I’ve completely lost it. And over some pussy? I get up from the chair and walk out of the room without another word. I’m going insane.

-----------------------------------------------
 
I’ve had a long, draining day. The bad day started at two in the morning, it seems. While I may have been enjoying myself at that time, it wasn’t a good start. Although now that I think about it, it may have been the highlight of my entire day. Maybe my year.

I had the episode where I destroyed a studio and made an ass of myself. My mother taught me better than that, I know. But telling myself that after the fact, doesn’t really work. The only good thing coming from that little episode was the fantastic photographs the photographer claimed to have captured. It still doesn’t make me feel better about the way I acted. It didn’t make sense and it was idiotic.

I mean why would I have acted like that? Tim and Dre were there to meet me, not her. Why had I forgotten about that I asked them to come? Why had I acted like a raving lunatic? It was just her! And I hate her. Right? Right.

She didn’t speak to me for the remainder of the day, which was fine by me. If she wants to act like nothing happened, then I’ll give her that. I can get anyone I want. Anyone. In fact, I’ve gotten plenty of ass in the past and will continue to do so. I have lots of game. Just because I can’t get her out of my head, doesn’t mean I’ve lost my touch. She’s the one walking around being a bitch about it. I’m cool.

She talked more to Rachel than I’ve ever seen her talk but she didn’t speak to me. She sat in the far end of the room where I was being interviewed and that was it. When the first interview was over, she walked out ahead of me and my security. She got into the car that she was being driven in and we went to the next destination. Not a glance. Not a look of disgust. Nothing.

I don’t care either way. If she wants to go on for the rest of the tour, without speaking to me, it makes the situation that much better for me. I don’t have to think about her. I don’t have to smell her. And most importantly I don’t have to restrain myself from jumping her bones.

I don’t care.

I’m only kidding myself here. I’m as full of shit as Kevin Federline marrying for love is. I will probably continue to lust over this woman for as long as it takes me to bag her. And trust when I say that I want to. I want to in the worse way and I can’t stop it. And she may act like this shit that happened this morning between us, is nothing, but I know better.

It’s something.

And please God grant me the patience I will need. But, Ms. Vanessa Martinez will succumb to the need that I have running through my veins for her. Not for my girlfriend, Cameron. God damn it, only her.

Shit.

Author’s Note: I’d like to take this time to thank Blackchickfic, for once again jumping on board the Lovestoned Madness, this time as my personal editor. I’m so excited to have her back.

Chapter Eleven: What happens in…

One week later
Flight to Vegas

I’ll be glad when this plane lands and I can touch the ground. As much as I’ve traveled all over the country, you’d think the thought of getting on a plane is cake. But it’s not, I hate flying. If I could drive to my favorite places in the world, I would have earned about a million miles, I swear. I hate that the plastic looking stewardess make you feel ‘comfortable’ when it’s impossible. How is it possible for someone to relax and ‘enjoy’ their flight? I can’t even imagine what it feels like in coach. Having to sit so close to someone, when you’re already uncomfortable. No thanks.

“What are you doing?� The person throws the airplane pillow on my lap and grunts. “You’re doing it again, V,� she says while wrapping the cord from her headphones around her ipod.

“You were sleeping,� I say, throwing the pillow back at her, checking that she didn’t make me scribble on my paperwork. “Rules are rules, Barker.�

“I said that this weekend, there is absolutely no work while you’re with me,� she says and grabs the pen from my hand.

“You were sleeping, which means you nor your spirit, were around. You were wherever it is that you go to and dream,� I say with confidence.

“Don’t be getting all metaphorical with me,� she says with a smirk. “Stop doing all that crap, you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.�

“I am enjoying myself, Barker. But play is play and work is work,� I say as I put away all the ‘crap’ I have around me.

“You barely did anything in Hawaii, except be on the phone the entire time.�

“It wasn’t a vacation, Barker. It was work. I had to get that photo shoot out of the way. I wouldn’t have had the chance any other time. Besides, you had fun, so I’m happy.�

“Don’t give me that shit, Vanessa. You could have had fun if you wanted to. You’re involving your ‘real’ life with your business life again. Two completely different things in my book.�

“Don’t start again, Barker,� I say before reaching between us and grabbing my glass of champagne from the coffee table.

“Start what? Speaking the truth? You know I’m the only one around you that isn’t apprehensive about calling you on your shit. So if you should take anyone’s advice it should be me.�

“Are you going to give me the speech again? Frankly, I’ve heard it one too many times,� I roll my eyes at her and place my glass back on the table. “What does it mater if I had fun in Hawaii or not? I was there to do work just like you did when you had the time to do it, earlier this year. Besides, you know how much I hate Hawaii and how overrated I think the place is.�

“I’m not just talking about Hawaii, Vanessa. You know this and I know this,� she says drinking from my glass like it’s hers. Crazy bitch. “You are getting, if not already, caught up in your career too much. You promised me, no scratch that. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t do it again. You told me in New York that if I moved to LA with you, that you’d change. I haven’t seen any changes, if anything it’s getting to get worse. We’ve been here for months and you have gone out, what? Once?�

“You would have moved anyway, Barker,� I say with a smirk and a raised brow.

“Whatever,� she says waving me off. “That’s not the point.�

“What’s the point then?�

“The point is that you need to check yourself, V. And when you do that, you need to tell me what is going on with you. Because you’ve been awfully quiet for someone who likes the sound of her own voice. It’s creepy actually and you’re either going to tell me voluntarily or you’re going to have to tell. Either way, I’m going to know,� she says with a smile.

“I do not like the sound of my own voice, bitch!� I say with a laugh. I don’t feeling like laughing. I haven’t felt like laughing for days now. But it’s Barker and if I’m not laughing, I’m crying because of how hard I’m laughing. It’s a lose-lose situation when I’m with her, she makes me happy. She’s my own little laugh factory. “There’s nothing wrong.�

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong, you just did,� she says pointing at me with an evil eye.

“I have a lot of work to do, that’s all. And I haven’t been quiet by any means, didn’t you hear me telling the make-up artist what I thought about her?�

“That was you just being a bitch, Vanessa. While it may be funny as hell sometimes, it’s not always fun.�

“Oh, I know. By no means was that meant to be fun. She was annoying, how much make-up does a naturally tanned person need? Jesus!�

“You’re so anal,� she says with a laugh. “And you’re missing the point again.�

“You and your points are going to drive me to suicide,� I say with a roll of my eyes.

“At least you’ll get the point, though,� she says with a loud laugh, that causes the grumpy old business man next to us, to grunt. “You’ll be dead but you would have eventually gotten the point.�

“What? She can’t laugh, Sir? It is a free country,� I say to him and he grunts again before going back to his nap.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, V! You’re telling off grandpas now,� Barker laughs loudly again, the man is furious, I can tell. Who can sleep on a plane, anyway? Old fart!

“I’ll be super fun when this stupid plane lands,� I say looking out my window at the city below us. The most plastic of all the stewardess comes to get my glass and tells us to place our seat in an upright position. Like having your seat in an upright position is somehow going to save you from disaster. Seriously.

“Of course you will, you’re going back on tour,� she says and I look up at her. What does that mean?

“What does that mean?� I ask, and I know I shouldn’t because she knows me too well. She knows that something is up with me and the connection I have with her is too strong for me to hide it. I don’t have to tell her flat out that something out of the ordinary occurred. She knows me. Unfortunate as that may be, when you’re trying to forget what happened in the first place.

“You heard me,� she says as she puts her hair up in a messy bun.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,� It’s best to play dumb with Barker at times like these. Times when you know exactly what she’s talking about. Sometimes I’m disgusted on how much she knows me and vice versa. “What I do know though, is that jacket is ugly.�

“It is hideous, isn’t it?� she says looking down at herself. She shrugs and smoothes the sleeves of the ugly thing.

“Out of all the jackets you could have taken from the shoot, you pick the ugliest,� I’m trying to change the subject at hand as much as I can. I should know better than to try with Barker but I’ve done it my entire life, it comes natural, I guess.

“Nice try on changing the subject, Vanessa,� she says with a fake smile. “I’ll humor you though, yeah it’s the ugliest but it was the priciest of them all. You should have taken that cute little black one you wore on the shoot. It looked good on you.�

“I think I have one just like that at home,� I say with a shrug. “I didn’t even wear it in New York, I doubt I’ll wear it in LA. And who wears their jackets at the beach? That was the most ridiculous photo shoot, we’ve ever done.�

“You should have seen me when I had to wear that mink when I came. I was sweating my ass off,� she says with a laugh. “But it’s for charity, so I can sacrifice my sweat glands for a little bit.�

“I think my sweat glands got clogged with that leather jacket I wore. I couldn’t even breath,� I say with a chuckle. “I’m glad it’s done though. The Keep Kids Warm Fund should be happy with the calendar.�

“Well at least the men will,� she laughs loudly again as the plane touches ground. I’m not laughing at all. I hate this part.

I thank God we decided to pack lightly when we left to Hawaii, because I wouldn’t be caught dead at baggage claim. I’ve been to Vegas a few times with my father and it seems as though every time we’d come, the entire United States was at the airport. It hasn’t changed since the last time I was here, I can say that much.

Barker and I try to walk as fast as we could toward the front entrance of the airport, I’m late. I look around for the driver that I ordered to pick us up and when I spot my last name, I make my way toward him. Outside there is a limousine waiting for us and we don’t waste any time in getting in it. It’s a half hour drive to the hotel and I try to relax while Barker flips the channel of the television located in the limo.

“So are you going to spill or what?� She asks as she tunes in to an episode of The Real World.

“There’s nothing to spill, Barker,� I say with a groan. “Let it go.�

“You know you’re just setting yourself up for a headache, because you know I’m going to continue asking,� she says with a shrug. “Maybe I should try being more direct. What happened with Justin?�

“What?� Is it that fucking obvious? I haven’t mentioned a single syllable of his name for over a week. I hate her, I swear I do.

“You’re forgetting who you’re talking to here, V,� she says with a sneer. “I’m a pro in the ’What’s bothering Vanessa Martinez’ game. In fact, I will take credit for inventing it.�

“What makes you think there’s anything wrong? And what makes you think it has anything to do with Mr. Timberlake?� I say with a huff and she smiles at me.

“Mr. Timberlake my ass, something so happened ,� she says with a laugh and a shake of her head. “That’s the first time you mention his name and you should look in the mirror right now. It matches your lip-gloss. Your face is as red as that make-up artist wanted to make you look.�

“Shut up, Barker,� I say and I’m seriously annoyed. She’s either talking shit or it’s the truth. I fucking blushed.

“Tell me again why you suddenly decided to leave the tour you were so ‘attached’ to? Then out of nowhere you decided you want to make ‘time’ for a photo shoot that was scheduled around the tour? Explain that, babe!�

“I had work to do at the office,� I say matter of fact. I’m lying and she knows it. I left my work done and in the hands of the very few capable staff members. In all honesty, I wanted to escape from the tour. From him. From myself.

“You left all your work done before going on tour, so don’t give me that crap,� she says flipping channels again. “I mean I can’t understand why you would want to leave Justin Timberlake’s side. He is a hot piece of juicy male,� she says and licks her lips for effect.

“What?� I ask and I really don’t mean to sound jealous, but I think I do because she looks at me with a raised brow.

“If that didn’t give you away, I don’t know what else could,� she says with a serious expression on her face. “What’s up with you? What happened?�

“Nothing,� I say resting my head on the seat and closing my eyes. “Everything.�

“He couldn’t have possibly done anything that bad, V. I know that for a fact, because he’s still alive,� she says turning off the television she was pretending to be interested in.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,� I say with a sigh. There’s no use in keeping anything from her, I might as well tell her. “That’s the problem.�

“Care to elaborate on that?� She asks as she shifts on the seat to face me.

“We kind of had a thing,� I say and I have to cover my face with my hands because I can feel the heat on my cheeks. What am I, fucking thirteen? “Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.�

“Believe it,� she says with a smile. “You tell me everything.�

“We had a little encounter before I left back to LA,� I say and I’m trying not to remember the exact moment. It’s a hard task, because I’ve dreamt about it every single night since it happened.

“What kind of encounter?� She asks with a roll of her eyes.

“An oral one,� I cover my face again and grunt in frustration.

“Oral? As in ORAL? Jesus!!� she says loudly. “Justin Timberlake, the Justin Timberlake gave you head?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!! �

“Shh…� I say covering her mouth with my hand. “Are you trying to get me fired? I shouldn’t have said anything to you. At least not until this tour is over.�

“Whatever! So tell me, was it horrible?�

“What?� I ask shocked. Why would she ask me that?

“I had to be horrible, Vanessa. I mean why else would you be walking around depressed? Why else would you be fleeing the tour like you did? It was the worse experience of your life, right?� I know what she’s trying to do and I get it.

“Is this one of your points again?�

“So, it was good?�

“I’m not answering that, Barker.�

“You don’t have to, it’s written all over your face,� she says with a laugh. “So again, I ask. What is the problem?�

“Are you seriously asking me what the problem is? I screwed up, Aundrea. I’ve broken every professional boundaries I’ve set for myself. Not to mention the fact that Mr. Timberlake is very much in a relationship. Do you not think that’s a problem?� I ask as we near the Palms Hotel and Casino.

“Sure it’s a problem. His,� she says with a shrug. “He’s a big celebrity and so is his girlfriend, whom you have unending love for, by the way. Celebrities do this type of things all the time. Stop beating yourself up over it.�

“It’s not that simple, Barker. I’m not a celebrity. I have morals and a conscience,� I say as the door to the limo opens for us to exit.

“If you feel that way it can only mean one thing, Vanessa,� she says as we walk toward the entrance.

“What’s that, Dr. Barker?� I say as I check us in and take our key card from the concierge.

“It must have been really good,� she says as the door to the elevators open and we’re both face to face with Mr. Timberlake and Ms. Diaz.

Mr. Timberlake freezes up like as statue for a brief second before he smiles at Barker and says hello. The twig next to him, whom is holding his hand, smiles and greets Barker as well. What am I, chopped liver? And what the hell is she wearing? She dyed her hair black? Bad choice, Ms. Diaz! The purple shoes wouldn’t have been my first choice either. Eww. He tells Barker he hopes she makes it to the show the following night and keeps walking. When the elevator doors close with us inside, Barker looks at me with an evil stare.

“Don’t,� I simply say as we ride to our floor.

“Whatever you say, Vanessa,� she says and I can tell she’s holding back from laughing. “Does she really think she looks good with that hair? And oh my God did you see those awful purple shoes she was wearing? Some one needs a personal stylist.�

“Someone needs a rejuvenating face mask too,� I say and I can’t help but laugh lightly. “And you had those shoes too, Barker, I wouldn‘t talk.�

“Had, as in past tense. Those were so last season, I swear,� she says letting her hair out of the bun she’d done earlier. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for getting it on with Justin Timberlake,� she says as the doors open and we’re in a pretty populated hallway.

“Shh,� I say quickly as we step off the elevator. “Jesus, Barker!�

“Oh shut up,� she says and looks down the hallway. I know she’s looking for Mr. Ayala, who promised her dinner. “Where’s Trace’s room?�

“I don’t know. I just got here, remember?� I say opening the door to our suite for the weekend. “Listen,�

“I know what you’re going to say, so save it. Who am I going to tell? Besides, you’re being way too hard on yourself. I’m actually kind of happy for you. I wish you’d feel the same. You haven’t had sex in ages, and not because you can’t. You’ve drowned yourself in your work and haven’t given anyone a chance. So what, if that opportunity came in the form of the hottest pop star in the world? Enjoy it, V. Please!�

“I was going to say that I have to go to the venue and I’ll be back later on,� I say making sure everything that I need is in my briefcase. “But nice speech anyway.�

“So what are you going to say to him?�

“To whom?�

“John Travolta,� she says sarcastically. “Justin. What are you going to say to him? He seems to be tense too, like someone around here. More specifically, you. And I just saw him for like two seconds, and I don’t even know him like that to know, but I can tell. I don’t know him like you do, at least.�

“Barker!� I say with a huff as I reapply my lipstick in front of a mirror. I grab my briefcase and tell her, I would call her when I get a chance. “Have fun tonight.�

“No! You have fun!� she says pointing at me as I head out the door. “You promised!�

“I didn’t promise to have fun while I work, Barker,� I say as I open the door and walk out.

“You can have fun all the time!� I hear her say before the thickness of the door blocks out what she’s saying. I smile, even though I’m in a miserable mood. I try to clear my head and relax on my elevator ride down but it’s not really working and my nerves are shot.

When I walk onto the lobby, which has flashes of cameras going off, I realize that Mr. Timberlake and his candy on a stick, haven’t left yet. I can see a limousine pulling up to the door and I cringe. Am I going to have to ride with them to the venue? I swear God is striking down on me for my sins, because after the driver lets the superstar and the supernot in the limo, he comes and gets me.

“Ms. Martinez?� the driver asks and I don’t know how he knows who I am, but he does.

“Yes, how did you know?� I ask as I walk next to him to the car.

“Mr. Timberlake pointed you out, ma’am,� he says and if I wasn’t preoccupied with my dilemma, I would have told him that ma’am is my mother. Or perhaps, Ms. Diaz, he could call that, not me.

“I didn’t notice,� I ask as he reaches to open the door for me.

“Yes, ma’am,� he says again before I get into the car. Mr. and Ms. I Hate Them, are sitting on the far side of the limo. Like I really wanted to sit with them anyway.

I don’t say a word to either one and pretend to look over some paperwork from my briefcase. A few minutes pass before we can actually get past the tour buses and fans surrounding the hotel. If the word awkward could describe my situation at the moment, the word would be worth a million bucks. But the word doesn’t do justice. The tension in the small space increases and I try my best to keep my eyes on the paper in front of me. I don’t know why they are choosing to remain quiet but they are, nonetheless. Assholes.

My brain is telling me one thing while my body does another, because I look up at them anyway. Her head is on his shoulder and she has her headphones on with her eyes closed. She couldn’t sleep in the hotel? I feel like asking her that but I refrain. Can she seem less interested in him? She looks constantly bored out of her mind. What’s her problem? Why the hell do I care? When I divert my eyes over to him, I notice that he’s wide awake and staring.

At me.

I look at him and raise my eyebrow in question.

“Something on your mind, Mr. Timberlake?� I ask because I really can’t help myself. If I’m not being a complete bitch to him, I’m thinking about what we did. I’d rather put all that aside and throw a few punches because if I don’t, he’ll take me down. I know it. As hard as that may be to admit, I’m prepared to accept that.

He doesn’t say anything instead pulls his girlfriend closer to him and leans his head on the head rest before closing his eyes. Good. I didn’t want to talk to him anyway. I try to look away at the picture in front of me but I can’t. They disgust me.

If I could just get through the rest of this day, I’ll be thankful. I’m going to the venue to meet with Johnny and the security staff. I‘m going to avoid the sleepy couple as much as possible. And then I’m going to keep my promise to Barker and have some fun.

Even if it kills me.

-------------------------------------

Three Hours Later

The meeting with Johnny took longer than I expected and it’s almost nine o’clock when I get back to the hotel. I’m feeling a bit tired and I hope Barker wants to stay in tonight. I doubt it, but it’s okay to hope.

When I step off the elevator, I can see Barker, Mr. Ayala and Reba girl talking by our room door. I’m usually not very sociable when I’m tired, or hardly ever , so I hope they make themselves scarce by the time I reach the room. Barker sees me coming first and she lets the other two know. I really don’t want to chat right now. I really don’t. I put on my best smile, the one plastered on my face twenty-four hours a day and reach them.

“Welcome back, gorgeous,� Barker says with a smile.

“Thank you, beautiful,� I say with a wink.

“Hey Vanessa,� Mr. Ayala says looking from Barker to me with a smile.

“How are you, Trace?� I ask and in all honesty I don’t care. “I just heard really good things about your project from Mr. Wright.�

“Yeah, to say I’m doing great is an understatement,� he says with a bright smile.

“I love your shoes, Vanessa,� the Reba girl says and I’m forced to look down at the shoes I’m wearing. I’m so out of it, I had forgotten about my new pair of Manolo Blahniks. They are great shoes!

“Thank you,� I say as I slide my key card to open the door. “I apologize for being rude, but I’m exhausted and hungry. I’m going to order something to eat,� I say halfway into the room.

“I ordered for you already, V,� Barker says. “It should be up in a few minutes.�

“Thanks, B,� I say with a genuine smile. This is why she’s my best friend. This is why she’s the only person I count on. “Have a good night,� I say to the other two as I enter the room.

I throw myself on the bed face down and I swear I’ve never felt so exhausted. Ever. And the thing is, that being physically tired has nothing to do with it. It’s more mental than anything else. Having to walk around acting as though nothing in the world bothers me is exhausting. It drains the life out of me and the sad part is that I don’t know any different. The only time I can grasp any concept of normalcy, is when I’m with Barker. Which is why she’s in Vegas with me when I would normally tell her to stay away and let me work. I’m out of whack, I swear.

“Long meeting?� I grab the pillow Barker just threw at me and lay my head on it. I wish I could sleep but I know better. It’s Vegas! And Barker hasn’t been here in a while. By turning to look at her I can already see the party girl emerge. She has plans. Shit.

“If Johnny wasn’t a family member I swear I would tell him to shut up,� I say with a chuckle. “The man can talk and talk and then he’ll talk some more.

“Sounds oddly familiar,� she says with a laugh. “You look tired,� she says and she frowns. “That face isn’t going to work tonight.�

“Sure it will. This pillow doesn’t have eyes,� I say with my eyes closed as I snuggle onto it.

“Yeah, okay,� she says and gets up from where she was laying next to me. “I ordered a cheeseburger and some fries for you. Some solids to hold you up, if you know what I mean.�

“You know I don’t eat heavy food before bed, Barker,� I say kicking off my very expensive shoes. I don’t even care at this point. All I care about is convincing her to stay in for the night. At least let me, stay in for the night I should say.

“Yeah I’m aware of that but since you’re not going to bed for a few hours, you should be okay,� she says as she looks through the clothes in the closet. I’d forgotten I had my things shipped before going to Hawaii and I was a bit shocked to see all the clothes. “Now, what are you wearing?�

“I prefer wearing nothing in the privacy of my own home when I sleep, but a tank and shorts will do here,� I say with a yawn.

“Right,� she says as she keeps sorting through my things. “Do you know that you have three identical suits in here?�

“They aren’t identical,� I argue and lift my head up to see one of the suits she’s talking about. “The pockets are different and so is the stitching.�

“Whatever,� she says hanging the garment bags back on the rail. “This will do,� she says grabbing a gold top from the closet and throwing it on the bed. The top lands near my head and I grunt because I don’t want to wear that. I don’t want to wear anything, period.

“I can’t wear that to bed,� I know I shouldn’t mess with her when she’s putting her fashion expertise to use but anything to try to reach my goal.

“Trace brought two size threes,� she says as she throws a pair of jeans next to the shirt, I’m apparently wearing tonight. “I like the lighter ones, so you’ll have to wear those.�

“Trace gave you jeans?� I ask sitting up on the bed and curling my legs underneath me as much as I could wearing a skirt. I reach for the pair she’d thrown my way and shake my head. “I’m not wearing these.�

“I’m wearing one of your suit jackets,� she says ignoring me and I’m annoyed. I hate being ignored. “And this,� she says taking a long necklace I have in my jewelry box. I hadn’t noticed that earlier either.

“Did you hear me?� I ask lifting the jeans up. “I’m not wearing these.�

“Sure you are,� she says as the someone knocks on the door. “I’ll get it, it’s your food,� she says putting the necklace around her neck. It’s going to be a long night, I can tell.

When she comes back, she’s pushing the cart of food toward the bed. The food cart in stocked with my food, a cheese tray and a small bottle of Puerto Rican Rum. I look up at her and she smiles. She’s going to be the reason my head will be pounding tomorrow. I smile and gesture for her to give me one of the shot glasses she’s holding.

“Just give me it,� I say and she laughs.

“Just one though, then you eat, take a shower, get dressed and then we’ll have another one,� she says as she fills the two shot glasses with the clear liquor. “Then we’ll go have some fun!�

“Can’t wait,� I say with a bored expression when she hands me the glass.

“To a fun night in Vegas,� she says as she clinks her small shot glass against mine. I take the shot with her and the liquid burns its way down my throat. I’m already feeling warm. Damn! “And to more fun times with Justin for you,� she says after we take the shot. My eyes bug out and I caught on the liquid that’s not there.

“If I would have said that before you would have spit that all over me,� she says with a laugh. “That would have been a waste.�

“Jesus! I shouldn’t have said anything to you,� I say as I take my suit jacket off and throw it across the room. There goes seven hundred dollars. “You won’t shut up about him.�

“Well if you didn’t have ‘him’ written on your beautiful face, I wouldn’t be reminded,� she says with a sarcastic smile before taking my shot glass from where I dropped it on the bed. “Eat!�

“I do not have Justin Timberlake written on my face,� I say getting up from the bed and grabbing my food. I se the cove on the cart and sit in the table located by the balcony doors. I pop a French fry into my mouth and decided that I’m not so hungry anymore.

“Of course you don’t,� she says as she places the shoes she plans to wear on the bed. He grabs another pair and lifts one of each pair up to me. “Which ones?�

“The Louis Vuittons,� I say as I take a bite out of my burger even though my appetite is gone. “Where are you going to anyway?�

“Yeah I was going for those too. And ‘we’ are going downstairs to Rain,� she says before heading toward the bathroom. “Wear the jeans.�

“I’m not wearing his jeans, Barker,� I say as she’s closing the bathroom door. She opens the door and looks at me.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to wear the jeans Trace was nice enough to give to us,� she says closing the door and ending the conversation.

I’m not wearing those jeans.

--------------------------------------

Two Hours Later

“I should have taken those,� Barker says to me as she walks behind me, out of the room. “Your ass looks great in them.�

“You can have them,� I say with a shrug. “I don’t need another pair of jeans.�

“What you need is to have some fun,� she says slapping my butt and laughing. “Relax, V.�

“I am relaxed,� I’m lying. I’m not relaxed at all. The few shots we took while we got ready aren’t really kicking in yet. I’m glad this bar is upstairs because the minute that Barker is distracted, I’m sneaking back to the room. Crossed fingers, as we step into the empty elevator and ride forty-five floors down. The movement of the elevator makes me a bit dizzy and when I step off the elevator behind Barker, I realize I wasn’t the elevator at all. I’m a bit tipsy.

I don’t even care.

When we make it to the club’s entrance, Barker is being called by one of the bouncers. When she had time to meet him , I don’t know, but it took us two seconds to get past the line of people waiting.

“When did you meet him?� I ask loudly over the music as we make our way past the metal detectors.

“I didn’t,� she says looking around the club. “Trace told him I was coming. He must have described me or something.�

“Trace? He’s here tonight?� I ask and the music is so loud, I can’t even hear myself.

“Yeah and so is Justin,� she says before grabbing my hand and weaving through the crowd. I don’t even have a chance to react, I just follow her and try to keep my head from spinning.

“Barker!� I say and she turns to look at me.

“We have to go upstairs!� she yells and points to one of the skyboxes above us.

I keep walking, weaving around people and ignoring the pathetic bastards that try to talk to me. Can’t they see I’m walking? Or trying to? Jesus! When we reach the skybox area, a large man looks at us and doesn’t even ask who we are. He opens the door to the stairs and we pass him. I realize as we go up the stairs that I’m entering the danger zone. Mr. Timberlake and Ms. Diaz better be off to one side of the room and remain there. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to hold my tongue in the state of inebriation that I’m in.

“Can’t they put an elevator in here? Damn!� Barker says as we walk down the corridor leading to the skyboxes.

“You didn’t tell me we were hanging out with them, Barker,� I say as we walk to the end of the hall.

“You didn’t ask,� she says with a smile.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here,� I can see Dre coming down the corridor. He’s so damn annoying. I put on my best smile and return the hug he gives me. Barker gives me a wide-eyed look and refrains from laughing out loud. She’s drunk.

“Dre, this Aundrea Barker,� I say with a smile. “My best friend.�

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aub…rey,� he says with a stutter. He’s a loser, I can see why I can’t stand him.

“The pleasure is mine, Fred,� she says and I laugh. He looks at her weird and looks at me with a smile.

“I’ll save you a dance, Vanessa,� he says as he passes us and goes into the room.

“Eww, who the hell is that thug?� Barker asks with a cringe.

“Tim’s cousin,� I say as I open the door.

“You seem pretty chummy with him,� she says and I stop my walk toward the bar in the room. I’m trying to avoid having to look around the dark congested room. Isn’t this supposed to be private? Who are these people? “Anything I should know?�

“No,� I say as I grab her hand and pull her behind me toward the bar. “I need a drink.�

“Don’t look now, V,� Barker says to me when we reach the small bar. “You’re one step closer to having fun!�

“Shut up,� I say with a smile before I tell the bartender what we’ll have. “I did promise.�

“That you did,� Barker says as she grabs one of the shots that I ordered and makes a toasting gesture. “To change!�

“To change,� I agree and down the double shot of tequila like it was water. Change can be good. Or not.

“Here comes Fred again,� Barker says with a chuckle. When I turn, I can see that Dre has his eyes on us and the place is too congested to run away.

“Fred Flintstone,� I say with a laugh as he gets closer. Barker laughs loudly and sips on the Long Island Ice Tea she has. “He doesn’t even have a rock to drop dead on,� the comment makes Barker laugh even louder and she continues to do so as Dre approaches me.

“You want to dance?� he asks, Barker turns around and I can see her shoulder shake from laughing and trying not to laugh too, I look around the area. There are a lot of people in the room and the lights are dimmed but only one set of eyes I can clearly see. Mr. Timberlake is sitting on a couch across the small dance floor and he’s looking at me intently. Ms. Diaz is sitting on his lap and she’s having a conversation with Ms. Bomar who is sitting on the other couch.

“Sure,� I say and Barker turns to look at me. “I would love to.�

“Wha…� Barker starts to say but I can see the laughter in her face.

“Watch my drink!� I say as Dre pulls me to the middle of the floor. A random Sean Paul song is playing and Dre doesn’t waste any time. My ass is merely an inch away from his front and I roll my eyes at Barker who is laughing hysterically. She’s really drunk.

A few songs are played and I must admit that I am having a good time. My back is turned to Mr. Timberlake and his crew and I’m on my third drink. Barker is off dancing with Trace and Mr. Kudelka, so far so good. A new song starts and Barker comes to where Dre and I are, a drink in her hand. I can see Ms. Days Of Sunshine walk out of the bar with Ms. Bomar and I’m hoping Mr. Timberlake already left.

“Can my friend dance with somebody else now, Fred?� she asks with a smile. I try not to laugh but it doesn’t work, I laugh throwing my head back. I don’t even know what’s so funny but I can’t stop laughing.

“Share the wealth, Dre,“ Mr. Timberlake is standing behind me and I’m suddenly not laughing. I turn to him and I feel like he’s entirely too close. The two men go through the pounding fists and the one arm hug before Mr. Timberlake looks at me. He’s not smiling. He’s just looking at me. “Are we dancing or not?�

I’m about to tell him to take his dancing ass away from me but Barker interrupts me. “Sure she would! She wouldn’t be rude, right V?�

“You wouldn’t want to be rude, V,� he says to me and the smirk that’s normally on his face, isn’t there. Instead he’s looking very serious and angry. What crawled up his ass?

“Of course not, Mr. Timberlake,� I say handing Dre my empty glass.

The alcohol in my system is preventing me from pulling my hand from his and telling him to fuck off. The alcohol in my system is allowing his hands to go to my hips. The alcohol in y system allows him to turn my body over to be flushed against him. I know there’s a reggae song playing but I can’t hear the words, my mind is so far off. We’re moving together perfectly slow to the beat of the song and I can feel his hand make contact with my skin when we move. My head is resting back on his shoulder and I can feel his breathing on my neck when he move my hair out of the way.

“Were you planning on fucking him on the dance floor?� he whispers in my ear. When I go to make a move to get away from him, he pulls my hips closer to him. I can feel the hardness on my ass and I close my eyes trying to clear my head. I’m too drunk for this. “They way you were rubbing your ass on him, you might as well have fucked him,� he whispers and he sound incredibly angry which normally would piss me off. But tonight, well tonight is a different story.

“Was I rubbing my ass on him like this?� I say loud enough so only he could hear me and I add a little pressure with the said body part. He makes that sound that’s been haunting me for days and I almost pass out. I’m going to regret this in the morning.

“You weren’t this close to him no,� he whispers.

“Well then according to your rules, Mr. Timberlake, you might as well fuck me,� I say and the next thing I know, I’m being lead to the door. I look around for Barker and I catch her eye from the dance floor. She has a huge smile on her face and I roll my eyes at her.

“Fuck!� I hear him say and my hand is released from his grasp. Ms. Diaz is making her way toward us and I should be turning to walk the other way. But I’m not.

“Shit out of luck, Mr. Timberlake,� I say with a shrug as Barker comes to stand next to me. She hands me a drink and I sip on it as Ms. Diaz makes her presence known.

“Hey babe, I thought you were coming,� she says followed by that loud obnoxious laugh of hers. She sounds like a fucking hyena.

“Oh, he was going to come, for sure,� Barker says and I can’t help but laugh. Everything is hilarious. “But I wanted to buy him a drink and I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Would you like a drink, Cameron?�

“Oh no thanks honey, I’m good,� she says with a smile, tucking that ratty black hair behind her huge ears. “Having a good time tonight?� she asks and I know she’s asking me more than Barker.

“I was,� I say with a fake smile. “Hope you enjoy the rest of the night,� I say drinking the rest of the drink Barker gave me in one swig. My best friend in the world, takes my cue and follows my lead.

“You two have a good night,� Barker says to them and follows me to the door. She’s laughing as she catches up with me. “That would have been so bad!�

“Shut up,� I say laughing a bit and as we make our way past a few other drunk people, I come face to face with some blond chick with roots down to her ears that I’ve never seen before. “Excuse me.�

“I’m Nikole,� she says and throws her hair behind her shoulder. Her demeanor screams groupie. You’re not getting a meet and greet out of me, skank!

“I’m glad,� I say and go to walk around her.

“Go away,� Barker says to her and laughs.

“I’m Nikole,� the blond chick says again.

“We’ve established that already, Nicky,� Barker says mockingly. “What do you want? The show’s sold out. Too bad so sad. Good night.�

“I’m Dre’s girlfriend,� Nikole says annoyed. “I saw you dancing with my man earlier and you better back off. I wanted to let you be warned…�

“Whoa!� I say and I can’t believe I just heard this groupie warn me. “Warn me? Let me tell you about warning, NIKOLE! Warning is the little label on the condom wrapper your father forgot to read, making you that one percent. DO NOT think for one minute that you or any of your friends, will ever ’warn me’ about anything. If you’re incredibly miserable insecure in your relationship, that’s not my problem, it’s yours. You should be paying attention to your gaydar, which obviously you don’t have, as much as you should pay closer attention to those roots of yours. Get a life!�

“Amen!� Barker says with a laugh.

“What?!� Nikole feels like an idiot, I can tell.

“Listen Nicky,� Barker says with a smile. “Your ‘man’ is so busy playing a straight guy, you’re buying into it. Take a hard look at your ‘man’ before you start assuming my friend here wants him. Take care of those roots too, girl! We’re in Vegas!�

“Goodnight,� I say and push the bimbo out of my way. Barker follows, still laughing.

I’m over this night. I need to go to bed. Alone.

But I’m tired of being alone.

Chapter Twelve: Kayley and Laura

San Diego, California

I don’t know how much of this I can take. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. How much longer I can keep this charade to its fullest potential. I haven’t been able to calm my anxiousness since we left Vegas a week ago. I keep asking myself, what I was thinking. What erroneous act I was ready to commit, yet again?

I’ve been thinking about the conversation that I had with my mother when I was ten years old. It’s a conversation that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

I was the shit, I had my very first girlfriend and I was happy. Her name was Laura, she had long blond hair down to her butt and she was hot! She was beautiful! She played any game that I wanted to play, if you know what I mean. She ran around with Trace and me as if she was one of the boys and didn’t mind getting dirty. I loved her, even when I was that young I remember loving her. And I continued to love her until I was eleven years old and tragedy happened. The tragedy came in the form of Kayley, the new girl in town. Kayley was twelve and the most beautiful girl I had ever laid my eleven-year-old eyes on. She was everything that Laura wasn’t, sadly. I remember feeling guilty because I was starting to like Kayley just a tiny bit more than I did Laura. Then Kayley threw a wrench in our child’s play when she asked me, the younger kid, to be her boyfriend. I was shocked and excited at the same time.

It was the biggest dilemma I would have faced to date, in my short life. I didn’t know what to do, so I went to the one person who knew everything. Who still knows everything in my book. My mother.

My mother told me that I needed to make a choice. That I couldn’t go around being both girls’ boyfriend because it would hurt both their feelings. She said that she couldn’t make the decision for me but that I needed to think long and hard about the decisions that I made in life. She told me that life was too short to waste my time being unhappy. I didn’t know what she meant at the time, but I’ve grown to understand.

I’m living it.

Either way, I didn’t choose, I didn‘t have to. We moved to Florida where I met a cute girl named Britney Spears and my life went into the whirlwind that it is today.

Today, over fifteen years later, I’m back at the Laura/Kayley stage of my life that I thought I had left behind when I met Cameron. I feel like I’m eleven years old again and I don’t have the slightest idea as to what to do.

I love Cameron, I really do. She makes me laugh and think about things that I never took the time to think about, before her. She’s shown me things that I will never forget, both mentally and spiritually. I can’t remember having as much fun as I’ve had with her these past few years. I love her athletic ability and her ability to go toe to toe with me in any sport. I love watching and attending sport events with her, because I know she’s as into it as I am, not just because she loves me. I can be myself with her and know that she won’t be selling my deepest secrets to the tabloids. Not that anyone I’ve dated would, but still. There are no ulterior motives behind anything that she does. She stands on solid ground and never lets anyone tear her down. We’re alike. We fit together as cheesy as that may sound. She’s the one I’ve been looking for since the cute girl I met in Florida crushed my heart. She’s the one for me.

At least she was until Kayley reared her beautiful head, again.

Another Kayley in the form of Vanessa Martinez.

If I asked my mother what I should do, she would ask me the same question she’s been asking me since I told her that I was dating Cameron Diaz. Why her? And she would crinkle her nose up in disgust.

“Why her?� Cameron asks laughing at something on the television in front of us. Sometimes I think she’s inside my head, that‘s how in-tune I am with this woman. “She looked good in those pictures.�

“What?� I ask because I have no idea what she’s referring to. I’m spacing out. My thoughts are taking over me.

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?� She asks turning the TV off and sitting up on the bed to look at me. “What’s wrong?�

“Nothing’s wrong,� I say pulling her to straddle my lap. “How much do you love me?�

“You will never know how much,� she says kissing my lips and her words stab me in the heart. I know she loves me and I can’t continue doing this to her.

“I thought so,� I say before kissing her again and rolling her on her back. One thing that I knew for sure was that my sex life with Cameron had never lacked spark. Ever. It’s what I turned to at times when I felt insecure about our relationship. Sad to say, but the truth. Sex has always been out of this world with her.

Until now.

Cameron went back to filming her movie after the Vegas weekend and we haven’t seen each other until last night. I didn’t know she was coming and walking into my hotel room to find her here was a surprise. I want to bang my head against the wall because sadly, I didn’t miss her. What is wrong with me?

When we left the club the night that I was five seconds from cheating on her again, we had sex. I felt guilty for the first time, afterwards. I wanted to enjoy every second of it, like I always do. I kissed her in all the right places. I made her scream out my name multiple times. And while normally, those actions would have sent me over the edge with emotions. It didn’t. The only emotion I felt was guilt. I wasn’t worthy of her naked body under me when my mind was somewhere else. She didn’t deserve what I did, what I was going to do that night in Vegas and what I’m still thinking of doing.

To Vanessa Martinez.

I keep asking myself, what if Cameron hadn’t gone to the room early. What if? But I can’t imagine not being as angry as I was. I can’t explain the feeling that has come over me when I see Vanessa with Dre. It’s nothing personal against Dre I guess I know that. It’s personal against her because she’s got me this way. It’s like that drug I swore I would never take. That drug that makes the male species go insane, at least the straight ones. It’s the best shit you’ve ever had in your life, in my case, tasted. I’ve lost my cool, I‘m becoming pussy-whipped over pussy I haven‘t even had, technically.

And all because of those jeans and what I knew was inside them.

Over some jeans? I’m about to ruin my relationship with a wonderful woman over how delicious, Vanessa Martinez looked in a pair of my designer jeans.

The answer to that is as clear as my anger was when I saw her grinding up against him.
As a result, when I ask myself what would have happened if Cameron hadn’t left, I know the answer. The same exact thing. I would have broken Cameron’s heart right then, because I wanted Vanessa that much. I didn’t care as I do now.

It’s the Kayley Factor at its best or worst, I don’t know. It’s what had me playing the part of faithful boyfriend, while making ‘love’ to my girlfriend half an hour ago. It‘s the winning factor that has another woman running through mind while engaged in love making with my girlfriend. I’m doomed I know it.

It’s almost time for me to head to the venue and I’m hoping Cameron skips the sound check. I love having her with me, but I can’t concentrate with her around. I’m finding that I’m tiptoeing around her and it’s a difficult situation. While I don’t want to hurt her feelings in any way, I know that I will. She loves me with all her heart. I honesty and whole-heartedly believe that and having her around will only make this decision harder.

I have to end this relationship before she gets hurt and I end up feeling worse.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

House of Blues

One Hour Later

“Cameron called and she said she’ll meet us for lunch,� Rachel says to me as I step off the stage.

“Alright,� I grab the water bottle she hands to me and look over the proofs that came back from last weeks photo shoot. “What time is it?�

“Three seventeen,� she says flipping through the proofs when I hand them to her.

“Where’s your watch?�

“I forgot it,� I say looking around the room. “I marked the ones that I liked, but I’m sure Jive will pick whichever one they want. I don’t see why they ask me to pick in the first place. I don’t give a shit about pictures. The album cover could be solid black for all I care.�

“Someone’s moody,� she says as we start walking toward the door. “You alright?�

“Yeah,� I’m lying. I know it and she knows it.

“Liar,� she says and smirks at me. “How come Cameron didn’t come with us?�

“I don’t know,� I shrug.

“I do, maybe you shouldn’t have rushed out of the room while she was still in the shower, Boyfriend of the Year,� she says sarcastically with a laugh as she reads something on her Blackberry. We’re waiting inside for the car to be brought to the curb and I know she’s trying to lighten the mood that I’m in, but it’s not going to work today. I’m on edge.

“Maybe you should tend to your duties and leave my business where it should be,� I say as Eric opens the door and I’m face-to-face with the one and only. Vanessa Martinez.

“Pull the dick out of your ass, Justin,� Rachel says before looking up from her Blackberry. “Great,� she says when she sees Vanessa standing a few feet from us.

“It’s great to see you too, Ms. Bomar,� she says with that smile of hers. “I hope you haven’t forgotten about our meeting later today.�

“I’m fully aware of it, thank you,� Rachel says and I almost want to laugh. I’ve seen Rachel mad, but I’ve never seen her act this way. Quite comical, actually. But I’m not in a laughing mood.

“Mr. Timberlake,� she says to me and looks at me through her dark shades. “I believe there’s something I need to speak to you about.�

“Regarding?� I ask with a raised brow as she ignores my question and walks into the building. Am I supposed to follow her? “I’ll be out in a minute,� I tell Rachel and she rolls her eyes at me.

“We’re meeting Cameron in twenty-minutes, Justin,� she reminds me as she walks out the door.

I haven’t seen Vanessa in a few days; I haven’t been looking for her either. I have enough shit on my plate right now to hunt the topic of my ‘shit’ down and continue this…I don’t even know what to call it. I knew she didn’t leave the tour, like she did last week, I do know that. But she’s been avoiding me like the plague until today.

She’s wearing jeans again, I notice as I walk behind her. This is becoming too familiar for me, why am I always the one behind. All sorts of dirty things come to my mind and I curse inwardly. I can’t stop myself. She makes me so angry, it actually turns me on. This is weirder than I thought.

“Have a seat, Mr. Timberlake,� she says as we enter an empty office.

“I’ll stand,� I say crossing my arms over my chest. I may look like I’m trying to be defiant, but I’m just trying to keep my hands to myself.

“Whatever,� she says and reaches inside her briefcase for an envelope. She looks inside it and hands me the large manila envelope. “I believe I was very clear when I asked if you would be more careful in public. I believe you said you would try your best. Those pictures aren’t your best, Mr. Timberlake.�

“What are you talking about?� I ask as I pull the photos out of the envelope. When I flip through them, I can see various shots of me at a club, a few days ago. “Are you trying to tell me that I can’t drink alcohol in public?�

“I’m not trying to tell you anything, Mr. Timberlake. You can drink as much alcohol as you want. That’s not the issue,� she says rudely taking the pictures from my hand. She looks through a few pictures then hands them to me again. “That’s the issue.�

“All these pictures look the same, Vanessa. What are you trying to show me?� I ask looking at her with a bored expression. Because that is what I am when she’s in that bitch mode, bored out of my mind. I hate her the most when she’s like this.

“Don’t call me Vanessa,� she says and she’s the one folding her arms over her chest this time. Defensive.

“What the fuck do you want me to call you then?� She opens her eyes wide and I can tell she’s not amused. “Would bitch be okay?�

“Sure, as long as I can call you asshole,� She asks and leans against the table located behind her. She crosses her leg over the other and looks at me. “Would that work for you?�

“I don’t have time for your shit today,� I say lifting the photos up for her view. “I’m not watching what I drink or where I drink it at. I’m not a fucking kid. I will do as I fucking please whether you like it or not, you’re not my fucking mother! So you can take these fucking pictures and do what you’d like with them, VANESSA.�

“Look at the picture, asshole,� she says. “Do you even remember that girl that is pictured to your left?�

“What the hell are you fucking talking about?�

“Let me clear this up for you, Mr. Timberlake. You went out three days ago, to a club. You proceeded to drink your miserable fucking life away,� I can tell she’s being sarcastic because she rolls her eyes. “In the process, you handed a sixteen year old girl a fucking drink. If you haven’t figured it out yet, Mr. Timberlake, that’s the girl in the fucking picture. Do you understand me now? Am I speaking your fucking language?�

“I understand your fucking language, thank you very much. You think you can rule every aspect of my public life and it’s not going to work. You’re not with me twenty-four fucking hours a day. I don’t know or remember no fucking sixteen year old, and if I did. How the fuck would I have known how old she was?� I’m going on and on and she’s sitting on the edge of the desk, holding herself up with her hands on the desk on either side of her.

“You have exceptionally white teeth,� she says with a shrug and I stop my rambling to look at her questioningly. “Considering all the shit you talk. Is your breath as shitty?�

“What?� Is she crazy? What the hell do my teeth have to do with anything?

“I said...�

“I know what you fucking said; I’m not fucking deaf, Vanessa.�

“But you certainly are an asshole,� She says standing up completely. Her arms are back to being folded across her chest and she smirks at me. “Not that you care about your public persona or anything, but I released a statement about those pictures this morning. It’s taken care of.�

“Then why the fuck did you call me in here? Do you like fucking with me? Because it seems like you do and you enjoy the hell out of it. What’s your deal?�

“My deal? My deal is that it’s unfair that I have to deal with your bullshit mistakes and cover your fucking ass every single time! That’s my deal! You’ve been in this business longer than I have, Superstar! You should know better than to get drunk, at a public facility and give underage groupies alcohol! You’re the only person you can blame for your stupidity, Mr. Timberlake. You chose this career, not me!�

“What’s your problem? One day you’re asking me to fuck the shit out of you. The next you’re screaming nonsense at me about some fucking pictures that I couldn’t help. I can’t keep up with your fucked up ways and frankly it’s driving me fucking insane!� I roar and she continues look at me angrily. “Are we fucking or not?! Because the stress of it all is going to make my head explode! And you being a bitch isn’t helping either! I’m tired of the mood swings and all the bullshit!�

“I didn’t ask you to do anything for me, Mr. Timberlake. What you did was your choice to do,� the nerve of this woman! She didn’t just go there. “What you didn’t do was also your choice. It’s all about you, Mr. Timberlake. Like it always is,� she says with a roll of her eyes. The sarcasm has to go.

“It wasn’t all about me that night in your room, was it?� I ask, she smirks, and wait, did she smile? It happened too quickly but I think she did. “At least I did my part.�

“Sure you did, Mr. Timberlake. Like the part where you acted like a pussy when your girlfriend showed up,� she says looking at me with a raised brow. “Speaking of, will she be happy to know that her man is soliciting sex from his PR?�

“Answer the fucking question, Vanessa,� I’m tired of beating around the gigantic bush. She needs to let me know what’s up.

“Which question would that be, Super Ass? You’ve been asking question after question, I can’t keep up,� she’s looking at me with that stupid smirk and I step closer to her to smell her. She smells like heaven, I swear. She looks up at me with that smirk again and if she’s not careful, she’s going to smile again. Tisk, tisk, Vanessa.

“Are we doing this or not?� I ask and she pretends to think it over. I know she wants me as bad as I want her. I know she does. I can feel it. “Because you’re going to have to make the next move if this is happening. I’ve made all my moves,� I say with a shrug. I’m lying, I know it and she knows it. I will not let this shit go just because she hasn’t made any moves. All I know is that she has responded like a champion every time. She wants it.

I’m not sure if I met her halfway or if she reached all on her own, but the next thing I know, her lips are on mine. She’s kissing me this time and I’m about to pass out from the sexiness of it all. She sucks on my bottom lip and I swear my dick felt it. Her hands are cradling my face and her thumb caresses my cheek. Jesus! When I go to pull her closer to me, as though it was physically possible with all these fucking clothes on, she pulls away. I want to ask her why the fuck she stopped swallowing me whole but I can’t speak. I just stand there like a dumb ass and stare at her.

She picks up the photos that I apparently dropped and gets her things from the desk before looking at me.

“Your breath doesn’t coordinate with all that shit you talk, Mr. Timberlake,� she says walking past me toward the door. “I was just making sure,� she says and walks out of the room.

I’m speechless.

Over a kiss.

This is worse than I thought.

It seems as though Kayley has made a move again and this time around, I’ve completely disregarded Laura’s feelings.

------------------------------------------

One AM

I’m completely wired from the show but I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could sleep instead of staying up and watching this movie. I’m not in the mood to watch two people fall madly in love when I’m questioning my own ability to commit.

“You don’t want to watch this movie, do you?� Cameron asks from next to me where she’s tucked underneath the sheets.

“I would prefer not to,� I say honestly. “We’ve seen it a million times, Cameron.�

“And since when do you not like The Notebook?� she asks looking at me with those blue eyes of hers.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I just don’t want to watch it tonight,� I snap and I don’t mean too, I’m just suddenly in a bad mood.

“What crawled up your ass?� she asks sitting up on the bed.

“Nothing,� I say getting up from the bed and walking to the mini bar in the room. “I should have gone out.�

“Maybe you should have, Justin!� She snaps back. “Since you’re so incredibly bored watching a movie we like and ENJOY.�

“What’s your problem? I didn’t even mean it like that. You know I would have brought you with me,� I say and that was probably the wrong way to put it.

“Oh don’t trouble yourself, Justin. I wouldn’t want to put a cramp in your style,� she says turning the television off angrily. “You’ve been acting a little indifferent these past few days, hell, weeks. I’ve been putting it off as stress regarding the album, but now you’re just being an asshole.�

“How am I being an asshole?� I ask before taking a shot of Jose Cuervo and cringing as the liquid goes down my throat. “I just said I should have gone out. You’re flipping out over nothing, Cameron.�

“I’m not just talking about tonight,� she says looking at me with sad eyes. Great, now she’s making me feel like the asshole she said I was being. I am an asshole. “What’s going on?�

“There’s nothing going on, Cameron. You’re nagging now,� I say chugging down half a bottle of beer.

“Oh, so now I’m a nag?� she asks shocked. “Screw you, Justin!�

“Whatever,� I say with a shrug and chug my beer.

“What is up with you lately? Is this not working out anymore? Because you seem to be more detached every day. You’ve asked me how much I love you three times this past month alone. Since when have you been having doubts? What’s going on in that head of yours?�

“There’s nothing wrong, Jesus! Why do you keep asking if there’s something wrong. If there was something wrong I would have told you already, Cameron,� I say taking a seat on the couch across from the bed.

“Would you? Because I don’t believe you anymore,� she says and I look up from my bottle of beer.

“You don’t believe what?� I ask finishing off the bottle and setting the empty bottle next to my foot.

“I don’t believe that you would tell me what’s on your mind anymore,� she says sadly.
“I’m not going to continue ignoring the fact that we’re moving apart instead of closer. I can’t.�

“Is this about the conversation we had about the house?� I ask and she shakes her head with a laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You’ve been separating yourself from me for so long; you don’t even understand me anymore. I’m not talking about the house, moving in together, or getting married. I’m talking about they way you’ve been pushing me away, Justin. I’m not doing this again,�

“Don’t what again, Cameron?� I ask sitting up and intertwining my fingers. “I’m not Jared, so don’t start making comparisons.�

“You’re right, Justin. You’re not Jared, yet I’ve been getting the same exact feelings I had toward the end of that relationship. It’s not a good feeling and it sucks,� she says and I notice how glossy with tears her eyes are. I don’t need this right now. Why can’t she just tell me to fuck off because I’m being an asshole? It would make things so much easier. “I love you but I won’t crawl around behind you, Justin. I won’t.�

“I don’t need this,� I say getting up and reaching for a pair of jeans from my suitcase.

“I think we need a break,� she says and catches me by surprise. I pull up my jeans and look at her.

“A break?� I question even though I know what she means. This can’t be panning out this easy for me, I just know it can’t. I can’t sleep over the fact that I don’t want to hurt Cameron and she’s telling ME that she wants a break. What the fuck? “What the fuck does that mean?�

“It means you need some time to collect your thoughts about us. I want to give you the time that you need, Justin.� Is she serious, right now?

“You don’t know what I need, Cameron,� I say and I hate myself for saying such a thing.

“I don’t need a break. A break from what? There’s nothing to take a break from, you don’t know what you’re saying.�

“There lies the problem, Justin. I feel like you’ve changed so much and maybe it’s me that has changed. I don’t know. But I was confident in our relationship; I knew what you needed and vice-versa. Now you’re telling me that I don’t know what you need? Does that sound good to you? It doesn’t to me. We need a break.�

“I don’t want a break, Cameron,� I say and I find that I mean it. I don’t want to break up; I don’t want to have to wonder if I made a mistake. This is the way it’s supposed to be. It’s she and I forever. I swore to it. But my heart’s betraying me and all I can feel is anger. “If you’re going to beak up with me, then do it. Don’t baby me by saying you want a fucking break, you’re either done with me or you’re not.�

“Don’t do that, Justin,� she says and I want nothing than to get out of here.

“I’m going out,� I say, grabbing my wallet and a t-shirt from the couch’s backrest. I don’t want to hear whatever else she has to say right now. Not because she isn’t right, she is, but because the guilt is killing me. I was supposed to love her for the rest of my life. I’ve failed.

“Where are you going?� she asks and I can tell she’s worried from the sound of her voice.

“I’ll see you later, okay?� I ask pulling the t-shirt over my head. “Don’t go anywhere, I just need some air.�

“Be careful,� I hear her say as the door to the hotel room closes behind me. I don’t feel like getting Eric or Mike, so I’ll have to take a chance going out on my own.

The hotel is creepily quiet considering it was a mad house when we got here from the show a few hours ago. I don’t know where I’m going but I take the elevator down to the lobby. I reach for my phone and realize that I didn’t grab it from the cradle. I’m really on my own. I just want to take a walk, get away for a few minutes.

The dude at the front desk gives me a nod in greeting and I do the same when I pass him. On my way toward the large circular sliding doors, I notice the lounge is open. A few drinks would do as good as a walk. I’m shocked to find that the place is deserted. Apart from the old bartender, there is a couple chatting amongst themselves and neither of them notices me. Good.

When I sit on one of the barstools, the bartender comes to me with a welcoming smile.

“What can I get you, Sir?� he asks and I can tell he doesn’t know who I am. I can appreciate that, I smile.

“I’ll have a Coors Light, bottle, if you have it,� I say and he nods.

“Sure,� he says and reaches underneath the bar for the bottle. He places a napkin on the counter and places my bottle on it. “Anything else I can get you, Mr. Timberlake?�

“And here, I thought I was safe,� I say with a chuckle. “You know who I am.�

“I would be completely senile if I didn’t,� he says with a chuckle. “The women in this place have been seething at the mouth since it was announced that you were coming.�

“Right,� I say and look at his name tag. “Is the chef a female, Earl?�

“No, Sir. Why?� he asks curiously.

“It was a joke, never mind. Would it be too much trouble to get some food?� I ask almost in a whisper. I don’t know why, I just felt like I was asking something I shouldn’t be. My mother said I was special to her, not everyone around me. I shouldn’t take advantage of my fame, she says.

“What would you like?� he says with a sincere smile.

“Some fries would be nice,� I say and he chuckles. “Is that all?�

“That’s all,� I say taking the beer bottle to my lips.

“Coming up,� he says and walks over to the telephone he has behind the bar.

“Thank you,� I say to him with a nod.

The place is dimmed enough for me to see across the bar but dark enough to keep the dining area from a clear view. Soft jazz plays in the background and I feel a bit better, physically. The adrenaline from the show has wind down enough for me to enjoy this cold ass beer. The reflection of a bright light on my bottle catches my eye. I hope it’s paparazzi and I’ll be on the cover of US Weekly, drinking alone looking depressed at a bar. It’s just what I need. I look to my left and notice that the light is permanently on and I’m thankful it’s not a camera going off. It’s a laptop.

Some light is suddenly shed on the table when a door opens and I’m guessing it’s the bathroom. When I look closely at the person, I realize that it’s not just another hotel guest. It’s Vanessa.

She has her hair down and it’s not styled like she usually has it. I can barely make out what color shorts she’s wearing but I see a whole lot of leg. She takes a seat in the booth in front of the laptop and the light disappears, which explains why I hadn’t seen it before. What is she doing at the bar at almost two n the morning?

I’m fully aware that I’m not in any type of mood to deal with whatever she would say if I came over. I’m fully aware. But a nice conversation never hurt anyone, although having one with her is probably near impossible.

“I’ll be over there, Earl,� I tell the bartender who nods and smiles in the direction of Vanessa.

“I don’t blame you, Mr. Timberlake,� he says with a chuckle.

When I get closer to her, I see that she has her headphones in and if I’m not mistaken, I can hear myself. She’s listening to my album? I don’t ask to have a seat; I simply take it across from her. She jumps a bit when I sit, making her stop her vigorous typing.

“Jesus Christ!!� she says loudly, not realizing she’s being loud. I put my finger to my lips and shush her.

“Justin, actually, but I’m honored,“ I smirk and she glares at me. “You can turn those off now, you don’t need a cd when I’m right here.�

“What are you doing here?� she asks annoyed, looking behind herself toward the bar.

“Having a drink,� I say grabbing the case to my half finished album. It‘s a copy of what the album cover will look like and I shake my head in approval.

“No sixteen year old with you tonight?� she asks and although she‘s making smart comments, I can see she‘s a bit uncomfortable.

“Is that what the album will look like?� I ask putting the cd case next to the laptop.

“You haven‘t seen it?� she asks with a raised brow. “I mailed a copy to Ms. Bomar last week. She was supposed to pick it up at the hotel.�

“I didn’t get it,� I say trying to divert my eyes away from her. This is the best that I’ve ever seen her look. She has no make-up on, except the bit of lip gloss making her lips look incredibly sexy. Her hair isn’t done up like she’s a model. She’s as sexy as she can be and I’m wondering why she hides behind that wall of hers.

“Of course not,� she says with a roll of her green eyes. “You should consider…�

“Can we just sit here and leave the bullshit for later, Vanessa? I already know what you’re going to say. Get rid of Rachel, Mr. Timberlake. You need a better assistant, Mr. Timberlake. I’ve heard it all before. It’s not happening.�

“Why are you here?�

“I’m having a drink, I thought I made myself clear.�

“I mean at the bar at two in the morning? Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?�

“We’re on a break,� I say without thinking and I’m guessing I’ll have to explain that.

“What?� she asks and I can see the shock in her eyes.

“Nothing,� I say and turn the laptop to face me quickly before she has a chance to stop me. “What are you doing here?�

“That’s confidential,� she says flipping the lid closed on my hands.

“Ouch,� I say talking my hands off the laptop. “I don’t give a shit what you’re doing anyway.�

“Now, who’s being a bullshitter?� she asks raising her eyebrow and setting the laptop next to her on the booth.

“Do you normally come to bars dressed in your pjs?� The black top that she has is fitting and I can see the outline of her bra. I need to look at something else. Rapido.

“Not usually, no,� she says taking a sip of the pink liquid in her cup. “Do you normally leave your girlfriend alone in your room?�

“Not usually, no,� I say mockingly.

“You have a meeting with Jive next…�

“I don’t want to talk about work, Vanessa,� I say cutting her words off. “Why do you do that?�

“Why do I do what?�

“You use work to compensate for your lack of ability to communicate without being a bitch.�

“I communicate with people just fine, Mr. Timberlake. You’re the one with the problem with communicating with people that are only there to help.�

“You’re still doing it? Can’t you have a conversation about anything that doesn’t have to do with work?�

“You’re the one talking about work, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Okay fine,� I say sitting up straight and looking at her. “How long have you known your friend Barker?�

“Why?� she asks, but I can see her eyes light up at the mention of her friend. So she does have emotions. Note to self.

“Tell me.�

“All my life,� she says sipping from the cup again.

“What’s your favorite color?� It’s a stupid question but anything to keep her from talking about work.

“What? What relevance does that have to anything?�

“Answer the question.�

“What’s with the interrogating, Mr. Timberlake?�

“You can’t do it.�

“Do what?�

“Have a meaningless, fun conversation. You can’t do it.�

“I prefer not having meaningless conversations, Mr. Timberlake. They have no point; they are after all, meaningless. You’re used to having those with your girlfriend, I bet.�

“Why is it that you hate my girlfriend, Ms. Martinez?� I ask mockingly.

“Hate is a strong word,� she says with a shrug. “I don’t hate anyone.�

“Right,� I say and thank Earl when he places a large plate of French fries in front of me. I pop one in my mouth and cringe when I realize its temperature. “Damn.�

“Hot?� she asks and when I look at her she’s actually smiling. It’s the smile I saw directed at Tim, at the studio that one night. It’s real.

“You can say that,� I say taking a swig of my beer. “Have some.�

“No thanks,� she says.

“Why not?�

“I’m not hungry,� she says moving the papers that she had on the table away from the large plate of fries.

“Have a fucking fry, Vanessa,� I say and she looks at with what I’ve come to gather is her annoyed look.

“Good night, Mr. Timberlake,� she says getting up and grabbing her things. I don’t let her stand and I grab her wrist to stop her.

“Don’t have any, fine,� I say and I find myself wanting nothing more than to have her stay. “Sit down.�

“I’m not doing this with you,� she says and I’m wondering what she means.

“Doing what? Having fries with me? It’s not going to kill you to stop being a bitch for an hour, Vanessa.�

“I meant sit here and pretend that we remotely like each other. I don’t go around pretending to be things that I am not. And fact of the matter is, you and I will never be friends.�

“You’re pretending right now, actually,� I say popping another fry in my mouth. She sits back in her previous position and looks at me.

“Don’t you have something else you could be doing? Your girlfriend, maybe?�

“You keep mentioning Cameron, like it’s supposed to piss me off or something. It’s not. She’s upstairs sleeping, I’m sure. At least that’s where I left her after I made her…�

“I don’t want to know,� she stops me and cringes.

“Yes, you do. It’s all part of the ‘pretending’ that you do.�

“Trust me when I say, I don’t want nor do I desire hearing about your sex life, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Why not be ‘in’ it instead of having to hear about it, Vanessa?�

“Are you soliciting again?�

“Are you offering again?�

“We shouldn’t be having this conversation, Mr. Timberlake. It’s unprofessional and I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen in the past.�

“Sure, whatever you say, Vanessa.� I say with a shrug. “At least you enjoyed it, you can’t say that you didn’t, could you?�

“I’m not having this conversation,� she insists and drinks most of the liquid in her glass in one shot.

“You claim to be so honest. You just said that you don’t walk around pretending to be someone that you’re not. Which means you can be honest about it, doesn’t it?�

“Did you?� she asks and I laugh.

“Did I what?� I ask but I know she’s asking me if I enjoyed it. What kind of a silly question is that?

“Did you enjoy it?� she asks and she looks somewhere behind me and she’s avoiding my eyes.

“Look at me,� I say and she does. She seems just as nervous as I am but I’ve been trained to hide my nervousness over the years. I’m so much cooler than her, right now. I sit up to look closely at her, my eyes shift to her lips and I smile. “What do you think?�

“I don’t think anything,� she says sitting back as far away from me as she could. “About you, at least.�

“You’re pretending again,� I say and raise the new bottle of beer, Earl brings me.

“I am not,� she says and tucks her hair behind her ears. She’s cute. She drinks the remainder of her beverage and places it loudly on the table. She’s pissed.

“Order another one,� I say and she looks up at me with a sneer.

“What, not ordering one for me?� She asks with a raised brow.

“I tried that already, it didn’t work,� I say returning the same raised brow. “Order your own drink, Angel.�

“Very cute,� she says and I wink at her making her smile, which she regrets when I grin at her.

“You are but what am I?� I say and this time she lets out that laugh that she’s been holding back. I think I just came in my pants.

“What you are, is ridiculous,� she says as she lifts her empty cup for Earl’s attention.

“So what are you doing at a bar this late at night, alone?� I ask after Earl walks away from us after bringing her the drink. I’m starting to think Earl is paying too much attention to us. I don’t really care what‘s going on around me, right now.

“Same as you,� she says with a shrug.

“Oh, so your girlfriend broke up with you too?� I say sarcastically and she almost chokes on her drink.

“Cut the bullshit,� she says setting her glass down. “You’re forgetting that I could care less about your relationship, Mr. Timberlake. There’s no need to lie about it.�

“Who says I’m lying? Believe it or not, Ms. Martinez,� I say setting the fries to the side. Suddenly I’m not hungry for food anymore. “I don’t lie.�

“To people’s face, maybe,� she says with a shrug. “You’re a contained capsule full of lies.�

“Wow, I wasn’t aware that you were philosophical, Vanessa,� I say sarcastically. “Where are you going?�

“Excuse me?� she asks and gives me a funny look.

“The plane tickets, where are you going?� I say looking down at the plane ticket that has been sitting on the table this entire time. “Running off again?�

“I don’t run off,� she says grabbing the ticket and placing it on top of the laptop next to her. “Where I go is none of your business.�

“Running off with Dre? Nikole seemed pretty pissed after Vegas,� I say and she laughs again. The alcohol must really be setting in because I’ve yet to see her laugh this much. It’s sexy.

“Let me tell you something about Drevon or Dre, like everyone calls him,� she leans up with her elbows on the table and looks at me with a bored expression. “He’s as gay as a two dollar bill, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Yeah, okay,� I say with a laugh. “It’s cool, if you’re fucking him, Vanessa. I don’t give a damn.� Suddenly I’m highly upset.

“You’re so fucking ignorant,� she mumbles. “For your information, Mr. Timberlake, I’m not fucking him. And I can smell bullshit a mile away, you do care.�

“Do I?� I ask and I can’t help but look at the her tits. She notices.

“Yes, you do,� she says matter of fact. “You care a lot actually.�

“You seem to think that you know me well,� I say finishing my beer.

“Am I wrong?� she asks with a jaded look directed at me. I’m not answering her stupid questions.

“So where are you going?� I ask again and she mumbles something about me being an asshole.

“Not that is any of your business,� she says. “But the Hamptons.�

“What’s in the Hamptons for you, besides Diddy and white people?� the comment makes her chuckle.

“My parents,� she says with a laugh. “They live there.�

“I see,� I say nodding my head. “When are you going?�

“Why?�

“I’m not inviting myself if that’s what you’re worried about. I do have a tour that won’t work if I run off to the Hamptons with you.�

“Tomorrow night,� she finally says after staring at me for what seemed like ages.

“When are you coming back?�

“You’re interrogating again, Mr. Timberlake,� she says folding her arms over her chest. So distracting!

“So what’s the special occasion?� I ask to change the subject. “You don’t seem like the type to be hanging out in the Hamptons, although you don’t seem like the type to live in New York, either. That’s where you’re from, right. New York City?�

“Been checking me out, Mr. Timberlake?�

“Been trying to find dirt on those little white suits you wear, actually.�

“You’ll never find anything, unlike you. I found your life story in about five magazines,� she chuckles and my dick pulsates. “And what do you mean I’m not the type of person to hang out in the Hamptons? Or New York.�

“You would fit right in with the Hampton crowd, but you’re not white. I know how people those stuck up white rich folks are. And although New York is full of people, different types, you don’t fit any type.�

“So what are you saying, Mr. Timberlake? That I am unique?�

“One of a kind,� I say and she actually blushes. Who is this woman before me.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Timberlake?�

“Is it working?� I ask curiously. If she keeps up this friendly act, I might have to admit that she’s pretty cool. God forbid.

“It’s my niece’s birthday party,� she says after a minute of silence.

“What?� I ask confused.

“I’m going to the Hamptons for my niece’s birthday party,� she says grabbing her laptop and setting it on the table.

“Brother or sister?�

“Older brother,� she volunteers quickly and I’m shocked. She’s having a normal conversation. And with me. Who would have thought?

“Of course, there wouldn’t be another female from the same bloodline. God is too good to us down to earth kind of people,� I say with a chuckle.

“Very funny,� she says and she surprises me by sticking her tongue out playfully at me.

“You know what’s funny?� I notice that the bar is housed by us and earl, who is sitting quietly reading a newspaper. The bar is closed. When I look toward the lobby, I see Cameron at the front desk. She must be looking for me. I feel horrible. I’m also feeling like I’ve gotten caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “Shit,� I say and Vanessa turns to follow my line of vision.

The Vanessa that was sharing fries with me vanishes from sight. I see it happening before my eyes and it’s unnerving. She turns around and looks at me with that same expressions she’s been giving me since I’ve met her. She’s disgusted at my site and I’m actually kind of hurt.

“Better run along, Mr. Timberlake. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of your ‘break’, or anyone else’s for that matter,� she says and she sounds incredibly angry.

“You’re not,� I say to her and find that I mean it. She may be the subject of this lust fest I have going on but she’s not to blame. I’ve been unhappy for a long time and I realize I just used her to get out of something difficult. It’s me and only me.

“Good night, Mr. Timberlake,� she says and doesn’t look at me, instead stares out of the window to the left of her.

“Why do you do that? Why are you turning into a bitch again all of a sudden? I thought we were having a civilized conversation here?� she’s gathering her things and she stops to look at me.

“You thought wrong,� she simply says without turning to look me in the eyes. “Go.�

“I guess I did, Ms. Martinez,� I say angrily, standing from the booth and dropping a hundred dollar bill on the table. “You have yourself a fucking great night!� What a god damn bitch! I don’t wait for her response, instead I walk out of the bar after nodding at Earl, without another word.

Funny thing about all of this?

I’m positive that it’s Kayley that I choose. Not Laura.

One hundred and fifty percent sure.

Chapter Thirteen: Girl Interrupted

The Hamptons, New York

Midnight

I haven’t been here in six months and the minute my foot hits ground getting off the plane, I know why.

I feel like a weak person here.

I’ve never liked the feeling I get when the time comes that I have to come here. When I have to sit through dinners where I want nothing but to cry. When nothing I do is ever good enough.

I walk out of the terminal and instead of looking for my brother at the airport, whom I know will be late, I look for the closest bar. I need a drink because I know I’m in for a long weekend. I hate being here and know that it will take days to recuperate from it all. I wish this weekend would solely be about my niece but I know better. I know that the minute I step foot into the Martinez estate, I’ll become weak -- not a backbone in site.

I’m starting my second drink when my brother finally shows up. I don’t know how he manages to be the Regional Manager to fifteen stores and still be late to everything. He comes up behind me, where I sit on one of the bar stool and tugs my hair from behind. I know it’s him; he’s been doing that stupid shit since I can remember.

“You’re late, Loser,� I say and he gives me a big cheesy smile. I’ve missed seeing his annoying face and I smile at the idiot.

“Like you’re looking forward to being here anyway,� he says and manages to keep that smile on his face.

“Is it that obvious? I was trying to have a drink or two to relax my face,� I say pushing the glass of alcohol away. “Didn’t work?�

“You’re face is as ugly as ever, so trying to change that is nearly impossible,� he says and smirks at me when we walk out of the bar. “The happiness is in the eyes, alcohol can’t hide that. If anything it intensifies it. You should really consider plastic surgery, though, for the ugly face thing.�

“You’re so mature, Brian,� I say with a laugh that’s genuine. I love the stupid idiot. “Funny that you mention plastic surgery. Where’s Katrina?�

“Funny,� he says as we walk out of the airport toward his car.

“I thought so,� I say putting the shades that rested on my head over my eyes, although the sun isn’t in sight.

“Just try avoiding him, Nessa,� he states in a serious tone, when we get into one of my father’s Mercedes.

“Do you really believe that’s possible?� I ask and try to keep myself from crying.

“Don’t,� he says after a few minutes of silence. My brother and I don’t spend much time together, just having our regular weekly chats over the phone but he knows me. He knows when I’m so overwhelmed with emotions that I actually cry and he knows that Vanessa Martinez doesn’t cry. “It’ll be alright.�

“Yeah,� I say but I don’t believe myself.

When we pull up to the house, my brother’s wife comes to greet us. I know it’s forced because I can’t stand the woman and she knows it.

“How are you, Vanessa?� she asks with a fake smile.

“Wonderful,� I reply and return the smile but I don’t ask how she’s doing. I’m sure she’s fine. Who wouldn’t be, sitting at home spending their husbands money?

“It’s very disappointing that Aundrea didn’t come with you,� she says and I look at her with a smirk. She hates Barker more than anything, more than she hates me.

“Oh don’t be. She’s coming,� I say smiling as we make our way into the house. “She’ll be here bright and early. She wouldn’t miss Layla’s party, Katrina.�

“Of course,� she says and I don’t miss the roll of her eyes.

“Barker’s always down for a party,� my brother chuckles and his wife tells him to keep his voice down.

The house is quiet as I say good night to my brother and go straight toward my old bedroom. I’m glad I asked them not to wait up for me because it’s too soon. I’ve been working on some interviews and scheduling all day in California and I’m too tired to put on a brave face. I don’t want to be here with not even the knowledge of knowing Barker will be here in the morning. It comforts me.

I want to go straight to bed, so this weekend passes by quickly but I think a hot shower will cool my nerves a bit. It’s only a matter of seconds before the bathroom located in my room is steamed to perfection. I carry my phone and my bathrobe to the bathroom and within minutes I have the hot water spraying over my head. I do feel a bit better, now only if I could stay in here the whole weekend. I’m basically sleeping under the showerhead when my phone starts ringing. I ignore the ringing, thinking its Barker and I could call her back when I’m done.

The phone stops ringing only to ring again. Now I’m curious.

I reach out of the shower to a shelf I had installed outside my shower when I was a teenager. My cell phone is sitting there, face down, ready to fall off the shelf because of the vibration. Shaking as much water off my hands, I turn it to look at the screen. Barker’s face doesn’t appear on the screen and instead I’m looking at Ms. Bomar’s’ name. What the hell does she want at this time of night? I look at it for a few more rings and set it back on the shelf. I’m not answering her stupid questions tonight, or ever if I have it my way. If she can’t handle anything as simple as her job is, I don’t know what to tell her. I have enough to deal with; I don’t need nor want to fix Ms. I-can’t-do-shit’s problems.

I shrug under the water when I don’t hear the sound of my voicemail ring. Oh well.

I’m rising the shampoo out of my hair a few seconds later, when the phone’s shrieking sound pierces my sleepy senses. I don’t bother shaking the water out of my hand this time and I grab the phone and press on the answer button. I swear if the phone gets jacked up, she’s personally replacing it!

“What is it, Ms. Bomar?� I ask as I try to squeeze water and shampoo out of my hair with one hand. It’s nearly impossible and I’m pissed when a bit of shampoo gets in my eye.
Damnit.

“What took you so long to answer the phone?� I hear on the other end, but it’s not Ms. Bomar. The voice is a bit mumbled but I know who it is.

“What do you want?� I snap even though I don’t really mean to. I turn the shower off and step onto the bathroom rug. Suddenly, I feel exposed and I reach for my bathrobe quickly.
I haven’t seen or spoken to him since the night he left with Scarecrow at the hotel.
Purposely.

I don’t want to have to deal with this thing, that’s going on between us. I can’t even believe that I spoke of Mr. Timberlake and myself as ‘us’ in the first place. I know it’s nothing and probably lust on his part. I’ve seen the way he looks at me and the way he touches me; I’m not blind. I know that’s what it is. Lust. Plain and simple. I’m not stupid enough to get involved in something so stupid just because he is who he is. And kisses like he does. And goes down… Whatever, it’s nothing.

“Are you in the shower?� he asks and I can hear a bottle being set on a table loudly.

“What do you want?� I’m trying to put my robe on with one arm while managing to keep the phone in my ear. “Are you drunk, Mr. Timberlake?�

“Mr. Timberlake, Mr. Timberlake, Mr. Timberlake. Shut the fuck up!!� he says loudly and I have to take the phone away from my ear momentarily. Asshole.

“Fine,� I say and drop the connection before he said anything else.

I’m hoping I locked my door when I get into bed because I don’t want to get up to do it. And I hope that my brother acts like a grown man, and knocks before coming into my room. He’s such an ignorant child sometimes! The thought makes me smile and shake my head. Brian has always had the habit of coming into my room every morning and bounce like the ignorant child that he was, on my bed until I was up. Although annoying, it was always the highlight of my day when Barker didn’t sleep over. He wouldn’t do it then, and I still wonder if my brother had a crush on the beautiful twelve year old, Aundrea Barker, his sister’s best friend.

I let my wet hair hit my pillow and I don’t care that I will have a nice water stain in the morning. Right when I’m about to turn my bedside lamp off, my phone rings again. Quite loudly.

“Jesus,� I say and I reach for the phone on the night table. A number I’ve never seen is on the screen and I answer it thinking it may be important. “Vanessa Martinez speaking.�

“You didn’t answer like that before,� I hear and grunt. Asshole. “It’s kind of sexy.�

“What?� I ask myself more than him. Is he right out flirting with me? This has got to stop because I can feel my cheeks burn. Idiot.

“I said you sounded,� he starts to say.

“I know what you said, I’m not deaf, Mr. Timberlake,�

“Are you still in the shower?�

“What?�

“I guess not, I can’t hear the water running anymore,� he says and he must be lying down because his voice is faint, like he’s in bed. Oh, god! I hope he’s not trying… “What are you doing?�

“I’m hanging up, I’m not doing this,� I say and I’m about to press on the button when he speaks loudly again.

“WAIT!!�

“It’s almost two in the morning, Mr. Timberlake. Why are you calling me?�

“It’s only eleven, girl!� he says and he chuckles. I swear if I had panties on, I would have to change them. Fuck.

“I’m not in California, remember?�

“I know,� he says and I can tell he’s smiling. He must be drunk. “I meant it was eleven o’clock for me.�

“How enlightening,� I say sarcastically. “What do you want?�

“Can’t I just call a friend?�

“A friend? You must have the wrong number because you and I are NOT friends.�

“See, now that’s a real fucked up thing to say, Vanessa,� he says and he actually sounds hurt. “I though we were cool after that night at the bar.�

“There you go thinking again, Mr. Timberlake. Good night,� I say the words but again I don’t remove the phone from my ear.

“I don’t know why you’re playing hard, V,� he says and chuckles again, and I swear to God if I don’t hang up this phone, I’m going to regret it. “We both know you don’t want to hang up.�

“Is that right?�

“That’s right,� he says in a whisper and I can’t help the butterflies that are not flying like crazy in the pit of my stomach. I can’t believe this shit.

“You’re wrong as always, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Which is why you’re still on the phone,� he says in a cocky way and even though he’s not in front of me I can see that fucking smirk of his that everyone finds sexy. Not excluding me.

“I’m hanging up now,� I say but I’m lying. I’m not so sleepy anymore. I’m actually kind of anxious.

“Don’t hang up the fucking phone, Vanessa!!� he says and I have to bite my lips from grunting. Does he have to sound so sexy when he says the word fuck?

“What do you want?�

“You know what I want,� he says and I chuckle.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Mr. Timberlake? Is she gone already?�

“Are you going to give me what I want, Vanessa?�

“Would your girlfriend appreciate having her man trying to have phone sex, Mr. Timberlake?�

“So you do know what I want,� he says with a sexy laugh. I can picture it, unfortunately, to my mental health.

“Why else would someone be calling anyone in the middle of the night when they’re drunk?�

“I’m not so drunk,� he says and I roll my eyes. “So you’ve gotten these calls before?� he sounds pissed now, completely different tone of voice. I’m disregarding that fact, quickly.

“I’m really hanging up now, Mr. Timberlake,� and go to end the call.

“I want you,� I can hear him say and I freeze.

“Excuse me?� I ask snuggling closer to my pillow.

“You heard me,� he says cockily. “And you want me too, so why don’t you cut the shit and admit it. Everything will work out more smoothly if you did.�

“I don’t want you, Mr. Timberlake. If I wanted you, I would have you, trust me.� I say and my heart wants to beat out of my chest. The mere thought of ‘having’ him makes my mouth water.

“What makes you think you haven’t ‘had’ me already? I’ve seen the merchandise, Vanessa. Up close and personal, that’s gotta count for something. You wanted me.�

“You’re awfully full of yourself.�

“You’re awfully full of shit. At least I can tell you, to your face, well not to your face cause I’m here and you’re over there, but you know what I mean. I can say flat out that I want you. Can you say that?�

“No, because I don’t.� I really am full of shit.

“Lies. All lies.�

“Call it whatever you want to call it,� I say with a shrug and I’m glad he’s not here to see me doing that.

“Do you think about it?�

“What?�

“Do you think about me going down on you again? Sucking you and kissing you?� Oh my God! Help me!!

“No,� I say and cover the mouthpiece of the phone so that I can take a deep breath.

“That means yes,� he says with a chuckle again. “I think about it all the time.�

“What the fuck do you want, Mr. Timberlake? It’s late.�

“Put that Martinez bitch away, Vanessa. Where’s that hot chick from the bar? Bring her out to play with me.� I have to laugh at that and I cover my mouth so that he doesn’t hear me. Too late.

“There she is,� he says. “That’s who I want.�

“I’m only one person,� I say turning the other side and I find myself snuggling closer to the pillows on my bed.

“Can you work with me here? Can you stop being a bitch and just talk?�

“I’m not having phone sex with you, Mr. Timberlake,� I warn him.

“Why not?� he laughs and he doesn’t sound so drunk anymore.

“Because,� I say and I close my eyes in annoyance with myself. I don’t speak like this.

“Because is a word people say when they run out of excuses,� he says and I can hear him shifting on the bed. “But okay, just talk then.�

“You, just want to talk? I find that hard to believe.�

“So you do want to have phone sex with me,� he says and I’m quiet.

“Talk,� I say and he chuckles again. I’m glad he finds this amusing because I don’t. I think it’s uncharacteristically stupid of me. And he’s stupid. Period.

“What do you want to talk about?�

“I don’t know. You called me, remember?�

“How old is your niece?�

“One.�

“Is your brother younger or older?�

“Older.�

“Are you answering every question with a single word?�

“Yes.�

“You’re being a bitch again,� he says and sounds annoyed.

“Is that a question?� I laugh. He doesn’t find it funny.

“Do you miss me?�

“Do I miss you?� I ask and I don’t know how to answer that. Do I miss him?

“That was the question,� he’s sounding more and more irritated.

“Why would I miss you, Mr. Timberlake? Its not like we share a common bond.�

“What happened to the one word responses?�

“I can’t answer that question with a single word, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Why not? It’s either a yes or a no. It’s very simple,� he says. “I’ll go first if you want. Go ahead, ask.�

“Ask what?�

“Ask if I miss you.�

“Why would you miss me?�

“Why would I miss you? Because when you’re around I actually feel something. I’m not a constant machine at work. You piss me off. You turn me on. You piss me off again. You make me want to vomit at times in anger. And don’t forget, you piss me off.�

“If I piss you off, then why are you missing me?� I ask with a raised brow.

“Well that’s easy,� he says nonchalantly.

“How so?�

“You always want what you can’t have. You always miss the ones you want, when they’re gone.�

“Isn’t it the proper saying, always miss the ones you love?�

“Sure, but I don’t love you. Not in the least. At least not the person. I will admit to loving that ass of yours. And the…�

“Shut up.�

“And I love the way you taste,� he actually groans and I’m positive my sheets are now stained.

“Listen,� I start to say but he cuts my words off.

“No!! You listen!!� he says. “You know you want me to put my mouth on you again. You want my tongue to suck on your tongue, like I did before. You want me to lick and suck on your neck slowly and you’ll moan like you did in your suite that night.�

“Stop it,� I say swallowing hard. Oh God!

“I’m going to tease and suck on your tits until you’re writhing underneath me. You’d like that, Vanessa. Wouldn’t you? You’ll have me so hard when I kiss down your stomach and caress your inner thighs. Do you want me to stop, V?�

“I can‘t do…� I say and I want to commit suicide. Not only can I imagine what he’s saying to me, I can feel it.

“Touch yourself for me,� he whispers. “Rub on your nipples, Vanessa.�

“I shouldn’t do…�

“Shhh.,� he says making the sound. “Just listen. Are you touching yourself?�

“I can’t do…�

“Put me on speaker phone,� he says and like an idiot, I do. I place the phone on the pillow I’m laying on and close my eyes. When he speaks, I can hear him close to me, like he’s next to me. “Can you hear me?�

“Yes.�

“Use both hands on your body, Vanessa. Pretend like they are my hands on you. Touching you. Caressing you. Now, imagine my lips on your thigh. Feel me. I’m trailing small kisses around your perfect and wet pussy. Are you wet for me, Vanessa? Touch yourself there. Do you feel me? I can feel you. You’re so fucking wet and all I want to do is suck you. Can I suck you? Will you cum for me? On my tongue? I can taste you. Mmm…� I’m completely gone. There’s no turning back now.

“Do you feel my tongue licking you? Tell me, Vanessa. Tell me what you want me to do.�

“Don’t stop,� I’m out of breath and I can’t help it.

“I want to fuck you, Vanessa. Can I? Can I put my hard dick inside of you?�

“Oh…yes,� I’ve completely lost my mind.

“Can you feel it? I’m rubbing my head on your clit, do you feel me? You feel so good and hot. It’s going to feel so good. It already does,� I can hear that he’s talking on speakerphone as well for the first time. I can hear some rhythmic movement and I know he’s masturbating as he talks. I moan. “Yes, moan for me, Vanessa. Let me hear you.

“I’m sliding in,� he moans and my inside walls convulse with spasms. “You’re so wet. And tight. God, I don’t know how much longer I can contain myself,� he moans again.
Oh my God!!

“Oh God,� he says and I’m so close to exploding, it’s insane. “Do you feel this dick sliding in slowly? Can you feel me sliding out excruciatingly slow? You feel so fucking good. Oh God…�

I lose it when I hear him grunt and I know he’s climaxed and the big dilemma is that I’m there too. I thought that when he put his mouth on me that night, that it had been the biggest and most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had. That night doesn’t come close to how I feel right now. I’m seeing stars.

We’re both quiet for what seems like ages. Catching our breaths and letting reality sink in.

“Vanessa,� I can hear him say. I go to respond but I don’t know what to say. “Vanessa?�

He says my name two more times and I don’t say anything, I just press the power button on my phone.

I don’t know what to say.

----------------------------------------

Next morning.

Ten AM

I must have been more tired than I thought because I never sleep this late. I’m in my bathroom getting ready with my back turned to the door. My face lights up when I feel tiny hands wrap around my leg. I turn and see that my niece is now looking up at me with a big smile on her face.

“Hi, Princess,� I say lifting her into my arms. She’s grown since I last saw her about a month ago, and it saddens me that I hadn’t seen her since. I’m bathing her in hugs and kisses when my brother came in.

“I knew she would be up here,� he says standing by the door.

“She goes up the stairs now?� I ask and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, she’s like her aunt. Always trying to find out what’s at the top,� he chuckles.

“That’s right,� I say and laugh when Layla hugs my neck. “Did Barker get here yet?�

“She’s downstairs with mom,� he says and grabs Layla out of my hands. “Come on trouble maker, let Titi finish putting her face on.�

“Shut up,� I say and push his shoulder. Layla finds it hysterical. “I’ll be down in a minute.�

“Dad’s staying for breakfast,� he states and looks at me.

“Okay, I’ll be down in a bit.�

“Say bye to Titi,� he says and I giggle when Layla waives too me. She’s too cute.

“Let me get her,� I hear Barker say from behind my brother. I’m finishing my make-up but I can see Barker come around my brother and reach for Layla.

“Don’t be teaching my daughter all that crazy shit you two are into,� he warns pointing at her and then at me.

“Oh because cursing in front of her is a great lesson to learn?� Barker asks and places her free hand on her hip defiantly.

“Shut up,� Brian says and I have to shake my head at the two.

“You shut up,� Barker says like a child.

“You shut up,� he says and he’s trying to keep a serious expression but I can see the smile coming. He’s such a moron.

“Both of you shut up,� I say as I go past them into my bedroom.

“Nice to see you too, V,� Barker says following me out of the bathroom.

“I’ll be downstairs,� Brian says walking toward the door.

“Who cares,� Barker says sticking her tongue out at him. He chuckles and walks out.

“What time did you get here?� I ask as I put a pair of shoes on.

“At five thirty or so,� she says playing with my niece on my bed. “Had to take the red eye flight.�

“How was Texas?�

“Same old stuff,� she says with a shrug. “You doing okay?�

“So far,� I say because I know what she’s talking about. “I got here late last night, so I haven’t seen anyone.�

“Mom is downstairs making breakfast.�

“Making breakfast?� I ask looking at my hair one last time.

“Well, supervising the breakfast making I should say,� she says grabbing the baby from the bed. “your sister-in-law is down there too, trying to kiss mom’s ass as much as
possible.�

“She would be,� I say as we leave my room. “And she’s your sister-in-law too, Barker. Don’t try to put that off on me.�

“Whatever,� she says as we make our way downstairs and toward the back of the house, where the kitchen is.

Barker goes to the family room with Layla while I put on my best attitude and enter the kitchen.

Here’s the moment I’ve dreaded for six months. The dysfunctional family breakfast. I haven’t seen my father yet, so I know a conversation about how I’ve fucked up is inevitable. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to please him, I always end up short. Always have, since I was a child. Always. I think I could land the record business’ largest contract and he would still find the tiniest loophole that I missed. And he’ll call me lazy.

I wish I could skip this whole weekend, to be honest. But I can’t. I wouldn’t do that to my brother and niece, they mean too much to me. But family breakfasts are never any fun, not even when my brother and niece are around. My fondest childhood memories include the time when I met my best friend and when my bother and I ate breakfast alone.

The Martinez’ special breakfasts are mandatory, that is, unless you’re on your deathbed. But even then you need a doctor’s excuse explaining why you weren’t able to be in the presence of Raul Martinez. The head of the Latin division of RCA, runs the family like he runs his business: a tightly oiled machine with no room for squeaky wheels.

And no matter how hard I try or work, I’m always the squeaky fucking wheel.

Raul Martinez expects us to dress properly for all means, especially breakfast. Sweatpants and a t-shirt are not acceptable. I make sure to look in the mirror outside the kitchen before entering. I’m dressed accordingly with my gray slacks and lavender blouse. I’m glad that breakfast is still being prepared and that everyone slept in this morning. Once can never be late in the Martinez’ home. God forbid.

When I open the swinging doors to the kitchen, I can see my mother is looking over the stove and she has a cell phone in her hand. As always. The woman lives with that thing attached to her ear. She tells our cook, that she needs a plate of wheat toast and continues her phone conversation.

“Of course not, Sarah,� she says and I roll my eyes. My mother is the whitest black woman I’ve ever come contact with. “We will meet at the club tomorrow. Yes, Darling, I will be there.�

The cook turns when she realizes I’m standing by the door and she does this little bowing thing she’s done for years. I may be high up on my horse sometimes but I still find it unnecessary to bow in the Martinez Residence. My mother’s demands on staff are completely bogus and obnoxious, just like her.

“I will call you later tonight, Darling,� she says and turns to say something to the cook again, but she sees me. “Helloooooo, Darling.�

“How are you mother?� I ask when she’s done hugging me. She looks up at me from her five foot four stance and smiles.

“Same old stuff, honey,� she says making sure her hair is in place after the hug. “Have you seen your dad? He’s been wanting to see his daughter.�

“I’m sure,� I mumble when she tells the cook that she wants waffles made for Layla, as well. How much can a one year old eat?

“I hear you have a new job, Darling,� I’ve hated that word since I could remember. It’s her way of showing affection, and it’s my way to throw up in my mouth.

“Yes, I do.�

“Good for you,� she says and pats me on the back like a fucking child. I want to go home.

“What time is breakfast, Mother?�

“In five minutes,� she says looking at her watch. “You should get everyone in the dining room. You’re father should be down here in a few minutes.�

My taste buds are watering suddenly and I realize that I’m starving when a tray of eggs is taken to the dining room by one of the cook’s assistants. Although I constantly watch what I eat, nobody on the planet cooks better than our housekeeper slash cook.

It’s not until everyone is sitting at the table that my father finally shows up. He smiles at me and I kiss his cheek before taking my seat across the table from Brian.

“Nice of you to come see your family, Vanessa.� he says and sits down. He’s still smiling as he kisses Layla’s head and pats Brian’s back. “You’re supposed to look after your sister, son.�

“I do,� Brian says and shrugs. I cringe because he’ll probably pay for being rude, later.

“She hasn’t been home in six months, son. That’s hardly looking out for your sister.�

“She’s a grown woman, dad. Get over it,� Brian says cockily and smiles at my mother when she gives him a death glare.

“It’s okay, Daddy,� I say and he waves my response away. I can’t win, with him, I swear.

“So, Vanessa,� he begins, placing his snowy white napkin on his lap and reaching for the platter of waffles. “Johnny tells me you’re settling in nicely at WEG,� that was all he said, which was my cue to expand his statement. But I honestly don’t know what to say. Struggling for an answer, I finally come up with something.

“It seems to be working out,� I respond. “I’ve been doing most of my work with Justin Timberlake; which you know, I’m sure.� My brother’s wife, Katrina, perks up. What the hell for?

“I love him,� she says excitedly. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at this moron. She’s lucky we’re at my parent’s house and having breakfast, she really is. Barker kicks me under the table and contains her laugh. I’m about to eat here, I mean, I get enough gushing about him from the peons around him. Speaking of…“Is he as nice as he seems on TV?� she asks.

Shaking my head, I toy with my plate of eggs and grab two slices of bacon from the dish Brian hands me. I’m not even hungry anymore. “No,� I answer. “In fact, he might be the biggest pest I’ve ever encountered,� I’m not lying, he really is a pest. He will be, I’m sure, when the time comes that I’ll have to look him in the eye after last night.

My brother chuckles. “Sounds like there’s trouble in paradise,� he so succinctly says. Understatement of the fucking year. Of course, I wouldn’t dare say something like that at the table.

“Paradise is not what I’d call working with Mr. Timberlake. More like a nightmare, actually.� Why oh why did I say that? My dad picks up on my tiny complaint and immediately starts in. Great, Brian!!

He pops a forkful of waffles in his mouth. “Look,� he says, pointing his now-empty fork at me. “You knew what you were getting into when you signed on with Johnny. Don’t be embarrassing me, you hear? Do your job the way you said you would and when it comes to artists, grin and bare it. Lord knows I have to do that every day.�

I sighed. Why did everything have to be about him? I could be talking about my menstrual cramps and somehow my dad would find a way to make him the important part of the story. This is my life. “Daddy, I’m not complaining – I’m just telling the truth,� I say, spearing the piece of bacon on my plate and biting harshly on it. “I believe I’m in this for the long haul but you can understand when to call a spade, a spade.�

He snorts. “That’s what you said about working with Naomi Campbell and look what happened there. You wasted your time for four years,� he points out ever so helpfully.
I bristle. “She was abusive and crazy.�

My mom steps in. “Vanessa, darling, don’t antagonize your dad. He’s only trying to help you.�

I roll my eyes and catch my brother doing the same thing. He knows exactly what I’m going through. I’ve always received the brunt of my father’s displeasures but Brian was always there. Always comforting me.

Instead of responding, I stab at my bacon forcefully. No matter what I did, or whom I was working for, it never measured up to my father’s standards. Barker has repeatedly said to ignore him and concentrate on my career. She’s always told me that I couldn’t live my life based on gaining his approval, but that’s hard to do when all your life you’ve been waiting for a pat on the back. Just one. One time. Something to let me know he saw how hard I work. I’m glad I haven’t held my breath on that one.

I might as well ask him for a million dollars – in fact, I’d have a better chance of getting the money from him than a compliment. It’s funny; my brother doesn’t get the same scrutiny that I do. Brian works a nine to five, making half my salary and I’m the underachiever. Go figure.

My father knows firsthand the stress that I go through dealing with artists and my staff. He knows, yet he doesn’t find one ounce of sympathy for me. Babysitting fifteen to twenty so-called stars isn’t easy; everyone wants a piece of your time and you’re constantly stretched thin. You’d think he would appreciate what I do. But he doesn’t.

Dealing with Mr. Timberlake and the things he has made me do is hard enough as it is.
And those things aren’t part of my job, it’s personal. But I can’t have anything be personal. This is my career; a shitty one according to my father but it’s mine. As shitty as it may be, I take care of what’s mine to the best of my abilities. I try.

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of our meal and the subject is changed to the party this afternoon. I don’t say much, concentrating instead on how miserable I feel. Maybe I should look into another field of work. Maybe then my father will be proud. Maybe.

My mother, brother and Katrina rush off to the country club where the party will be held, as soon as breakfast was cleared, and the baby is down for a nap. My father says he has work to do at the office and that he would see us at the party, I feel relieved.

“That wasn’t so hard,� Barker says as she throws herself on the bed in her bedroom. It’s across the hall from mine and she will probably have her own room at my parent’s until she dies. She is part of this family as much as I am. I sit in front of her computer to check my emails and she grunts. “No work, V.�

“I have to check my emails, Barker,� I say as I enter my WEG password on the necessary fields. “Lay off a bit.�

“Sure you do,� she says throwing a pillow in my direction. “Let’s go get in the hot tub.�

“No thanks,� I say as I trash countless spam emails.

“You’re not going to be like this all weekend, are you?�

“Like what?�

“Like you always are when we’re home.�

“I’m fine,� I say closing the window where almost two hundred emails stared back at me. I don’t want to work. “Dad was fairly harmless today.�

“He did seem to be in a good mood,� she shrugs. “When I came in this morning he said that the last photo shoot I had was horrible and that I should retake them.�

“Which ones?�

“The Calvin Kline ones.�

“They were kind of horrible, B.�

“Yeah, I told him I thought the same thing,� she laughs. “Dad’s such a maniac, I swear. He‘s funny.�

“So, you keep saying,� I say and lay next to her on the bed.

“What’s up?� She asks turning on her side to look at me.

“Will I ever get his respect, Barker? Will I ever walk into this house and feel happy? I can’t stand this feeling,� I can’t help getting choked up when speaking of him and I hate myself for it. Big girls don’t cry! Nothing I do is ever good enough, B. Nothing. Brian can marry the first crazy bitch he meets and he’s congratulated all the way to the isle. You’re not even his real daughter and you get more admiration that I do. Why? What did I do, Barker? Why does he hate me so much? It was a common mistake. Am I not allowed to make a mistake in my life?�

“Stop beating yourself up for living your life, V. Dad loves you, I know he does. But I can’t explain something that I don’t know. I don’t know why he says the things he does. Why he nit picks at you or why Brian and I got away with more things. I don’t know and I’m sorry,� she says and gives me a comforting smile. This is becoming routine for us.
“What happened with Jared was your lesson to learn, Vanessa. You’ve been beating yourself up over this way too long, Babe. You’ve let dad transform you into a mini him.�

“That’s not true,� I say wiping the lone tear that has escaped my eye. “I’m nothing like him.�

“You’re kidding, right? You must be,� she says laying her head on her folder arms and looking at me. “Vanessa. Listen. You walk around with a dick up your ass. You talk down to people at work, and wait, before you say anything. I know you don’t mean to but you do. You’re always working and take yourself too seriously. That is not the Vanessa I know and love. The woman that has walked around day in and day out for the past five years is the exact replica of dad. You are him. Which is why I think maybe, that’s the problem. You think too much alike. You’re your father’s daughter.�

“Thanks for the speech, but that’s not true,� I say sitting up Indian style on her bed and grabbing a pillow.

“Have you taken a close look at how you treat people sometimes, V? Like seriously,� she sits up and we are facing each other on the bed like we’ve always done since we were kids. “You’re not very nice.�

“Oh thanks, Aundrea,� I say and look toward the other side of her room when tears make their way down my cheeks. “That makes me feel so much better.�

“Would you rather I lie and say that Dad is the only reason you’re miserable. You know I won’t do that. You know I’m always going to be honest with you. And the truth of the matter is that you’ve cooped yourself up in a world where dad rules everything you do. You let him get to you so much, you’ve become his twin. You’re not truly that person that walks around being uptight all the time; I know that for a fact. I know you like the back of my hand, Vanessa.�

“It’s my job,� is all I say.

“And you’re very good at your job, Vanessa. But that’s all it is, a JOB, not your LIFE. You’ve been mixing your personal life with your career since the whole Jared situation. You can’t continue to do this to yourself. You’re living your life trying to make dad happy. What about you? Who’s going to make you happy? I mean besides me, of course,� she smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“You’re stupid,� I say and she shrugs.

“Maybe, but you love me,� she toys with the remote for her TV and looks at me.

“Seriously. Forget about what dad says, Lord knows I do. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this. So what that he was right about Jared. So what that Naomi was a bitch. So what? Who cares? You’re the highest paid employee of one of the largest entertainment companies. Enjoy that, Vanessa. Don’t let Dad take your experiences away from you. He tried when Jared came in the picture but you stood your ground. Why can’t you be like that again?�

“But he was right about Jared, Barker.�

“So what? It was YOUR lesson to learn. Have you been listening to me? It’s your life. That’s the moral of this conversation, Vanessa! Forget everybody else, even me, and just enjoy your career and your life. Don’t let it govern everything about you. You’re strong and you can run your career however you want to. But you have to stop being a bitch when it comes to living your life. I know you can do it, I know you can.�

“Have you been reading self help books on these long flights you’ve been taking this week?� I ask and she throws the remote at me. “Stop calling me a bitch, Bitch!�

“You’re my bitch, though,� she says with a laugh. “Speaking of bitches, Justin could be yours if you’d stop and smell the roses, once in a while.�

“What?� I ask looking at her like a deer caught in headlights. “Do not bring him into this conversation.�

“Why not? I don’t know what the big deal is, V. He’s gorgeous and he’s obviously interested. Why not? Have fun.�

“I will not have fun with him, Barker,� I say and I find that I’m blushing. Jesus Christ, I can’t even mention him without remember about last night.

“Why? Because he has a girlfriend? I’m all for being faithful to your girlfriend or boyfriend, I really am. But he doesn’t even seem like he likes her, let alone love her. She’s kind of a hag.�

“You’re only saying that because I hate her, Barker.�

“Alright, you’re right. But I honestly think that relationship has seen it’s last days. I was talking to Trace on Wednesday and he seems to think that it’s over.�

“What?� I ask in shock because I really am. They’re breaking up? Why? “Why?�

“I don’t know, Trace didn’t know either. He said Justin’s been kind of to himself and not talking much.�

“Isn’t she on tour?�

“Cameron left yesterday, I think. At least that’s what Trace said.�

“We had sex,� I say and I throw my head back against the headboard and cover my face with the pillow.

“Who had sex?� she asks curiously.

“Me and him,� I mumbled underneath the pillow.

“Huh?�

“Justin and I,� I say again.

“What?� she asks again and I’m annoyed. I sit up and look at her and squeezing the pillow.

“We had phone sex last night,� there. I said it.

“WHAT?!! Are you kidding me? You?�

“Oh, what is that supposed to mean?� I saw sitting up and looking at her with a raised brow.

“No, I mean. You? Panties in a wad Martinez, had phone sex?�

“The sarcasm doesn’t help here, Barker.� I say lying back down to look at the ceiling.

“Who said I was being sarcastic? Calling a spade, a spade, is what you told dad earlier?�

“Shut up.�

“You had phone sex with Justin Timberlake? Why?�

“Why? I don’t know, it just happened. He called…�

“No, I mean why phone sex? Why not the real thing? You already have something going on, I don’t care what you say and how much you deny it. I know you, and Trace knows him. I mean he already gave you oral treatment, girl. Phone sex blows, no pun intended, of course.�

“Shut up, Barker.�

“Why? You know I’m right. Just jump the man if he wants it that bad. And besides, I think he’d be good for you.�

“What?�

“In every sexual meaning of the word, of course. You haven’t had sex in I don’t know how long, V. You have to admit that having Justin Timberlake be willing to stop the drought is pretty hot.�

“Since when are you on Team Timberlake? Can’t you see that this is all wrong? My career is wrong. My father’s love is noninsistent. My mother is a sell out to all black women in America. My brother is married to a bag of tricks. I had phone sex with a client. And now my best friend is losing her fucking mind. Everything is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.�

“Cry me a river,� she says as she makes crying gestures.

“And now you’re quoting him,� I say getting up from the bed. “This weekend is the fucking pits, I swear.�

“Will you shut up,� she says standing from the bed and walking toward her closet. “This weekend is what you’ll make it. Stop crying about the great life that you have. Because you forget to notice how good you have it.�

“Oh, yeah, because my life is a bucket full of roses, Barker.�

“Look at it this way,� she says with her hands on her hips. “You could be Cameron Diaz.�

“For Pete’s sake, shut the hell up. Eww,� I cringe and she laughs.

“Enough serious bullshit,� she says looking through her closet. “What are you wearing? And did you bring that white floral dress of yours? I want to wear it today.�

“I didn’t bring any of my stuff. I figured I’d grab something out of the closet here,� I say as I play with my hair in front of the mirror. Bad hair day. “Besides you have that same exact dress, why didn’t you bring it? I hate my hair.�

“Your hair is fine. Mine doesn’t fit anymore,� she says as she throws random pieces of clothing out of her closet and onto her bed.

“Are you calling me fat, Wench?�

“We both know you have a lot more junk in that trunk of yours, so shut up.�

“Whatever,� I say throwing myself, face down on the bed.

“Do you want to raid the liquor cabinet?� she asks standing over the bed.

“It’s noon, Barker,� I say turning to look up at her.

“I realize that but you need to have a shot of something strong to loosen up. You’re not letting me have all the fun with the snobby white ladies at the party. Something must be done.�

“I’m not drinking, B.�

“Would you like me to get a hold of Justin? Because you seem to be really loose when it comes to him.�

“Oh my God,� I say throwing a pillow at her. She laughs and it’s contagious enough for me to catch the giggles, as well. “You didn’t just go there.�

“I’m taking a shower,� she says throwing the pillow back at my head. “Find something for me to wear in there,� she says as she grabs her robe and goes cross the hall to my room. Why can’t she use her own bathroom?

“Why can’t you use your BATHROOM?� I yell out at her and she keeps walking.

“The pressure is better in yours,� I hear her say and she has the nerve to slam my bedroom door behind her. Crazy wench.

---------------------

Four Hours Later

We’ve been at the party for about an hour now and I’m on my forced third drink. Why is there alcohol at a one-year-olds party? It’s a kid’s birthday party, yet the entire ballroom is filled with ninety percent adults. I haven’t seen much of my niece since we’ve gotten here because she’s been taking a nap. I don’t blame the kid; I’d be taking a nap too. This party blows.

“There she goes,� Barker says from where she’s sitting next to me with Mrs. Johnson’s kid on her lap. “Fifth one. You owe me.�

“Put it on the tab,� I say with a chuckle. We’ve been watching Mr. Patterson for the past hour, counting how many shots of tequila he takes. While that may seem like nothing, Mr. Patterson just got out of rehab a month ago, Brian informed us. It’s sad to watch someone’s life spiral down but sometimes Barker and I find it amusing. Especially when we’ve been drinking ourselves.

“Go with your mommy, baby,� she says to the little girl who’s been attached to Barker since we got here. She watches her walk away toward her mother and Mrs. Johnson waives in our direction. “I don’t know what’s worse. Putting my size nine foot into size seven shoes or this party.�

“Yeah,� I say finishing my drink. “Figures mom would invite all the adults in the neighborhood that don’t even have kids. She’s mentally challenged, I swear.�

My cell phone starts ringing in my purse and before I get a chance to grab my purse, Barker already has it in her hand. I know who is calling. I’ve been ignoring the calls for the past hour since I turned it back on. Barker has been making her thoughts clear on the matter. She says I’m an idiot.

I’m not.

“Hello?� I’m trying to get the phone from her hand but she’s slapping my hands away, like I’m five. “No this Barker. I’m good, how are you? Good. Yes. Oh. Okay,� she says and I’m curious as to what he’s saying to her.

“Give me the phone, Barker,� I say through gritted teeth when the lady sitting on the table next to us look in our direction.

“Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll put her on. Nice talking to you,� she says and finally hands me the phone. I don’t out it to my ear, instead I end the call and drop it back into my purse. “Don’t answer my work phone like that, Barker.�

“Oh shut up,� she says smacking my shoulder. “You shouldn’t have hung up.�

“You shouldn’t have answered.�

“I don’t see why you don’t like him, or at least pretend not to like him. He’s really nice,� she shrugs and I want to smack her.

“Sure,� I say grabbing a champagne flute from a tray a young waiter walking by. “What did he want?�

“Oh, so now you’re interested to know why he was calling? Maybe you should have spoken to him. It is your job, isn’t it?� she says with a raised brow and I know she’s messing with me. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to him. I thought he was the scum of the earth. Why do you care what he said? Huh?�

“Was it work related?�

“You’ll never know now, will you?� she says with a smirk.

“Tell me, Barker.�

“Tell you what?� she asks laughing a bit.

“What did Justin want?�

“Justin? See, that’s another thing. I’ve been keeping tabs, and you’ve called him Justin twice today. You likeeeeee himmmm,� she says a little too loud and I’m embarrassed.

“I’m going to kick your ass,� I say trying to control the fits of giggles that are threatening to come out.

“Having a good time girls?� My father is standing in front of us and he’s not smiling. We’re drunk.

“Where have you been, Dad? You’re missing all the wonderful fun,� Barker says sarcastically. He smiles at her and shakes his head.

“Last one, Aundrea,� he says pointing at her cup with what I notice is a magazine.

“Yes, Sir,� she says saluting him and laughing. “What do you have there, dad? Tell me it’s a magazine we can borrow to pass the boredom.�

“We’re not bored, Dad,� I say and look at Barker. The last thing I want is for him to call us ungrateful little spoiled brats like the last time we attended a boring party. At least I was the one called ungrateful, I should say.

“I went to pick up your mother’s medication at the drug store and I came across this, Vanessa,� he says and I stiffen up when I hear the tone of his voice. He’s upset.

He places the opened magazine in front of me and I’m staring a set of pictures of Justin Timberlake. Mr. Timberlake is photographed pumping gas and giving the paparazzi the infamous finger. I skim through the small captions of the various photos and notice the negative things said about him.

“I made some calls and found that these pictures were taken yesterday. The magazine was so anxious to print they have two issues this week. What’s really interesting is that someone who is under you care, Vanessa, is being caught on film doing this.�

“Justin does what he wants, Dad,� Barker says and I wish she wouldn’t try to bail me out of this. She’s only going to make it worse.

“It’s your job to educate your clients in proper public behavior to keep things like that from happening, Vanessa,� he says to me while he points down at the pictures.

“I will take care of it,� I say closing the magazine.

“It wouldn’t have happened in the first place had you been doing what you’re supposed to, Vanessa,� he says looking down at me. “Rather disappointing, Sweetheart.�

“I’m…� I start to say but he puts his hand up like he doesn’t want to hear it. I want to cry.

“I have to find your mother,� he says and walks away without another word. This time I can’t stop the tears that well up in my eyes.

“Forget about…� Barker starts to say but I get up from my chair, grab my purse and the magazine. I need to go.

“I have to go,� I say and walk away.

This weekend is over.
-----------------------------
Author’s Note: I’d like to thank Blackchickfic for the editing and additions on this chapter that made my writer’s block turn into a circle of ideas. Thank you girl!

Chapter Fourteen: Houston, we have a problem…

House Of Blues
Houston, Texas

Five Days Later

The walls are a shade of orange I’ve never seen before and it makes me wonder if the owners of this place are color blind. He or she would have to be because painting dressing rooms the shade of rotten oranges isn’t my idea of relaxation -- which is what I’m trying to do. The color is so annoyingly distracting that it gives me a fucking headache. And if that wasn’t enough, if going for the shitty ass color wasn’t enough, they placed a leopard print couch in the room. What the fuck were they thinking?

I have less than an hour until the show and I’m grumpy. I’m more than grumpy actually. I’m annoyed, irritated, tired, aggravated, sad, horny and really pissed.

I don’t know which adjective to deal with first and the walls aren’t helping. I know Cameron is somewhere in the building, wandering around with Rachel, I bet. Not that it would have bothered me any other day, but its not just any day. Today, is another day on tour, another day of ‘talking’ with Cameron, another day of ‘talking’ with my mother and hearing the negative things she says about Cameron, another day of record promotion, another day of autograph signing, another day of press. And another day of hearing about rumors that Cameron and I have broken up. The list is endless of all the shit that is going on in my life. Not to mention what today is.

It’s the fifth fucking day that Vanessa Martinez hasn’t answered her fucking phone!

I don’t know how Rachel has been getting in touch with her and I can’t necessarily fucking ask her. Not without her asking why I need to call Vanessa Martinez when I made it a rule that I didn’t want to speak to her unless it was positively imperative that I must. I can’t go up to her and ask if she’s talked to Vanessa without having her nosy ass questioning it. I don’t want to deal with that shit. I don’t want to have to deal with anyone’s shit, period.

Speaking of shit, I’ve really made my relationship a shit load of a mess. I don’t even have a fucking relationship anymore. Cameron is starting to hate me, I can tell. But maybe I’m starting to hate her just a little too. She thinks we can walk around and be friends but I can’t do that. I can’t look her in the eye and pretend that I wasn’t a shitty boyfriend. The guilt is too fucking much. At least when she’s around.

When she’s not around, I can set the guilt aside easily. Almost too easily, which brings me to the conclusion that I have fallen out of love with Cameron. Wanted to believe that maybe I had a screw loose or something, but I don’t think I do. We’ve just grown apart; I see that and understand that. I think Cameron sees it too but as a woman, I think it’s her confessed duty to try and work it out. That is if I hadn’t told everyone in the dressing room to get out a few minutes ago. Including her.

I need some time to clear my head, to relax in a rotten orange colored room.

The chair that I’m sitting in isn’t as comfortable as the leopard couch looks, so I move over to it. My comfort level rises when I stretch in it without putting any wrinkles in my shirt. The last thing I want is to have to do is change clothes five minutes before the show.

Annoyingly enough the stupid couch reminds me of a little camisole thingy Vanessa wore at one of the meeting we had in her office. Another reason to want to commit suicide. I can’t get her out of my fucking head! At all. I’ve tried. And every time I’ve tried I fail, because I dial her stupid number.

She pisses me off!!

I don’t even know what I’m going to say when I do speak to her. She left me high and dry, well not dry, but that’s irrelevant. The only reason I know she’s even alive at this point is because Rachel mentions something that she wanted her to do or tell me. All business.

She’s in LA again; I know that much and it annoys me because she’s supposed to be here. She was scheduled to attend the interview I had today, according to that calendar she gave Rachel. But she wasn’t there and Rachel said she didn’t hear from her either. Information Rachel volunteered of course.

And what bothers me the most is that she’s avoiding the inevitable. Why? What’s the purpose? It’s only driving me insane. And the more she fucks with me the more I want her.

Why can’t she just let me fuck her and get it over with? Everything would be so much easier.

I wouldn’t have to get drunk and have phone sex with her. I wouldn’t want to rip her jeans off her body. I wouldn’t have her in my fucking head twenty-four fucking hours a day. If she would just do what her body wants to do instead of resisting so fucking much, things would be better. But no, she has to be a bitch about it. She wants it as much as I do, I don’t see what the fucking problem is. She’s not going to get fired because first of all, no one will fucking know. EVER. And second she’s Johnny’s niece; he won’t fire her. And third, as hard as it may be to say, she’s good at her fucking job. My ass has never has such a squeaky clean image. Well except for the gas station pictures from last week but those are cleared up. Another reason why she should have answered my calls. How is she going to help my image if she has absolutely no contact with me? Although the type of contact I want with her has nothing to do with my image.

I’ve never had this problem and it’s killing my self-esteem by the fucking minute.

I keep telling myself that if we get this over with I can go on being single again and she would be out of sight out of mind. But hell, who the fuck am I kidding? I know that once I get it, I’m going to want it every second of the fucking day. She doesn’t know what she’s in for and I shiver at the thought. My dick has never been in such state, ever. The mere mention of her name makes my blood rush to my dick, and I’m instantly hard. I’ve had to switch from boxers to boxer briefs in fear of embarrassing myself. This woman is going to drive me insane with all this sexual tension. I swear it’s a medical condition because I’ve never felt this horny and angry at the same time.

The leopard print on the couch is almost as discomforting as the fucking wall and I’m better off closing my eyes and trying to relax that way.

The door to the dressing room opens and I don’t bother to open my eyes because whoever it is that was crazy enough to come in here in the first place will see that I’m chilling and know to get the fuck out. No such luck, of course.

“Justin, will you sign these for me?� It’s Rachel and she sounds annoyed, in contrast to the mood she was in when she left the room with Cameron. But not more annoyed that I am for being interrupted. Not that I was doing anything.

“Not now, Rach,� I say, my eyes still closed and I can feel her hovering over me. Fuck!

“Are you seriously too busy to sign a piece of paper?� Is she this annoying any other day? Why is it that I‘m noticing this now? Or is it me?

“What the hell is it?� I ask opening my eyes and looking up at her. She doesn’t have the usual smirks she gets when she knows she’s annoying me. She’s serious. “What the fuck is wrong with you?�

“Nothing,� she says and I know she’s lying. She places three sheets of paper on my chest.

“Where’s Cameron?� I ask sitting up and grabbing the paper from my chest.

“She’s across the hall, getting the royal bitch treatment, I’m sure,� she says grabbing a water bottle from the small refrigerator in the room.

“What?� I have way too much shit on my mind to actually try to figure out what the hell she’s talking about.

“She’s signing the other half of that statement,� she says pointing briefly at the papers in my hand and drinking her water. I finally look down at the paper in my hand and I find myself reading a media statement.

“When did you get this?� I ask curiously. I talked to Johnny two days ago when he called to tell me that the rumors were going strong about me and Cameron, but I didn’t think he was going to release a statement so soon.

“Vanessa,� Rachel says putting the cap back on the empty water bottle. “Who else?� she says with a roll of her eyes.

“She just sent you this? Why didn’t she send it directly to me?� I ask and throw the sheets of paper next to me on the couch. I don’t want to sign this shit right now.

“I don’t know, why don’t you just ask her? Can you just sign it so I can be done with her for today?�

“Just tell her you’ll fax it to her later,� I say stretching across the couch again. The sheets of paper scatter across the floor.

“Where should I fax it to? Her uptight ass has a number? Just sign the paper so that I can give it to her and she gets off my back and I can go back to the room?�

“Just fax it later or FedEx it or something, Rachel.� I say closing my eyes again.

“Do you not want to release the stupid statement? Why would I fax it when I could just shove it up her ass?� I can tell she’s irritated and I open my eyes to look at her. “Sign the sheet, Justin. Do this for me so that I can hand it to the witch and I can go…�

“You’ll hand it to her?� Hand it to her? She’s here?

“What?� she’s as confused as I am now. ‘What the hell are you saying?�

“Vanessa is here?� I ask sitting up and I don’t mean to act so anxious but I do because my cousin gives me a weird look.

“She’s across the hall with Cameron and Cameron’s PR. I thought I told you that.�

“No, you didn’t,� I say and suddenly the door opens and the subject at hand walks in. She looks at the papers on the floor and then looks at Rachel.

Jesus Christ! I’ve been obsessing over this woman for over five days and the moment I see her, I’m frozen in place. She’s wearing one of her signature suits, white with black pinstripes and I’ve never seen her look more perfect. Her skirt is fitting and the slit on her thigh gives me a peek into what I already know is there.

“Having a problem with the task, Ms. Bomar?� she asks Rachel as she stands there with a clipboard hugged across her chest.

“No,� Rachel responds and picks up the sheets of paper. “Justin was just about to sign them, right?� she asks looking at me.

“Sure he was,� she says and walks further into the room. Her legs look twice as long with that short skirt and I swallow hard. My mind is running wild. “Did you at least read the statement before dismissing it, Mr. Timberlake?�

“Rachel, can you give us a minute?� I ask and I can see the shock my request gives her.

“Yeah,� she says and walks toward the door after placing the paper on the couch’s armrest. She leaves the door ajar and I can hear Cameron laughing about something in the hallway. I can hear the Black-Eyed Peas faintly in the background and I know it’s almost time for me to be on stage. So much for relaxing before the show. I’m further from being relaxed than I was ten minutes ago.

“Where have you been?� I ask, looking down at my shoes because if I look up I’ll be looking at her legs. Not a good thing. And if I look at her in the eyes, I’ll be distracted and I’ll look at her lips and that’s not good either.

“Working,� she surprises me when she responds and I can feel the coldness coming from her. She grabs the papers Rachel placed on the couch and clips it to her clipboard and extends the wooden thing to me. “Ms. Diaz already signed, so I will assume you will as well.�

“You haven’t answered any of my calls,� I say and I don’t mean to sound like a scorned bitch, but I can’t help it. I’m pissed.

“You noticed,� she says and she still hasn’t looked me in the eyes. I look up at her and I see that she’s looking somewhere across the room and I have to smile when she cringes at the sight of the shitty color on the wall. “Will you sign in the highlighted areas, Mr. Timberlake?�

“Ugly color, isn’t it?� I ask, standing in front of her. She backs up a bit and rolls her eyes in annoyance and for the first time I realize she’s annoyed with herself. I don’t know how I know that but I do, nonetheless.

“The ugliest,� she says and directs a cold glare toward me. She conveniently places the clipboard in between us. “Sign.�

“No.�

“No?� she questions and her hand goes to her right hip. “Tell me, Mr. Timberlake, are you lacking communication skills with Ms. Diaz? I only ask because she didn’t have a problem signing the same document. In fact, she was quick with her decision to agree and sign the statement, Mr. Timberlake. And truth be told, I don’t blame her.�

“Why didn’t you answer my fucking calls, Vanessa?�

“Are you signing or not, Mr. Timberlake?�

“Are you answering my fucking question?�

“What type of game are you trying to play here, Mr. Timberlake? I can’t keep up with your bullshit, to be completely honest. I spent the length of my day yesterday devising a statement that Ms. Diaz’ publicist found just in regard to your relationship. So why is it that I get here a few hours ago and find that Ms. Diaz is still on tour? I don’t appreciate being mislead, Mr. Timberlake. I also don’t appreciate being rushed to get a statement out to the world only to have it be withdrawn before it’s even released! Care to explain the situation, Mr. Timberlake? Because frankly, I’m tired of guessing. Am I releasing the fucking statement or NOT?!�

“What the fuck do you think?� I say and step closer to her, making her step further away from me and closer to the ugly ass wall behind her.

“You don’t want to know what I fucking think, Mr. Timberlake?� she says backing away. Her eyes close briefly when her back hits the wall.

“Why can’t you say my name, Vanessa?� I ask and I’m so close to her, I can smell the caramel coffee she must have been drinking on her lips. “Why is it always Mr. Timberlake this and Mr. Timberlake that? Mr. Timberlake is my fucking father, Ms. Martinez.�

“You’re invading my space, MR. TIMBERLAKE!� she says and she actually pushes me back. Oh hell no!

“Don’t fucking misjudge me, Vanessa!� I say taking the step forward again. “You push me again and I’ll pound you to this fucking wall.�

“Oh, so now you’re threatening to hit me, Mr. Timberlake? I wouldn’t go there if I was you,� she looks nervous and I’m taken aback a bit.

“Did I say I was going to hit you? I don’t think so,� I say and I can’t help but brush my lips against hers briefly. She tries to turn her head but I don’t let her; I move her chin toward me with one finger. “And if I were you, I would stop playing games with me.�

“I’m not playing any fucking games with YOU,� she says and this time she pushes me hard enough that the back of my knees hit the couch and I almost fall over it. Oh double hell no! “Don’t fucking touch me,� she’s standing by the wall and she’s breathing hard, like she’s out of breath but she’s smirking at me like she wants to laugh. She thinks this is funny? How’s this for funny Ms. Martinez?

I regain my balance and I don’t care that the door is open. I don’t care that my ex-girlfriend is standing a few feet away. And I don’t care that I’m about to commit a huge mistake. There’s a dressing area a few inches to her left and although I don’t care about a fucking thing except Vanessa Martinez right now, I can’t do this without some type of privacy.

When I reach her I’m pleasantly surprised when she grabs me by the back of my neck and basically swallows me. I knew it!! I knew she wanted this!! My first instinct is to grab her right leg and lift it so that I can be close to her. The movement makes her moan and my knees threaten to give out from under me. My dick is pressed up against her thigh and the heat that I can feel through the thin dress pants I have on makes me moan.

Jesus God Almighty!!

Her hands are still grabbing onto my neck and she’s kissing me with such vigor that I’m the one that can’t keep up with her. This is crazy! And god help me, but I’m loving every second. I can taste the caramel in her breath and I’m not going to be able to have anything with caramel without remembering this. In fact, I think everything in my rider is going to include caramel from now on.

I can feel her nails dig into my neck and the action makes me grunt and lift her other leg against me. I don’t know when I moved and how but we’re behind the curtain of the dressing area and her mouth hasn’t left mine. My dick is now getting direct heat because her skirt is at her waist and I’m grinding into her like there’s no tomorrow. She moans into my mouth again and I can’t take this anymore.

My hands are on her bare ass and I’m wondering if she has any underwear on. I want to be inside her so bad that I’m nearly blowing a wad in my fucking pants, I swear. I have to pull my lips away from her before she swallows me whole, even though I’m enjoying it. She can do what she wants with me next time. And please trust there will be a next time.

There has to be.

My lips are on her neck and she’s panting, making me suck on her neck like a fucking blow pop. Jesus Christ!! I’m pretty sure I left a mark there and I don’t give a rat’s ass. I haven’t moved an inch away from her and my grinding motion hasn’t stopped. I can’t stop it.

When she reaches between us and I feel her hand fumbling for my belt, I’m lost. She can do whatever she wants with me, I swear.

Next time. She can take over next time.

“Oh no,� I whisper in her ear and I manage to hold her up against the wall with one arm while I lift the hand she was using over her head. “Still my turn.�

“I wasn’t aware that we were taking turns, Mr. Timberlake,� she says back and I can’t help but press into her hard. She grunts and closes her eyes.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Vanessa,� I say squeezing her perfectly round ass. “You either stop me now or I’m not stopping until there’s nothing left of you.�

“So sure of yourself, Mr. Timberlake,� she says and I can see myself in her eyes. She wants it and the look that she gives me couldn’t be clearer. She’s gonna get it.

“Shut up,� I say and kiss her so hard I think I may have taken her last breath. This is serious. I don’t have to move much before her legs are wrapped around my waist and I hear her shoes drop behind me.

I reach between us with one hand while my lips are devouring her. I need to get inside of her pronto. Like yesterday fast. When I pry myself away from her far enough to get my hand in between her legs, she moans again. She is wearing underwear and when I rub the thin lace, I can feel the wetness through them. With my finger I move the lace to the side and I’m there, touching her. The ring that she has there is hot against my fingers and if I didn’t want to fuck her so badly, I would go down there and lick it.

Next time.

I let my finger and thumb rub teasingly over her and she lets out a whimper and I feel her come. I’m shocked and turned on further even more, if possible. It’s not.

“Now, who’s fucking with whom, Mr. Timberlake?“ she asks in gasps.

“Does that turn you on? Calling me Mr. Timberlake?� I whisper to her but I don’t wait for her reply, instead my mouth is on hers again. I’ve never been into kissing this much but I can’t keep my mouth from hers. She’s a fucking drug. My drug.

I unbuckle my pants with the same hand I used on her and unzip my pants in record time. Her legs keep my pants from falling down to my ankles but I’m so hard, that I’m busting out of my boxer briefs. I’m aggravated with the seven hundred buttons on the fly of my briefs but I get them undone with one hand. Why do they put buttons on these fucking things anyway? That’s not much easy access to pee, is it? Let alone trying to fuck someone as quickly as possible before she turns into a complete bitch and walks out on you.

“No way,� I say detaching my lips from hers, when she reaches down to grab me. Is she fucking crazy? She can’t fucking touch me right now. I’ll fucking lose it!

“You’re fucking with me now,� she snaps at me with a frustrated groan and I see the need in her eyes. I’m pretty sure they are mirroring my own because I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so badly in my entire life. Ever.

My eyes stay on hers while the head of my dick replaces my finger in between her thighs. Oh. My. God.

The head of my man swells up ten times bigger than it normally is at the wet contact. I’m not even inside of her and I feel like I’m already going to explode. I close my eyes to try to calm my nerves and I let out a sound I didn’t even know I could make. She grabs the back of my neck again and pulls me closer to her. The motion makes my dick slide down her wet center and the head is RIGHT there. She sucks on my bottom lip and I don’t have time to react because she jerks away from the wall and I’m in.

Everything stops.

The music that was coming through the opening of the door is gone. Everything is silent. It’s like one of those moments in a movie where everything is in slow motion. Her walls contract around my dick the second I’m inside of her and I can’t move.

I hear the deep intake of breath she takes, she grips my previously wrinkle free shirt and her walls convulse around me. She came. I don’t know if I can handle this. This is too much for me. She’s too much for me.

And then I know this for sure because she says…

“Justin…� in a whisper. Holy mother of God, I’ve never heard my name said so beautifully. I’ve died and gone to fucking heaven. Or is it hell? Because something so sinfully satisfying has to be the devil’s doing.

I don’t know where I’m pulling my self-control from but I grab and squeeze her ass before pulling out slowly. The pleasure is excruciating and I throw my head back in ecstasy. She must have ripped my tie off because it’s not there. I only realize this because I can feel her mouth on my neck, driving me insane.

This slow shit isn’t going to work, I realize, so I slid in swiftly and she gasps again. She’s incredibly tight and I can feel the stretch when I enter her again. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her up against the wall, and keep my knees from buckling. I slide back out and when she bites my neck, I can’t stop myself.

I’m pumping into her like there’s no tomorrow; her hands are on my shoulders gripping the shit out of me. I can hear every moan that comes from her mouth because her head is on my shoulder as she licks my neck. I don’t know how long I actually lasted but it wasn’t long. Because when I feel her walls hug my dick for the second time, I lose it for real.

I come so hard, I think my ancestors felt it. I swear to God. And when I’m done exploding, she grabs my face from where it’s tucked under all her hair, between her shoulder and neck and kisses me. Hard. And for the love of God, she has another orgasm. I could try to think back to a moment when I got hard the second I came but I know better. Nothing’s going to come to mind. Except this very moment. I’m hard as a fucking rock. Again.

“Fuck,� I say when she stops kissing me. I’m still inside her and I would pull away but I’m actually scared to. Scared that it might be the only time I can get the chance. I’m confused because this feeling that is going through me isn’t what I had in mind. At all.

“Let go of me, Mr. Timberlake,� I hear her say and I jerk my head away from her to look at her face. What?

“What?� I ask and suddenly I’m not so hard. One of the legs that is wrapped around me, moves and I slid out easily. My hands are still on her ass, holding her up and she jerks my hands away until she’s standing on her own two feet.

The music that was obviously still playing in the background comes to full volume and we’re back in reality. And reality fucking bites because she moves around me, and grabs her shoes.

“Are you going to sign the fucking paper or not?� she asks as she leans against the couch to put her shoes back on. Is she fucking serious right now?

“What?� is all I manage to say as I readjust my pants and glare at her.

“I said...�

“I know what you just fucking said, I’m just having a hard time believing my fucking ears right now.�

“What the hell do you want me to SAY?� she yells and catches herself because she looks at the door for a second. “You want me to thank you for your wonderful work, Mr. Timberlake? Is that what you want to hear?�

“What!?�

“That’s it, right? Well here it is, Mr. Timberlake. Thank you very much, for not only giving me probably the best fucking sex I’ve ever had, but for ruining my fucking career. THANKS!!�

“Ruining your career? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?� She done piss me off. After sex, for God’s sake. What is wrong with this woman?!

“Sign the fucking paper, Mr. Timberlake!� she says straightening herself up as best she could as she stomps toward the door. “Make your fans happy, announce you dumped the fucking bitch!�

And she walks out of the room, slamming the door behind her loudly. What the fuck just happened?

Scratch whatever I said earlier; everything is NOT so much easier.

---------------------------------------------

Twenty Minutes Later

I’m late for my own show and I don’t give a damn. It is after all, MY fucking show. I run this. If I decide I want to take a shower five minutes before curtain call, then I will. And I did. I spent ten minutes under a cold ass shower and I’m still pissed.

I can’t even find the words to describe what I’m feeling but there are a lot of them, I know that much.

I got what I wanted, I won, right? So why do I feel like I just lost a big ass piece of myself. I don’t even know what it is. I should be smiling up a storm as I walk toward the stage behind Eric, but it’s nearly impossible.

“Why did you change clothes?� Rachel asks when I pass her on the hallway and the look that I give her lets her know that she should mind her own business. Wasn’t she leaving with Cameron?

“Here,� I say and I hand her the three sheets of paper, that jump started my unforgettable night. “Give those to her.�

“I think she left, though,� she says as we near the stage. “Have a good show, Justin,� she says as she always does before I perform, and I feel a bit bad about the way I’ve been acting toward her. I give her a smile as I’m handed my microphone and she waves at me before heading in the direction we just came from.

The Black Eyed Peas extended their show because of my unexpected delay and the crow probably hasn’t even noticed that I’m late. In spite of everything, I don’t like being late to these things and although tonight had valid merit, I still feel a certain type of way.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HOUSTON?!� I say loudly into the microphone and no matter how many times I’ve done this, I still get chills down my spine when I hear the response of the crowd. The real Justin Timberlake takes a backseat to JT, the performer. Leaving all the shit I have running through my head, backstage.

This is where I feel the freedom playing a role brings. This is my life.

I go my first number without having to do much singing because the crowd is absolutely crazy. They’re out singing me and I love every single moment of it. I’m halfway through my second number, a rock version of Cry Me A River, when I look into the crowd of about two hundred. I’ve been in my zone for a good fifteen minutes, interacting with the crowd and actually having a good time in spite of my fucked up mood. The area by the stage where the crowd is gathered enjoying the show is dark, I can barely see their faces. But on the far end of the large venue, there’s a lit hallway.

And standing, leaning against the wall having what seems like quite a conversation with Dre, is Vanessa.

My voice doesn’t falter and I continue with the show as if my fucking heart wasn’t at my throat. The feeling starts slowly. It creeps up the back of my legs as I go into a cover of Rehab. My eyes, I know, don’t give my line of vision away. Not one single person in the crowd knows that I’m watching the woman I just fucked a little over half an hour ago, smile sweetly at the soon to-be ex tour staff. Doesn’t Tim need a haircut or something? Jesus Christ!!

When I see her laugh about something that he says and she actually touches his arm, I loose it.

“STOP, Stop the music,� I say into the microphone and the crowd goes nuts, like hearing me talk is the greatest fucking thing in the world. “I’m feeling a little thirsty,� I say and when I look up from the crowd, I see that I have Vanessa’s undivided attention. Good.

I can see the shot girl walking by with a tray full of tequila tubes and she’s standing near the stage. She smiles at me like she wants to jump me and I consider that this might be a bad idea. But I do need to get some alcohol in my system before I call one of these two motherfuckers, more specifically Dre, out in front of all these people.

“Come’ere girl,“ I say in what I’ve been told is my sexy voice and the crowd cheers when the girl steps on stage and extends the tray out to me. I grab one of the tubes and I bow to her for effect, it works. While it may look like I’m lifting the tube of God knows what into the air toward the crowd, I’m not. The silent toast is strictly for Ms. Martinez’ benefit.

She’s facing the stage now, and Dre is talking to some other person I’ve never seen before nor care about. Good. I’m too far away to actually see her expression but I can feel the cold. Be fucking mad! See how you like them apple, Vanessa! Tonight, tonight is the way the cookie fucking crumples. You wanna fuck with me? Well then I’m gonna fuck with you.

The mystery shot was of Tequila and it burns the hell out of my empty stomach. Shit! I forgot I hadn’t eaten anything.

I talk to the crowd about the same old shit I’ve been talking about for the past six shows and Vanessa is still standing there. I wonder if it’s the first show she’s attended.

“I feel good tonight," I say when the beginning chords of Lovestoned is played by the band on my cue. "I'm sure you guys are hip to this already,� and I’m referring to the old songs I’ve been revamping for them since I jumped onstage. “But I'm gonna play some new songs for y'all. I hope you like 'em.� I say with a smile toward the crowd that makes the scream. I’m about to start singing but Dre, the fucking bastard, hugs Vanessa, entirely too fucking close. He walks away and I realize it’s a good bye hug, but I’m still fucking pissed. “And if you don't, fuck you!" I say loudly while lifting both my fingers in the air.

If the music wasn’t blaring, the crowd so loud and I couldn’t hear myself in my in-ears, I swear I could have heard Vanessa’s deep gasp. Fuck you, Vanessa!!

I can see her stand there with her arms across her chest as I start singing the song. “She looks like a model, except she’s got a little more ass,“ I try to switch my line of vision from her to the crowd at least every five seconds. I wish I hadn’t written this song. “Don’t even bother, unless you got that thing she likes….�

“I hope she’s going home with me tonight…� she actually moves closer but doesn’t cross the barrier separating the two areas. I can see her face more clearly now and I wish I couldn’t. I can see the realization in her face as I continue singing. “I hope she’s going home with me tonight…�

The feeling of her watching me is unbearable but I have to keep the show going.

“Those flashing light comes from everywhere, the way they hit her I just stop and stare,� and I do because I can’t help it. “She's got me love stoned, man I swear she's bad and she knows, I think that she knows…�

My usual solo freestyle dancing on stage continues and when I when I return my line of vision to her, I sing, “She shuts the room down, the way she walks and causes a fuss, the baddest in town, she's flawless like some uncut ice, I hope she's goin' home with me tonight…�

For the first time I realize that the crowd has been singing word for word with me. What the fuck? Someone leaked my shit? “And all she wants is to dance, that's why you'll find her on the floor, but you don't have a chance, unless you move the way that she likes,� I give the best impression of grinding on my microphone stand and look at Vanessa, “That's why she's goin' home with me tonight…�

I continue the song and start on the next one before Vanessa turns and leaves in the same direction Dre has gone earlier. Good. I didn’t want to continue fucking up my show just to piss her off. The rest of the show is a piece of cake because JT makes his presence known. Smooth like butta.

I couldn’t wait till it was over. Thank God it is because my acting abilities have hit rock bottom today. Rock fucking bottom.

“You’re not going out tonight, Justin?� I hear Cameron ask, as a group of us walk through the lobby of the hotel. I look behind me briefly but keep walking next to Eric toward the elevators. The last thing I want to do is go out, get drunk and end up doing something stupid. I’ve done enough tonight.

“Not tonight,� I say and I smile at her over my shoulder while we all stand by the elevators. Doesn’t she have a flight at midnight? “I thought your plane left at midnight.�

“It does, I have to get something from Rachel’s room,� she says and she continues her conversation with Rachel and Marty, who showed up at the show tonight.

The first elevator carries a few fans and they make a fuss when they see me. Idiots! Eric stands tall in front of me while the group of girls walk by us. My friends seems to be in a comical mood because before I get first dibs on the elevator, a bunch of them get on it, laughing. They tell me to take the fucking stairs for not wanting to party with them and the elevator door closes. Assholes.

“Assholes,� I mumble and I can hear Rachel and Cameron giggle behind me. I’m not in the mood.

“Speaking of,� I hear Rachel say as I stair at the digital numbers indicating what floor the elevator was at. Why do I always request the top floors? Now I have to wait till the party brigade get off so that I can go to my room and drown in my fucking sorrow.

“I still don’t think I recognize her from fashion shows, Rach,� Cameron says in almost a whisper and the words grab my attention. Eric is in my way, like always, so I step back a bit and follow Rachel and Cameron’s line of vision.

It’s Vanessa.

“I fucking hate her,� Rachel attempts mumbles under her breath when Vanessa, who is on her phone, walks by us.

I know Vanessa heard her, I know she did because she was right there when she said it. But Vanessa keeps walking past us, her head down and I know there’s no way she didn’t see us. She has dark shades over her eyes and she’s not saying anything into the phone. Something’s wrong.

Something has to be.

She wouldn’t have ignored what Rachel just said loudly for all us to hear. She just wouldn’t have. And the clear indication that something was wrong is the fact that not once have I seen Vanessa Martinez, Master of Public Relations, walk without having her head held high. Never.

And as we step into the elevator, I ask myself one question.

Did I break her?


To be continued…

Chapter Fourteen: This is Houston…What’s the problem?

Part Two

My chest hurts.

It’s the type of pain that takes over your entire body and you can’t control it. It wraps you up tight and makes it nearly impossible for you to breathe. It starts at the pit of your stomach, then it travels to the center of your chest, up to your throat and lingers. It chokes you. It makes you fight against it until you’re too weak to keep struggle with it. It eats you alive and you know that no matter how hard you try to break free from it, you just can’t.

It’s my heart… breaking.

The flight of stairs that I just took, two at a time, with stiletto shoes, catch up with me when I reach the twelfth floor. I’m not out of shape by any means but the twelve flights are like climbing Mount Everest when you’ve been crying for the past hour.

Me, Vanessa Martinez, crying and I can’t stop.

It hurts to know that nothing I do will ever be enough to make my father love me. Nothing.

“I’ll meet you in Atlanta in two days, okay?� I shake my head, even though I know she can’t see me. “Please stop crying V, you’re making me so sad…�

“Don’t be, it’s alright. Have a good photo shoot tomorrow,� I’m walking down the hallway toward my room and my legs feel like Jell-O from climbing those stairs. “Don’t worry about me, Barker. I’ll be fine. I am fine. Always am.�

“I wish I could believe you, Vanessa,� she says and I hate that I’ve made her sad too. This is my own misery and I hate that I always bring Barker down with me. She says that‘s what sisters are for, but we don‘t share the same father, do we? “Try to relax a bit tonight, okay?�

“I’m fine, Barker,� I say walking as slowly as I can without falling over from the pain of my legs. “I’ll call you later.�

“I love you,� she says and tears slips from my eyes easily. I want her here with me, she’s my rock, the only person in my life that knows me. But I’m alone. Alone and brokenhearted, yet again.

“I love you too,� I say and end the call quickly before I start bawling my eyes out, like I did when I called her an hour ago.

“VANESSA!!� The loud call of my name makes me look up briefly from where I’m inserting my hotel key in the slot. Oh God, I don’t want to have this conversation. I continue trying to open my door and fail. What the hell is wrong with this stupid thing? “So, you’re deaf now?�

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he’s walking toward me. He’s carrying something but because I refuse to interact with anyone right now, I don’t know what it is. Nor do I care. I just want to go into my room and I don’t look at him when he’s standing next to me. I keep sliding the key card in the slot repeatedly to no avail. Fuck!

“Didn’t you hear me talking to you?� he asks and I just don’t want to deal with him right now. A tear slips out of my eye from frustration and I wipe it from under my shades quickly.

“Just leave me alone,� I say and I hate that I sound so stuffy, like I’m crying. Which is due to the fact that I am crying. I’m such a loser, like my father so often hints at.

“Vanessa,� he says grabbing my arm to stop my obvious attack on the key slot before he snatches the key out of my hand. “Are you crying?� he asks and he sounds a little concerned. It’s the last thing I need, I hate pity. He easily inserts the key and the small light turns green which aggravates me. It would open up for him, wouldn’t it? I don’t care, all I care about is that I’m in.

“Just leave me alone,� I say and I still haven’t looked at him. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want anybody feeling sorry for me. I push on the door and I’m inside my room without another word. I don’t know nor care if he said anything else.

I go straight for the bathroom, taking items of clothing off on my way to the large bathtub. I really hope this bath makes me feel better or my legs at the most and I can go to sleep. And just forget about this day. All of it. Even if it’s for just eight hours, while I sleep, because tomorrow, reality sinks in.

Within minutes, I’m in the tub, the hot water soothing my legs but not my heart. Nothing’s going to heal that, I know. It’s been broken for far too long and repairing it is impossible. The thought make fresh tears well up in my eyes and I’m miserable. I’m positive I’ve shed enough tears to make the tub overflow and it makes me sadder than I’ve ever been.

I thought for sure, this new job would make my father see how good I am. Show him that I can be even half as good as he’s been in this business. I thought that after being disappointed in me with my previous career choice, that he would find my new career something to be proud of. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong in his eyes.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I’m trying not to fall asleep in the tub but Barker was right, the hot water has consoled me a bit, although the tears are still fresh. I think I’m more angry than I am sad, although the feelings are too deep to actually pick. I’m sad because it hurts and I’m angry because it hurts. In the end, it’s all the same, I guess. My eyes drift closed and the only sound in the room is the air conditioning system, humming on the other side of the bathroom door.

“How is it possible to look that relaxed and still have tears in your eyes?� I hear and I almost have a heart attack. I sit up so quickly that the water, my tears, splash out of the tub and all over the tiled floor. Jesus Christ!!

“Jesus Christ! What are you doing?� I ask trying to cover up as much as possible as I sit in the middle of the tub looking up at the one and only, Justin Timberlake. I realize my attempt is null and I‘m positive he‘s gotten a very nice frontal view. “What are you doing in my room? Get out!�

“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you walk in here and forget about it, did you?� he asks and although I’m completely naked, I haven’t seen his making an effort to see what I was trying to cover up. I want to cry. Again. Why is this happening to me?

“Please get out,� I say and I know I sound pathetic when I say the words and fresh tears slide down my cheeks. I’m way beyond pathetic.

“No,� he says and turns toward the bathroom door. “Put some clothes on, we need to talk!� he says and slams the door behind him. I’m trapped. Justin Timberlake is in my room and I can’t do anything about it. I don’t have the heart to fight him and I don’t know that I want to.

I keep asking myself how he got into my room but then I remember that I didn’t stay outside the door with him long enough to take my key back when he opened it for me. Way to go, Vanessa!

I can’t stay in the bathroom all night, hiding, although I wouldn’t mind. So I stand up in the tub and grab the bathrobe from the hook near it. I try to put on the best act to date and walk out of the bathroom. My body is saying that I’m strong and I can hide every emotion coursing through my body as I walk out and enter the room. I’ve done this act for the past couple of years, I should be able to pull it off. I walk with my head held high and knock down anything that stands in my way. Even when I’m dying inside, which is ninety percent of the time.

But my mind is another thing all together and it‘s failing me. I’m not confident. I’m not the tough woman everyone thinks I am, right now. And unfortunately, for some unknown reason, Mr. Timberlake, is seeing through me. This isn’t right and I hate it, I hate that when I walk into the room and see him sitting on the bed looking up at me, I want to cry. And I hate even more when I do shed tears and they roll down my cheek, slowly. I’m not even strong enough to wipe it away and pretend it wasn’t there. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I let my father get to me like this? Why am I letting Justin Timberlake, see what only Barker sees? Why am I weak when I look at father? And why is it that I want to break down when I look at Justin Timberlake?

“Please just leave,� I say and I do wipe the tears from my face. He’s looking at me with confusion written all over his face. I don’t blame him one bit. Who understands me? Who?

“It was just sex, Vanessa. It’s not the end of the world. You don’t have to look so defeated, like it was the worst mistake of your fucking life! So it was a big risk we BOTH took, but it happened and we need to talk about it. You’re not making this any easier, Vanessa! JESUS CHRIST!! STOP FUCKING CRYING, PLEASE!! IT WAS SEX!! Do NOT make me feel guilty about it when it was the best thing that I‘ve felt in a long, long time. DO NOT TAKE THAT WAY FROM ME, PLEASE!!!�

He’s standing up looking at me with an expression that I can only register as guilt. He feels guilty over something that he shouldn‘t be. I let all of this happen. I did this. I made my father hate me. I made the choice to deceive my father and run away with Jared. I did this. I let Justin Timberlake touch me. I let him take me as his, sexually. I’m letting him see me this way. I did this.

Me. Me. ME.

“Justin, please just leave,� I say and I don’t miss the shock of his name coming out of my lips, from his eyes. “Please.�

“Vanessa,� he says and he sounds very apprehensive, like he’s scared of what I might do. He’s closing the small distance between us and he standing in front of me. He’s looking into my eyes and I can see his hypnotizing blue eyes read me like an open book. I want to look away but I can’t. I just can’t. It’s the first time I feel small around him. I’m only an inch shorter than he is but I can see how much bigger and taller he is with my shoes off. “You’re not crying over what happened with us earlier,� he’s not asking at all, he’s making a statement and fresh tears appear in my eyes. He’s right.

“Don’t,� I say when he slowly moves a strand of hair from my face. I don’t want to be touched. I want to be left alone. I need to recharge. I need to put all of this behind me and move on. I need to do what I’ve been doing with my emotions for the past five years. I need to become strong again. Strong on the outside and weak inside, where no one can see. Where no one can judge.

“I’m not going to hurt you,� he says and I close my eyes briefly and look up into his eyes again. His words sound sincere, his eyes give me a comfort that I’ve never felt before and I loose it. I’m crying hysterically on his chest within a second and his arms are around in a tight embrace. I can’t stop crying and I don’t care that it’s Justin Timberlake holding me for dear life. All I care about is that I feel a sense of comfort in his arms and I don’t want to let go. I can’t let go.

The cold tiled floor is gone from under my feet and the cool sheets from the Heavenly Bed embrace me. I can’t stop crying and when I feel him flushed against my body from behind, I cry harder. The blankets cover the both of us and I’ve never been in a more comfortable position. It’s warm. His hands slips under my arms and locks with my left as I lay. My right hand embraces our joined hands and my tears subside a bit. I’m okay.

“I’m here, Vanessa,� he whispers in my ear and the feeling that I get isn’t sexual by any means. It’s the feeling that Barker gives me. It’s comfort. It’s caring. It’s almost love. “Shh…sleep. I’m not going anywhere.�

The meaning of his words and the affect that they are having on me, make my eyes drift closed. Sleep comes quickly after that. I don’t think about the consequences of it all. And the reality it will bring in the morning. I only let my body relax like it’s never been before. It’s like I’m on cloud nine in heaven and I’ve never felt soothing at this level before. Ever.

And it’s with Justin Timberlake, at that. Go figure.

---------------------------------------------

It’s reality time. Morning.

The bright beam in the room from the sun outside the window hits my eyes at full velocity and I cringe. I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to have to awkwardly apologize to Justin for being such a fucking drama queen last night. I don’t want to have to look at Justin and…

Wait…where is he?

I turn to look at the other side of the bed and I find that I’m alone. He’s gone. Thank God. I didn’t notice much of anything the night before, so I don’t know if he had been drinking. I hope he had been, I hope he was so drunk that he would have forgotten about all of it. It’s highly unlikely but I can only hope.

The room is freezing cold and I wonder for a second how I could of slept with it being below zero in the room. But then I hadn’t been cold at all. In fact, I’ve never been warmer. I can’t stop the sudden flush of my skin at the thought and I hate it. This is not me.

I need to work and get my mind of everything that happened. Everything. It’s a brand new day and I must take advantage of it and make it better than last night. I have to.

The piece of paper that crumbles under my weight as I drag myself out of bed catches my attention. And I think it was the sole purpose of it. I reach under my butt to retrieve it and on it are five words written in caps. WE STILL NEED TO TALK -Justin, it says and I drop the piece of paper to the floor. I’m so mortified. How could I have allowed him in my room? I mean technically I didn’t, he came in on his own. Uninvited. But I didn’t make him leave, which makes this feeling of embarrassment wash over me.

I get in the shower in hopes of washing the previous night away but it doesn’t and it plays in my head while I get dressed. The five garment bags I had brought here from Vegas are hanging in the closet and I hope the new suit I had tailored fits. I don’t pay much care to the weight of the garment bag that contains the suit, as I place it across the bed. I grab my make-up bag and blow dryer and head to the bathroom to get ready for an awkward day.

When I’m done with hair and make-up, I go to open the garment bag and realize that a Gucci logo is staring back at me. It’s not my garment bag but it’s not one of those moments where you think you’ve lost your luggage. I know who’s garment bag it is. When I look for the tag that’s attached to it, that’s when I panic. What did she do?!

I pull the zipper down on and instead of my suit, I have about seven pairs of jeans staring back at me. A little note is attached to one of the hangers and A more relaxed look is written on it. I rush to the other four bags and all I find are countless jeans and casual tops. I’m going to kill my best friend. I don’t know when she found the time to switch all my clothing, but she did. For all of hers, some with tags from when she shopped with Mr. Ayala in Vegas. As I’m rummaging through the bag on my bed, I remember when I she had an opportunity to do this and I shake my head.

I remember when she was leaving she volunteered to take my things down to one of the tour staff members to take to the next city. I’d been on the phone with one of my staff members in Los Angeles at the time. She must have switched her garment bags with mine. Which is why instead of having five Prada bags, I have five Gucci ones. Full of Barker’s clothes. This is the type of thing she does, it has her name written all over it. The tag on the bag clearly says my name and information, in her handwriting.

I don’t have time to get another suit delivered and the shops I noticed in the lobby of the hotel had clothes that had nothing to do with business. I have to wear something from here because wearing the suit I had on the day before is not an option. I forgo the two pairs of William Rast jeans and grab a pair of True Religion that I know fit me because I’ve worn them before.

I have to chuckle when I find the suit jacket she’d borrowed from me on the last hanger. She’s always complaining that I dress too businesslike and yet she was taking yet another one of my suits. She’s nuts and I love her for it.

When I’m ready, I call down to the concierge and have him send someone for my things. The buses leave in twenty minutes and I’m dreading the moment. It will be the first trip to the next city on the buses, instead of having flown, for me. I’m not looking forward to being cramped in a small bus having to share pleasantries with make-up artists and stylists. Even though I hired them myself, they weren’t picked out of a thousand because I liked any of them that‘s for sure. They were picked because they had absolutely no personal interest in Justin Timberlake, no one on this tour does.

Yeah, no one…well wait, no….no one.

There’s a blacked out Excursion alongside the four buses and I know it’s the car that must have taken Justin to his radio interview this morning. I’m not heading that way. I may be on the emotional wreck bus but I’m not crazy. I make a beeline toward the bus that Mrs. Jones, the make-up artist is standing in front of with one of the dancers and Ms. Bomar. That’s my ride.

“Good morning, Ms. Martinez,� the driver, a chubby black man, greets me at the bottom of the steps. “We should be heading out in about five minutes.�

“Good morning,� I say and watch as Ms. Bomar rounds the bus and stand behind the driver. She doesn’t say anything, simply hugs the driver from behind and tickles his belly.

“You’re not driving like a maniac this time, right?� she asks the driver, in a childlike voice and I have to roll my eyes. She is a child. God, I can’t tolerate her and I don’t stand around waiting for the driver to say anything back.

There’s no one on the bus and it’s eerily quiet but I know once the staff climbs in, the quiet will no longer be. I sit on the long bench like seat that I know will be my bed the minute I see it. I’m not sleeping in one of those coffins beds that Uncle Johnny warned me about. I’d rather risk falling on my ass from this seat, than to climb into one of those. There’s a Vogue magazine on the bench across from me and I take it, in hopes to entertain myself while I wait for everyone to get on the bus. I’m only trying to distract myself from all the things that are running wild in my mind.

But then everything goes blank.

I’m being attacked by what I only hope is a dog and not some vicious animal that has roamed around the streets of Houston, Texas and has managed to run into this bus. It’s a large dog and weighs a ton and if it wanted to bite into me, it probably would have already. But instead it’s sitting on my lap and licking the hell out of my face. What the hell?

“BRENNEN!!� I hear being yelled outside the bus and I immediately know it’s Ms. Bomar. I try to push the licker far enough from my face so that his long tongue doesn’t reach me. But then there’s another one. The other dog jumps onto my lap and I don’t know how these two large dogs have managed to fit on it but they are, my thighs are crunched. They are almost twice my size combined, I notice. “BUCKLEY!!�

Ms. Bomar practically trips over herself when she runs up the steps of the bus, making it shake a bit. The dogs stop licking my hands and face to look at her. They aren’t amused and neither am I. two Boxers stay on my lap and I can feel them getting more and more comfortable. There goes my already sore legs.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,� Ms. Bomar says and I look at her briefly before petting Brennen’s head. I can see the driver step onto the bus behind her and take a seat behind the wheel. “Down,� she says to the dogs and they seem oblivious to her command. It actually makes me chuckle a bit. She can’t even handle the dogs. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t think they’d be so excited.�

“Right,� I say and when Buckley decides it’s his turn to lick my face I shake my head at him and he stops his attempt. “Down,� I say and funny enough, they both look at me and get off my lap. Brennen, the first dog, jumps on the seat across from me and drops himself on it, heavily. Buckley lays at my feet and I know he’s going to drool on my boots. And if he wasn’t so cute, I’d care about the very expensive boots, but he‘s adorable.

“You would have reign over them, wouldn’t you?� Ms. Bomar say sitting next to Brennen and grabbing the Vogue magazine that was on the floor. Why is she getting so comfortable? “Bitches always do,� she mumbles and I have to laugh. On the inside of course.

“And the puppies always follow around,� I say and although I’m not accustomed to do it, I shrug. “Life is a bitch, isn’t it? Or should I say, life’s a Vanessa?�

“We have a long ride ahead of us and I could do without the tension in here. For Justin’s sake, do you think we could be civilized?� She asks but I don’t have a chance to reply because the bus is moving. We are moving. We, as in Justin’s dogs, his assistant and me. This is not the ‘we’ I was expecting. Not by a long shot. What the hell is going on?

I’m about to ask that very question when Brennen jumps up from the seat and walks to the door at the back of the bus. He must have heard something that I didn’t because the door opens and Mr. Timberlake walks out into the narrow path. Jesus Christ, I’m on his bus!! He’s on his phone and he pets Brennen on the head but his eyes have been glued on me as he talks on the phone.

I turn to look at Ms. Bomar and she gives me a strange look and then looks at her cousin before opening the magazine to some random page.

“I’m on the wrong bus,� I say and I’m not really talking to her, more to myself.

“No you’re not,� he says and places the phone back in his ear. “I’ll call you later, Ma. Okay, I love you too. Yeah. Okay, bye.�

“What is going on?� I ask and I look from Ms. Bomar to him. Ms. Bomar is looking at me like I’ve grown two heads and doesn’t say anything.

“I was clear when I said we still needed to talk, didn’t I?� he says, taking a seat at the small eating table on the other side of me. The two dogs immediately go to him. Buckley gets first dibs on his lap and Brennen disappointedly sits next to him.

“What?� I ask and I’m so confused as to what the hell I’m doing on this bus. I want off!

“I’ll be in the back if you need me, Justin,� Ms. Bomar gets up from her seat, looking bored as ever and walks to the back of the bus, where she closes the door behind her. Now who’s the rude bitch?

“What did you do?�

“You have a knack at knowing things that I will do or say, before I even do them. What do you think I did?� He says as he pets the dog on his lap. It’s really sad to say, let alone feel it, but I’ve never wanted to be a dog more than I do at the moment. It’s horrible. “I changed your bus assignment.�

“You can’t fucking do that, Mr. Timberlake!� I say and he raises his eyebrows at me.

“Oh, so we’re back to that?� he shakes his head and looks at me, through me. I hate him. “Let me put it this way, Ms. Martinez. This is MY tour. MY bus. MY choice. MY staff. I will do whatever the FUCK I want to do. And if that’s changing your fucking bus assignment, then it is what it is. So buckle up, Vanessa, it’s a long twelve hours to Atlanta.�

Oh. My. God.

“You can’t do this,� I say and try to hold myself steady when the bus goes over a speed bump. The driver slides the dark thick curtain behind him and Justin and I are alone.

“Take a look behind you, Vanessa,� he says pointing to the windows behind me. “I can do this, and I did. We’re moving.�

“This is crazy, you shouldn’t have done this.�

“Crazy? Oh no, it’s not crazy. Crazy would be for me to go into your room and find you bawling your ass off. Crazy would be me thinking that I did something wrong. Crazy would be me having a need to know what made you cry like that. That’s crazy.�

“I can’t have this conversation with you. Please, make him stop this bus,� I’m looking straight ahead and I know we’re already getting off the ramp and onto the highway.

“You keep saying you can’t do a lot of things with me, Vanessa. We both know that’s not the case,� he says and looks at me with those bright blue eyes of his. “We’ve done more than enough. Together.�

“Get me off this bus, Justin,� I say and grunt when Brennen jumps on the seat and plants himself on my lap.

“He’s shy,� he says and chuckles.

“I see that,� I say before the dogs licks my cheek and I laugh because I can’t help myself. I love dogs.

“Do you like my dogs?�

“If I said yes, would you tell the driver to stop the bus?� I’m avoiding having to look at him and play with Brennen’s ears instead.

“You don’t have to like the dogs,� he says and when I look up at him, he shrugs. “They seem to like you, so that’s good enough. The don‘t like strangers.�

“I am a stranger,� I say with a smile that’s evoked by Brennen who is now trying to bite on one of my bracelets.

“Not to me,� Justin says and this time I look up at him. He has a serious expression on his face and he’s staring at me. “What happened?�

“Why does it matter?� I ask and stand to take off my suit jacket and preventing more drool from the dog to get on it. I set throw it across from me to land where Ms. Bomar had previously been.

“It just does,� he says and Buckley jumps from his lap to see what Brennen’s up to.

“To whom? It’s over and done with.�

“To me, it matters to me. I was there, remember? It’s not over and done with because I don’t know what made you so sad. I wan to know.�

“Why?�

“Why not?�

“Why not? Because it shouldn’t matter what made me act like an fucking drama queen. Not to you. It’s none of your business.�

“You made it my business, Vanessa. And I don’t give a damn what you say, you wanted to make it my business. And don’t give me any shit about it just being the fact that I was the only person around. That’s bullshit. You wanted me there and you know it.�

“I’m not having this conversation.�

“Just admit it, Vanessa.�

“There’s nothing to admit, Justin!�

“You’re lying and it doesn’t fit you at all. Just like that fucked up attitude you have doesn’t fit either. Something tells me that other woman you’ve become when I touch you is the real Vanessa Martinez. This person that walks around with a dick up her ass is not you. It‘s wall you‘ve built around you to keep people from seeing what I saw last night. The real you.�

“Well tell that something to shut the fuck up, Justin. What makes you a fucking expert?�

“I’m not by any means, trust me. But I’m an expert on being sad. I know sad, I’ve lived it. Don’t pretend that I don’t know what I’m talking about.�

“You don’t know anything about me, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Don’t retrieve to that Mr. Timberlake bullshit, Vanessa. You say that I don’t know anything about you, well enlighten me because you’re driving me insane.�

“It’s all about you, isn’t it?�

“No, it’s about you. You and how you’re trying to deny that we, me and YOU, have something. That’s what it’s all about. And what I saw in you last night is what’s keeping this thing from moving forward.�

“So, what? You want me to tell you all about the skeletons in my closet so that you can get under my skirt again? Is that it? That’s what you want?�

“You’re misinterpreting my words, Vanessa. Don’t,� he says and folds his hands on top of the table. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.�

“What do you mean then?�

“You’re hot and cold. I don’t like the cold, and I’m pretty positive you don’t like it either. But when it’s hot, it’s at a boiling point.�

“Your analogies are out of this world,� I say and I chuckle bitterly. I don’t know why what he’s saying to me makes my stomach flutter but it does. I know what he’s trying to say, I know because shit…I like him too.

“Would it make you feel better if I say it? Because I can, I’m not afraid to say it. I like you, I really do,� he says and he’s serious when I look at him. A little shy maybe which I find comforting. “And it’s not because of the sex, although I have to say that it was hot,� my face is incredibly hot and I can’t say a word nor can I look at him. “I don’t know what it is, it’s just there. I just know that I’m intrigued.�

“My father hates me,� I blurt out and I don’t know why I’m telling him this and I don’t know why it’s okay.

“What?�

“Last night,� I say and I look at him briefly before focusing on the dogs on either side of me. “That’s why I was in the state that I was. My father thinks I’m a disgrace to the family.�

“What? Why?�

“I don’t know. It’s just a fact. He called me last night during the show, which by the way WE HAVE to discuss, and gave me the spiel of the century. I couldn’t handle it, I never can.�

“About what?�

“About you.�

“About ME? What did I do? I don’t even know the man. Why would he make you feel like that over me?� He sounds completely confused and I can see a bit of guilt flash through his eyes, even though he doesn’t know why.

“Mr. Wright,� I say and he raises his eyebrow at me warningly. “Uncle Johnny told him that you weren’t impressed with me. That you basically hated me.�

“That’s not true.�

“Isn’t it?�

“No.�

“It doesn’t matter. Truth of the matter is, in the Martinez family, we don’t fail. We don’t have client not like us. We are all business,� I say and when I look at him, he looks a bit take aback. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Justin. I am business. I love my job. I just wish it were enough to make my father happy. Proud. That’s all.�

“What about you?� he asks. “What about making you happy? Who’s going to make YOU proud?�

“What made me happy was what has made me who I am.�

“Explain.�

“Why?�

“Just tell me, Vanessa. Who am I going to tell? You above anyone on this tour know how much I value my personal life. Why would it ever leave this bus? Tel me.�

“Fine,� I say and put my legs up to my chest comfortably. I don’t miss the way he looks at my jean clad legs and I try not to blush. “My last year of college, I met someone.�

“Okay,� he says and he’s actually green with jealousy and I haven’t even said anything.

“It was one of those very rare night, when Barker came to visit and begged me to lay off the books,� the thought makes me smile and he smiles at me as well. I know he knows the meaning of having a friend like that. I see it in Trace. “We went to a bar down the street from my apartment, it was kind of gross. Dirty and smoky, but it was apparently the popular hang out. I wouldn’t know. Local bands played every night and it’s probably the grungiest place I’ve ever been to.�

“I can’t picture you in a place like that,� he chuckles a bit and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I know,� I say and look out the window. “I met him there.�

“Let me guess,� he interrupts. “Not your father’s first choice.�

“I lied to my father for the first time in my life, for him. I denied having a relationship with an inspiring actor who could barely pay his rent. That bar became my home, his band played every night and I loved him,� the memories make me pause and chuckle bitterly. “My father found out, I don’t know how nor do I care, really. Not anymore.�

“I’m listening.�

“My father nearly blew a vessel. He told me I wasn’t part of the family as long as I was with this man. He said that I would regret disregarding my studies over someone so worthless. He was horrible and I hated him for speaking about my first love, my everything that way. He cut off all my income, I only went to school, I didn’t have any money. I had to get a job, at that bar of course. I dropped out of Howard and was evicted out of my apartment within six months, which was what my father had already paid for.�

“You moved in with him?� He sounds bitter and I have to look at him to see if he’s okay.

“With his aunt, in a two bedroom apartment fitting six people already.�

“How was that?�

“Tight,� I say and laugh, he joins in laughter and Buckley goes to him. The dog climbs onto his lap again and it’s not Justin who’s jealous now.

“Please continue,� he says smiling at me. I can’t really believe we’re having this conversation.

“My boyfriend then got a callback from one of the many readings he’d gone to. Everything changed. I had Barker max out her credit card for me. I was determined to tag along with him and see his career take off. I hopped on a plane with a grunge band member, the man I loved and landed in Hollywood with an actor.�

“What happened?�

“I went back to New York, enrolled in NYU and was working with Naomi Campbell, a year later.�

“What happened? Why did you end up in New York again?�

“Nothing. Everything,� I say with a shrug. “My father was right. My boyfriend wasn’t good enough. He left me for someone else. Someone in the industry that he was hoping to be a part of.�

“Asshole.�

“Yeah,� I say with a laugh. “Tell me about it. I went back to the Hamptons where I endured two months of my father’s tough love. I got over it, though. Look where I am now. Not bad, huh?�

“Not bad? You’re on Justin Timberlake’s private tour bus. That’s beyond anything you could ever do,� he says sarcastically but deep down I know he thinks he’s the shit. I don’t blame him, everyone around him praises him, so why not?

“So that’s it, story over.�

“I’ll let you be for right now,� he says standing up and dusting any hair from the dog he night have on his lap. “Are you hungry? Did you eat breakfast?�

“No I didn’t,� I say and I notice how nervous he suddenly is. What’s his problem? “What’s wrong?�

“Nothing,� he says as he opens the refrigerator in the kitchen area and rummaged through what I see is enough food to feed a small country.

“I shouldn’t have shared any of this with you. Now you’re acting weird and I want to kick you ass,� my outburst makes him look at me and chuckle.

“That’s not it,� he says and takes a platter of lunchmeat out of the fridge. How does that fit in there? “White or wheat?� he asks putting two bags of bread in front of him.

“Wheat,� I say and open stand to grab the tray from his other hand. “What is it then?�

“I just let my eyes wander when you were just sitting over there, that’s all.�

“Oh,� I say and I’m blushing like a fucking schoolgirl. I’m such an idiot. I should be telling him he’s a pervert and call it a day.

“Yeah, oh,� he says with a chuckle as he takes the ingredients we need for the sandwiches out of the refrigerator. “You have no idea what you do to me.�

“Shut up,� I say because I really don’t want to get in this subject. I’ve revealed enough already.

“Why?� he laughs as he spreads mayo on both his and my slice of wheat bread. Good taste. “The same way I told you how much of a bitch you can be, is the same way I’m going to tell you that I want you.�

“Oh my God, shut up,� I say looking around the bus.

“The driver is paid very well as you probably know. And my mother and Rachel gossip on the phone about me every chance they get. So don’t worry about Rachel, if that’s why you’re looking around.�

“You told your MOTHER!! ARE YOU INSANE?!� I yell and almost pull my hair out. “Jesus Christ!! I’m going to loose my job!!� I stand and start pacing the small area like a maniac. “I can’t believe…� and my words are cut off because he’s kissing me and I can’t remember my name let alone what I was saying.

-----------------------------

Author’s Note: I’d like to thank Blackchick for letting me borrow her Heavenly Bed. You can have it back now, girl. God only know how much you both enjoy it.

Chapter Fifteen: The Road to Success

And just like that, I have Vanessa Martinez in the same position she was in hours ago.

The constant tug at the leg of my jeans makes me want to kick out my leg, but I don‘t. I wish I was alone with her. Where I could strip her off of this little tank top and these perfectly fitting jeans. Where does this woman get these? If I was in the right state of mind whenever I kissed her, if I didn’t completely loose myself in a kiss, I would ask her about them but fuck it, I can’t. All I have in my mind is the beginning stages of a hard on.

It’s Buckley doing the tugging. He pulls at my jeans harder when I ignore him and continue to devoured Vanessa’s lips. She‘s pinned up against the kitchenette’s counter, and I can feel every curve in her body. She’s fucking delicious. I always thought she would be- in the morning, in the middle of the day, at night, all the time. She’s fucking incredible and I don’t blame Buckley one bit, actually. He’s clearly jealous and trying to get attention. But I would bet a million bucks that he’s wanting his new friend’s attention and not mine. I just happen to be in the way of his prey. Better luck next time, buddy. She’s mine!

All mine.

The door to my left opens and I don’t stop the kisses I’m placing on Vanessa’s neck, nor do I open my eyes. I simply point my finger in the direction of Rachel, who is probably cringing and the door closes quietly. Tracing my way back up her neck, I make a stop at her lips where she bites lightly on the bottom one. Her green eyes are staring back into mine and she pushes on my chest. She kisses me, barely a peck on the lips. “She is trustworthy, being your cousin and all, right?�

“What are you talking about?� I ask and I have a feeling I wasn’t the only one that heard Rachel open the door.

“This bus is very small, Mr. Timberlake,� she says close to my lips. “Anything that you can hear, I can hear.�

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,� I say and I can’t stop the smile that’s on my lips. She’s so fucking sexy.

“Buckley’s been trying to get your attention,� she says looking around and behind me. Buckley had been on the other side of her, behind me, how did she know that? And here I thought, I was in control. “Your dogs aren’t out here anymore, Mr. Timberlake.�

“So what are you saying, Ms. Martinez?� I ask mockingly as my lips trace hers. I want her so bad, I could fucking cry. I swear, I could.

“I’m saying,� she says and this time she kisses me slowly, lets it linger and right when I’m about to grip her up like I had five minutes ago, she pushes me away. I land on my previous spot. The table hits the side of my ribs and I grunt. “I’m saying that what your assistant just saw better stay in here.�

“It’s…� I start to say but Rachel opens the door and walks out onto the small area we’re in.

“If I’d wanted to sell any dirt on Justin, I’d much rather dig up his closet. All those tapes he has are far more interesting than him kissing you, that’s for sure,� Rachel has smiles at Vanessa but I can tell is not a very real one. She looks at me and shrugs when I turn beet red, at her words.

“RACHEL!!� I say loudly, red face and all. I look at Vanessa who is giving me a raised brow and I’m even more embarrassed. She may think a lot of things about me but pervert is not one I would allow. “That’s not true! She’s fucking with you. RIGHT, RACHEL!?�

“Sure I am,“ she says and the sarcasm is way too much for me. I immediately start bagging my head on the table, slowly, in misery. Why does every woman in my life call me out at times like these? “He’s not only my employer, Vanessa,� Rachel says to her as she walks the short distance to the lounge area of the bus. “He’s family and while you may think otherwise, I would never do anything remotely close to damage our relationship. Especially not our family.�

“I sure hope so,� Vanessa says with a shrug and she seems relaxed, although a little embarrassed. But the fact that she’s on my bus and has managed to tell me a little about herself, played with my dogs and is talking to Rachel like a human being, shows how relaxed she is. And the more I learn about her, the more I want to know more.

“Still hungry?� I ask trying to ease the tension that is present with the two women in the small space. I’m not stupid enough to get into this shit. They have a problem with each other, that’s their business. I’m staying out of it.

“Yeah sure,� Vanessa says as Brennen rubs his head on her leg. I know the feeling buddy, I know exactly how you feel about her. You want to be near her all the time and have her touch you…yeah, I know the feeling.

“Make me one,� Rachel says to me and I throw a piece of turkey at her from where I’m sitting and watching as Vanessa takes her previous seat.

“Who’s the assistant here?� I say to Rachel, who rolls her eyes at me.

“Shut up and make me one,� she’s reading her magazine, lounging back like she always does. Shouldn’t I be the one doing that? Shouldn’t I be laying up with Vanessa on top of me and…I need to stop.

Vanessa looks at me and then back at Brennen who couldn’t beat Buckley to the turkey on the floor. “What?�

“Nothing,� she says playing with the bracelets on her wrist. She grabs a piece of turkey from the wrapping and puts it in her mouth. Dear Lord in heaven, please forgive me for my sinful thoughts.

I continue making the sandwiches, adding a third one for my assistant. I’m trying really hard to divert my eyes from the cleavage that’s in front of me, but it‘s the fucking pits cause I can‘t. The last thing I need is for a hard-on in front of my cousin. If Vanessa and I were alone, I would be all over her and fuck the sandwiches. This is bad, this thing that goes through me when she’s around, is really, really fucking bad.

Rachel gets up and kicks me under the table as she goes into the small refrigerator. I wish she would stop the stupid things that we do on the bus when we have a guest. I try to kick her back but apparently my dogs are forgetting who their master is because Brennen stands to attention. Both women are taking over my dogs on this trip, I swear. I playfully smack Brennen’s face and he licks my hand.

“Thank you,� Vanessa says when Rachel places a can of soda in front of her and a bottled water in front of me.

“Sure,� Rachel says and smacks me on the head before grabbing her sandwich and another can of soda from the fridge.

“Ouch!� I say and rub my head with a groan. Vanessa chuckles on her side of the table quietly. “What are you laughing at?�

“Nothing,� she says and she feeds Brennen a piece of turkey before petting his head.

“Don’t feed my dogs table food,� I say and I’m just fucking with her because I can.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Buckley had a piece, I only thought it was fair. Sorry,� she says and goes back to eating the rest of her sandwich. I inhaled mine within seconds, I don’t know what’s taking her so fucking long. I think she’s eating it slowly to fuck with me. I know she’s caught me looking at her lips at least three times in the past twenty seconds.

“He’s full of shit,� Rachel volunteers from the lounge and laughs. “I feed them pizza all the time, they love it, and Justin gives them anything that he has on his plate.�

“Is that right?� Vanessa asks looking at me.

“I was joking,� I say and smile at her. “You can do anything to the dogs and of course their owner.�

“You’re so fucking cheesy, Justin,� Rachel mumbles and Vanessa looks at her before they both start laughing hysterically. Are they laughing at me? When did this happen? “Gag me with a spoon.�

I laugh too because it’s contagious. I don’t think they even know what they’re laughing about themselves. All I know is that Vanessa is laughing and not off to one side. And most importantly she’s looking me in the yes when she talks to me, she’s not ignoring me and I’m not ignoring her. This is weird.

It’s over an hour later that finds the three of us watching Just Friends, a pick from my wonderful assistant. It’s her favorite movie. Vanessa is laying across from Rachel and I, the two dogs taking complete reign over her. Buckley is laying over her legs and he’s sleeping like a baby, while Brennen is being used as a pillow under her head. In the meantime, on my lap, is a pillow with Rachel’s head resting comfortably on it. How did I end up with this deal? I never thought the day would come when I would actually be jealous of my dogs. The time is here and this bus ride isn’t what I had in mind.

I’m not really interested in the movie, I’ve seen it a thousand times. The lighting on the bus is set to theater and the only light in the room is the illumination of the television. But I can see that Vanessa’s falling asleep and I know it’s creepy to stare at someone while they sleep, but I can’t help it. She looks so calm and relaxed, unlike the person that walks around with a straight face and is a bitch to whomever challenges her.

She senses that I’m looking at her and she shifts to lay on her side, with her arms as her pillow. Brennen gets down from under her head and lays on the floor, but doesn’t make an attempted to show me some love. Both dogs are permanently attached to her. She looks up at me and when she smiles, I swear I feel it in my gut. The room seems to lighten up and I wonder how I’m going to survive the rest of this ride without touching her. I wonder.

--------------------------

Los Angeles, California
FutureSex/LoveSounds Album Release, End of Tour Celebration

I’ve done it again. My second solo project is complete, and over an hour ago, it was released to the entire world. FutureSex/LoveSounds is in the hands of those who will either ‘break’ me or ‘make’ me. I’m hoping for the latter. And I’m excited about the future endeavors to come.

While I personally would have preferred having a party at my house, with my family and friends to celebrate. It is accustomed to have an album release party where other celebrities come to mingle, hook up and get shit-faced. The said occasion is taking place at Parc, my least favorite hot spot in Hollywood. But it was Johnny’s suggestion that I took and ran with. Jive was very happy.

Nine percent of the crowd consist of family members and the small group of people I actually call friends. The people that helped make this album some to life and the people that were always around when I took my ‘break’, those are the people that would have been at my house, hanging out, instead of all the glitz and glamour, I’m in.

Ninety percent of these people are other celebrities, that I’ve met throughout my career. I didn’t personally invited them but the people at Jive make sure that the hottest and latest is invited. I get invites all the time to record release parties of artist I don’t even know. Some I don’t really give a damn about, but out of courtesy, I always send something as a gift. Drop their names in interviews, things like that. Good old’ Public Relations.

There lies the one percent remaining, my Public Relations Director is a percentage all by her fucking self.

But by herself, she is not.

It’s been twelve days, thirteen hours, fifty-six minutes and thirty-two seconds, since I’ve had contact with Vanessa Martinez.

I’ve seen her, of course, every single day. My recent breakup with Cameron allowed Vanessa to be in my presence nearly one hundred percent of the time. So, I don’t mean contact as in, talking. I mean CONTACT. I haven’t touched her. I haven’t kissed her. I have barely graced shoulders with her at the different events she went along to. And she went back to her bus. I’m not mad, it was the right thing to do. The last thing I wanted was to be portrayed as a player that left Cameron for my Public Relations Director. And Vanessa having that position, took her things to her assigned bus as soon as we got to Atlanta.

That was the last time I had her alone. That was TWELVE fucking days ago. I don’t even know how I’ve managed.

She’s across the room, no doubt, still working. Her friend is standing next to her, dancing to the music being played, having a good time. Vanessa, I can tell, is not.

She’s been running around like a chicken with its head cut off since we arrived in Atlanta, and I know the feeling. I know what it’s like being pulled into seventy different way. I’ve been working nonstop finishing the album, avoiding paparazzi, and watching what I do and say around females around me. I was advised by the one and only, the chicken, to try to lay low until the Cameron things calmed down a bit. I took the advice, I’ve been MIA, except when I’ve been onstage.

I heard about the shit load of trouble that girl, Jojo, has been getting into and I’ve seen the consequences. Vanessa Martinez is on an popping with her shit. Through the grapevine, I heard the girl is on her way to rehab, that is when she leaves my party tonight. Leave it to Jive to make sure she made an appearance at my party.

My party.

The one that has Vanessa across the very large club, talking to Dre and keeping an eye on the young alcoholic girl, across the room. She’s working, while I sit here, drinking a few beers with my mother, pretending that my head isn’t about to combust in money green envy and jealousy.

Being in my shoes isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. This sucks.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her, Baby,� my mother says and I have to smile because she’s drunk and her accent is at it’s highest.

“What?� I ask pretending like I didn’t hear her over the loud music and wondering if my obsession is showing. Because that’s what it is, I’m becoming obsessed. And I could give a flying fuck.

“It’s your party. You’re required to mingle with the guests,� she says into my ear. “Go,� and pushes my butt off the leather seat. I chuckle a bit because my mother is a complete trip.

“You’re drunk,� I say with laugh.

“Yes, I am,� she says with a wide smile. “But not drunk enough to watch you be miserable at your own party. You’ve been sitting there staring at her for ages, honey!�

“I have not!� I argue even though she’s right. What am I supposed to do? I can’t do what I want to do to her in front of all these people. I have people watching my every move, watching to catch me breath on another female that’s not Cameron, so the rumors can fly. Fucking great!

Vanessa chooses that very moment to look over at me and we make eye contact for the hundredth time in the past half hour. She doesn’t smile or wave or anything, she just looks at me. The scowl that is on my face doesn’t falter and she looks at Dre and then back at me, in silent question. Yeah, I’m pissed about him being that close. At him having touched you more than I have in twelve mother fucking DAYS! That’s why I’m looking at you this way. THAT’S WHY!

She shakes her head like she’s disappointed and tells Dre something that I would pay a million dollars to know. She tells Barker something too and her friend looks at me. Barker, a good friend of Trace’s apparently, turns her back to the other two and gives me a cut throat signal. She sticks her finger in her mouth and pretends to gag herself while pointing over her shoulder at Dre. It makes me chuckle a bit and she’s pulled away from Dre and Vanessa by Trace. Now it’s just the two of them.

When I see Dre hug Vanessa to his side, and his hands are on her bare skin. I loose it. That’s it!! Fuck this!!

I’m stopped by random people on my way and I’m pissed because my view of Vanessa is blocked. There seems to be a lot of that going around, cock blocking. Shit!

When I finally make it remotely close to her, I notice that Johnny comes to her and tells her something that makes her walk away. I can’t believe this shit! Am I going to have to chase her around the fucking room? I’ve already done that. All fucking night! Only to have her end up chatting away with Dre, god damnit!

The night is officially over. Isn’t this supposed to be MY night? Aren’t all my dreams supposed to come true? I mean it’s not my birthday but damn, what the fuck?

Within an hour, I’m on my way home from my album release party and I’m not even remotely drunk, like I should be with the success of it. I mingled with the best people in the industry for a few hours, obsessed over Vanessa some more and now I want to be home, be Justin. It seems like forever since I’ve been there and it feels good to see the outside of it as, the limo pulls into the driveway.

I’m exhausted, I realize.

If the media caught the way I’m looking right at the moment, they wouldn’t believe that I’d brought sexy back into anything. In fact, I’m farthest from it, tired is NOT sexy.

My mother offered to come stay with me after the party and promised a nice home cooked breakfast, but I declined. If it wasn’t for the fact that Trace lived here, I would have probably told him to go home. I want to go upstairs and go to bed. I want to sleep and when I wake up, I want to get in my car and go find Vanessa. That’s what I want to do. Am I going to get that? No, of course not.

“Let’s get shit-faced,� Trace says as he hops out of the limo before me.

“Sure,� I really don’t need this. I should tell Trace to go to bed, alone, with respect toward Joanna and call it a night.

“Don’t be so enthusiastic Justin,� he says as he goes to tell the limo driver where to put the thousand and one bags that are inside the trunk. I don’t know how I always end up with extra bags at the end of a tour, but it happens every time.

I’m being rude to the driver but I’ll leave Trace the duty of tipping him when he’s done unloading all my shit. Where’s Rachel? I don’t even know where my assistant is, not much assisting there. And my ex assistant is trying to have party. Great. I. Want. To. Sleep.

“Where’s Rach, Trace?� I ask walking around to the back of the limo.

“She left with Aunt Lynn,� Trace says as he takes on of my gym bags and drops it at my feet. I knew I wasn’t this lucky, I know he’s not carrying my shit or letting the driver carry all of it. I swear it’s the southern thing in him when he’s drinking.

“I’m so fucking beat, man,� I say and I lift the bag over my shoulder.

“Yeah, I see,� he says and I see that he does give the driver money when we reach the door with all the luggage. “Thank you.�

“You can have whoever you want over, I’m going to bed,,� I say when I enter my house and drop the bag in the foyer.

“Alright, but you’re gonna miss out, I‘m telling you. I wouldn’t go to bed if I were you.�

“If you were me you’d be sleeping too, dickhead!�

“Ahh, here come the guests,� I hear him say but I don’t even care. I’m walking up the stairs and I can hear my bed calling me. It’s so fucking loud, that’s how tired I am.

My phone rings and I know it’s my mother and I ignore the call to send her a text that I am home and going to bed. She responds with an I love you and a good night, spelled all kinds of ways. She’s so drunk. Within seconds I’m laying on my comfortable bed, fully clothed, complete with tie and vest. I don’t have the energy nor desire to do anything but sleep.

I must have fallen asleep in a heart beat because the next thing I know, I’m being tapped on my shoulder. My eyes struggle to open and it’s such a high level of exhaustion that I squint.

“Hey,� I hear and even though it’s barely audible, I know who it is. And I also know it has to be a dream because I‘m too tired to believe that it‘s real. But I feel a small tug on the tie that I’m still wearing and I know for sure that it must be real.

“Wake up, Mr. Timberlake,� I hear and I struggle to open my eyes in the dark room. When I do manage to open my eyes wide enough to see, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Vanessa. She’s looking down at me and she’s smiling. Oh God.

“Heyyyyy,� I say closing my eyes again, I’m so fucking sleepy. I want to break way from the exhaustion but it’s too much.

“You’re not coming downstairs?� she whispers and I fight against my eyes to look at her.

“Come here,� I say reaching for her. By the decent amount of skin I can feel, I know she’s still wearing that sexy ass white dress she wore to the party. The one that had me blowing a vessel or two while I discreetly chased her around the place. But she was so far away all night, that I never got to talk to her, let alone feel the spark I’m getting now. She’s so hot!

She doesn’t protest when I blindly reach for her and pull her on the bed. She doesn’t stop my hand from going around her and tugging as close to me as possible. She doesn’t say or do anything to stop me from spooning her and I’ve never felt better. I can sleep like this. I can get used to this.

“Hi,� she whispers and I lift my head just enough to kiss her bare shoulder blade and the back of her neck.

“I’ve been waiting so long to do this,� I manage to whisper back. She snuggles against me, and it’s the last thing I remember because we’re asleep the next moment.

-----------------------------------------

The Next Morning

It’s really cold in my room and when I turn to lay flat on the bed, I realize why. She’s gone.

Shit!

I don’t hear any indication that there’s anyone downstairs when I leave my room and go across the hall to check Trace’s room. There’s no one there, although his bed looks slept on. I return to my room, taking off the dress shirt that I’m still wearing and unbuckle my belt on the way to my bathroom.

I wash my face and brush my teeth as quickly as possible and leave my room in search for Trace. I know he didn’t go anywhere without telling me, so he has to be in the house. When I’m half way down the stairs, I can smell food coming from the kitchen and the first thing that comes to my mind is that Joanna is making breakfast. I am suddenly hungry.

“Trace!� I yell even though I’m on my way down the stairs. “Where did Vane…� I start to ask but when I walk into the kitchen, I see her. Her friend Barker is standing over the stove with Joanna and Trace is at the table, his headphones in his ears as he reads the paper. The women look in my direction and suddenly I feel like I’m interrupting. Barker waves at me and Joanna continue their conversation about eggs or some bullshit like that, clearly I could give a fuck.

Vanessa is standing at the kitchen island, with one of my oversized coffee mugs in her hand and she’s looking at me. She’s still wearing her little dress, a little wrinkled from sleep but her perfectly manicured feet are bare. I’ve never seen anything more sexy. Although it would be sexier if she had on a pair of my boxers and one of my wife beaters. Now that, would be insanely sexy. But I guess, the time will come. I hope the time will come.

“God morning,� she says and I see barker looking back at Vanessa with a smile across her face. What’s going on?

“Hi,� I say almost shyly. What the hell is wrong with me? I feel suddenly hot, my cheeks are on fire and I smile at her.

“I’m HOME!!� the kitchen door swings open and Rachel burst in. I have to chuckle at the sudden double take she does when she sees barker and Vanessa. “Oops,�

“You’re so fucking loud,� Trace says yanking the earphones from his ears.

“Oh shut up,� she says before smacking him upside the head. “Hello all,� she says and closes the door behind her. “Tell me you’re making the Ranchero eggs, Jo.�

“What else would I be making?� Joanna says with a laugh.

“And where did you go last night?� Barker asks and I notice that she smirks at Rachel knowingly. Apparently I missed when they became fast friends at the party because that’s what they seems to be all of a sudden.

I’m still standing in the middle of my kitchen, in a wife beater, dress pants and socks, looking like an idiot. But Vanessa is still looking at me like she’s trying to figure me out or something. I look down at my shirt, thinking there’s something on it but when I look up she’s smiling at me. I smile back.

The rest of the people in the room are arguing about who’s getting the first batch of eggs and all I want is the person in front of me. I walk to my kitchen island and I don’t care if anyone is watching when I take the coffee mug out of her hands and place it there.

She doesn’t say anything but she lets me grab that same hand and pull her behind me out of the kitchen. It’s only a few seconds later that we’re in the living room. ALONE. There is a God!

“Hi,� I say and my right hand is already on the back of her neck, pulling her closer to me.

“Hello,� she says and she smiles at me and I swear this woman will kill me with that smile. “Did you sleep well?�

“Better than I have in a long time,� I say but I’m already at her lips when the last word leave my mouth. She tastes like coffee and I absolutely love it. I back her away from the center of the living room until her back is against the wall and I can’t help but chuckle. She does too.

“What is it with you and walls?� she says and I can hear laughter in her voice. She’s a completely different person, I like this woman.

“If you would stop driving me up these walls, we wouldn’t be in this position,� I say and I kiss her jaw, then her neck and stop at her lips.

“While this theory of yours is interesting,� she says against my lips. “I’m pressing for time, I have to go.�

“No you don’t,� I say and she lets out the smallest moan when I bite lightly on her shoulder. “Where would you go beside to go find the rest of this dress?� I ask, slipping the small strap off her shoulder. She chuckles.

“What’s wrong with my dress, Mr. Timberlake?� she asks, her hands at her hips and I have to step away from her to sweep my eyes over her entire body, lingering at her thighs and then looking at her.

“Not a God damn thing,� I say shaking my head. “Not a thing.�

“I really have to go,� she says and my heart sinks a little.

“I have two days off,� I simply state.

“Yes, I know that,� she says pulling the dress down a little. Did I do that? Why is it that my hands end up in her ass all the time? Well that’s a stupid question, I guess. She’s fucking mind-blowing.

“So you don’t have to work, right?� I ask and take her hand to guide her to the sofas, that coincidentally match her dress, perfectly. How does she keep it that clean at a party and a kitchen?

“Wrong,� she says and although she says she has to leave, she sits on the sofa, next to me. “You’re not my only client, although you might want to think that way. I have other far more critical clients.�

“Was that an insult, Vanessa?�

“No, it was a compliment, actually,� she says with a small laugh.

“Don’t look now, Vanessa,� I say pretending to look behind me and around the room. She does the same and then looks at me with a smirk across her face. It’s not the smirk that I wanted to wipe off her face, time and time again. It’s the smirk that makes my stomach flutter like a straight up bitch. I’m such a fucking loser right now.

“What?�

“I was just warning you.�

“Warning me about what?’

“About the fact that you’re in my house. You slept on the same bed as me, AGAIN. You’re best friend is hanging out in MY kitchen, with MY best friends. And most importantly, you’re smiling. It’s a little scary,� I say jokingly and she actually blushes. I want her. Like, last year, want her.

“Shut up,� she says and she tucks her hair behind her ear before looking up at me. “I have to go.�

“Can I see you later?� I ask before I could stop myself. I’m acting like a lovestoned idiot, no pun intended. “I mean if you’re not too busy or anything, I can come by the office.�

“I will be,� she says and the words aren’t what I was expecting to hear. She’s sporting a blank look and I’m wondering if the bitch I know she can be, is back. I swear I’ll kill her. I will. But then she smiles at me again. Oh. God. “But if you think watching me do paperwork is what you want to do on your first day off, in three months, then suit yourself.�

“V, you ready?� Barker comes into the living room like she’s been to the place a million times. Oddly enough, I don’t mind.

“Yeah,� Vanessa says to her and gets up from the sofa and the angel in white is gone.

“Why do you have to leave so soon?� Rachel comes into the living room, followed by Trace and Joanna. “We haven’t even eaten yet, Supermodel.�

“Supermodel?� I ask because this whole display of friendships is quite confusing. When did this group form? I’m positive it was during my party when my sole focus was on Vanessa Martinez.

“That’s what she is,� Rachel says with a shrug.

“I am not,� Barker says with a laugh. “Your cousin is a trip, Justin.�

“She’s a trip alright,� I say swinging a pillow at the said cousin. She ducks and it hits Trace on the back of the head as he and Joanna look for a movie in the DVD cabinet. He puts his middle finger up in the air and Joanna laughs. They’re so cheesy. They’re in the same room but they will probably remain there, as if no one else was around. They live in their own world sometimes, I swear.

“This is a nice place you got here,� Barker says and I get stupid shy when someone compliments anything that I do, so I just bow my head in thanks. “The guest room was the Hilton, in my opinion.�

“Good,� I say with a small laugh. “You’re welcome to stay there any time you’d like.�

“Assuming I bring this one, right?� Barker says pointing behind her back at Vanessa, who shakes her head at Barker’s words.

“She’s still drunk,� Vanessa says from where she’s sitting in one of the sofa’s armrest putting her shoes on. “Please excuse her.�

“She’s absolutely right in her assumption, though,� I say and Vanessa looks up at me with wide eyes.

“You’re so ridiculously cute,� Barker says and laughs. “No wonder she’s…�

“BARKER!!� Vanessa yells, grabbing Barker by her arm and pulling her toward the foyer. “We’re leaving now, there’s a car waiting.�

“There is?� I ask because I seem to be missing something.

“I had Lonnie send someone to drive them home,� Rachel says throwing herself on the couch next to me.

“Oh,� I say getting up and following the women out.

“That room is mine, I’m telling you,� Barker says as they stand by the door and I chuckle.

“As long as you tell me what you were going to say just now,� I ask and Vanessa shakes her head.

“She’s full of shit,� Vanessa says and opens the front door before shoving her friend outside.

“You know there‘s a thousand paps outside, right?� I ask with a raised brow and she straighten her shoulders before looking at me.

“No there’s not,� she says confidently. “They should be following you down Hollywood Boulevard by now. It’s taken care of.�

“What?�

“You know for someone that’s been in the business for as long as you have, Mr. Timberlake, you don’t know anything. Haven’t you heard of a decoy before?�

“I have a decoy?� What?

“Exactly how do you think you’ve managed to stay out of the gossip columns these past few weeks?�

“I don’t know, they haven’t been around,� I shrug.

“That’s right,� she says but that’s clearly all she’s offering.

“You’re telling me that there’s a dude, someone that looks like me fooling the paps? How did that happen?�

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Timberlake,� she says with a shrug of her own. “Maybe you should thank your Public Relations Director. I hear she’s pretty good,� she says with a smile and she’s out the door.

But by God, another door has opened. It’s clearly marked ‘infatuation’ and I’m halfway inside of it. Surprisingly enough, down the hall there’s a door marked ‘my heart’ and I don’t know, but I don’t think I’m scared of opening that one. Not at all, actually. I’m not terrified of letting Vanessa Martinez enter and see what’s inside.

Not. At. All.

Chapter Sixteen: Hollow Souls

It’s going to be a long day.

The phone keeps ringing, even though five minutes ago, I asked not to be disturbed. This stupid secretary is on her way out the door today if that fucking phone on my desk rings again. I’m not in the mood nor do I have the time to tell her to leave me the fuck alone again. Does she not understand that I don’t want to speak with anyone? Jesus! How hard is it to answer the phone and take a message? My conference table is piled to the fucking ceiling with a shit-load of paperwork left from the two morons I got rid of this morning. Does she want to be the third? Fucking temps!

I’m about finished with the endless amount of paperwork enrolling someone into rehab requires. Ms. Levesque’s PR should consider herself lucky that I’m the one doing this paperwork for her because it’s been a complete headache. And Ms. Levesque should consider herself lucky that Johnny hasn’t dropped her ass as fast as he picked up her. Little bitch! What is with young Hollywood? Can’t they pick up another habit? Like releasing more than one hit album? Jesus!!

It took me over an hour to make phone calls to save Mr. Carter’s career and just for a second I wished I would have fired his PR after he’d already made these phone calls. Is not an easy thing to call someone and beg to schedule an interview with Nick Carter. No one cares. No one wants to have him at their shows or featured in their magazines. It’s a big waste of fucking time, if you ask me. And the talk about reuniting with his old group members is absolutely absurd. What are they going to do? I hate boy bands.

My computer keeps making a beeping sound that is driving me up the wall but it’s the indication that my inbox is yet again, full.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Martinez,� I can hear coming from my intercom. Oh so now she’s going directly into speakerphone? She’s so out of here!

“What?� I snap and continue signing my name repeatedly on the different sign-off sheets of the enrollment papers.

“Ms. Bomar is wanting to speak with you,� she says and I roll my eyes when I see the stupid secretary cringing on the other side of my glass walls. She looks on the verge of tears to have to interrupt me and okay, I feel a little bad.

“Put her through,� I say and try to sound a little less agitated.

“Hello,� Ms. Bomar comes through the speaker system.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Bomar?� I ask as I place the enrollment papers in the manila envelope for mailing and hope the temp knows where the mailroom is.

“Oh, hey,� she says and hesitates a bit.

“Hi,� I say and stare at the phone like an idiot. What should I say after the awkward moment of being seen at HER house?

“I know you’re probably tell me to go fuck myself and get it done, but…�

“What is it?� I ask and surprisingly I’m not so annoyed with her. Seriously, surprisingly in all caps, since she is the epitome of the fucking word.

“Justin left the dogs alone in the office and Brennen managed to chew through the fax machine’s chord.�

“Is he okay?� I ask, suddenly alert to her every word.

“Yeah, Justin’s fine. Why?�

“Not Mr. Timberlake, Ms. Bomar,� I say with a chuckle. “Brennen, is he okay?�

“Oh, well that’s why I’m calling,� she says and I can tell she’s running around. “I took Brennen to the vet to check out his burnt lip.�

“Ouch!� I say and I get a tug at my heart for the dog.

“He’s okay though, I spoke with the vet and he said he’ll be fine. He’s already eating everything that he can at the vet,� she says with a laugh. “He’s a big baby, I swear.�

“Mr. Timberlake or the dog?� I joke because I just couldn’t help myself.

“Both,� she says with a laugh an she grunts when she drops something and it makes a loud thud.

“What is the nature of this call, though? I’m a bit confused.�

“I have to pick up a new fax machine at the Santa Monica Staples because they don’t have the same model in the LA store. Justin doesn’t want a new one, it took him two months to learn how to use that one. He’s really technologically inclined, he doesn’t even own an ipod. Loser! Anyway he’s a cry baby so I have to run across town to get this new one because he needs these papers faxed today. I have an hour to get the fax machine and be back so that I can meet with the guy coming to reprogram the lighting. Trace turned the breaker off to unplug the live wire hanging from the socket and he accidentally reset the lights. He’s a fucking moron sometimes, I’m sure Barker has shared. Anyway, the guy from Lutron, that’s the lighting company’s name, is coming in an hour. Justin doesn’t like to have strangers wander around his house unattended so I have to be here to supervise. So I’m stuck here for as long as it takes for all the dimming zones or some shit like that to be programmed and it’s going to take at least four hours.�

“Okay…� I say because I feel like I’ve just been put on a rollercoaster and yanked out without warning.

“So, Brennen’s still at the vet,� she says and I can tell she’s already in the car.

“And what does that mean?�

“Well I was wondering since both dogs seems to love you and well you seem to like them too…� she doesn’t say anything else, leaving the rest up to me.

“Where’s Mr. Timberlake?� I ask and I have to roll my eyes at this whole situation. When did I become the assistant here?

“Oh, well he said he would go get Brennen but Eric advised that he didn’t go anywhere.�

“Why?�

“Well, listen to this,� she says and I can hear the various voices of men shouting her name and asking where her boss was. Questions are being yelled about Mr. Timberlake and Ms. Diaz and I have to roll my eyes. “He wouldn’t even make it outside these gates if he went anywhere right now.�

“Fine. What vet is it, Ms. Bomar?�

“You’ll go get him?� she asks and she sounds really surprised, like I would let the dog stay for longer than he needs at a scary animal hospital. Come on!

“What vet, Ms. Bomar?�

“Rachel,� she corrects me and I shake my head. What is it with this family and their last names? Aren’t they proud of them? “It’s the vet on West Rodeo, it’s a large pink building, you can’t miss it.�

“When does he have to be picked up?� I say as I grab a steno pad from the conference table and set it in front of me to write down the information.

“An hour ago,� she says and I groan because I can’t stand the irresponsibility. “If you would do me this one favor, I swear I’ll owe you, Vanessa. There’s no one else that can go get him right now. Justin will be really grateful, and I’m sure he’ll repay you in some way.�

“What does that mean?� I don’t know why I’m getting defensive but I am.

“Nothing, I have to go but thank you so much,� she says and before I have a chance to respond, she’s off the phone.

What the hell just happened? Why did I just agree to do her job? I’m not his assistant, I’m barely his friend. I roll my eyes at the thought because I know I’m so full of shit it’s coming out of my ears. I seal the envelop with the rehab paperwork and stand to leave my office, grabbing my keys from my desk and my bag from one of the conference table’s chairs.

“Going somewhere?� I hear behind me and I can’t help the butterflies that are present in my stomach at the sound of his voice and the sight of him.

“I have to pick,� I start to say but stop, placing my hands on my hips although I have my bag on one and my keys in the other. “Wait, what are you doing here?�

“I believe you said this is where you’d be,� he says and he enters my office fully, closing the door behind him. We’re alone. He walks toward me, grabbing the keys out of my hand and throwing them across the little space that is on the conference table. I almost tell him that it’s a mahogany table and he should be careful but he’s too close. He’s not smiling or giving any indication to what he’s doing in my office. He takes my purse from my hand and I don’t even care when he drops my four hundred dollar Chanel bag on the floor. His hands go to my waist and he pulls me closer to him. “Hi,� he says and while it’s so fucking corny when everyone else in the universe says that, when he says it it’s a completely different word.

“Hi,� I say back and he smiles before placing his lips on mine. Oh. God. Not again. He’s kissing me like he’s been wanting it for ages and well I’m kissing him back. And the little speech I gave myself for being such an easy little whore these past few days, disappears into thin air. But… “Wait!�

“What?� he asks as his head starts dipping toward my neck. I can’t do any logical thinking with his lips on my neck. Or just on me, period. So I try to push him away, placing my hands between us instead of the back of his neck. When did I move them?

“Wait,� I say again and this time he looks at me. “What are you doing here?�

“What do you think?�

“Don’t be an ass, Mr. Timberlake,� I say and he releases me some at the words. I knew that would work.

“What’s the big deal, Ms. Martinez? I can come here whenever I want, it’s my management’s office.�

“Where’s Rachel?�

“She’s on her way to take my mother to the airport,� he says and he kisses my cheek and winks at me before walking to my sofa and taking a seat. “And you just called her by her first name. Just so you know.�

“What?� I asked confused because I don’t know what the hell is going on.

“You called Rachel…�

“Not that, Justin,� I say placing my hands on my hips again and looking at him. “I mean, where’s Brennen?�

“At home,� he says with a smile and wide eyes that mock me.

“Please explain what the hell…�

“Calm the hell down, Vanessa,� he says putting his hand up like I’m fucking two. I want to kick his ass more than I want to kiss him, I swear. “I told Rachel to call, thought it would be funny.�

“Funny?� I ask and I swear he makes me so angry, I could get physical.

“She said you probably wouldn’t go get Brennen and tell her to go fuck herself,� he says with a laugh and stands to walk toward me again. “Now, me, I knew you would go.�

“Is that right?� I ask and he’s really close again. “How is that funny?�

“Well it wasn’t as funny as hearing Rachel tell that bogus lie,� he says with a chuckle. “And I do own an ipod, by the way. She was exaggerating.�

“You were listening to the conversation?�

“Three way works wonders,� he says and he kisses my lips quickly before stepping behind me to sit in my desk chair. “So, what are you doing?�

“I don’t like stupid games like that, Justin. I thought something really happened to the dog.�

“Alright, alright. It was dumb, I apologize. But I do appreciate that you would actually drop what you’re doing and go get my dog. You’re not such a bitch like everyone thinks.�

“Everyone?�

“Well Rachel, at least,� he says with a laugh that I can’t help but respond with a smile.

“What are you doing here?� I ask and I lean against my desk, my back toward the door and Justin sitting to my left.

“Came to hang out,� he says and he starts toying with my laptop.

“At my office?�

“It’s where you’re at, right?�

“Why would you want to hang out here? I have work,� I say and slap the hand that he tries to place on my thigh. Why didn’t I wear a skirt today?

“Why aren’t you wearing a skirt today?�

“Do you always ask questions?�

“Yes,� he says and leans back on my leather chair.

“I have work to do,� I say because if I don’t take my mind off of what I can let him do to me on this desk, I’m going to be in trouble.

“Well then work,� he says and he’s not as technologically inclined as his cousin said, because I see when he opens the address book on my laptop. I reach out and close the notebook with one hand, only to have him look at me disappointingly. “You know it’s not fair that you know so much about me and I don’t know anything about you. Other than what you told me on the bus, you haven’t shared anything else.�

“I’ve been busy working,� I say because I don’t know what else I could say. It baffles me that he wants to ask questions and expects answers. And it worries me that I want to tell him.

“For twelve fucking days, I know!� he says and grunts. I need to get away.

“You were counting?�

“What the fuck do you think? I was left with a hard-on in a dressing room after having sex against a fucking wall. You left my bus after the weirdest time I’ve ever had, in a good way of course. I saw you every day but we were both too busy to actually have a conversation, let alone for me to actually touch you. Then the night of my party, you wear that dress, but I’m too busy mingling with people I could give a shit about and I don’t get a single minute in with you because you were working. When all hope was fucking lost, I go home, go to sleep only to be woken up and I’m too tired to even move. You lay in bed with me and we sleep, which was all good and fine. But not enough contact for me, and I’m not just talking physically here, so don’t go there. Then I wake up to have you for a total of like five minutes and then you’re gone. So yeah, I was counting.�

“A simple yes would have been sufficient.�

“It would have, but I would have missed that blush you have going,� he says with a wide smile that I return like a stupid girl with a crush.

“Shut up,� I say and place my hands to my face in embarrassment.

“Who are you?� he says with a grin and I know what he means, oddly enough. He’s asking who the girl standing before him, blushing like an idiot is. And I can’t answer because I myself, don’t know. Who am I? “Seriously, though. Let’s go somewhere, you can work later. In a few days.�

“What are you trying to do, Justin? Wisk me away from all this work I have?�

“Precisely.�

“I can’t,� I really can’t just drop what I’m doing to go fuck up my career with him. I can’t, although Barker’s word play in my head when he gives me a look of disappointment.

“Why not?�

“I have paperwork to finish,� I say placing my hand over some papers on my desk.

“Okay,� he says standing from the chair and holding it out for me to sit. “I’ll wait.�

“Justin…�

“I’ll be on the couch,� he says and he sits on the couch, moving the Rollingstone magazine with his face on it to the side and grabbing one with Christina Aguilera on the cover instead. He’s grabs a bottle of water from the coffee table and drinks from it. Funny how at this very moment I notice things like the fact that he‘s not so full of himself, as I previously assumed. He’s not wearing one of his suits, which is what I’ve been seeing on his for the past month. Instead he’s wearing one of the William Rast jackets, I’ve seen his best friend wearing, and jeans. His sneakers are obviously new and I wonder if he wears the same shoes twice. He doesn’t seem like the type to do that, but I wonder. “You’re not going to finish if you stand there, staring.�

“I wasn’t staring,� I’m lying through my teeth. Of course, I was staring. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get that water on my white couch.�

“Liar,� he says and he’s flipping through the magazine like he’s not talking to me. “You saw my living room and the five white couches. No stains. And it’s water, it’s not going to do anything.�

“Are you seriously sitting there while I work?� I say and for the first time I look outside my office. Everything seems normal out there and I want to chastised myself for being so unprofessional. For letting him walk in here and forgetting that I have responsibilities as a professional woman. But Barker’s words keep playing in my head. Don’t let your thick head get in the way of having fun, even if that fun is with Justin Timberlake.

“You’re wasting valuable time here?’ he says looking at his watch and returning to the magazine.

“What are we doing, Justin? What is this?� I ask and this time he looks up at me and I loose a little of myself which kind of shocks me. What am I doing? Is this the right thing to do? Is this the type of fun I can afford at this point in my life? When does the fun stop? When does it begin?

“I can’t answer that, Vanessa. You’re overanalyzing as much as I am, right now. I don’t know what we’re doing but I’m not trying to stop it, either. You should probably do the same because if we don’t, we’ll never know and we’ll be asking ourselves what ifs.�

“It’s that simple to you?�

“No, but I’m going with it for now. I meant what I said before about wanting to know more about you. And if nothing else, at the end of the day, we’ll at least be friends.�

“That’s what you want? To be friends?� I ask and I don’t mean to sound offended but I guess I do. Friends? “A month ago we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, Justin. Now I’m letting you come into my personal space, my hotel room, me.� I’m sitting behind my desk and he looks at me with a smile. “Why are you smiling like that?�

“Because you sound like me when I talked to my mother,� he says shaking his head. “And please let it be known that a month ago, looking at you wasn’t a burden, now listening to you, was a different story, I could have done without. I don’t know when this happened between us but it has and what’s so wrong about it?

“Everything,� I respond because it’s honestly how I feel. Everything about this situation is just wrong, yet I’ve never felt so right in anyone’s arms. I’m so confused.

“Why?� he asks moving to the chair across from my desk. “Why is it wrong?�

“I can give you a long list of reasons,� and I’m hoping he doesn’t ask me to name them because I can only come up with one honest answer. I’m scared shitless.

“Like?�

“You’re my client, for one,� I say and I have to come up with these reasons quick because he’s expecting more. “You’re a musician and I’m in public relations. You’re twenty-five and I’m twenty-eight. You work in a studio, I work in an office. My father would hate me even more, if that were possible. My uncle wouldn’t approve. I have a private life, you clearly don’t. The list goes on and on, Justin.�

“Those are stupid reasons and you know it,� he says, placing his folded hands in front of him. “I’m a client of WEG, which means I’m a client of Johnny’s, you just work here. Me being a musician is what led us where we’re at, so don’t go knocking that. Cameron is nine years older than me. Your three years are nothing, mean nothing. You were on tour for over a month and you managed, you didn’t die. While I’m accustomed to work in front of fifty thousand people, on stage, you work alone behind a desk. It still doesn’t make a difference, work is work. As far as your father? Well, with all due respect, fuck your father! And I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m only asking you take a few days off to hang out with me. And Johnny? I have him wrapped around my finger, I’m like a son he never had, he loves me. And you keep my private life private, it’s your job. Why not be in it? You can try to come up with a thousand other reasons, bullshit ones, but at the end of the fucking day, it happened. We happened. Whether you admit it or not. And whatever this is will continue to happen as long as we both want it to. Which we both do. So I don‘t see what the fucking problem is.�

“What if I say I don’t want it to keep happening?�

“You’d be lying, plain and simple. You’d be lying to me and worse of all you’d be lying to yourself. It’s already happening, Vanessa. Whether it’s about sex, friendship or business. It’s there. You can’t get me out your head. Your stomach ties in knots when you look at me and I can do whatever I want to you, whenever I want. You wouldn’t stop me. You would let it happen. Again.�

“It’s not…�

“No,� he says stopping my words. “I know all of this because it’s exactly how I feel. Unless my knack for reading people is off, I’m positive you feel the same way. Don‘t bullshit me, Vanessa. And definitely stop bullshitting yourself.�

“I don’t like this,� I say and try not to look at him. I really don’t like the fact that he’s absolutely, one hundred percent, right. No one has ever been able to read me like this, except for Barker. And I love that girl with all my heart. Where does that put Justin Timberlake?

The room is in completely silence for a good five minutes before I look up at him and he’s just looking at me. I’m drawn in with his eyes and a part of me wants to bolt, get out of there and find a new job. Or maybe stay modeling for as long as I can, making it my career. But another part wants to take that chance. Take that chance that Barker says I should take. That change that I took many years ago. But that first part of me is screaming that I should think. That I should’ve learned from my mistakes and not repeat history.

But everything that is clouding my mind and shockingly enough, my heart, is gone when I change my line of vision. My heart stops beating and the pain that haunts me at my most vulnerable moments, is present.

My father is outside my office.

“Who is that?� I hear Justin ask but I’m too shocked to respond and when he asks again, it’s too late. My father opens the door to my office and I feel my shoulders physically slump. He scares me to death.

“Dad? What are you doing here?� I can feel myself getting flustered by the second and I stand to straighten out my jacket and smooth down my pants.

He strides in purposefully, barely glancing at Justin, who in return looks up at him, a scowl on his face. I don’t have time to analyze the way he’s looking at my father nor do I want to. I’m in a comatose state.

“You looked shocked to see me, sweetheart,“ he says and I really wished he didn’t sound so mean while attempting to be sweet.

“A little bit,“ I say and I want to wake up from this nightmare.

“I came to discuss your job with you, something I hear you’ve been having some problems with lately.� He takes a seat on the couch Justin previously occupied and looks at me. I want to disappear.

“What do you mean, Dad? Things are going fine, I’ve been working on getting everything in order and—,� I say walking around my desk and although my full attention is on my father, I can feel Justin’s eyes on me.

“I’m not here to hear a list of your accomplishments, Vanessa. I’m here to ask you what in the hell you’re doing with Mr. Timberlake?� I stop walking in my tracks and Justin turns to look at my father. I could cry. What does he mean? how can he know what happened with Justin? I barely know. It‘s not possible that he‘s talking about what I, and apparently Justin, are thinking.

“What?� I ask because I can’t hide my shock.

“From what I understand, you’ve let things get out of hand. Again. I already told you that Johnny mentioned that the two of you aren’t getting along.�

“Mr. Martinez,� Justin says and I close my eyes briefly because I can hear the hostility in Justin’s voice. It’s usually directed at me and while it’s comforting that his nasty tone isn’t directed at me, it’s also discomforting. But then, this whole moment is as bad as it gets, in my book. I’m so embarrassed. “I’m Justin Timberlake, the person you’re referring to.�

“I know who you are, Son,� my father is clearly not impressed by the one and only, Mr. Timberlake and he turns his attention to me without another word.

“There’s been some misunderstanding here, Sir; Vanessa and I get along just fine. I’ve never had a better PR person before and…�

My father flicks his eyes over Justin with distaste, and I swallow hard when he cuts him off. “Excuse me, Mr. Timberlake, but this is between my daughter and I. I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of this right now. There are things going on here that you know nothing about.�

“Mr. Timberlake was just leaving,� I say because if I don’t get him out of here, this isn’t going to end well. I can tell by the expression on Justin’s face that he’s not going to shut up. God, help me.

“No, I wasn’t,� he says and he gets up from the chair to lean against my desk. His arms cross over his chest and he looks at my dad defiantly.

“Justin,� I say and the minute his name leaves my mouth, I regret it. And I try to remain calm when I give Justin a look of warning. “Mr. Timberlake, we’ll continue our conversation at another time,� he looks at me and I can see the anger in his eyes and I don’t miss the hint of hurt in there either. I feel like shit.

“Yes, Son, why don’t you run along and let my daughter and I discuss the changes that are necessary in your career. She’s obviously in need of my help. As always,� My father is not kidding around, and I can tell it’s gong to be a hell of a day when this discussion ends. “To be completely honest, I didn’t think you could handle it, Vanessa and it looks like I’m right.�

“With all due respect, SIR!� Justin says and I swear I’m in a really scary movie, where you’re shaking out of your boots. This isn’t happening. This couldn’t be possibly happening. “I don’t believe I acquired your help. Nor will I. I will not deny that Ms. Martinez and I have had our differences. We’ve come a long way since then and the wall between our differences is no longer there. Your daughter has done an amazing job and my image, nor my career have ever been at this level, thanks to her unmistakable work. I personally would be congratulating her instead of talking down to her as if she’s a child. Again, with all due respect, Sir!�

Oh. My. God.

“Excuse me?� My father says, standing from the sofa and I swear I’m having a heart attack at the age of twenty-eight.

“Dad, Mr. Timberlake has had bad day, please excuse him,� I don’t know where I got the balls to even say that, but I just did and I can’t take it back. “If you’ll just give me a chance to explain to you – in private – you’ll see that I have everything under control. In fact, I just released a statement for Mr. Timberlake ending his relationship with Ms. Diaz. I was on tour with him for a month and things couldn’t have gone better. Just let me tell you…�

“I don’t need to hear your excuses yet again, Vanessa. When Johnny tells me things are going smoothly and working out, then maybe I’ll have time to listen to your pathetic excuses. As it is, coming by here has set my entire schedule back by about an hour…�

“Don‘t let us keep you then,� Justin says and I‘m mortified.

“Please excuse us, Mr. Timberlake!� I snap because I can‘t handle this right now. Justin is obviously fueling with anger and distaste for my father. While it tugs at my heart strings that he’s defending me, I don‘t need him to. No one can defend me against my father.

“You know what? Fine, Ms. Martinez!� Justin says raising his hands in defeat and walking around me to the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sir!� he says leaving my office and never looking back.

“That kid is clearly a problem but not an excuse. Do you think I have time to chase after you and remind you of your responsibilities all day, Vanessa?�

“He’s not a kid, Dad,� I say carefully. “And I know you are very busy, which is why I was a little surprised to see you. Please have a seat, Sir.�

“I have responsibilities of my own, far more important than babysitting some teen idol. How hard can it be to simply be professional and do your job without allowing your personal feelings to interfere? Johnny and I both do it everyday; I would’ve thought you’d have at least learned by example from watching us all these years. Once again, I’m very disappointed in you, but why should I be surprised? It’s happened time and time again,� the tears well up in my eyes and I will them to go away. He‘s admitted to being disappointed in my for the first time in my life. The feeling the courses through me is far more hurtful than when I just thought he was disappointed. I never thought it would be any different. It is. A huge difference. “I’ve finally come to grips with the fact that I have to lower my expectations regarding my own daughter. It’s really sad. Now, I’ve got appointments to attend; do you understand the point of my visit?�

“Yes, Sir,� I say and I try to concentrate on the lamp across the room to keep my tears from flowing. It’s an impossible task, and tears steam down my cheeks.

“So I can expect this to be the last I hear about you having trouble with one of your clients? Not only is my reputation affected by your screw-ups, but WEG’s reputation is riding on this as well. Do not disappoint the one man who was willing to give you a chance. Am I understood, Vanessa?�

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry … you won’t have to worry about this again. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.�

“It better be. Call your mother, she’s worried sick since you left Kayla’s party,� and he’s out the door without another word. No, I love you’s, or hugs and kisses. Nothing.

And I just cry.

------------------------

2:07am

It’s cold and lonely in my condo. Sort of like my life when Barker’s off working. I hate this.

I can’t sleep and I curse at myself because I’m on my way out of the door at two o’clock in the morning. And while I’m not comfortable admitting to this, I need a hug. I need to be in someone’s arms and the only person I can think of, that I know can give me what I need right now, isn’t far away.

I can’t believe I’m on my way to Justin Timberlake’s house.

I circle my street three times, trying to chicken out but in the end I’m on the freeway ten minutes later. I think it’s the dumbest thing I could possibly be doing but I need to stop crying. I need a hug from a friend. I need something.

I’ve tried calling Barker but her phone must not have good reception because the call dropped every time I tried to say hello. Which is best, I’ve ruined her photo shoots with my crying and miserable stages far too many times. I don’t know where else to go.

The guard outside the gated community, doesn’t question who I am and let’s me inside. I hope to God there aren’t any paparazzi stalking the neighborhood looking for one of the hundred celebrities in the area. The last thing I need is to photographed going into Justin Timberlake’s home at two o’clock in the morning, crying, on top of all that. I should turn around and go home.

I should. But I don’t.

It’s only after arguing with myself to get out of the car or go home, for about five minutes, I do. The tears that were on my face have dried but I don’t think it was their last appearance. I can feel myself choking with them.

The lights are out inside the house as far as I can see through my blurry vision and the tinted door. The loud sound of the doorbell makes me regret that I’m here and I want to run away. But the damage is done, I already rang the doorbell and leaving would be stupid. Only because the guard at the end of the drive, has my information. Justin would know if I was here or not, either way.

I’m not ringing the doorbell again, but I’ll wait for a good minute or two before leaving. I really want to run away, I really do. But not as much as I want him to hold me. Not as much as I need his comfort right now.

And then the door opens.

It’s not Justin.

And I realize my father was right. I’m a big disappointment. I wrap myself in and around things that are too great for me. Too much for me to handle. Like getting involved with Justin Timberlake and believing that he could comfort me at times when my heart ached.

I’m disappointed in myself.

Because once again I’m staring in the face of the shot caller. The one person who helped change my life completely. The one person who’s sole purpose is to remind me, that I have failed.

It’s Cameron Diaz.

Again.

“Who is it?� Justin comes from behind her and stops in his tracks when he sees me standing there. The look he gives me isn’t very comforting and I realize what a mistake it was to come to his house. What the hell was I thinking?

“I was just dropping this off for Trace,� I say quickly, extending the cd case in my hand to him. “Barker wanted to make sure he had it before he leaves in the morning.�

“Okay,� he says taking the case and looking at me with sad eyes that I don’t want to see. I don’t want to be comforted anymore. I’m glad I’ve always planned ahead, even in my most miserable times. Although Barker did ask me to mail the cd to Trace, before she left, I’ve always had a plan b and the cd was plan b, the minute I left my condo. Improvisation is always key, in preventing getting hurt.

“I advice you to think over the statement you’ve released about you and Ms. Diaz, Mr. Timberlake. Going back and forth with your relationship is confusing and unfair,� I say and turn to walk toward my car, wiping the stupid lone tear that escapes my eye. Son of a bitch.

“What?� he asks as he steps around the bitch who hasn’t said a fucking word.

“It’s unfair to you fans, Mr. Timberlake. You either mean what you say or you don’t,� I say as I get into my car.

“You’re assuming, Vanessa,� he says and I don’t care anymore. I’m done.

“Have a great night with your girlfriend, Mr. Timberlake,� and I‘m backing my car out of his driveway without a look back as I exit the gate.

This is my life in a nutshell.

And I cry some more, after that.

-----

Author’s Note: Thanks to Lynn (not myself..lol) on JJB for her help! I’d also like to thank everyone on JJB for being so supportive and patient with me. I love Ya’ll!! And those manips everyone has made are what keep Vanessa and Justin going strong, at least for now,J. Love ya, Candygirl!

Chapter Seventeen: It all comes back to this…

I’m a selfish prick for saying this, but as I watch Vanessa drive away from my house at almost three o’clock in the morning, clearly upset, I’m relieved.

No, not in the way most would take that statement. It’s in a different way.

I’m relieved because I know now, that the feeling’s mutual. That seeing Cameron at my house made her feel as jealous as I feel just thinking about another man just looking at her. The feeling is there, even when she talks on the her phone. I always think it’s another man on the other line and it always managed to bring the green eyed monster out in me. I like this woman. A lot.

“What was that about?“ Oh, right. Cameron’s still standing behind me and I really wish she wasn’t, although I was the one that said it was okay for her to come get her shit.

“Nothing,� I say walking past her inside the house and making a beeline to the kitchen. I need a drink. Suddenly I’m parched and it could be because of the emotions running though my body. It’s scary as hell and it’s draining me.

“Nothing?� Cameron has joined me in the kitchen, her bag of things over her shoulder. “Your public relations rep comes to your house at three in the morning and your respond is, nothing?�

“She stopped by to drop off the cd, didn’t you hear her?� I realize I’m being a dick to the person I’ve shared three years of my life with, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I didn’t see her give a fuck about letting me know she was going to Hawaii with Kelly fucking Slater, now did she? I mean, I don’t give a flying fuck who the hell she goes surfing with but I don’t need that shit thrown and rubbed in my face. So fucking what you’re going surfing with the dick? I don’t really care. What I do care about is Vanessa Martinez and the fact that she just left my house at three in the morning and better yet, why she came to my house at three in the morning.

I have a gut feeling it has to do with the visit from hell at her office this afternoon. Her dad is a real class act and I felt really bad for her at the time. But I was angry when I left because she lets him treat her that way. While he’s clearly a dickhead father, she allows those words to be directed at her. Fuck that! I don’t give a damn if it’s my mother, no one fucking talks down to me. No one. And Vanessa? As tough as she makes herself appear? It pissed me off to see her that way. I would bet my bank account on the fact that she’s been miserable as fucking ever all day because of his visit. I tried calling but she didn’t respond. I don’t know where she lives, so I couldn’t just call around to find out without being asked questions. And Trace has been busy all day, so I was kind of stuck. So seeing her on my doorstep at three o’clock in the morning was a bit shocking. But I didn’t mean to scare her off, at all. Cameron’s presence is what held me back and now, sadly, I regret it.

While Cameron and I didn’t work out I can’t really go and fuck with her feelings more than I already have. I just couldn’t tell her to get the fuck out of my house because my new girl was there. How would I have done that? Vanessa is barely admitting that she likes me let alone that she has a relationship with me. And it’s not like I had a chance to do much of anything anyway. It all happened in a span of five fucking seconds. This woman has been in and out of my life in a flash, multiple times and all I want to do is hold on tight because it’s one hell of a flash.

But instead I turn into a bitch, getting emotional about her being jealous and assuming that I was fucking with Cameron. Throwing little innuendos about things that I said earlier in the day, about getting to know her and spending time with her. It was pretty clever the way she used my statement about Cameron and my fans to get her point across. I got it. I did. But the feeling that coursed through me, the Yes! She feels the same way I do!!, didn’t let me say shit. I’m a moron.

“Yes, I heard her,� oh shit, I’m spacing out and Cameron’s still standing there looking at me strangely and I really wish she would stop. It’s annoying and not as cute, as I previously thought during our relationship. “But at three in the morning?�

“I don’t know,� I shrug and grab a bottled water, that I don’t want, from the refrigerator. “Trace leaves for Tokyo in about two hours, so I guess she wanted to drop it off.�

“At three in the morning?� she asks again and I swear to God, I’m going to be a real asshole in a minute.

“I guess,� I say walking past her to my staircase. I need to go to bed before I flip the fuck out. “Don’t you have a flight to catch, as well?�

“You’re obviously in a fucked up mood. Why did you tell me it was alright for me to get my stuff if you didn’t want to see me?� What the fuck is she talking about? Huh?

“You called, Cameron, I didn’t call you, remember?� I say halfway up the stairs, stopping to look down at her. “You said you needed your camera for your trip, didn’t you? I just got home from the studio, so why not? No hidden agendas, no strings.�

“Right,� she says sarcastically and I can tell she’s in one of her bitching moods. I’m clearly not. “You know how I told you that woman looked familiar?� After spending so much time with me, I have to give her the credit of knowing me and what makes me tick. This time for example, the ticking bomb comes in a form of Vanessa Martinez and Cameron Diaz is all over it. Am I that fucking obvious? I don’t give a damn. Fuck it!

“You told Rachel that, not me,� I say before drinking from the bottle in my hands even though I hate when water’s this cold.

“Well I think I know where I’ve seen that woman,� she says and I don’t miss the venom that she spits out at the word. She’s not stupid by any means and I’m positive she knows Vanessa wasn’t at my door just bearing excuses of dropping off a cd. I don’t want to deal with this shit right now so I turn and walk up a few stairs. I can almost smell the steam coming out of her fucking ears and I get a tiny sick pleasure from her jealousy. It goes to show her not to come to my house talking about spending a few days with Kelly fucking Slater. What the fuck was the point in that? I never thought Cameron would stoop this low as to try to make me jealous. Never saw it coming, which is why it aggravates me. You really don’t know anyone completely, do you?

“Good for you, Cam,� I say and I turn into the other set of stairs to my left. Whatever. “Lock the door on your way out, will ya?�

I hear her set the alarm because I stand halfway up the staircase waiting for the door to shut. When I’m satisfied that she’s gone, I walk up the remaining stairs and knock on Trace’s door. I know he has early flight in the morning, hell a few hours but I have to talk to him.

“Trace,� I whisper and crack his door open a bit. I don’t want to wake Joanna who’ll have my head for even coming in the room when she’s in there. “Trace,� I say again and there’s movement in the bed and I hope it’s not Joanna.

The last thing I need is another female in my face when I can’t get one specific one out of my mind. I need some guy time. And although I’m proud of Trace for making William Rast a hit, I wish he wasn’t as busy with it as he is. We barely get time together anymore.

“Jesus Christ, Justin,� suddenly we’re face to face in the gap of space in between the opened door. “Are you alright? What happened?� I can sense the worry in his voice that I’m waking him up and I feel really bad.

“Nothing happened, I’m alright,� I whisper. “You know what, never mind. Go back to bed. Sorry man,� I say trying to close the door.

“No, what’s wrong?� he says opening the door, rubbing his eyes as he closes the door quietly behind him.

“Do you have her address?� I whisper and I don’t know why I feel the need to.

“Do I have who’s address?� Trace asks still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and scratching his balls. I love this guy.

“She was just here and she left because Cameron was here and I don’t want her thinking the wrong shit and well I was thinking that I should go to her house and explain that Cameron was just getting her shit.�

“Huh?� Trace asks looking at me like I have two heads. “Cameron was here? For what? What is she going to think? What the fuck are you talking about bro?�

“Vanessa,� I say and I don’t understand why he looks so confused. I know what I said and I understand myself just fine.

“Justin, what time is it?� he asks looking at me.

“It’s a little past three o’clock, why?�

“You should know that my brain isn’t functional at this time unless I’m fucking. So speak slowly and clearly. What about Vanessa? Or was it Cameron?�

“Do you have Vanessa’s address?�

“Martinez?�

“Who the fuck else do we know named Vanessa?�

“I think so, why?� He asks and now I’m just annoyed.

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said, dickhead?�

“No fuckface, to be honest the words that followed after you saying you were okay are a fucking blur.�

“Never mind, Trace. Go to bed,� I say resigning to the fact that I’ll have to get her address in the morning or something. “Good night,� I say walking down the hall toward my master suite. Alone. This blows.

“I’ll get it for you before I leave, man,� Trace says as he opens his door and enters his room quietly.

I’m not going to be able to sleep. I know it.

-------------------------

The Next Morning

I did managed to sleep.

Only after staying up until six, playing Xbox.

The long ass shower I took before heading down to the kitchen, my dogs in tow, didn’t really help soothe my fucking head. The toast I made myself, because my assistant is MIA, tastes like shit and I call from the guard at the gate that the paps are on high alert today. My last day off is going just great.

But I’m not staying in the house and avoiding the fuckers who are parked outside my house, no way. I’m going to get in my car and I’m driving to the WEG offices. What I’m going to say? I don’t know. But I’m sure I’ll sound like a completely pussy asking Vanessa to forgive me for not asking her to stay, last night. Jesus!! I already feel like I have to explain myself to her and we haven’t even established what ‘we’ are. Is that possible? Can I already be pussy whipped? There’s no fucking way. I mean, maybe after a few months I would be, I admit that, but not this soon. Can’t be.

The dummies with cameras follow me all the way down to Hollywood Blvd, but I take a back road and I loose them for the time being. Good.

I run into Nick Carter on my way to the elevator in the parking garage and shoot the shit for a good ten minutes before I’m able to get on the elevator to Public Relations. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove, coming out with an album at the same time I’m dropping mine, but a guy can dream. I ain’t’ mad at him for trying. Good luck buddy!

The minute I step foot in the Public Relations Department, my stomach turns to shit and it’s the same feeling I get every time I know I will see her. It’s the feeling that Kayley gave me and it’s the feeling Britney used to give me. While it scares the hell out of me, I don’t let it scare me off. I’ve always gone for what I wanted, always will. And what I want more than anything, I find, is Vanessa Martinez.

The door to her office is wide open and I can see a few people leaving it from where I stand by the elevator. Melinda flagged me down on my way to Vanessa’s secretary and she’s talking to me about something, I couldn’t tell you about what, because I haven’t been paying attention. Instead I’m looking around the office nonchalantly, as if I wasn’t there specifically to see my public relations director. And by see, I mean, kiss her.

“So, what brings you to our world, Justin?� Melinda asks and she’s looking at me with a raised brow, like I’m not allowed to come to the offices whenever I want. “Isn’t it a nightmare to have to come here? At least that’s what you said the last time I saw you here.�

“I have to talk to Ms. Martinez about something,� I say and I adjust the hat that is on my head. What’s with the questions?

“I just got out of a meeting with her, is there something I can help you with instead?�

“No, it’s alright,� I say and kiss her cheek in hopes that she gets the hint that I have shit to do.

“Are you sure? Because I’ve known you for over a decade and I know the type of mood Ms. Martinez is in doesn’t really mesh well with your beautiful, sane persona,� she’s being sarcastic and while I can get into a debate with her like I used to when she was part of Nsync’s management, I don’t have the time.

“It’ll be alright, Mel,� I say walking away from her. “Tell that man of yours I’m up for a rematch, anytime.�

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,� she says waving over her shoulder. “Be nice, Justin!�

Be nice? Hell! I plan on being really nice, once I get into this office. I hate the fucking mirrors that surround her office because as I approach the secretary, I can’t tell if she’s inside, watching me. I hate being watched. Hard to believe, I know.

“Can I help you, Mr. Timberlake?� the woman asks and I grin from ear to ear at her. Always make the help swoon, that’s my motto, when I’m looking to get something out of them.

“Justin,� I flirt and it’s mostly for the benefit of my reputation. “I’m here to see Ms. Martinez.�

“Do you have an appointment, Justin?� she asks and I give her an even bigger smile. She blushes and I hope for her sake that her boss doesn’t see her blushing over a client.

“No, I don’t. but Ms. Martinez will see me,� I say digging the confidence out of my ass because I know Vanessa is pretty pissed at me.

“I’m sorry but you aren’t in her schedule and she asked not to be disturbed during her meetings. She’s really busy getting things in order before she leaves on the tour.�

“Leaving?� She’s fucking leaving? On who’s tour? I’m not touring, I just ended my tour. What?! “Why? I just ended my tour.�

“Oh, I didn’t mean with you,� she says with a laugh. How is this funny, bitch? I’m no longer smiling. “nick Carter’s promotional tour.�

WHAT?!

I don’t even say anything to her and waltz, hell, I stomp like a fucking child, toward her office door. I don’t make it inside the office because I run smack into Vanessa and her clipboard.

“JESUS CHRIST!!� she spits out venomously. She straightens her suit jacket and hugs the clipboard close to her chest, her heart. The actions send off warning alarms that she’s defensive and this shit isn’t going to be pretty. “Watch where you’re going!�

“I didn’t see you, Vanessa!� I say picking up my hat from next to her foot. I place my hat on my head once again and look at her. She’s not looking back at me, instead she’s looking through me, as if I’m not here. The same look she gave me the first time I met her.

“You should open your eyes next time, Mr. Timberlake. Perhaps not wearing that hideous hat over your eyes would work,� no she didn’t. William Rast is so not hideous. Is it? No, it’s not, what the hell am I saying? She practically hisses at me as she pushes me to the side and walks around me. Oh hell.

“Where are you going? I need to talk to you,� I say and I don’t give a damn that the secretary is looking at me like I’ve just committed suicide. Yeah, I AM talking to your boss like that. So what?

Vanessa doesn’t respond and she also doesn’t stop her sexy ass walk toward the elevator. How can this woman do this? How does she do it? How can she be the one being a bitch and have the other person want to apologize? It’s the fucking sixth wonder of the world, I swear.

She stops at some old dudes desk and turns to look at me. I’m right behind her so when she does, she rolls her eyes at my closeness. I don’t give a fuck. WE ARE talking, whether she wants to or not. I’ll pull all my dirty laundry right here, right in front of all these fucking staff members. I don’t give a damn. Wait. Yes I do.

“Mr. Myers, meet Mr. Timberlake,� she says and I just stand there looking at the guy. Who the hell is this fuck?

“Nice to meet you,� I say shaking the man’s hand but wanting to get the fuck out of the so that I can explain to her that Cameron was just picking up her stuff and that I’m sorry for not asking what was wrong. Let’s get a move on.

“I look forward to working with you, Justin,� the old man says and I swear the whole department heard my intake of breath.

“I’m confused,� Who’s working with me?

“Let me clear it up for you Mr. Timberlake. Mr. Myers is your public relations representative as of this morning. My personal services are needed elsewhere,� Vanessa says and I’m taken back to that first meeting, months ago. I don’t like it.

“Do your personal services include going on tour with Nick, Ms. Martinez,� I ask and I sound extremely jealous but it’s too late to retract. It’s done. So if it’s done, fuck it, I’ll continue. “What service will you be providing to Nick, Ms. Martinez?�

“The same I provided you for you, of course,� she says and she walks away without another word. I’m left with the stupid fuck who’s supposed to be my new PR and I know none of this is his fault but I want to sock him in the nose. The same services? Over my dead fucking body!

“You’re fucking kidding, right?� I ask through my teeth when I reach her by the elevator door. There’s a guy waiting for the elevator and he looks at me with wide eyes. “WHAT?!� Why is everyone so fucking scared of her? Jesus!

“Mr. Timberlake is just learning his manners, don’t mind him,� Vanessa says as the elevator doors open and she walks in.

“Back the fuck up,� I tell the guy who tries to get on the empty elevator with her. He backs away, voluntarily or simply because my hand is up in his face. I hit the button to close the doors and wave with a fake smile at the jerk. Who the fuck does he think he is, trying to get on this elevator when it’s clear, Ms. Martinez and I are having a fucking conversation? Fucker! He was probably trying to be alone with her too!

“Big mistake, Mr. Timberlake. That man is in charge of your record sales count,� Vanessa says when I turn to her.

“WHAT?!� I ask because I can’t believe she’s changed up the fucking game. AGAIN.

“I said…�

“I heard what you fucking said. I don’t give a shit about that,� I say and I’m standing in the middle of the still elevator with my hands on my waist. “You’re going on tour with Nick Carter? Are you shitting me? Please tell me that you’re just trying to piss me off.�

“I’m not trying to do anything but my job, Mr. Timberlake. If providing Mr. carter with the same services I provided you with pisses you off, then I suggest you take it up with your management team. Excuse me,� she says and she reaches behind me to hit one of the buttons behind me.

“You are my management!� I say moving so that she can get to whatever she’s reaching for. It will be her mistake to get the elevator moving because as soon as it starts descending, I hit the emergency stop button. I was serious when I said we were gonna talk. I don’t fuck around.

“No actually I am not. Mr. Wright and Mrs. Harless are. I did my part, Mr. Myers will continue working to get your image cleaned up a bit more. Any questions you might have, you can direct toward him. I assure you that he will not disappoint you, while I am way with Mr. Carter. Rest assured, Mr. Timberlake.� She tries to pull the button, to stop the alarm that’s going off but I push her to the side and stand in front of the panel.

“So what, you’re going to fuck Nick too?� I swear I’ve never felt more of a sting than I did at the contact of her hand against my cheek. Oh, so now she wants to get physical? Okay. I rub my cheek and look at her satisfied smirk. “Don’t push it, Vanessa.�

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, asshole!!� she says and she shoves my shoulder against the elevator’s wall. I have to give it to her, she’s pretty strong.

“Are we back at this again?� I say to her when I push her shoulders back, and press her back against the opposite side of the small elevator.

“Don’t fucking touch me!� she says and I have to back off a bit because she means it. What the hell?

“Vanessa,� I say moving her face to look at me with my hand. She won’t look at me and it actually breaks my heart. What the fuck? “Listen…�

“Get off me,� she says and her eyes are closed and I swear if she doesn’t look at me I’m going to have a coronary. I don’t know what else to do but put my lips on hers. And then everything comes to halt. She doesn’t kiss me back. When I open my eyes, she has her eyes open she’s once again looking through me. I’m not there. “Get off me.�

“What the hell is wrong with you?� I ask backing away from her and releasing the emergency button to continue our decent. “Why are you acting like this again? I thought we were past all this bullshit. And now you’re dropping me as a client? You’re going on tour with Nick Carter for crying out loud! What the fuck are you trying to do to me?�

“Well it’s all about you, isn’t it, Mr. Timberlake?� she’s practically foaming at the mouth and I don’t really understand this shit.

“Did you father make you cry again?� I ask ignoring her anger towards me. She looks at me with the angriest eyes I’ve seen to date and she laughs the evilest laugh I’ve ever heard.

“Don’t you go pretending you give a fuck, Mr. Timberlake,� she says as the elevator stops at a floor I’ve never been to and she walks off without another word.

“Hey, Justin!� I hear someone say from down the hall and I absentminded wave back as I follow Vanessa down a long corridor. I don’t know who it was and I don’t give a rat’s ass.

“I’m not doing this is public, fuck that!� I say and I grab her by the arm and pull her into an empty office. I don’t ever remember being in. “I do give fuck! Don’t you fucking understand that? What the fuck is so hard to understand?�

“Let go of my arm,� she says and the calm in her voice is scarier than if she were yelling, if possible.

“No,� I say and I hold on to her arm a bit tighter for good measure. I know I’m not hurting her and well even if I am, it’s out of…..yeah whatever. She’s a big girl, she can take it. “You listen to me, shut the fuck up for a minute while I explain. I know why you’re so pissed.�

“What ever gave you that idea, Mr. Timberlake. I’m perfectly fine,� she’s lying through her fucking teeth and if I was certain that I wouldn’t get my ass kicked, I would smile at her.

“Could have fooled me, Vanessa,� I say and I can smell that fucking coffee she drinks in her lips from how close I have her face to mine.

“Let go of my arm,� she says and she sounds so angry that I consider letting go of her but, again just a consideration not an action.

“She wasn’t there to…� I start to say but she yanks her arms away from my grip and moves away from me.

“You’re back to flattering yourself, Mr. Timberlake. I suggest you don’t finished whatever explanation you feel you owe me. You’ll only make a fool of yourself,� she says and she grabs the clipboard she’d dropped when I’d yanked her into the room.

“Does it look like I care, Vanessa? And please drop the Timberlake bullshit, I can’t tell you how fucking sick of it I am. I’m not playing games here,� I’m leaning against the desk that’s there with my hands supporting me to either side as I look at her. “There’s a fucking reason why you came to my house last night. And that’s because you felt you could come to me. You’re so fucking stubborn, I swear. there’s also a reason why you left so fast at the sight of Cameron and I assure you that you are wrong in your assumption. I didn’t even touch her, Vanessa.�

“I don’t care what you do, Mr. Timberlake,� she says and she goes to open the door.

“Yes, you do,� I say and she pauses at the door and looks at me before shaking her head.

“No, actually I don’t,� she says and that infamous fake smile makes an appearance in I don’t even know how long. I still want to wipe it off. “That’s Mr. Myers’ job now.�

“You’re so fucking broken,� I say to her and she looks up at me with wide eyes. So maybe I shouldn’t have said that out loud. But it’s the damn truth. Her father has her in fucking jumbles and God, all I want to do is fix it. I want to fix her. I’m losing it for this woman, quickly. This isn’t good when she’s looking at me like I just killed the said father.

“Thank you, Mr. Timberlake,� she says with the clipboard back on her chest. “It’s always good to hear.�

“Vanessa wait,� I say as she walking out of the room. She stops but doesn’t look at me. “Shit, I’m sorry alright. I didn’t mean that.�

“Yes you did, Mr. Timberlake. It’s perfectly alright to express your opinions,� she says turning to look at me, this time I notice the small sparkle in her eyes and the welling of the tears in her eyes. Please don’t cry! Shit! Don’t. “You’re correct, though. I am broken. Damaged. Cracked, maybe?�

“Vanessa, I…�

“No, it’s okay, Mr. Timberlake. Don’t you worry about it,� she says walking close to me. She doesn’t have to reach to speak in my ear and the closeness makes me want to reach for her but I don’t. “I may be broken, but you’ll never get to fix me, Justin,� She backs away from me and I see a lone tear run down her cheek before she wipes it and walks out of the room.

GOD DAMN IT!!

It all comes back to this…

Chapter Seventeen: …I’m Broken

Two Nights Later

Broken.

I AM broken. Beyond repair, without hope. He’s built me up to this. He’s pushed me to this point, made me who I am. Made me be disappointed in myself, even though I’ve accomplished what most only dream of. The magazine covers mean nothing. The trips around the world, mean nothing. The credentials following my name, mean nothing. The beautiful face that photographers love to shoot, means nothing. My father has torn me to pieces. I’m a broken disappointment.

Justin Timberlake, was right. Who would of thought?

I’m wallowing in self pity, locked in my condo, like the miserable person that I am. I’ve spoken to Barker but my acting abilities have subsided the questions from her. I don’t want to worry her with my miserable life when she has so much on her plate. She’s the true star in this duet while I’m simply the back up.

Good back up I am, huh? I couldn’t back up a fucking file, I’m a fucking mess.

I can’t remember the last time I had a full meal these past two days and the sound coming from my stomach reminds me of that fact. I should stop watching the bright lights of Los Angeles down below and order something to eat. But I just don’t feel like it and with it being so late, I shouldn’t eat at this time anyway. I make a mental note to grab breakfast on my way to the office in the morning.

I’ve dedicated myself to work for the past two days, preparing for a tour that I basically had to pull out of my ass. And although I enjoyed my previous stint on tour, I’m not really looking forward to this one. I’m actually dreading it, to tell you the truth. With the way that I’m feeling, emotionally, I should be incapable of doing my job, but I’m not one of those people. Inside I may be crying but my work, my career will never be compromised. Even if it doesn’t make my father proud. The knowledge of how my father feels about me, makes me work harder to achieve something in which he could be proud of. But I know I’m good at what I do and I just wish he would see that. It’s never going to happen. It breaks my heart.

It’s almost eleven o’clock at night, according to my phone on the table and I should really go to bed. The little bit of wine that is still in my glass, feels warm going down my throat as I open the screen door to my balcony and enter my condo. The tiled floors are cool on my bare feet as I walk to the kitchen and place the cup in the sink.

I almost drop the bottle of wine when my doorbell rings, “Shit!� I have no idea who could be knocking at my door at this time of night. It rings again and I don’t know why I’m so jumpy but the sound makes me jump a bit. “Who is it?� I say and when I don’t get a response I’m aggravated. “Who is it?�

“Open the door, Vanessa,� I hear from the other side and I close my eyes because I can’t believe he’s standing outside my door. How did he get my address?

“Go away, Mr. Timberlake,� I say and lean against the door. Get a grip, Vanessa!

“You either let me in or I’m just using the key,� Using the key? What? He’s bullshitting! Why would he have a key to my condo?

“What key?� I ask and he chuckles, I can hear him and the stupid knots that come to my stomach are more than hunger for food.

“Just let me, Vanessa,� he says close to the door. “There’s this really old lady looking at me like I’m crazy down the hall.�

“What?�

“Your neighbor, she’s….wait are we really going to have this conversation through a door? Open up. I’ve got food,� the mention of food makes my stomach grumble and I’m wondering how this man knows I’m starving.

“I didn’t order anything,� I say and I watch him through the peephole for the first time. He raises two large bags high enough for me to see.

“Open the door, Vanessa,� he says and looks directly into the peephole making me back away from the door. “You know I can tell when you’re looking through there, don’t you?�

“What do you want?�

“Well I don’t know about you but I want to eat, so open the door, I’m serious,� he says and I can see through the tiny peephole when Mrs. Reed walks up to him. She’s standing there looking at him for a few seconds, then she’s pointing a finger asking what he was trying to do. I can’t contain the laughter and open the door.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Reed,� I say when I open the door and Justin looks like he’s seen a dead person. He looks at me with wide eyes and I can tell he’s asking me for some type of help. “What do you want, Mr. Timberlake?�

“First I want to come inside,� he says and he moves toward me and around me so quick, he forgets one of the bags of food by the door. “Close the door, Vanessa, please.�

“Good night, Mrs. Reed,� I say grabbing the forgotten bag of delicious smelling food and waving goodbye to the lady. I can’t help the small smile that is on my lips when I look at him again. He actually looks like he was scared the old lady was going to attack him. Leave it to Justin Timberlake to be intimidated by an old lady, when he stand on stage performing for thousands of people as a career.

“She’s scary,� Justin says when I close the door and the lock automatically clicks. I don’t know why I just allowed him to come into my home but I walk past him toward the kitchen and leave him standing there, still holding one of the bags.

“We eat and then you go, Mr. Timberlake,� I’m already taking two large plates from the cupboard and placing them on the kitchen island.

“Why don’t we just eat and we’ll decide later when I leave?� he asks and I look up at him and although I’m amused by his stupid charm, I don’t let it show. “You don’t have to look so mean, Vanessa, I brought you food,� he says as he takes container after container of food out of the bag he carried in.

“Did you buy out a restaurant, Mr. Timberlake?� I say looking with wide eyes at all the containers in front of me.

“No,� he says pointing to different drawers in silent question to where the utensils were located. I point to the drawer and he goes to it and quickly returns with different serving spoons. “I had a meeting with a chef from Memphis at my house, he’s interested in the new restaurant. He made all this, sort of like samples. But I don‘t like to eat alone, so I came here. You‘re not going to ask me where I got your address from?�

“No, I already know the answer to that,� I say with a shrug as I help open the containers. “There’s so much,� I say and I watch as he puts a sample of everything on my plate. I don’t protest because at this point, I could eat a cow.

“Are you not hungry?� he asks when he sees my wide eyed expression. He looks a bit disappointed and I shake my head.

“I’m actually starving,� I say and he smiles at me. I have to turn away and get two glass cups to avoid looking at those lips of his.

“I know what you mean,� he says and when I return to stand in front of him, he staring at me.

“Don’t,� I simply say and turn to open the refrigerator behind me. “What would you like to drink?�

“Water is fine,� he says and before I can stop him, he comes around the island and hugs me from behind. I close my eyes and let him hold me for what seems like hours.

“I’m sorry,� he whispers in my ear and I shiver at the contact. The shirt that I am wearing slips off my shoulder and he places a light kiss on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make you cry the other day, okay? Let’s just eat and talk. Stop turning away from me, okay? Please?�

The sound of his voice and the sincerity of his words make my head move up and down in answer and he kisses my shoulder one more time before lifting the fabric to cover my shoulder again. He releases me and suddenly I’m cold. He grabs my plate of food from the island and places it in the microwave before his as I watch him. He’s managed to walk into my home and take over, like he belongs here. Sort of like he’s doing with my life.

“Do you usually eat this late at night?� I ask when he places the plate from the microwave on the counter in front of him. “Umm, that smells really good,� I say out loud and I didn’t notice I had until he looks at me with a smile. He looks different tonight. I don’t know what it is, but he does.

“Where do you want to go eat?� he says looking around the large condo for the first time. “Nice place,� he says shaking his head in approval. He likes it, and I’m stupidly happy about that fact.

“Anywhere is fine,� I say with a shrug. “And thank you.�

“Do you mind if we eat in the living room?� he asks and having him in my house makes me nervous.

“No, that’s fine,� I say and I grab the water bottles I got out of the refrigerator and follow him and two hot plates to the living room.

“I hope this food tastes as good as it smells,� he jokes as he places the plates on the coffee table. “Black couches,� he says and I have to smile because I know what he’s comparing. His perfectly white couches, to my dark charcoal colored sofas.

“They are charcoal, not black,� I say matter of fact as I sit in front of the table and inhale the delicious smell of the food.

“Still not white,� he says taking a seat next to me and leaning his back against the couch. “You didn’t pick these,� he says and he picks up his plate, bringing it close to his chest, making it balance on his bent knees and his left hand. I look at him with a smirk. How does he know that?

“What makes you say that?� I say as I take a piece of chicken from my plate and take a bite. It tastes so good, that I make a sound of pleasure and he looks at me with a smile. “You should definitely hire this guy,� I say savoring the meat. “This is probably the best chicken I’ve ever had.�

“Okay,� he says and he puts a fork full of macaroni and cheese in his mouth.

“Okay? Okay, what?� I ask before savoring the macaroni and cheese for myself.

“If you approve, then I’m going to. God knows how hard it is to get your approval on anything. I’m not taking my chance on another chef,� he says with a chuckle.

“That’s not true,� I say handing him his water when he places his plate on the table, mouth full of food. It’s kind cute. “I approve of a lot of things.�

“Right,� he says after swallowing his food and drinking half of the water. “Like what?�

“I don’t know,� I shrug and take another small bite from the chicken. “Like this chicken. One hundred percent approval.�

“Right,� he says and we eat in silence for a few minutes before he looks at me and smiles.

“What?� I ask and set down my fork before I’m tempted to go for seconds.

“You were hungry,� he says looking at empty plate and setting his next to it. “Note to self, bring her food and she won’t try to kill you. Check.�

“When have I tried to kill you?� I ask with a raised brow as I stand to clear the plates from my coffee table. “You’re exaggerating.�

“I am not,� he says moving a bit to the side so that I can go around him toward the kitchen. “Do you need help with those?�

“No, I think I can handle it,� I say from the kitchen. Now that the food is gone I wonder to myself, now what? What is there to do now?

“I’ll clear these,� he’s in the kitchen now, putting the lids on the different containers as I watch quietly. I don’t know why suddenly I’m feeling dare I say, shy? But I am and I don’t know what to say? Do I ask him to leave? Do I ask him to stay? I don’t know. This is awkward.

“Well, this is awkward,� he says leaning against my kitchen island and looking down at his shoes. Is he being shy too? Great? Two fucking idiots.

“What do you mean?� I ask because I will not be the one to admit that this situation is awkward. And it’s not the awkward where you don’t know what you should say to the other person, I realize. It’s the awkwardness of having a lot to say and not having the balls to say them. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s also not a good thing because I have to work in the morning. I can’t stand here all night.

“You know what I mean, Vanessa,� he says and he’s talking with his hands in evident frustration. “This whole thing between us. I’m actually hesitant about what I should say to you because I don’t want to make you cry again. I can’t see that, I just can’t. And the fact that you won’t talk to me when we both know you want to, well that makes this really awkward.�

“You didn’t make me cry, Justin,� I have to let him know that the guilt he’s feeling over what happened a few days ago, is unnecessary. He looks at me from where he’s standing and I shake my head. “Don’t feel that way. What you said was true and although the words hurt, it wasn’t you that made me cry, it was my father.�

“That doesn’t make me feel better about what I said, though,� he says and he’s looking down at his shoes again and instead of rude, I find myself thinking about how adorable he looks. After a few seconds of silence he looks at with a sad expression across his face. “Why do you let him treat you like that, Vanessa?�

“Who? My father?� I ask and laugh bitterly, not at him but at myself because it’s pathetic. I walk past him to the living room and shrug. “Because I guess he can.�

“I think you’re wrong,� he says walking behind me and I stop to look at him.

“Well I think that’s your opinion,� I say taking my disregarded bottle of water from the floor and sitting on the sofa. “Can we not talk about my father, please?�

“If that’s what you want, sure,� he says and he takes a seat across from me on the other couch. The action kind of disappoints me but I don’t say anything. “What would you like to talk about?�

“I don’t know,� I say and he makes himself comfortable on my couch. He looks good there. At home, kind of. Scary. “Mr. Myers said…�

“No work talk, V,� he turns to wink at me and I have to admit that it‘s cute. Why does he have to do that? And why is it not the most annoying thing in the world to me anymore?

“What do you want to talk about then?�

“What was that for?� he asks pointing to a large framed picture of Barker and I, over the fireplace.

“We do a lot of work to raise money for charity. That one was two years ago for The SPCA calendar,� I say looking at it with a proud smile on my face. “I love that picture. Barker had it framed and mounted when I got the condo a few months back.�

“You look good,� he says looking at it. “Lucky dogs.�

“Thank you,� I say shyly and chuckle a bit about his dog comment. “I think it’s one of Barker’s best shot.�

“She looks good too, I guess,� he says with a shrug as he looks around the living room for something.

“What is it?� I ask curiously, trying to ignore the act that he’d only seen me in the picture, completely bypassing Barker. While it kind of disses my best friend, it also makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy.

“There’s no more?�

“More what?�

“Pictures,� he says matter of fact, like I was supposed to know that.

“Not out here, no,� I say as I watch him get up from the sofa and walk toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Where are you going?�

“Nowhere,� he says as he see the white grand piano in a room off to the side of the dining room. “This yours?�

“It’s my place, isn’t it?� I say as I walk to where he’s standing, looking surprised.

“You play?�

“Yes, but not that one. It‘s really not supposed to be played, it’s an antique,� I say looking at it. “It actually sounds horrible but it was a gift. I love it.� I say and I’m suddenly blushing. Why? I don’t know, but the thought of him knowing this about me feels intimate.

“It’s almost as beautiful as it’s owner,� he says as he enters the room. “Do you mind?�

“No, go ahead,� I say admitting him access to the white piano. “I did warn you that it sound horrible.�

“I just want to look at it,� he says looking at the detailed engravings on it. “Isn’t this…�

“Yes,� I say with a smile. I know he recognizes it and I’m impressed by it. “He’s a good friend of my father’s.�

“Wow,� he says with a appreciative smile across his face. “You have Elton John’s piano.�

“I do,� I say leaning against the wall. “Lucky girl, I guess.�

“It’s a shame you can’t play this,� he says circling it and stopping to look at me. “You can come over my house and play whenever you’d like.�

“Sure,� I say with a small laugh.

“I’m serious,� he says and he walks over to me, stopping directly in front of me. “Anytime,� he says and he brushes his lips on mine, before walking past me and out of the room. Wait! Don’t stop!

“Wait!� I actually say this out loud and I only realize this because he’s back in front of me and he’s looking at me with concerned eyes.

“What?� he asks and I can see myself in his eyes although the lighting in the condo is low. Those eyes of his are going to get me in trouble.

“Please kiss me,� Yes, I said this out loud and I can’t take it back. And when his lips brush against mine once again, I don’t even care that I did. I’m actually grateful because it’s the best feeling I’ve had in two days. But then he stops again, shit!

“Which one is your room?� he asks as he pulls me behind him down the long hallway.

“Straight ahead,� I say and I don’t think about the fact that he’s about to enter my bedroom, another intimate place. This is crazy, I know, but part of me is saying that he’s already had me, what’s the point of being shy? When he opens the door to my room he stops and turns to look at me.

“Do you have a sound system in here?� he asks and it wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. He should have had my clothes off by now. What is going on?

“What?�

“Music, do you have a system in here?� what the fuck is he talking about? I don’t have the patience for this right now. I need some type of release. The type of release I know he can give me. He can make me forget that my father hates me. He can make me forget that I’ll never be good enough. He can do it, right here, right now, and he’s asking if I have a sound system in my room?

“You’re asking me if I have a sound system in MY bedroom? Are you fucking kidding me right now?� I ask and ppull my hand away from his, to place them on my hips angrily. And he chuckles.

“Yes,� he says and he’s still laughing quietly and although I should probably take offense at his amusement, I don’t. He shakes his head and grabs my face with both of his hands, bringing his face close to mine. “This isn’t about me tonight, okay? I’m not here for this,� he says as he takes one hand away from my face to wave around the room. “Forget the music, okay? Retract the claws, Vanessa.�

“What do you want from me?� I ask and he smiles at me. “I don’t get it. You said you wanted me and now that you can have me again, you don’t want to?�

“Please trust me when I say this, Vanessa,� he says before kissing me lightly and biting lightly on my bottom lip before pulling away. His thumbs are caressing my cheeks and he looks at me with a smile. “I’ve never wanted anyone more. Believe that. But it’s not what you want or need right now.�

“You don’t know what need, Justin,� I say and back away from his touch, walking past him. I’m tired of people telling me what I need. What I want. I want to cry, that’s what I want to do. To be completely fucking honest.

“Don’t,� he says coming to me where I stand next to my bed. “You keep trying to push me away but it’s too fucking late, Vanessa. You let me inside that door. So you can send me away to work with that stupid new PR but I’m still coming back. I told you how I felt about you, you’re not pushing me away, so stop trying.�

“Just go, Justin,� I say when I feel his arms come around me and this time I can’t forget anything. My father hates me. And I cry because I can’t control my emotions. This hurts too much.

“Just let it out,� he says as he hugs me to him and I’m sobbing like the fucking miserable woman that I am. What is wrong with me? Why am I letting my father’s words do this?

I don’t know how long we stand there, him holding me and me wetting his t-shirt with my tears. But I feel my feet lifting off the floor and he lifts me onto the bed. I can’t look at him and even if I tried I know my vision would be too blurry. I hear the sound of his shoes hit the floor on the other side of my bed and when I turn to look at what he‘s doing, I‘m face to face with him. He’s reaches to pull the covers from under me and I lift a little to allow him access.

“Just sleep okay? I’ll be here,� he whispers to me and his arm comes around me. He pulls me close to his front and for the love of God, I cry more. It’s not because I don’t feel warm and fuzzy in his arms, I do. It’s because I feel comfort in his arms. How ironic is that?

“Do you really think I’m broken?� I ask as through my sobbing. This isn’t sexy at all. I’m a mess.

“I think your father is the broken one. But you? It’s different with you, I think this is broken,� he whispers in my ear and I swear my heart is reaching out to him when he places the his hand over my heart. I don’t know what to say. “If you’d let me, I can fix that, Vanessa. Let me at least try,� what am I supposed to say to that? No? He sure makes this hard, doesn‘t he? He kisses my shoulder for the second time, and I snuggled closer to him.

And as I close my eyes, I can’t help but think that he’s already starting to fix it. And I can’t stop him, nor do I want to.

Chapter Eighteen: It’s Lonely At The Top

Three weeks later
New York City

It’s been three weeks since my album was released and I have yet to come down from the high. In fact, I think it’s getting stronger. And why should I come down? It’s one of the best albums in years. And although I agree, I wasn’t the one that claimed that, my record label did. I get a kick out of the major ass kissing Jive does when I release something that makes them millions. It’s hilarious to watch them bend over backwards to make me happy. But they fail to realize that what made me happy was creating the said album. Any other flashy shit they throw at me for a job well done, is just a fucking bonus. It’s all really uncalled for, idiots! I know that the album is hot, and it may sound arrogant when I say that but whatever. That shit is hot! I’m proud of the work I’ve done this time around and to be completely honest, I don’t give a damn who else likes it, really. As long as I’m happy, then it’s all good. And I’m extremely happy so it‘s a mother-fucking good thing.

And with all mother-fucking good things, more work follows. Go figure! In my case, in my career, it means I MUST tour. Anything that Jive Records can do to make more money off of me, they are always down for. Or should I say UP? Trust me, I‘m a big money maker, kind of a big deal and all that mumbo fucking jumbo. But it’s not that I mind touring or anything, it’s one of my favorite things to do beside being in the studio, that‘s the best shit. But it’s a necessary evil in my line of work, that of course is if you want to stay at the top. And at the top, I am. So, touring is very necessary.

The evil part? Apart from being excruciatingly exhausting, physically, it’s a pain in the ass to plan. But I only have myself to blame for that, though, it’s the perfectionist in me. I refuse to put on a lame ass show just for the sake of touring. If I’m touring, I’m going all out, all the way. No half ass doing shit on this tour. My last tour, I was accompanied by Christina and while my show was pretty hot, it wasn’t just mine. This time, it’s all me baby! The Future/Sex Love/Show.

I just spent three hours in a meeting with the big wigs of Jive Records, Johnny, Marty and other people who are going to make my show happen. Needless to say, my budget is triple of what I was allowed on the Justified Tour. I’m fucking beside myself, really. But being the humble guy that my momma raised, I’m not showing it much.

While I’m looking forward to the actual show, I want to kick my own ass for telling those people that I wanted my hands on everything. It sounded all good in the meeting and everyone seemed to agree that I would have the last word on everything. But now? Shit, I’m kind of pissed that I just took on all the planning responsibilities. Thinking about all the shit I have to dream up has already made me tired. I know I can count on Marty to give me a good choreographed show but he can’t plan if I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do, can he? My head is spinning and it’s fucking cold as hell in New York. It’s not helping.

“Do you still want to check out the construction?� Rachel asks adjusting the scarf around her neck. “We still have time before going to the airport.�

“Let’s just go to the airport now,� I say as Eric opens the car door for me, when we walk out of the Jive studios. The shouting of my name is muffled by the door when Eric closes it. Seriously, why are they standing outside in the cold like that? If they’re cold, then I’m cold. Which means, no, I’m not talking any pictures. Shit!

“Why do you want to go home today, if we have to come back tomorrow night?� Rachel asks from where she’s now sitting next to me in the darkened SUV.

“I just want to go home,� I say with a shrug, readjusting my hat and I know she’s not buying it.

“Liar,� she says with a laugh. “She gets home today, doesn’t she?�

“Shut up, Rach,� I say yanking on her scarf, making her yelp and hit my shoulder. “I’m telling your mother!�

“What’s wrong, Justin? You don’t like your new PR?� she teases in that stupid voice she makes that I hate. “Poor baby..�

“Oh my god, Eric!!� I say while giving Rachel the finger. “You should have seen his face, dude. It was classic.�

“Who’s face?� Eric asks from the front seat as we pull into the New York traffic.

“The new PR dude,� I say and I start to laugh harder because just remembering the look on the guys face when he saw that fabricated picture of me, was just hysterical.

“Oh my god, I thought he was going to cry,� Rachel says after finishing her story to Eric. “Justin almost fucked up the whole thing, by laughing. It was great, you should of came upstairs with us.�

“Poor guy,� Eric says shaking his head with laughter. “You two need to stop making that guy’s life, a living hell with those pictures.�

“We’re just breaking him in,� I joke. “Like a puppy,� and Rachel laughs loudly with that contagious laugh of hers and suddenly all three of us are in an uproar inside the car. The driver must think we’re fucking nuts. “You know Rachel’s the Photoshop queen, not me.�

“Well that’s not completely true, you’re a queen too,� she says with a laugh that makes Eric laugh and me, not so much. She’s a dick, I swear. “Justin couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone a computer.�

“Very true,� Eric says with a chuckle. “What is it, Rachel? Technologically inclined?�

“Whatever!� I say waving both of them off. “I have better things to do with my time than sit on a computer. Like planning a fucking tour, for instance. You know, where thousands of people come to see ME. Scream MY name and show ME, not you, major love. So suck it.�

“Oh, shut the fuck up,� Rachel says as she sits up to talk to Eric.

Both of them continue talking about me and my inability to get around a computer, as if I’m not in the car. Under normal circumstance, I would join them in the shit talking and call them out on the shit that I CAN do that they can’t, but not right now. Right now, my very observant assistant is giving me a moment to make a phone call. This is why I love her, I mean beside for being my cousin and all.

I don’t have to think about it, I flip my phone open and hit the talk button, knowing it was the same number I dialed the night before. It rings a few times before I have a cheesy ass smile on my face when I hear the voicemail come on.

“You’ve reached Vanessa Martinez, with Wright Entertainment Group. I’m not available at the moment but please be sure to leave your name, a brief message and telephone number where I can reach you. Thank you.�

I don’t leave a message, instead I end the call and look up to find Rachel and Eric looking at me with knowing looks. I hate them.

“There he goes,� Eric sings and I laugh at my stupid travel companions.

“It’s all calculated to the tee,� Rachel says and I give her the finger yet again, as we pull up to the private airstrip of the airport. “In about two minutes he’ll call again and she’ll answer and he’ll be a fucking cheese ball. LOSER!!�

“And who’s a loser for noticing this?� I ask with raised brows as Eric steps out of the car and stands by my door for me to get out. Rachel huffs and pushes me out of the car.

“I bet you she’s not even nice to him,� Rachel says to Eric as they follow me up the steps of the private jet.

“Shut upppppppppp,� I say as I enter the jet and head straight to the back. My seat.

Mr. Myers is already on the plane and he’s typing away furiously on the laptop across from him. He’s such a nerd! He doesn’t say much, only speaking long enough to ask me certain things about the day and that’s completely fine with me. I can’t believe I can’t have my old PR back. I’m the shit, man! Jive said so! Why can’t I have my way? This fucking blows! Mr. Myers doesn’t have legs for days. He doesn’t have an ass that’s out of this world. And he’s doesn’t have a permanent place in my thoughts. He’s just a dude, with thick glasses that doesn’t talk! Fucking shit!

I can hear everyone else that is traveling with me getting on the jet as they arrive individually at the airport but I have more important things to do. I close the door to the private area in the back and when I receive a text message on my phone that says ‘okay’ in capital letters, I smile. I can’t believe I’ve come to these cheesy ass rituals and I haven’t even touched this woman in three weeks.

The morning after I’d spent the night at her place was a bit awkward in the sense that neither one of us wanted to ruin it. It was a welcomed silence, I guess you can say, as we sat across each other at a deli near her house. My nerves were already shot from having to sit in her living room, waiting for her to finish showering. Talk about torture to a neglected libido. I could picture everything that was happening in that bathroom and if she took any longer, I would have embarrassed myself because my imagination was running wild. And it still is but there’s something that has changed these past few weeks. Something’s different.

I’m starting to think that I really am lovestoned and it wasn’t a gimmick to make a song happen. It’s the truth. I’ve thought about Vanessa Martinez like that impossible to ‘kick’ drug and I find that words couldn’t be truer. She has me lovestoned to the point of being cheesy, and I don’t do cheesy. Cheese is for the bitches! I mean I don’t love her, love her. I don’t. I don’t think. It’s just different now, it’s not about me wanting to fuck her anymore.

It’s just different.

It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before and trust when I say that I’ve had all types of feelings about my girlfriends. Hell, I still have feelings about Laura and Kayley and that was almost two centuries ago. So this thing, this cheese-fest is a bit crazy for me.

The fact that I’ve talked on the phone for hours on end about absolutely fucking nothing with a woman that I detested, well that’s insane. And while it’s fucking crazy, I look forward to it every single day. It’s like I’m speaking with a completely different woman. She laughs and makes jokes that usually revolve around making fun of me but they are jokes, nonetheless. And she talks TO me now instead of talking AT me like she was always doing. And well, I like that. I like that she has told me all about her childhood and her father. I like that she shares the same bond with Barker that I share with Trace. I like that when I tell her I can’t wait to see her, that she actually gets shy. I like that I like this woman, I like it and it scares me.

But there’s one thing that I don’t like. One thing that has had me so far up the wall, I’m being an ass to everyone, at least more than usual. My bad moods have been in honor of Vanessa being part of Nick Carter’s ‘people’ and I absofuckinglutely hate it. I can’t even begin to mention the things that go through my mind when I think about it. I mean, it’s not that I think Vanessa’s easy, not at all. She’s a tough chick and I know that she doesn’t think highly of him, as per our conversations, but still, I hate it. She hated me too, ya know? So it’s a bit worrisome. Am I supposed to be okay about her looking the way she does around a horny son of a bitch like Nick Carter? No way! I really wished she’d taken my advice and opted to wearing sweat pants and t-shirts during this stupid tour. She actually laughed when I said that but I didn’t think it was funny, I had been dead serious. I didn’t really have a problem with Nick until his eyes started wandering. I wondered why Vanessa shared that information with me in the first place, but she did and I have a feeling she did it on purpose to fuck with me. It worked.

Thankfully but not quite enough for me, she said she wouldn’t be wearing skirts on this tour. Of course she said it had been her choice and had nothing to do with my opinion. Deep inside though, I know it was and fuck it, that makes me smile. I thanked the Lord above about ‘her’ choice that day but then I suggested she wear sweats and t-shirts and she laughed. I guess I can’t win them all but I got her to laugh, which is fucking ridiculously satisfying.

I don’t recall ever feeling this way and I’m a little scared to say that I’m a jealous freak right now. And she’s not even my girlfriend, she’s my friend. That simple fact is what’s the scariest shit of all. But I’m enjoying the hell out of it. Every single moment that I get to speak to her. Every second that I spend doing the cheesy ass thing I’m involved in at the moment, are the highlights of my day. It’s become our little ritual. Jesus! We have stupid little rituals already! It’s a pretty cheesy one. I call her, I usually get her voicemail, I don’t leave a message, but I get a text message within half an hour with the word ‘okay’ on it, then I smile like a fucking idiot and then I follow-up with dialing her number again.

She’ll answer on the first ring because her ‘okay’ means she’s alone. It will mean she’s found a quiet place to talk to me without being interrupted. Can you fucking believe that? Vanessa Martinez has been making ‘time’ for me! I still have a hard time believing that simply because she barely has time to do anything for herself, yet she’s found the time to talk on the phone with me. I feel incredibly fucking special, which is why this is the cheesiest situation I’ve been in. A whole different kind of dairy, that’s for sure.

“Hi,� when the words are spoken into my ear, I get giddy and the smile never leaves.

“Are you home yet?� I ask and I hope she says that she is so that I feel better about making this financially stupid trip back home. Whatever! It’s not like I spend millions a day like other people do. A few thousand on a private jet is nothing. Johnny needs to leave me alone about that shit.

“I just…� she starts to tell me but there’s a commotion of some sort on her end and all I can hear is laughter in the background.

“Hello?� It’s not her on the phone speaking to me and because it’s not the first time I hear the voice, I know who it is right away.

“Bark Bark!� I say happily into the phone and she laughs.

“Lago Lago!� she says and I laugh when I hear her tell Vanessa to get in the car and shut up. My heart kind of skips a beat when I hear Vanessa tell her that she met me first and to back off. I’m sure that wasn’t meant for my ears. “She’s blushing now, by the way. I don’t think she meant to say that out loud.�

“Too late,� I say with a laugh. “How was your trip? Trace said you guys did some interesting things.�

“Let me tell you how crazy your boy is,� she says and I can tell she’s in a car because the noise of what I could only imagine was the airport is gone. I can faintly hear Vanessa in the background talking to someone and I’m wondering who she could possibly be talking to when she should be talking to me. See how cheesy I’m getting? This girl has me all fucked up, I swear! “He rented out the whole floor to the hotel and if I were you, the boss, I would seriously consider looking into the William Rast petty cash because he’s out of control.�

“Is that right?� I ask with a laugh. “I’ll make sure to rip him a new one or two when I get home.�

“Oh well Joanna tried but failed miserably,� she says with a contagious laugh. “Good luck on that one.�

She goes on and on about the offer that Trace and I made about being our model for the clothing line and I put in a few words here and there. In all honesty I’m dying for her to get off the damn phone so that I can talk to Vanessa, who apparently is still talking to someone in the background. The longer I wait to hear her voice the more annoyed I get. The engines of the jet are going strong outside the window I’m looking out of and I know that my chance to talk to her, to hear her voice is going to be cut short.

And it’s proven when the jet that I am in is literally jetting down the runway and Barker is still talking to me about something that I could give two fucking shits about right now. I like the girl but right now she’s keeping me from the only contact I’ve had with Vanessa Martinez in three weeks. I could kill her, really.

And just like that, I feel the pressure of the jet as it takes off and I’m in the air. Which also means that my call is fading, fading, fading and fading until my phone beeps and I hear nothing but the sound of the engines and see nothing but the New York skyline underneath me. I’ve lost my cheese for five and a half fucking hours.

Fucking gouda!

--------------------------------------
4pm (Pacific time)

The longest five hours of my life were spent on that jet and I’m seriously thinking that something is wrong with me. Seriously. And because someway somehow, the fuckers with cameras know I’m back home, my attitude is sinking toward the deep end of the fucking pool. Just what I need.

There are rare moments in my life where I wished I wasn’t who I am. When I want to be that regular dude from Memphis who everyone passes at the airport like he was just that, a regular guy. These moments don’t come often, but they make their way once in a while. Not even when I’m on tour, the hardest part of my career, do these moments occur. But when it takes half an hour for the car that I’m in to make it past the swarm of assholes with cameras, the moment is here. I want to get out of the car and fucking pound one of them, I swear! I want to scream at them that I AM that regular guy from Memphis! I want to scream at them that I am infatuated with a woman that would probably cut their dicks off, if she were there. I hate my life!

But I start feeling better when the car makes it’s way up Mulholland Drive and my house it’s in eyesight. And by better I mean not quite happy enough to actually enter my house. I mean better as in I’m getting in my Jeep and I’m out of here. Rachel looks at me with raised eyebrows and shakes her head as she gives Eric the information he needs for the following day.

“Thanks for the help, Justin!� she yells out as I pull out of my driveway.

“You’re welcome!� I yell out the window as I drive past her and Eric who shake their heads at me.

The drive over to my destination shouldn’t take more than ten minutes but as my luck would have it, it’s going to take at least twenty minutes. Why does every single movie premiere have to happen when I’m home and trying to drive down Hollywood Boulevard? It never fucking fails. When I’m yet again delayed by the stupid traffic light on Highland, I regret having taken the Jeep instead of the blacked out seven-fifty next to it. There’s a group of teenage girls waiting to cross the street and I’m stuck right in the front of the line of cars. They see me and wave like they know me or something. I don’t wave back, instead I give them a small smile and pray that this fucking light changes. I did lock my door, right?

The light changes and I make my left on Laurel Avenue and hope that the traffic to get onto Sunset Boulevard isn’t as crazy as it always is. Luckily within minutes I am making a right onto the street that I want to reach more than anything. And I realize that I haven’t checked if she’s even home. Please god don’t let this be another waste of fucking time. Please!

I reach for my phone as I turn into the condo’s private gates. The security guard nods at me and doesn’t even ask me who I’m there to see. I got it like that! Or I could just be because Vanessa Martinez is the only young resident of the place and I’m surely not visiting grandma and grandpa. Why she chose to get a place in a nursing home community is beyond me, but her choice of living area is the least of my worries right now.

The phone rings a few times and I hope she answers because if I don’t get at least that, I’m going to flip a fucking burger. I’m not kidding. I’m like a drug fiend with desperate need of a fix. I mean all I want right now is to see her. Just to look into her eyes when I speak, that’s it. Is that wrong?

“Hello?� Yes! It’s her, answering the phone on the third ring. Yes, I’m counting!

“Are you home yet?� I ask as I get out of my car and hand the parking attendant my keys. I’m pressing on the elevator button furiously like pressing it a thousand times will make it arrive faster. I’m a mess.

“You know, you keep calling and asking that question and it’s rude,� she says and I have to smile to myself. “Normal conversations start with a hello or something along those lines. Inquiring my whereabouts is getting you nowhere.�

“If you’re home then it’s getting me where I need to be,� I say as I let an old couple walk out of the elevator before I hop on and pray that no one makes this elevator stop on my way to the top floor. “Are you?�

“Yes,� she says and my smile gets wider when the elevator bypasses every floor and takes me right to Vanessa’s floor. I’m like a fucking kid waiting to meet, I don’t know…me, maybe? That was wrong, I’m so arrogant sometimes, I disappoint myself.

“Well then open the door,� I say and I’m two feet away from her door. I wait for a few seconds and the door opens wide and there she is. I flip my phone quickly, stashing it in my jeans’ pockets and hell I’m not going to kid myself. I’m so pussy whooped when my eyes meet hers that I don’t say anything. I lunge at her in one stride into her place and my lips are on her like there’s no tomorrow. Because there actually isn’t when I’m with her, that’s how I feel. Every fucking moment could be the end, I’m so lost.

She tastes just like fucking heaven, as cliché as that may sound. She’s kissing me back, her arms are around my neck and I’m actually holding her off the floor. When I did that, I don’t know, but she’s in my arms and I don’t think it’s possible for me to stop kissing her. I don’t know which one of us moans at the pleasure of being hugged up to each other and having our tongues down each other’s throats but it happens. The laughter in the background brings me back to reality long enough to bring my lips away from hers.

“Who,� I say and for the first time look around the large condo and find my best friend, sprawled on the couch. Joanna and Barker are sitting across the coffee table with magazines all around them. And all three are staring at Vanessa and I cackling like fucking idiots. What the fuck is so funny? What the fuck are my friends doing here? I turn my line of vision to the woman that is still in my arms and look into her eyes. They are smiling at me and I’m so glad she missed me as much as I missed her, she doesn’t have to say anything, I see it. “Hi,� I say with a smile to match hers as she slides down the short distance to the floor.

“Hi,“ she says back and is about to say something else but my best friend is clearly a dick.

“Hey fucker!� Trace says when he stops laughing. “Took you long enough.�

“What are you doing here?� I ask as I watch Vanessa go around me to close the door. She looks at me with a shy smile and I have to smile at her before looking back at the giggly women on the floor. “What’s so funny?�

“What’s up Lago? Are you mad at me?� Barker asks from the floor and she gives me puppy dog eyes for effect. I’m still pissed that she got on the phone when all I wanted was to talk to Vanessa, so puppy dog eyes or not, I was still annoyed.

“He’s always mad at somebody,� Joanna volunteers with a chuckle. “We all know he’s not mad at Vanessa, that’s for sure.�

“I’m gonna be mad at you in a minute if you don’t shut up,� I say to her with a smirk and I can feel my cheeks burn. My friends are assholes embarrassing me like this. Why AM I embarrassed in the first place? I’m the man!

“You’re blushing, Mr. Timberlake,� Vanessa whispers in my ear and chills run down my spine.

“You’re such a pussy,� Trace says and Joanna smacks him on the stomach with a magazine. She hates when he uses that word.

“Why are they here?� I ask Vanessa and she laughs a bit before shrugging.

“They seem to be attached to Barker’s hip,� she says and Joanna gasps.

“Oh, so I see how you are,� Joanna says. “The minute Timberlake makes an appearance, you deny inviting us over? I see how it is.�

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Ms. Garcia,� Vanessa says and I have to stare at her because I’ve only heard this person over the phone. I like it. A lot. “I’ve been in my office the entire time. I didn’t even know you were here.�

“Liar,� Barker says with a shake of her head. “She just wants us gone because you’re here now,� Barker says to me and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Vanessa making a fist at her friend.

“Alright, then get out,� I say walking into the room further and meeting Trace in one of our half embrace gestures we do.

“We were just leaving anyway!� Barker says with an attitude but by the many conversations I’ve had with her as well, I can tell she’s joking.

“The hostility in this room is too much for me anyway,� Joanna says as she walks past me and I meet her halfway for a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome home, dork!�

“Thank you,� I say and I laugh when Barker walks past me rolling her eyes at me. She’s silly. Vanessa watches as intently as I do as my friends and her friend gather there stuff and walk out of the door. Just like the Staples button, that was easy. “That was easy.�

“I know you’d like to think you had any doing in them leaving but they were forewarned,� Vanessa says as she locks the door after our friends and leans against it.

“So you told them they should leave when I got here?� I ask as I approach her slowly.

“No,� she says and shakes her head. “I told them to get the hell out of my house when you got here, actually. Those were my exact words.�

“You were expecting me?� I say as I stand directly in front of her and our smiles are so big, if it was dark we’d light up the place. This is the cheese I was talking about.

“You can say that.�

“So now that I’m here, Vanessa,� I say as I play with a strand of her hair from the ponytail she has across her shoulder. “Why did you want to be alone?�

“Why not?� is what she says before I’m kissing her like I did when I entered the condo. I can’t believe how much I’ve been wanting this. How much I’ve missed her hand around the back of my head. And how good she smells and how much I want her.

“I’ve missed you,� I say or at least try to say when she stops kissing my lips and moves hers to my neck. Christ!

“Do you want to talk right now or do you want to go to my room?� she says as she places various kisses along my neck and up to my chin and stops at my lips. “Shut the fuck up,� she says and I let out a throaty laugh when she smiles at me.

“Lead the way, Ms. Martinez,� I say backing away from her and inviting her to walk past me. “The view is always better when I’m behind.�

“You’re a pervert, Mr. Timberlake,� she says but she walks her jean clad ass past me and I’m less than a foot behind her.

“You’re the one kicking people out of your house because I was coming, and you’re the one asking if I want to go to your room. Which is the dumbest question I’ve ever heard, by the way.�

“Dumber then calling me at two in the morning and asking me if I missed you?�

“Way dumber,� I say as I follow her into her room and close the door behind me, and I smile when my hands make contact with the exposed skin on her waist, making her jump. “Did you miss me?�

“That’s a dumb question, Mr. Timberlake,� she says and she makes the first move by wrapping her arms around my neck.

“You so did,� I say with a chuckle before I bring my lips to hers in a slowly and dare I say, passionate kiss. My body tightens at the contact and those three weeks were so worth the wait. She’s in my arms now and she’s warm and sweet and everything that I was missing.

We’re just standing in the entrance to her room, kissing each other and I am for one, happy just to be doing that. I can’t get enough of her. I knew I’d missed seeing her everyday when I spoke to her but I didn’t realize it had been this bad. I didn’t realize that kissing her makes everything else go away. It’s a scary feeling and I hope to the heavens that she’s feeling the same way because if I’m the only one feeling this way, well that would really suck.

“Justin?� she says when I slowly kiss down the side of her neck, making her moan.

“Hrmm,� I say because no way in hell am I stopping. She better talk fast.

“Will you make love to me?� she asks in a whisper and I kiss her so hard that I think I might have strained something. Will I make love to her?

Now, if that’s not the dumbest question I’ve heard, I don’t know what is.

“Dumb question, Ms. Martinez.�


To be continued…

Chapter Nineteen: Priorities

I said that out loud. Like, I really opened my mouth and asked Justin Timberlake if he would make love to me. Me. Vanessa Martinez.

I’m scared shitless.

Granted, Justin and I have already been intimate, physically. I know what I can expect when these layers of clothing disappear. I know that I can expect to be taken care of physically by the way he holds the side of my face when he kisses me. I know that he’s only thinking of me when he nibbles on the side of my neck making me shiver. Mr. Justin Timberlake knows what he’s doing.

But that’s not what is scaring the shit out of me.

The scary part is that as he deepens the kiss and makes a sound that comes deep within him, I’m catching feelings. And it nearly knocks me on my ass because this isn’t just physically intimate, it’s emotional. It’s that feeling that I don’t want him to ever stop kissing me this way. The feeling that I can do this forever without thinking of the consequences that may follow. The consequences that WILL follow. He’s like that vodka, raspberry and red bull drink, I can’t put down when I’m really in the mood to get trashed. I’m completely infatuated with this man.

And for the first time in a long time, it’s okay.

I don’t feel like I’m betraying everything that I stand for, anymore. I mean, I guess not as much. It’s not like I went after one of my clients, he started it. He initiated all of this and for god sakes, why would I have stopped him? He is absolutely insanely gorgeous. He’s sexy. He’s a full blown man. And I guess I knew that all along but didn’t want to actually admit it. And it scares me now that I’m not only thinking these things about him, I’m actually speaking them out loud. Of course not actually with the person but Barker and I have had some deep conversations about my feeling for this man.

I’m not by any means, vain, which most would find hard to believe. It’s not the physical attraction that has me infatuated with this man, although I’m not going to lie, it helps. Instead, it’s those conversations that I’ve had with him that have pulled me in. It was that feeling of comfort when his arms wrapped around me. It was the sincere words of encouragement that he whispered in my ear. It was the laughter that came out of me when he said something funny.

I, Vanessa Martinez, think Justin Timberlake is hilarious. Who would of thought that he would become a permanent fixture in my thoughts? I sure didn’t, which is why it’s overwhelmingly scary.

I’ve allowed myself to share things about myself that I’ve only shared with Barker. I found myself telling him about my childhood, my feelings and my family without hesitation. I’ve learned a lot about him as well because just as freely as I’ve talked, he’s done the same. I’ve learned that sometimes he’s lonely although he‘s surrounded by so many people. I’ve felt that way countless times and having someone like him admit to, made me feel normal. I’ve learned that he can’t go a day without hearing from his best friend and his mother. And I shared that I couldn’t possibly sleep without telling my best friend that I loved her. Justin Timberlake and I are the same.

While I had placed Mr. Timberlake in a category all in it’s self, the arrogant bastard category, I was wrong. I’ve learned that what others might say is arrogance, I see as confidence. There isn’t anything this man has wanted to do that he hasn’t done. I admire that and live by it, actually, because everything that I’ve wanted to do, I’ve done. At least professionally. Mr. Timberlake and I are the same.

When those phone calls came, I found myself smiling. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It’s a different kind of smile, compared to the permanent smile that I’ve come to master. It’s not the smile that photographers ask of me, it’ real. Barker says that I’m a different person now. She says that I look like a million bucks and that if she were Justin, she would lock me in a bank and let me collect interest. She’s often full of shit but she’s right. I haven’t felt this way in a long time and I’m enjoying it.

Except for the scary moments.

And those scary moments come at the end of my conversations with Justin Timberlake. When words are a the tip of my tongue and I catch myself. I’m catching myself at this very moment, as a matter of fact. I’m holding back like there’s no tomorrow because if I let those words slip, I don’t think I can come back from them.

“I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone this much,� he whispers as he places butterfly kisses down my neck. What is this man doing to me?

“I know,� I say because I don’t think I can actually say more than two words as his hands go around my waist and his right hand trails up the inside of my shirt and back down.

He looks down at me and I feel so small in his arms, so delicate. His eyes are shining like the bright superstar he is and I smile up at him. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss seeing that smile and I’m beside myself at the fact that it’s directed at only me. I can’t believe this.

“I have to ask you something,� he says as he backs me toward the my bed. The back of my knees hit the edge of the mattress and I land in a sitting position.

“And what’s that?� I ask as I crawl backwards onto my pillows and hope he follows. I’m not disappointed, because he removes the thin jacket he has on and I watch as he takes his shoes off. He crawls up the bed, a smile on his lips as he kisses the top of my foot.

“I have to be in New York tomorrow for the fashion show,� he says as he busies himself with the button and zipper of my jeans. He smiles as he traces his finger over the emblem of the button, a W and an R, and I never thought I’d be jealous of a stupid button. He’s hovering over me like an tiger creeps up on it’s prey and the look on his face is just…beautiful. I couldn’t describe it any other way. It’s a look of pure… I don’t know, it’s just real. And beautiful. “Would you go with me,� he asks as he dips his head to place a soft kiss right above the waist line of my underwear.

Am I supposed to answer when I can feel his breath so close to me? He slowly pulls down on the waist of my jeans and I swear I don’t even lift off the bed, but the jeans are at my ankles. He throws the jeans somewhere and his right hand traces up my leg. I shiver at the contact. What was the question?

“I’m sorry, what was the question?� I ask when he looks up at me and smiles at the goose bumps now present on my legs. This is serious.

“I haven’t asked yet, Ms. Martinez,� he says with a light chuckle as he teasingly kisses the center of the small strip of underwear. I’m going to kill him. “Mmm,� he says and I’ve never heard anything so sexy in my entire life. He kisses the previous spot he’d been, before kissing my belly button. His hand trails inside my shirt as I watch him. He’s not looking into my eyes but he’s concentrating on every inch he’s exposing of my body.

It’s so fucking hot in here.

I allow him to slide the tank top over my head and when my arms come down, his eyes meet mine. He smiles at me and he moves closer to me, bringing his lips against mine. He’s so delicious. “Will you come to New York with me,� he says as he trails his finger over the top of my exposed breast, then pulls his hand away to rest on the other side of me. Please take the bra off! Please! He’s hovering over me and I look up at him, wanting nothing than to feel his skin against mine. “…as my girlfriend?�

Girlfriend? Huh? What?

“What?� I ask looking at him with a confused expression on my face. Because I really am confused. What? He wants me to be his girlfriend?

“You heard me,� he says as he places a soft kiss on my stomach, then another on the top of my left breast. “There’s no possible way I can go through what I just went through these past three fucking weeks,� he stops the teasing of my breasts long enough to unclip the front clasp of my bra. “God, you’re beautiful,� he says as he takes one of my eager nipples into his mouth. He licks and sucks, so gentle, I swear I’m melting into the mattress. He pays homage to the other breast and I let out a soft moan that make him follow suit. “You’re mine, Vanessa.�

How can I argue with that? He can have me any time he wants if it means he’s going to make me feel like I’m feeling right now. He kisses me so hard that I forget where I’m at, who I am, and what planet we’re from. There’s so much emotion in that one kiss that my heart squeezes tight and those stupid words are being swallowed by him. My arms pull him closer to me by his t-shirt…

And then there’s a loud banging on my door.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?� Justin says sitting up on his legs and looking at the door and then back at me.

“VANESSA! Open the door!� It’s Barker and she sounds frantic. I jump out of the bed, as naked as I am, I don’t care. Something’s wrong with my sister. Something’s really wrong. I just know it.

“Barker?� I say as I unlock my door. When did Justin do that? I don’t have time to think about that as I swing the door open, my arm over my chest. My best friend has tears brimming in her eyes and she looks distraught. Her cell phone is in her hand and I just know something is terribly wrong. “What happened?�

“It’s dad, V,� she says and the tears that she’s been holding back come flowing down her cheeks. My heart stops. “He had a heart attack.�

And I think I just had one myself.

--------------------------------------------

When I was six years old, my father bought me my first goldfish. I remember being so excited about my new pet. I called him, Roger and he had a black spot on the top of it’s little head. He was adorable. I loved my dad so much for that gift. I remember the rules that my father set for me and my new pet. There was always a catch. He instructed me to feed the fish twice a day and not to ever feed it more than that because he could die. I couldn’t fathom the thought of Roger ever dying, so I took this very seriously, and for a few weeks I followed through with my promise.

My father saw how responsible I was being and how much attention I was paying to Roger, even when I had recitals, cheerleading and school work. He came to me one day and told me that if I kept doing a good job in taking care of Roger, that he would be happy to buy me another fish. I really wanted that because Roger would be alone when I wasn’t home. He needed a friend.

My six year old mind went running, thinking of ways to show my father that I could do it. Thinking of ways to get Roger a new friend. I came up with a plan al on my own, if I made Roger ‘healthy’ as in plump, my dad would see that I was doing an extremely good job. So I fed Roger twice in the morning and if I had time I fed him twice in the afternoon before I headed out to whatever extra curricular activities I had. And right before my father tucked me in for the night, I fed him.

I know now, that I got too anxious, too ambitious, too much. Needless to say, I didn’t get a second gold fish and Roger died three weeks later. My brother Brian, always told me that the goldfish died of ‘natural’ causes but I knew it had been me. I killed Roger.

I don’t know why this random thought keeps replaying in my head, but it’s there and I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking of a stupid fish.

Barker is sitting next to me and she sniffles every few minutes, making me aware of her presence. She feel asleep, shortly after we boarded the plane from the exhaustion caused by the endless tears streaming down her face. I can’t even console her. I’m a terrible person, I know it. She’s my everything and I can’t find it in me to comfort her. I just can’t.

The private jet we are currently occupying at a whopping seven thousand dollars a flight, starts to make it’s descent and the pressure in my ear increases. I haven’t said a word, I realize, as I look down at my watch and adjust the time to my current location. And the last words that I remember speaking was a very short goodbye to the man who has this private jet at his disposal.

Justin.

With everything that is stirring inside my head about my father, I find it incredibly odd that Justin Timberlake is still on my mind. The memory of him comforting Barker while I ran around getting our things ready my heart flutter. I didn’t say anything when he immediately made a phone call, quietly in my kitchen. He sat by Barker, his hand rubbing her back in comfort when he told me in almost a whisper that the jet was ready whenever I was. He himself drove us to the airport, in record time. He didn’t hesitate once as he walked with Barker and I through a crowded airport. When he looked me in the eyes before I followed Barker onto the jet, I just turned and said goodbye.

How awful.

It’s been hours. And I haven’t shed a tear. I went through enough psychology courses in school to know that I will eventually break down. I know that our unexpected trip to the Hamptons will come crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. But right now, I just can’t.

The silence between my best friend and I continues as the jet’s landing gear makes contact with the airstrip. And as we exit the large jet, onto the November weather of New York, the silence seems to get louder. My phone starts to ring as soon as I turn it on, but I’m in too much of a comatose state to actually answer it. The phone is chucked inside my bag as we make our way through security and onto the quiet airport. I don’t want to make nice with the airport staff as they carry our bags to the awaiting car. I don’t want to smile. I don’t want to cry.

I just want to see my father.

Brian is standing by the large SUV, waiting for us and Barker runs to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. My brother’s eyes are swollen from crying and Barker sobs on his shoulder as he hugs her tightly to his chest. The scene is heartbreaking and yet, I walk around them and get into the car without a word.

I can’t do anything.

“Vanessa,� my brother’s voice sound hoarse and I cringe at the sound. I know what he’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it. I know he’s worried about me right now but I don’t want to hear that everything will be alright. Nothing is alright. Nothing.

“Don’t, Brian,� is the only thing I say as the car starts heading out of the airport’s private airstrip. My line of vision is focused on the road ahead of us. I don’t say anything else. I just stare. My heart tightens inside my chest and it physically hurts to breath. I’m trying to will myself to calm down but my nerves are shot. I need to cry, but I can’t and the harder I try to, the more my chest hurts. I’m dying.


I just want to see my father.

The drive from the airport to the hospital seems like an eternity and by the time the car comes to a stop at the man entrance, I’m ready to jump out. My legs are working on overload as I walk around a few people standing outside, smoking cigarettes while their loved ones are inside the forsaken place. It’s really sad that people have no consideration. As if having a smoke is more important than staying by their loved one’s side. I hate people.

As soon as I step foot into the place I feel the coldness of it. The over-sterilized smell of metal, sheets and uniforms, makes me want to gag. I’ve hated hospitals since I was a child and haven’t stepped foot in one in I don’t know how long. The white walls creep me out and the attempt to make is colorful with pretty paintings, doesn’t help. It’s cold here. No color in the world will change what this place is. It’s a place where people come to die. Where people cry more often than laugh. It’s not where I want to be.

Brian and Barker walk closely behind me toward the reception desk, where I can tell is a woman that I’m not going to like very much. She’s rolling her eyes at someone who’s on the other end of the telephone conversation she’s having. Very professional.

“Excuse me,� I say when she hangs up the phone with a huff and mumbles something about people being stupid. She gives me a death glare and it takes a second for mine to appear. Why is this bitch choosing to fuck with me, right now?

“Can I help you?� she asks but it’s the last thing she wants to do.

“We’re here for Martinez, do we need to check in?� Brian asks stepping in front of me and blocking my view of the bitch who was about to get a piece of my mind.

“Oh,� the wench says and shakes her head. “No, you can go straight to the room. You don’t have to check in.�

“Thank you,� my brother says and I feel him give me a little punch as he places his hand on the small of my back. Barker is standing by the elevators waiting on us and she wipes at her eyes with the back of her sleeve in an attempt to stop crying. I really wish I could do that. I wish I could cry.

The silence returns as we travel up to the third floor of the creepy hospital. There’s a waiting room at the end of the busy hallway that Brian leads us through and Barker holds my hand as we walk. But I still don’t say anything. I’m a little taken aback by the amount of people in that small waiting room. I see faces that haven’t seen in a long time. Co-workers of my father’s, friends and family members that I haven’t seen in years, even though they live close by. My brother’s wife is tucked away in a corner with my niece in her arms and I find myself envying the peaceful look that graces my nieces face as she sleeps. I wished this was all a dream. A bad dream.

The silence in the room, creeps me out and the rush of everyone coming to our sides to extends hugs and sympathy, make me want to throw up. As I’m being hugged and kissed by people I could actually care less about a the moment, Roger comes rushing into my mind again. I want to see my father.

Escaping from the grasp of I don’t even know who, I make a beeline for the room across the hall. I know my father is in there and the longer I wait to see him, the more I seem to be choking on something. I can’t breath.

The room I enter suddenly goes pitch black and I can barely see in front of me. I wonder how this could possibly be a hospital while I’ve never been more scared. Shouldn’t I feel taken care of here? I can hear some kind of beeping coming from deep inside the room. The sound is loud in my ears, yet it fades away and comes back loudly in my ears. What is going on? I hear what sounds like curtain rods scrapping against metal and my vision blurs from the darkness. Then suddenly I can see my father on the hospital bed and it seems as though a light is being illuminated over his body. What in the heavens? There are tubes coming out of his mouth and he’s shaking uncontrollably. What’s happening to my father? I want to scream out but I can’t. And the beeping gets louder and louder and I can’t do anything. I can’t see around me. Nothing.

And then the light around my father’s shaking body is gone, and everything is getting dark again. What the fuck is up with this hospital?

I can feel two hands grabbing my shoulders and I’m not sure if they haven’t been there since I walked into this room. I’m confused. And I wish that stupid beeping would stop! Jesus Christ!!

“He’s flat lining! He’s flat lining!�

I don’t recognize that voice but I do recognize my mother’s cries from somewhere in the room. She’s crying hysterically and I feel my heart breaking. I can hear people moving around frantically and the peeping continues. I can’t fucking see!!

MOM!! I can’t reach her. But I can hear her yelling. What’s happening?

“He’s gone, I’m sorry. He’s gone,� it’s that voice again and my mother’s cries increase. “Get them out of here!!�

I don’t know who’s touching me. I don’t know who’s around me. But I do know what those words mean.

My father is the one that’s gone.

My father is dead and I never, ever made him proud.

And it turns out that the darkness was me.

Fainting.

------------------------------------------------




Author’s note: Don’t kill me, girls! This was hard to get out but please trust me that it’s all worth the frustration. I love ya’ll!


AND THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE VOTES!! Check out the awards page!

Chapter Twenty: Revelations

Two Days Later
The Hamptons

I haven’t been to one of these in God knows how long.

I often wonder why we submit ourselves to all of this. Why the best compliments come when they’re gone. Why is it that when someone is gone we contemplate on the things that person never got to do? Instead of celebrating their life and the things that they did accomplish on this earth.

I hate mourning.

And I hate the way I’m feeling.

From where I’m sitting, in the massive den of the Martinez home, I can see her. And when she senses that I’m looking at her, she glances over but turns to continue her conversation. It’s not a discourteous glance that she gives me but I still can’t stop the ache in my chest from kicking my ass.

I’m tired.

Emotionally.

The past couple of days have been filled with all sorts of excitement for me and everyone around, for that matter. And by excitement I’m not referring to it all being good. Yes, I had a good show at the Victoria Secret event but somehow it didn’t matter. My mind had been on other things. I found out through the grapevine, also know as backstage, that both Vanessa and her best friend were scheduled to be a part of that show. That is, of course before all of this happened, and Vanessa was snatched right out of my hands. Again.

It kills me that at a time like this, I’m being selfish. I’m going to hell. And all I kept thinking about was that I wanted her there with me. During the show all I kept thinking about was her and my question. I missed my cue even, forgetting to flirt with one of the models as she walked down the runway. I doubt anyone noticed, but I did and so did Marty. I heard about it for about an hour before I told him to shut the fuck up. But, I think she would have said yes to my question. I’m positive she would have. And now? Well now, that isn’t important anymore.

What is important is that Vanessa isn’t doing to well. She’s not walking around with swollen eyes like everyone else in this place, including Johnny. No, she’s completely the opposite. Her demeanor gives off the vibe that she’s in control. That arranging and taking care of the guest at her family’s home is the only thing on her mind. But I know she’s full of it, right now. I know that the smile that she gives her aunt, whom she’s speaking with, isn’t real. I mean she’s not fucking laughing and having a good time, like she’s at a fucking party. But she is in super robot mode. She has been since I arrived here a few hours ago.

“I’m worried about her,� Barker says from where she‘s sitting next to me, eyes swollen and not a hint of make-up on her face. I turn to look at her and she shakes her head. “Has she said anything to you?�

“No,� she really hasn’t said much to me other than to thank me for coming but even then, I think it was a general greeting directed at both, Johnny and I. I’ve been sitting here since we arrived from the cemetery a little over an hour ago thinking of ways to talk to her without upsetting her in the process. This sucks. A lot. “Not really.�

“Do you know that she walked into the hospital room when dad had another heart attack? She fainted and it took hours for her to wake up. She scared the hell out of us,� she says and I can hear her choke back on her tears and another lone tear falls down her cheek.

“Yes, I heard,� is the only thing I can say and because I don’t know what else to do, I reach over and put my arm over her shoulder. I feel awfully sad. “I’m so sorry, Barker.�

“You know, you’re really good to have taken time to come. I know she appreciates it, even if she’s not showing it. I just don’t think she’s okay right now. But she really does. You understand, right?�

“I don’t know your friend, your sister, that well but yeah, I understand.�

“She’s been running around getting all of this arranged and all of us have been standing back waiting for all of this to hit her. Like really hit her, ya know? It hasn’t happened and I’m worried that if it doesn’t, something bad will happen,� she smoothes down the black dress she has on and now has a determined expression on her face. She looks almost angry as she looks in the direction of Vanessa and it’s quite intimidating. The look reminds me of Vanessa and I can see why these two women get along so well. Barker’s a toned down replica of her friend and I‘m thankful Vanessa has her in her life. Everyone should have a friend like this. I thank the heavens for Trace every day of my life. This is a true friend. “In all honesty, she’s pissing me off.�

“I’m sorry,� I say because I really am at a loss for words. I don’t want to say the wrong thing an I don’t want to offend any members of the family by whisking Vanessa away somewhere. I honestly don’t even want to be here, not when I’m just another celebrity sitting around at a CEO’s funeral.

And celebrities there are, all over the place. I can see Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony across the room talking quietly to one of Vanessa’s cousins. I don’t remember all the relatives names because Barker pointed them all out in a matter of five seconds before she sat here with me. And on the way back to the house I saw Enrique Iglesias pay his respects to Vanessa and her brother. Vanessa’s father was well respected as far as I can tell, from the various guests that I’ve seen and talked to. In that aspect of this whole ordeal, I don’t feel weird being here because I’m not the only so called celebrity gracing the grounds of the Martinez Estate and the paparazzi outside isn’t all my fault.

I don’t want to be here.

What I do want is to be the one to comfort Vanessa. I want to hug her and tell her that everything will be alright even though I know it probably won’t be for a long time. I want to be there and she’s not letting me. I can see the wall stacking up around her and I just can’t let that happen. I’ve seen how people become when someone in their lives passes away. I’ve seen the repercussion of fighting the pain. And I thank God that I haven’t had to personally go through it. But I’ve seen it.

And I still don’t want to be here.

“Brian is worried about her too, hell, we all are. We’ve never seen her like this. We’ve seen her set things aside and leave her emotions at the door, plenty of times, it’s what she does. But she always talks to me about everything. She always comes out of things with her head held high. And this is just different. And while it’s understandable, our dad died. I can’t help but think that she’s being selfish. What about the rest of us? What about those of us who are clearly hurting? Mom needs her too, you know? She’s closed off. And do you want to know something else?�

“What’s that,� I know she’s probably going to tell me anyway, whether I answered or not. And I get the feeling she’s talking more to herself than to me. Poor girl.

“She hasn’t cried,� she says and she looks up from where she’s been looking at her lap this entire time. “Not once.�

Somehow, I knew that. I don’t know how I did, but I got the vibe that she hasn’t . I look up to look at Vanessa again and she’s moved to talk to Jennifer and Marc and she looks perfect. I’ve seen her look exceptionally gorgeous before but my earlier thoughts about her looking different come to light. It’s like a shield built around her and while she’s smiling and carrying on with conversations, both Barker and I, see the perfect stone statue she‘s become.

“Would you like something to drink? I’m sorry we haven’t been better hosts. I can get you something,� she says standing from the sofa. She smiles down at me and I stand shaking my head.

“No, it’s okay, Barker. I think I’m going to find Johnny and head back to the hotel,� I say and she smiles sadly and gives me a hug that I return. I feel really bad. “I’m sure she’ll talk to you soon, Barker, don’t worry.�

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just kind of a mess. I didn’t mean to talk so much,� she apologizes with a sad smile again. “Thank you for coming, really. I know she hasn’t really shown that, but she’s glad you came, really.�

“You don’t have to do that, Barker, it’s okay.�

“I don’t have to do what? Apologize for her?�

“Yeah, I understand. Don’t worry yourself over it, okay?�

“She loves you, do you know that?�

“What?� I wasn’t expecting her to say that and when I look at her with wide eyes, she smiles. It’s not a sad smile this time, it reaches her eyes and she looks happy when she speaks to me again.

“I know her inside out, Justin. And I just know that she does even though she hasn’t openly admitted it to me. I’m not too worried about her talking to me. Only because I know she’ll talk to you. So you don’t go worrying about her not talking to you right now. She will. I know she will.�

“She’s lucky to have you, Barker,� I say and I kiss her cheek before giving her another short hug. “Trace sends his respects and is sorry he couldn’t make it.�

“I know, he called,� she says before thanking me again and walking away.

Well this is just great. Just when I thought I had all my ducks in a row, Ms. Barker throws a wrench into the whole operation. I mean sure I knew that what Vanessa and I have, what we’ve established these past few months was something. And to be quite honest that something was better left at that, just something. I’m just not ready for that something to be SOMETHING. Even when I know, I’m sure, that it’s already there. I think I’ve been in love with her since the day I met her. Great timing, Timberlake.

I have to walk around and stop to say hello to a few people before I finally spot Johnny across the room. He’s actually in a corner talking to Vanessa and my manager looks so sad stricken, it breaks my heart. I never knew that when he mentioned his longtime friend in random conversations that he was speaking of Raul Martinez. Johnny drove us crazy talking about how things should be done in order to succeed and how he’d learned from his brother, he’d always said. On the flight here, he told me Mr. Martinez meant the world to him. He cried. I never ever imagined that Johnny would cry. Ever.

He went on and on about Vanessa’s father and how great he was throughout the years during our flight. And that wasn’t so bad to hear until Johnny compared his friendship with mine and Trace’s. He painted the picture so clearly for me, I actually felt the tears well up in my eyes. What if Trace died, God forbid, he said. And God, my heart stopped. I can’t even imagine. I love Trace so much, I’d kill him if he ever died. I know that doesn’t make sense but it makes sense to me. I’d be crushed. Johnny’s crushed. He’s probably the reason I’m a little sadder now.

“Hey,� I say when I reach them and Vanessa looks at me briefly before looking back at Johnny.

“I will try to call you later, Uncle Johnny. Thank you for coming. Both of you.� she says and she’s actually about to walk away. Now, I want to cry.

“Wait, hold on,� I say and I’m holding onto her arm without even thinking. She’s looking elsewhere like the thought of looking at me will kill her or something. What’s up with that? “Can I talk to you for a minute?�

“I’m heading out to the hotel, Justin. I need to get out of these clothes and I’ll be back a little later,� Johnny says and he looks at my hand holding onto Vanessa’s arm for a moment then looks back at me. Suddenly I realize that I haven’t really clued him in to what’s been going on with Vanessa and I. I feel guilty for some reason. I should have told him that my coming here wasn’t just to pay respects to the Martinez family as a whole. I should have told him I was here for the woman standing stock still in front of us. I feel like shit. Nice, Timberlake! “I’ll send Eric back for you.�

“Okay, thanks Johnny,� I say and Vanessa hasn’t moved from the spot that she’s in and hasn’t tried to move my hand from her arm. I can feel the tremors from the shakes that are going through her body. She doesn’t look one bit affected by her father’s death but as cheesy as it sounds, I can feel it in the touch.

“What’s up?� she says trying to remain as cool as she can. She doesn’t look directly into my eyes but at least she turns to face me.

“Is there somewhere we can go?� I ask and when she turns and walks away I’m assuming she wants me to follow, so I do.

There’s a long hallway leading to what I’m guessing is the kitchen. My guess is confirmed and luckily she doesn’t pick the crowded kitchen as the place to talk because I’d hate having to talk in front of fifty caterers. I don’t even know what the hell I’m going to say but at least the opportunity to have her to myself is near. I’m going to hell for being so selfish.

She opens a door on the far end of the kitchen and she turns to let me walk past her into the room but she doesn’t really look at me. I want to hug her and kiss her and I want to comfort her like I did before but I can’t. I can’t because the situation has been raised a few million notches. Her father, the reason she’s the person that she is, is dead. And it’s not like that’s not a big enough notch, it is a big one. But well I love her and that ladies and gentlemen, is a HUGE notch, for ME.

What am I supposed to do now?

I’ve been in love before, I believe I have. I know that feeling at the pit of my stomach is the anticipation of knowing someone loves you back. In the past, I must admit that it took a while before I fell in love with someone. I was dating Britney for almost a year before I realized that I couldn’t breath without her. With Cameron I’m not so sure that I ever came to that point. It’s a shitty thing to say but it’s the truth I accept, as I look at Vanessa. I loved Cameron, that’s for sure, but God, I’ve never felt this feeling at that pit of my stomach before. At least not since Britney and that must fucking mean something. That has to be good. Because on top of all the bad shit that is surrounding us at this moment, the mourning, I still have the feeling. I can’t set it aside and while it’s scaring the hell out of me, I really don’t want to ignore it.

I love this woman.

“Did you get something to eat?� Is the first thing that she says as she closes the door behind her and looks up at me. “I can get you something.�

“I’m fine, Vanessa, thank you,� I say as I stand behind a leather sofa in what I now realize is her father’s office. I don’t know how I can tell, but the room smells masculine and rich. It’s definitely her father’s office. She walks further into the room, touching the edge of the bookshelves against the wall as if she’s remembering something.

“I wasn’t allowed to come in here when I was a kid,� she says an she looks around the room. “It seemed so much bigger then.�

“It’s a nice place,� I say because whatever she’s choosing to share right now has got to be better than me going back to the hotel, alone.

“My father always told me that this office was for business. That I had to learn about things before I could come in here,� she looks up at me and she smiles sadly and shakes her head. “I’ve never been in here.�

“Let’s go somewhere else,� I say because I can tell being in the room is making her upset.

“It’s alright, Justin,� she says turning to glance around the room. “How was I ever supposed to know what he meant by things? I still don’t, I‘m a failure.�

“Don’t do this to yourself, Vanessa,� I say as I walk around the sofa and step closer to her. She’s looking out into the estate’s gardens and the sun shining in creates a glow around her. She’s astonishing, even when she’s breaking down.

“I have to go,� she says turning and I’m right behind her, the movement places her in my arms. She doesn’t look into my eyes but she lets me put my arms around her. I’ve been waiting for this too long. Her arms come up to wrap around my neck and I squeeze her so hard that I think I might break her. She hugs me back and I can feel her whole body shake. She needs to let it out, but I can feel the restraint. “I have to go.�

“Just let me do this, okay?� I say against her ear and she rests her head on my shoulder. “What’s the rush?�

“I have to get out of here,� she whispers and although the words are sad, I know she’s not crying. She needs to cry because at this point, I’m ready to cry for her.

“Where do you want to go?� I say caressing the waves of curls on her hair. She lifts her head and looks up at me.

“Anywhere but here,� she says and backs away a bit from me to turn to look outside the windows again. My arms stay at her waist and I bring her close to me.

“Will you take me with you?� I whisper in her ear and she leans more towards my chest. My heart aches for her.

“Why did you come, why are you here?� she asks in a whisper and the question surprisingly doesn’t shock me into a silent stupor. And I know the answer the second it’s asked.

Because I love you.

“Because I care about you.� Yes, that’s what I said instead. She turned and gave me hug before we were out of that office and announcing that we were leaving to everyone before I could fucking blink.

-------------

I know how I feel about Vanessa. In fact, I’m one hundred percent sure of how I feel but I’m no fool. She’s going through a rough time in her life. I wasn’t about to throw yet another bomb on her and tell her that I loved her. How inconsiderate would that have been? Her father just died and I’m going to put myself on a chopping block? Just for laugh and giggles?

I think the fuck not.

I mean, I know that my feelings are there and I’m pretty sure she loves me back. And I know it’s not my selfish ass thinking all about me and my feelings. I know she does but I’m not putting myself out there to get fucked up. She could very well tell me to fuck myself and that me loving her isn’t shit compared to the feelings she’s having about her father’s passing. She’d be right. I wasn’t going there. So what did I say? I said I was there because I cared about her and was worried about her. It wasn’t a lie, I do care about her and I am worried about her. Why rush it?

I’m an idiot.

She’s the one that recommended that we get out of town but I’m the one feeling guilty. I feel like her family thinks I’m stealing her and I almost tell her that she should stay and be with her mother and the rest of the family. But I don’t. I’m a selfish prick and I just want to be alone with her. I’m still not going to tell her that I love her, it’s not the right time. AT ALL. But I’m hoping that I can show her. Show her that I’m here for her and that I want to be here for a while.

I’m such a fucking pussy.

I hate when I get like this. When my stomach is in knots and I act like a little bitch. The various lookdowns I get from the family for snatching the host of the service doesn’t really help. I’m on edge and I’m not going to be of any help to Vanessa if I don’t chill the fuck out. Clear your fucking head, Timberlake!

I’m standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor of the mansion, waiting patiently for the host. Barker is sitting on one of the steps with her brother Brian, who keeps looking at me like he’s expecting some type of performance from me. What the fuck?

“I don’t know you,� he says and his tone is serious, so I assume he‘s talking to me. “But she seems to trust you and I’m going to take that as a good sign. She doesn’t trust anyone.�

“Thank you,� I say, because I could either take it as a compliment or a jab and considering we’re at his father’s funeral service, I’ll go with the latter. I take a deep breath because I know that he’s also going through some shit. I swear at any other event I’d tell him to chill the fuck out and drop the fucking attitude but his dad just fucking died. His sister is bouncing with a Hollywood star during the funeral service and his other sister is a hot mess. It‘s understandable, but shit, chill out. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.�

“Do you want me to get her?� Barker asks.

“No, it’s alright,� I say and take another glance toward the top of the stairs where Vanessa disappeared to. “I can wait.�

“Do you know where you’re going?� Barker asks and I have no clue where it is that Vanessa wants to go, so now I feel guilty that I can‘t answer that question. Vanessa just said she wanted to leave and hell, I agreed.

“I don’t know yet,� I say shaking my head. “We’ll figure it out.�

“Just call and check in whenever you get to your destination, okay?� Brian interjects. “You don’t have to tell us where you’re at, just call.�

“Will do,� I say before Vanessa appears at the top of the stairs with a small travel bag and her cell phone attached to her ear.

“I can be there Thursday afternoon,� she says to the person on the phone as she makes her way down the stairs. She still looks entirely too carefree and it tears me up a bit to see her building that wall around herself. “Sure, no problem.�

“Is everything okay?� Brian asks his sister as he takes her bag and walks down the rest of the stairs with Barker in toe.

“Everything’s fine,� Vanessa says before looking at me and then back at her siblings. “Mom fell asleep but I don’t know for how long this time. Will you make sure that she’s taken care of when she wakes up, Brian?�

“Of course,� Brian says and it dawns on me that Vanessa has taken the reigns of this family. She has in some sense, become her father. It makes sense the way she’s been acting and makes things a little clearer. This entire family depended on her father and now, she seems to take the lead. Her father would have never shown weakness, he would have walked around here taking care of everything. And Vanessa is doing just that. She tells Barker what needs to be done and both Brian and her listen intently to what Vanessa is saying.

She’s amazing.

“We should go,� she says to me and takes her bag from Brian’s hand before hugging him and telling him that everything will be okay. How can this woman be the rock of the family yet be breaking down? I can see it. I don’t know how they can’t, it’s evident. Vanessa is a bigger mess than they are and it kind of angers me that they are letting her get away with it. They’re ignoring it.

“Remember what I told you, Justin,� Barker says as she hugs me goodbye and I smile at her before shaking Brian’s hand.

Outside there’s a crowd of men with cameras and a million and two reporters. A lot of them shout my name as Eric tries to keep them at a distance and I feel horrible that Vanessa has to go through this. It baffles me that at a gathering after a funeral of a highly respected CEO, the fuckers are still wanting a piece of ME. Who cares about me! Fuck! Raul Martinez is dead!! This shit never ends for me. I feel shitty.

It’s not until we’re inside the limo and halfway to the airport that I can see Vanessa finally relax. She’s hasn’t said anything to me but the minute we were inside the limo, her head was resting on my shoulder. I can feel the sadness dripping from the deep sighs she lets out. I don’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry about that,� I tell her, finally breaking the silence between us.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,� she says and she’s absentmindedly playing with my tie.

“Are you?�

“Am I what?� she asks lifting her head to look at me.

“Are you fine?� I ask and she returns her head to my shoulder. I know it’s because she’s going to lie and she knows that I’ll be able to tell.

“I will be,� she says. “Where are we going?�

“Wherever you want to go, Vanessa,� I say kissing her forehead and gently rubbing my hand on her back.

“Can we just go back to your place?� she asks and I wasn’t really expecting her to want to go home but as long as I get to be with her, I don’t care where we go.

“Home, it is then.�

----------------

Los Angeles

It’s a little past midnight when Eric pulls into the driveway of my house and I’m thankful that we’re home. Vanessa is asleep in my arms due to the fact that because of the last minute flight, we arrived at an airport two hours away. She’s snuggles against my side and because I don’t want to disturb the only sleep she’s gotten in two days, I let the cramp on my leg, pass without moving.

It was really quiet for the first hour of the flight and the silence was somewhat okay for the time being. I know she’s struggling with a lot of shit and her head must be spinning so I didn’t want to push her to talk to me if she wasn’t ready. On the other hand I wanted to shake her and tell her that she wasn’t alone. That would be the selfish lovesick bastard side of me, no doubt. I’ve been having those three little words at the tip of my lips since we left the Hamptons, and well that can fuck me up. I’ve always been able to just say what I have on my mind without worrying too much of the next m other fucker’s thoughts on the subject. it’s a mother fucking free country and if I want to say something, I will. I wouldn’t have gotten this far in my career if I’d sat back like a little bitch and took it. Fuck that! But now, well now I am a little bitch and it matters to me what the next person’s thoughts are because that person is Vanessa. And she matters. But I can’t put myself out there right now, not now. So I hoped that she would start talking and I would keep my words to myself. Luckily I didn’t have to ask her to talk to me. She talked on her own.

And she talked about her father surprisingly.

Most people that are going through a tough time dealing with the death of a family member are more than likely occupying themselves with other things. Things like work and other family members so that they don’t have to admit that person is gone. But not Vanessa. Vanessa talked nonstop about her father for four hours. And I swear I’ve never heard more stories about one single person in my entire life.

I learned a lot of shit about Raul Martinez that I’m not sure I’m supposed to know. But Vanessa was talking, so I listened because any type of release she opts for is good. I learned that when Vanessa was thirteen, she went on a camping trip with her dad and had the most amazing time with him. I learned that while he was strict with her, she got away with a lot more things than her brother, Brian, ever did. She was daddy’s princess for a long time, she said. And while I wondered what happened to that close relationship, I didn’t ask. I know the basics of it, what Vanessa told me about her college years but I don’t know the logistics of it all. I didn’t ask.

I was just glad that she was talking.

She wasn’t really talking to me, I must admit. I know that I was the one she was snuggled against and talking to, physically. But it was like she was just choosing to remember all the good things her father did for her. Almost like she was feeling guilty about her feelings. I think she loved her father, scratch that, I know she loved her father but in some ways, in things that she said, I think she’s still struggling with her emotions. Like I thought I heard her sniffle, like she was crying but she kept talking and when I told her about some of my own stories of Johnny speaking about her father, she looked up at me and no tears were present.

Most of the time, I don’t want to see a woman cry. I hate that shit with a passion, trust me. It’s just so fucking wrong to see a woman cry and not have your heart break. But like I said most of the time, because I can tell you that when Britney cried at the end of our relationship, I was so fucking sick of crying myself, that I didn’t give a damn. Where do you think Cry Me A River came from? Seriously.

The sound of the front gates opening is loud enough to make Vanessa raise her head from my chest.

“Are we here?� she asks and I smile at the loud yawn that she let’s out.

“Nice nap?� I ask when she sits up and tries to fix the wrinkled suit jacket she has on.

“Wow, I didn’t realize how sleepy I was,� she says as Eric pulls the car right into the garage. I silently thank him when he looks back through the rearview mirrors. The last thing I want right now is to see the flashing lights coming from the outskirts of my property. “I’m sorry.�

“For what? You‘re tired. We both are,� I say with a smile as I open the door. “Come on, let’s go to bed.�

“Is anyone home?� she asks as she opens the door on her side and steps out of the car.

“Do you know if Rachel left?� I ask Eric who is now getting our bags from the back of the car.

“I believe she said she was leaving around seven, so I think Mike is here by himself,� Eric says as I offer to take the bags from his hands.

“Alright,� I say as I watch Vanessa look through her purse and retrieving her cell phone. “You ready?�

“Yeah,� she says and she smiles a little at Eric. “I’m sorry you had to drive all the way from San Diego.�

“Don’t be,� Eric says with a chuckle. “I’ve had the rock star here, asked to be driven to farther places. Two hours from San Diego is nothing.�

“Shut up, Eric,� I say before I shake my head and walk around the car to the door that will lead into my house. “Go home.�

“Will do,� Eric says with a salute and a waive of his middle finger. Vanessa laughs a little but it still makes me wonder why I put up with the lack of respect.

“And take Mike with you,� I say over my shoulder as we walk into the kitchen. Vanessa is right behind me and I know it’s not the right time but I’m dying to kiss her.

I mean, I’m not a fucking prick, I’m not trying to fuck or anything. I just want to be alone with her. Just the two of us, well except for Brennen and Buckley who come charging at us from wherever the hell they were at. I’m hoping to God that Mike didn’t have them in the white living room but I would bet a hundred fucking dollars that they were.

“Hey boys,� Vanessa says and because I’m trying to figure out where the dogs were coming from, the right or the left of the foyer, I didn’t realize that the dogs bypassed me. Those fuckers went straight to the female in the room. Who the fuck buys their food?

“Nice,� I say and I roll my eyes playfully at Vanessa as she lets the dogs lick the shit out her face. It makes me smile to see the commotion in front of me. They love her. Not like I’m starting to, but they love her either way.

“Don’t be jealous, Mr. Timberlake,� she says and I chuckle because it’s the first time she’s used a joking tone of voice.

“First you steal my every thought,� I say as I drop the bags on the floor and watch Eric go around them to fetch Mike. “Then my dogs. What’s next, Ms. Martinez?� I want to tell her that I already know what it is. I want to tell her that she stole my heart, but again it’s not the right time.

“I don’t have to steal anything,� she says giving Brennen a pat on the head. “People just give me stuff, it’s a gift.�

“Is that right?�

“That’s right,� she says standing from the crouched position she’s in. You can actually see the disappointment in the dogs eyes as they sit there and stare at her. It’s amazing. The dogs are clearly crazy about her and boy do I know how they feel. “But I will steal some food, Mr. Timberlake.�

“Are you hungry?� I ask and suddenly I realize that I’m starving myself.

“A little,� she says and when Mike and Eric appear in the kitchen she looks up to smile politely at them.

“I’m sorry about your loss.� Mike says genuinely.

“Thank you,� Vanessa says and moves to sit on one of the stools by the kitchen island.

“We’re out of here,� Eric says with a yawn. “No funny business, Justin.�

“Now, why would you say that,� I don’t know why he thinks I would actually leave my house when my girl is home with me. My girl. Yeah, that sounds good. “I’m not going anywhere.�

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Mr. Timberlake doesn’t go club hopping alone like he’s known to do. He‘s been advised by his people n regards to that. He has good public relations people, you know.� Vanessa says and I’m surprised by her joke.

“The best,� I say with a chuckle. “Now, get out of my house.�

“You two have a good night,� Eric says heading toward the door that Mike is already standing by. “Again, I’m really sorry for your loss, Ms. Martinez.�

“Thank you,� Vanessa says and she smiles at him before returning her attention to Buckley.

“Okay,� I have no idea what’s in the refrigerator in my house and I’m hoping that Rachel picked up some food before she left to meet Trace in wherever the fuck country he’s at this week. Luckily for Rachel and her job, there is food in the refrigerator. Unlucky for me, everything needs to be cooked in some form. “There’s all kinds of frozen stuff but I’m not sure that I want to wait. How about a sandwich?�

“Perfect,� Vanessa says and when I turn around she’s standing by the kitchen island looking at me.

“I know what you mean,� I say and smile at her. I don’t even think about it twice, I lean over the kitchen island and I kiss her lips softly before smiling and turning to get the lunchmeat out of the fridge.

“How are things with the restaurant?� she asks and I’m a little surprised because we haven’t really talked about me in the last few hours. I hadn’t mind at all.

“Good,� I say as I place slices of bread on plates and open the mayonnaise jar. “I decided on a name and I hired that chef you liked.�

“Good,� she says and she picks up a piece of cheese and bites a piece of before folding it into layers. “What name did you pick?�

“Southern Hospitality,� she eats the rest of the cheese and shakes her head in approval.

“Sounds good,� she says with a smile. “I heard the Victoria Secret show was awesome, by the way.�

“It was okay,� I shrug.

“Just okay?�

“I had other things on my mind,� I tell her looking up from my sandwich making process. “I would have enjoyed performing while you were on stage, that’s for sure.�

“Would that have been because I would have been half naked? And how do you know I was supposed to be there?� she asks curiously. “It was supposed to be a surprise.�

“Just you being there would have made a difference, Vanessa,� I say and I’m suddenly shy. I’m a moron. “You could have been backstage the entire time and it would still have made a difference, trust me. And word travels fast in that backstage area.�

“Big mouths and small brains,� she says and I look at her curiously.

“What?�

“Those models,� she says with a serious tone. “I hate them.�

“You hate models? Seriously?� I ask with a chuckle. “Contradict yourself much?�

“Shut up, I’m not like them,� she says biting into the sandwich that I place in front of her. I circle around the island and sit on the stool net to hers before she does the same.

“You look like one,� I say taking a bite of my sandwich and thinking I should have made myself two of them.

“Maybe,� she says drinking a little of water from the bottles I took out of the refrigerator. “But I’m not brain dead like sixty percent of them.�

“I was teasing, V,� I say with a big smile.

“I know,� she says shaking her head. We eat in silence for a few seconds before she speaks again. “Thank you.�

“It’s just a sandwich,� I say and she looks at me.

“Not for the sandwich,� she says with a small smile.

“I know,� I know she’s thanking me for just being there but I’m the one that should be thanking her. I should be the one thanking her for allowing me to get to know her. I should be thanking her for allowing me to fall in love with her. I should be thanking her for coming to my house with me.

“I need a bath,� she says randomly. “Baths are my relaxation times. I haven’t had much of those in a few days. Tell me you have a tub and not just a shower.�

“I’ll tell you something better,� I say finishing my sandwich as I watch her eat hers. “I just had a new Jacuzzi installed last week. Hasn’t even been used yet. You’re more than welcome to have the honors.�

“Oh, thank God,� she says and she actually sounds relieved. I smile.

“When you’re finished with that we can go up and set the water for you.�

“Will you take one with me?�

“Sure. Whatever you want, Vanessa.� I say as I finally get some attention from the dogs I hand picked from the litter. Traitors!

“Lead the way,� she says as she finishes her sandwich and stands.

“Let me put these guys in their room, I’ll be right back,� I say before standing and calling the dogs to follow me. It takes a few calls from me, the last one being stern, for them to follow. She’ll be here in the morning guys! Geez! “Jacuzzi time,� I say when I return a few seconds later and she’s standing in the middle of the foyer with her Blackberry in her hand.

“Battery died,� she says holding it up and the cord she has in her other hand.

“Come on, let’s get you hooked up,� I say taking the Blackberry and cord from her hands. I set the alarm at the bottom of the stairs and we make it up to the second floor as the lights dim.

I have her phone charging and the water running minutes later. When I return upstairs from getting the travel bags I forgot to get the first time, Vanessa is in the bathroom and she’s lighting the million and one candles in there.

“Have you even used these yet?� she asks about the candles as she walks around the large bathroom lighting them with one of those long ass matches Rachel got.

“First time,� I shrug. “I haven’t had much time at home lately.�

“That’s right, I’m sorry,� she says shaking her head as if she’d said something stupid.

“Looks nice in here,� I say admiring the lighting effect the candles bring to the room. It’s really relaxing looking, needless to say. Romantic, maybe. That is if I was even going that route, which I’m not cause I’m not an ass like that. Her father died, Timberlake. I keep telling myself that.

And I continued telling myself that over and over again when she strips herself out of her clothes. She doesn’t once look at me as she does, but I am sure looking at her because I’m a man and I could. And because I don’t want to look like an ass standing there with her bag in my hand, I put the bag down and pull my shirt over my head.

She’s not looking at me while I get undressed and I’m grateful because if she looks at me, I’m not guaranteeing that she won’t get an eye full of hard dick. Absolutely no guarantee. I’m also glad that the foam from the bubble bath she decided to put in there cover everything under the water. I can see her shoulders and her bent knees when I step into the large tub across from her. That’s it.

“I have to meet with my dad’s lawyer on Thursday,� she says when I’m settle comfortably in the tub. And holy shit does the water feels good. I love this shit.

“In New York?� I ask, reaching for her foot under the water.

“Here,� she says and she allows me to place her foot on my chest while I rub it with enough pressure to make her eyes close. “That feels good.�

“Good,� I say making circular motions on the arch of her foot. “Do you know what the meeting’s about?�

“The will mostly,� she says and her eyes remain closed and I swear she’s the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen. I love her. “Some other things too.�

“Oh,� I say as I start the same process on her other foot. “Will you like me to come with you?�

“If you don’t mind,� she says opening her eyes to look at me. I can tell it embarrasses her to actually need someone but it tugs at my heart that she’s choosing me. “I know you have a lot to do.�

“I want to,� I say sincerely because I want to be with her. Any chance I get. Its amazing what a few weeks of telephone conversations can do to someone’s heart. I’m a sucker for her and we’ve only had sex once. That is, if you can call what we did sex. I mean, it was but it was too short, entirely too short. Usually for me to start feeling remotely close to how I feel for Vanessa, we would have gotten down a few hundred times by now. But no, I’m here. I love her. “I really do.�

“You’re not such an asshole, Mr. Timberlake,� she says and I chuckle. She chuckles a bit and flicks bubbles on me, playfully.

“You’re not such an bitch, Ms. Martinez,� I say doing the same with the bubbles. We talk about random things for a long time before the bubbles start to die down and the water isn’t as hot as it used to be. “You ready for bed yet?�

“Yeah,� she says retying the strands of hair on the ponytail on her head. “I need to replace my tub with one of these at my place.�

“Well if I have anything to do with it, you’ll be here enough to not need one at your place,� I say as I lift myself from the tub, water splashing everywhere. I’m careful not to bust my ass on the slippery wet floor as I reach for a towel. Vanessa stays in the tub watching me as I dry myself off a bit before wrapping the towel around my waist. “You’re going to turn into a prune if you don’t get out.�

“I think I’m already there,� she says as she stands carefully in the tub and looks at her fingers.

I help her step out of the tub and without thinking I start to dry her off with the spare towel in my hand. I’m not trying to be perverted, I swear. I just want her to relax because it’s what she needs. So if I could do things for her, I will. I don’t linger in areas on her hot ass body or anything, I simply dry her as best as I can. As quickly as I can without giving her a towel burn. When I look up at her from where I’m drying her legs a bit, she’s staring down at me and I know I’m in trouble.

I stop the movement of my hand with the towel and I stand up straight to lift her arms. I’m almost done wrapping the towel around her when she reaches up. Her hand comes to my cheek and she doesn’t have to pull me much before her lips are on mine. My arms automatically go around her and she presses herself against me as she kisses me. Oh, man.

I don’t want to do this. I mean, I do, but not now. Not when her heart is aching for her father’s death. Not now. I can’t.

“Vanessa,� I say when she kisses my neck softly and I almost pass the fuck out. “wait.�

“Please, Justin,� she whispers in my ear. “I need you. Please don’t make me beg.�

And hell, who the fuck am I kidding? She called me Justin. I’m a sucker.

Chapter Twenty-One: Uncharted Territory (Part I)

“Please, Justin. I need you.�

I can’t believe I really mean those words.

I never thought the day would come again. Not because it was impossible for this to happen, no, it has always been a possibility. There’s always been a slight chance that I would allow myself to come face to face with what I’m feeling at this moment. I just didn’t think I wanted it. I still don’t. And not once in a million years did I think it would smack me so hard just days after my father’s death. Never in a million years. Not once.

My emotions are running mad and the only way I can control them is by becoming the strong person my whole family believes that I am. So, while I put on the façade of taking everything in stride, in reality I’m battling whether I should cry because my father is gone or if I should jump for joy because I’ve done the unthinkable. The one thing that has been farthest from my mind for a long time.

I, Vanessa Martinez, have fallen in love again.

And not only have I done that, I’ve actually fallen in love with Justin Timberlake. Wow!

Millions of women and no doubt, men, have claimed that very statement. They’ve claimed Mr. Timberlake is the love of their lives. They claim he is the only person in the world they love and would do anything for. But I’m not just one of those millions of people, I’m real, I‘m his reality. And while I’m battling against pain and hurt in my heart, and I’m a complete mess, I’m the one that he is kissing tenderly and lovingly. I’m the one he caresses as though I’m the most delicate flower in the entire universe. This is the real deal, I feel it. It’s the realest thing I’ve felt in a really long time. It’s the only thing that I can grasp while my heart struggles to survive all the hurt caused by my father‘s death. My father’s death, my family’s pain, my pain, my career, my past, is chucked out of the window for this moment in time. This moment when above everything that is happening in my life, is the most precious moment I’ve had in a very long time. I won’t let the thought that I will never see my father again destroy how I feel right now. And because I feel the way that I feel, I will not break down. I won’t. I refuse to.

I love this man.

“Are you sure?� he whispers in my ear and I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life.

“I’m positive,� I say and my words seem to echo in the large bathroom. “Make me forget, Justin. Even if it’s just for a little while. I just want to have you. Nothing else.�

“Are you trying to use me, Ms. Martinez?� he says against my ear and he chuckles, sending shivers down my spine. It’s that sexy laugh that makes me smile and pull him closer to me.

“No, not at all. I just want to continue what we started before…�

“Shh…� he says as he brings his lips over mine and we both moan at the contact. “I know.�

My feet leave the tiled floor and he lifts me easily with one arm, our bodies flushed against each other. He carries me easily toward the master bedroom outside the bathroom as I let his lips devour mine in the sweetest kiss known to mankind. The room is dark, only being illuminated by the burning candles in the bathroom. He’s kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before. It’s the tender touch of his hand against my cheek and the desire of pleasing me while he does it. And I can’t believe how good this feels.

The back of my head makes contact with one of the pillows on the large bed and I’m a bit shocked that we’re on the bed so quickly. And because I was so involved with our kiss, I don’t notice the cool satin sheets until we’re underneath them. He breaks away from our kiss and begins a journey down my neck. His lips feel cool against my scorching skin and I let out a sound of approval. He’s towering over me and as his lips trail the softest kisses down my neck, his hand caress my arm tenderly. My heart squeezes tight and the emotions from it make me close my eyes and escape to a far away place. A place where only Justin and I exist. To think that only months ago, the only place I thought I’d meet this man was in hell. But this isn’t hell, no this is, as cheesy as it sounds, heaven.

His kisses stop at my hip and he travels up to continue with my neck as his right hand caress my side. His fingers intertwine with my hair and he tilts my head up so that his access to my neck increases. His tongue traces the length of my neck and his left hand softly caressed my breast. The touches are never ending and his kisses become a bit more hasty and I don’t blame him a bit, I’m loosing control too.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,� and his words make me tremble with anticipation.

“And here I am,� I say with a smile when he looks at me. His eyes are glazed over and I can see myself in them even though the lighting in the room isn’t the best.

“Here you are,� he says and he chooses that moment to slowly grace his left hand in between my legs. The sound that comes from my mouth, is muffled when his mouth crashes to mine. There’s absolutely nothing that can stop this from happening because the last time I was in this position, I received the worst news of my life. Knowing that nothing will top that, I let his kisses envelop me, my body, my heart, my soul.

He’s kissing me passionately as his hands wander over my body in the most delicious touch I’ve ever felt. His hands are soft and yet strong as he softly squeezes my left breast. My body lifts off the bed, to somehow get closer to him when I know it’s impossible. I want this man so badly, I can hardly stand it. When he takes his lips off of mine and slowly circles his tongue on my nipple and sucks, I’m positive I’ve reached some unknown place closely resembling the edge of ecstasy.

“Oh God,� I say when his kisses trail down my stomach and I can feel his breath on my hip. He softly scrapes his teeth there, making me shiver before his tongue makes contact with my skin. I watch him through half open eyes as he gently spreads my legs wider, so that he can fit perfectly between them. His lips come to my inner thigh and if I thought I’d loose it before, I’ve definitely gone off the deep end now. His kisses are slow and sweet as he travels up to my breasts again.

His body is towering over me and as his lips meet mine once again, in a feverish kiss, I know he wants me as much as I need him. He’s rock solid against my thigh and if I have to wait much longer, I might pass out. My hands continue to travel up and down his hard back and I pull him closer to me as our kiss deepens. We’re both moaning in appreciation to the warmth of each other’s bodies and the anticipation of having him inside me is unbearable.

“Please,� I say as I separate our lips and I bring mine to the crook of his neck. I don’t have to keep begging because he shifts a mere inch and the tip of his head makes contact with my wet center. We both let out a grunt of both frustration and pleasure. And because I’m already there, physically and emotionally, I don’t give him a chance to break the small contact. I grab the back of his neck, bring his lips to mine and the movement causes him to enter me in one agonizingly smooth and slow move.

“Holy shit,� he says inches from my lips and I couldn’t agree more. Lord oh Mighty! What is this man doing to me?

“Justin…� I breathe out and try not to move because I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll loose it. I’ll loose this complete and utter feeling of love.

“I know…� he whispers in my ear before his lips make contact with mine in a kiss that curls my toes. We remain still for what seems like an eternity because neither one of us wants to give up this special moment. This moment in which we both know that this isn’t just sex. The moment when we silently tell one another that’s there’s no one in the world that makes us feel like this. I’m completely and over my head in love with this man.

When he does finally move, I gasp at the sensation. He slowly pulls out but the pleasure of the movement stops him just halfway before he completely enters me again and I want to cry because it feels so good. Slowly and lovingly he starts a pace that has us both in frenzy of emotions. Our bodies are meshed together and the kissing never stops. We get carried away quickly and yet so excruciatingly slow. His soft moans make my body shiver underneath him and he kisses my lips hard. I let out a grunt as my body reaches the level of pure bliss. My walls convulse around him and he tightens the grip he has around the back of my neck, letting out a mere whisper of my name.

“Jus…� I start to say his name but his lips are on mine and he’s moving faster and I can’t take it. The steady movement and the passionate kiss that he gives me, send me into oblivion once again. The speed increases and I can tell he’s losing control over himself.

“Shh…� he says as he slows his pace once again and looks at me with loving eyes. “If you say anything else right now, I might die,� his word make me smile and when he pulls out of me and enters me swiftly, I gasp. “You don’t know what you’re doing me…� I should be telling him that. I should be telling him that I can’t wait to do this again. I should be telling him that I love him.

“I love you,� I’m pretty certain those words came out of my mouth as he steadily moves over me, making my heart completely his. But we’re both smiling at each other, sweat glistening on our foreheads and chests heaving. We mirrored each other’s words and when I reach up to meet our lips in the most meaningful kiss of my life, he looses it.

“I really do…� he says as he looses his control and commences a pace that takes us to another world. It’s pure heaven and my body shakes with the anticipation of yet another blissful orgasm. Oh my god! He pumps into me and it takes less that two seconds before my walls are grabbing a hold of him tightly and he yells out my name before I feel the shocks. I can feel the tightening of his body, his breath catches and he kisses me so hard, I don’t know where I begin and he ends. We are one.

It takes several minutes before we come down from our respectable highs. I don’t recall moving at all because the feeling of bliss surrounds me, but I close my eyes. Sleep takes over me and the only thing I can feel is Justin’s chest making contact with mine as he spoons me under the covers. And after days of sleepless nights, I can finally sleep.

Thank you, Mr. Timberlake.

----------------
Hours…

I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically.

I know the light that is creeping through the dark window treatments in the room isn’t the morning light that I’m used to. And come to think about it, the window treatments aren’t what I’m used to either. I’m not in my room, that’s for sure, but I find that I’m not minding that at all. I know exactly where I’m at, and I know exactly which dog is staring at my face right now. It’s Brennen. She’s looking at me like I’ve stolen her doggy bone or something and the chuckle that comes from behind me, tells me that I just might have stolen something from her, indeed.

“She’s jealous,� Justin whispers as though for Brennen not to hear him. I smile at the dog and wonder what she’s thinking. I would bet money that she’s jealous of her master and not the other way around. These dogs love me.

“You don’t let them on the bed?� I ask because Buckley chooses that moment to come around the bed and sit next to Brennen, following the rules of the staring contest.

“Not when I have company,� he says as he comes under the covers with me, my back is flushed against his chest. “Which is never. They’re feeling weirded out I think.�

“Why not?� I ask because I find it odd that he would share that tidbit of information. It’s a little hard to believe, a lot hard to believe actually.

“Why not what?� he asks as his fingers trace my bare shoulder.

“You never had company here?� I ask and he chuckles because he knows that he must sound like the bullshitter that he is.

“I honestly don’t know,� he says as he places a kiss on my shoulder. “I don’t spend much time at home, as you’re well aware of.�

“So, I’m the first?� I ask like a stupid school girl when a guy admits it the first time he’s kissed a girl. The thought makes my heart ache for him and I think he’s sweet for sharing that. I never thought that I would say Justin Timberlake and sweet in the same sentence but I just did. I’m over myself, here.

“Yup,� he says and he hugs me tight against him, making the dogs look at us like we’re crazy.

“You’re dressed,� I state because I can feel the material of his t-shirt on my bare back. I can feel his legs wrap around mine and notice that he’s wearing some type of shorts as well. How disappointing.

“Would my PR approve of me running around Los Angeles without any clothes on?� he’s placing soft kissed on my shoulder and I shift to look up at his smiling face. Huh?

“What?�

“It’s almost noon, Ms. V,� he says as he places his lips over mine so softly, I barely feel them. “You seemed to be sleepy.�

“I slept that long?� I can’t even believe it myself and normally I would be raising hell if I even thought I was running late. But I have no desire to go anywhere. Not when Mr. Timberlake has shifted his hand around my front and is now rubbing his thumb around my belly button.

“You were worn out,� he says with a smile and I can’t help the smile that comes to my lips or the blush on my cheeks. He moves his mouth back to my shoulder and he kisses the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Completely understandable.�

“The arrogance is not welcome, Mr. Timberlake,� I say as I shift to lay on my back and enjoy every second as his trails of kisses commence on my neck and move slowly toward the center of my breasts. He smiles as his kisses shift to the right and when he gently sucks on that nipple, I moan. “That, on the other hand, is very welcome.�

“I know,� he chuckles before he yanks his t-shirt over his head and I can’t help but to pull him closer to me. He feels warm against me and I’m completely relaxed as he kisses me. “Now, before this gets too hot,� he says as he stops kissing my lips to continue his trails down my neck. “Later today, cause you’ll need the recuperation time,� he says with a bit of a chuckle when I smack his head playfully. “We’re going to have some old fashioned fun. Deal?�

“Do I have a choice?� I ask looking down toward him, where he’s cradling my left breast in his hand.

“Well, I can stop what I’m doing now and we can go right now,� he says and for good measure he goes to lift off me, leaving my anticipating breast disappointed. Not to mention, me.

“Deal,� I say quickly before he returns to lay on top of me and smiles triumphantly.

“I knew you’d see it my way, I am Justin Timberlake, you know,� he says before he smoothes his tongue on that awaiting nipple and I loose it. I’m in utter bliss and I don’t want to come out. Not even if it’s noon and I have yet to raise from this bed. “And just so you know,� he says before his mouth connects with mine and he’s shifting a bit on the bed. I don’t know how he did it but within seconds, his shorts are off and I can feel him, all of him. And as he graces the outside of my opening, I can feel the beginning stages of my hundredth orgasm. Jesus! This man will be the death of me! And when I’m close to getting a hold of myself, he enters me in one swift move and I gasp before he says, “There was no way I was stopping anyway.� and kisses me onto unconsciousness.

-------------------------

Later

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I shouldn’t be sitting here with a man who caused me so much headache these past few months. I shouldn’t be sharing a stack of pancakes he had the maid make especially for us. I definitely shouldn’t be smiling as wide as I smile when he forks a large amount of the mentioned food in his mouth while making faces at me. I shouldn’t be enjoying myself as much as I am. I shouldn’t but I am.

For once in a long while, I am happy.

I am happy to be wearing a man’s t-shirt and boxers in the middle of the said man’s kitchen. I’m not oblivious to the things that await me once I come down from this high I’m in, but I will not let these moments I’ve deprived myself from for many years, slip away. I can not and will not let Justin Timberlake, slip away.

“You aren’t going to back out on me, are you?� he’s brings the large class of milk he’s been drinking to his lips and I have to smile at my own thoughts. Milk does do a body good, doesn’t it, Mr. Timberlake? “Are you ready?�

“I don’t,� I start to say but he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t quit at anything,� he says rolling his eyes dramatically. I know he’s trying to make me laugh, just like he’s been doing since we left the warm confines of his bed. “Heard it all before, blah blah blah.�

“Shut up,� I say because as strong minded and hardcore as I am, I turn to mush when he winks at me and leans over the kitchen island to place a kiss on my forehead. “Being as though, that I’m wearing your underwear in the middle of your kitchen, I would say that I am not ready, no.�

“I knew my underwear would look good on you,� he says shaking his head as he leans over to eye me down. “Damn!�

“You thought about me wearing your underwear?� I ask because as cheesy as it may be, I like to hear that he thinks about me. That I’m constantly on his mind as he is on mine. “In your kitchen?�

“Well of course I did,� he says going around the kitchen island, where we decided to have breakfast instead of sitting down at the table like normal people. “Right after you walked out of that party in those wings of yours.�

“Liar,� I say as I watch him closely. He’s coming around the island, and his hands are slowly inching toward my thigh.

“I wouldn’t lie,� he says as his hands trail up my thighs. When his hands make contact with my skin underneath his large t-shirt, my body is on full alert. His head dips and his kisses the side of my neck. I can tell he’s smiling as he places a kiss right below my left ear. “Go get dressed.�

“Why?� I ask disappointed when he backs away and removes his hands from the small of my back. Shit!

“Because we’re going out,� he says with that stupid little wink that he does. It’s annoying and all I want to do is kiss him. Jesus! How things have changed.

“Aren’t you getting dressed?� I ask as I watch him reach into his pocket for his vibrating phone. He looks at the display and shoves it back into his pocket before placing a quick kiss on my lips.

“You taste good,� he says licking his lips. “I’ll be up in a minute, I’m going to make sure the housekeeper takes the dogs to the groomer today.�

“Is going out necessary? Not to mention the fact that it’s not really a good idea for you to be out in public with me,� I don’t meant to sound like a bitch but it’s the truth. Although I’ve enjoyed being in his company for these few hours, I still know who he is when he steps out of his front door. He’s not only the man that made passionate love to me. He’s not only the man who comforts me in the most amazing way. He’s not just the man that I’ve fallen in love with. No, he’s Justin Timberlake and whether I like it or not, he’s a super star. And while I may just be a publicist to some people, others know who I am. People know my face. It’s not a good idea. I just know it. As a publicist and as a…I don’t even know what to call myself, a lover?

“Stop trying to be my publicist, Vanessa,� he says as he reaches for his phone again. He proceeds looking at it as he did before but this time actually turning it off. “Don’t worry about me, I know what I’m doing, okay? I’ve been dodging assholes for a really long time. Get dressed and we’ll go have a good time.�

“Are you ordering me around?� I ask with my hands on my hips defiantly.

“Does it turn you on?� he says wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. I have to smile. “It does, doesn’t it?�

“You’re mature,� I say as I push him to the side playfully and walk past him toward the foyer.

“It does,� he says as I walk out of the kitchen. “You’re a freak, Vanessa Martinez!!�

“Shut up!!� I yell, and the smile on my face widens as I walk up the stairs to his bedroom.

It’s not until an hour later that we’re both waiting in his foyer for his security staff to arrive. I can see the housekeeper struggling to get the playful dogs into the car from the window and I have to smile. Justin is standing by the door looking impatiently at his watch as he talks to someone on the phone. His catches me looking at him and he smiles sweetly at me making my heart beat against my chest and my cheeks burn. What is wrong with me? I’m an asshole.

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Eric,� he says and although his tone is serious and businesslike, he’s still smiling at me. “Just forget it,� he says and he shoves his phone back in his pocket before coming closer to me. “We’ll be alright, you ready?�

“You’re not waiting for security?� I ask and the publicist side of me gets a little ticked off. I’m not used to this. I’m not used to being the woman by his side, I’m his publicist. I’m supposed to try and protect him. Is that wrong?

“We don’t need it,� he says with a shrug.

“Justin…�

“Vanessa, seriously. Stop it.�

“What?� I ask although I know what he means.

“Stop being my publicist, okay? Let’s go out and have a good time,� he puts his hands around my waist and pulls me closer to him before hugging me tightly against him. “Just try to have a good time, okay? We’ll have fun. Just you and me, Eric is absolutely no fun. He’s entirely too big for my car, anyway,� he says with a chuckle and I follow suit even though I’m a little annoyed that he’s planning on going out there with another woman shortly after his very public break-up. I have to stop, I‘m getting a migraine.

“Fine, whatever you say,� I say as he lets me go.

“See, now you’re getting it,� he’s being arrogant purposely, I can tell. He’s been making me laugh with his jokes and facial expressions for hours. His personality has had me wondering if all the times he pissed me off, were merely figments of my imagination. Some type of mental mumbo jumbo I was creating in my head to make myself hate him. It obviously didn’t work. And when he says, “I’m the fucking man, baby!� I know that his arrogance isn’t all an act, simply a characteristic. A sickeningly cute one.

“Oh, shut up,� I say pushing his chuckling body away from mine. “Let’s go before I change my mind.�

“After you, Ms. Cruela.�

“You’re pushing it, Mr. Timberlake,� he’s chuckling behind me as I walk out of the house toward the big Jeep outside and I ignore the numerous names he calls me. He’s an idiot. “You’re ridiculous.�

“I am not,� he says defensively as he reaches around me and opens the car door for me. “Get in the car,� he says forcefully and I can’t help but start laughing.

Maybe, I will have a good time today. Not that I was doubting I would or anything.

-----

An hour later

Because it’s five o’clock in Los Angeles and Mr. Timberlake doesn’t go out much, it seems, we’re stuck in traffic for twenty minutes. I don’t let him live it down, of course. And we get into a conversation about various episodes of road range, mostly mine of course. He insists that I should seek help for my lack of patience but I shut him up by telling him that I handled his stupid diva episodes very well. I should receive an award for all the crap I didn’t do to him. Like shove his bad attitude up his ass, perhaps. How anyone could put up with his whining is still beyond me. Yet, here I am, right smack in the middle of an awesome Timberlake invasion of the heart. My heart.

“It’s really beautiful there, at least what I got to experience. My mother got the best of that city, I barely saw her that week,� we’ve moved on from traffic jams to countries we’ve visited and it’s interesting to hear that Justin Timberlake is a family man. “Trace actually took Elisha on that trip. He should have left her ass over here.�

“That’s that girl from that show, right?� I ask trying to remember what she looked like.

“Twenty-four,� he says as he merges to take one of the Malibu exits. “She’s not the girl next door, trust me.�

“Do you hold grudges for your best friend?� I ask looking at him and he shrugs as we stop at the red light following the exit.

“No, not really,� he says looking at me. “Why?�

“Just asking, I know I do,� I say with a smile. “If Barker feels that someone has done wrong by her, you better believe that person jumps to the top of the list of people I dislike. Which by the way, is a very long list.�

“Am I on that list?�

“Yes, all the way at the top,� I say with a shake of my head.

“Liar,� he says with a chuckle. “You lo…� and he doesn’t finish his sentence only looks at me briefly before focusing on the road again. “I think this is the road,� he says pointing at the coming intersection.

I don’t know what to say. I know he was going to say that I loved him, I know he was and while I should be upset that he didn’t throw the four letter word around, I’m not. I realize that we both said those words to each other just hours ago, I’m fully aware of that. But like me, I’m pretty sure he’s hesitant to say them when we aren’t caught up in the moment. We’re very much alike, I notice. And I wonder who will give in and speak those words again. Because no mater how sure we both are of our feelings, we know that with those words comes a lot of responsibility.

We’re two morons.

The rest of the ride if silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. It’s not until about ten minutes driving through a Malibu road with a view of the beach, that we pull into a large parking lot. It’s fairly vacant, with about fifteen cars. There’s a large colorful building in front of us and I wonder what the hell he’s planning.

“You’re kidding right?� I ask looking at the large pink and blue letter indicating that we were at “Malibu Castle - Family Fun Center� and that we were sure to have a fantastic time. A million scenarios cross my mind, from Justin being mauled by hundreds of teenagers, to Justin being mauled, period.�

“I am not,� he says matter of fact as he pulls into one of the many empty spaces of the parking lot. “I told you we were going to have some old fashioned fun. So here we are.�

“A family center?�

“That’s right.�

“You do realize that families in America usually consist of at least one teenager, right?� I ask looking at him with a serious expression on my face. I don’t want to do this.

“There’s no one here, Vanessa.� he says with a chuckle. “Trust me.�

“I don’t know…�

“Vanessa, seriously, get out of the car,� he says kissing me hard on the lips before opening his door and jumping out of the car. He doesn’t wait for me but I watch as he walks around the car and walks directly for the door, leaving me behind.

“Wait!�

“Catch up!� he says and he breaks into a run toward the door. I don’t hesitate and run behind him, thanking the fact that I decided to wear flats today.

“I run on a treadmill for fun, Timberlake! Don’t mess with me,� I say as I catch up with him and beat him to the door.

“We’ll see how competitive you’ll be in here,� he says with a chuckle as he opens the door for me to enter the very colorful place.

“You’re on,� I say as we’re greeted by a bored looking middle aged man. “Hello,� I say when he shakes Justin hands and extends his hand to me.

“Welcome to Malibu Castle. The place is all yours, Mr. Timberlake. � he says with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. But at least he’s polite and doing his job. My kind of worker.

“Thank you,� Justin says politely as well and the employee steps to the side to let us further inside.

Walking closely behind Justin, I look around for other people that might become a threat to this fun Justin keeps rambling about as I walk behind him. There are different areas of games. Where I stand I can see a big wrestling ring and at the end of the large windows, I can see a few go-carts outside. I wonder if I’ve enter Michael’s Never Ever Land or some shit like that. What the fuck?

“What do you want to play first, Ms. Martinez?� I’m pretty sure he repeated himself before I actually take my eyes off all the amusement before me and give him a skeptical look.

“What?�

“Don’t look at me like that, it’ll be fun. Trust me,� he says again and smiles at me with wide eyes. He’s obviously excited about something but I don’t get it. What is this place?

“Did you rent this place out? Where’s everyone at?�

“There’s no one here but the staff, Vanessa. I told you we were gong to have fun today and I’ve been meaning to come back here for years. I heard they have all kinds of new things.�

“You realize we’re adults, right?�

“You realize that we aren’t senior citizens, right?� he mocks with a laugh. “I know the perfect thing, loosen you up and stuff.�

“What does that mean? I am loosened up, thank you very much.�

“Of course you are,� he says and he signals one of the lady staff members over to us.

“What can I help you with?� the girl is younger than she looked from a distance but I can see the adoration for Justin in her eyes when she speaks to him. Bitch!

“We’re going to do that first,� Justin says and I notice how oblivious he is of the drool around the girls chin. Take that little wench!

“Of course,� she says all bubbly and I want nothing more than to burst that fucking bubble. I must remain calm. I must remain calm. What is wrong with me? “There’s a men’s dressing room to the left there,� she says to Justin before looking at me with one of my famous fake smiles. I return it before I see Justin covering his mouth with his hand. He thinks it’s funny? Oh hell.

“Would you come with me? There’s a women’s dressing area on the other side,� the girl is obviously not trying to help me dress and as I look at Justin and see how hard he’s trying not to laugh, I really want to deck the young girl. Her tone clearly isn’t one of pleasure when Justin walks away with one of the male staff members. “Are you ready?�

“Oh honey, I’m always ready,� I tell her in the same tone of voice. Who does she think she is? I’m sure Justin paid a nice chunk of change to rent this place out for ‘our’ fun and this little twit is having an attitude? “You kind of have to be when Justin’s attention is on you,� I say with the same fake smile she seems to have mastered at her young age. “And by you, I mean me.�

“There’s a suit in there,� she says once we’re in the large dressing area, pointing to one of the doors. “Aren’t you one of those Victoria Secret’s angels or something?�

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Sweetheart,� I say as I walk into the dressing stalls. Little bitch! I try to calm my nerves so that I don’t run of the room and tell a sixteen year old to stop drooling over the man that I love but I restraint myself. Who am I turning into? It’s not until I stop banging my head on the stalls wall that I open my eyes and look around the place and my eyes come in contact with a fat suit. What the fuck is this?

“I’ll wait outside with Justin,� the stupid little girl says. Of course she will! Before even grasping what the fat suit was all about, I grab the cushioned piece of material and step into the suit within seconds. There’s an instruction sheet on how to zip up the full body length suit, taped to the wall. It takes me a minute to grasp the concept but the zipper is up and I’m encased in the large puffy material. There are no mirrors and I don’t really look for any as I wobble my way out of the room and out to the area in which I came from.

“I wish I would have brought a camera,� I turn around to find Justin, wearing an enormous sumo wrestling suit and a Mexican sombrero. I want to laugh at him, badly, but suddenly I realize that what I just struggled to put on is the female version of the suit he’s wearing. We’re in sumo wrestling suits! And for the life of me, I can’t stop the laughter that takes over me. Forgotten is the little bitch eyeing down my man, yes, MY man. Forgotten is the fact that I’m a little embarrassed over my reaction to it all. I’m in the moment.

My laugh is apparently contagious because before I know it, Justin is rolling on the floor laughing, sombrero discarded on the floor. The entire staff is filled with laughter as Justin and crash to the floor in the most amazing laugh fest I’ve ever been a part of. I’ve laughed this hard before, usually at the company of Barker or even my brother but this… this takes the cake.

I can’t control the laughter that spews out of the bottom of my gut and I when I think about the fact that it’s not that funny, it makes me laugh harder. Justin tries to grab at my shoulders but the suit doesn’t allow him to reach me and he falls at my feet. And when I try to reach him with my newly shortened arms, to try to lift him up, I tumble over and land on top of him. The large amount of padding makes the situation extremely silly and we laugh and laugh and laugh until our insides hurt.

We attempt to get up and try to go to the wrestling ring set up but the laughter and the annoyance of trying to walk in those things take the best of us. Sumo wrestling, it seems, is not the thing for us giggling fools.

To try to calm the laughter that still lingered in our bodies, Justin suggests the video game section of the larger family center. I’m not a big fan of the games but anything to stop my cheeks from hurting from the permanent smile that I have plastered on my face, will do. We spend about an hour fighting over who’s man is stronger in a marathon of Tekken while we munch of random finger food the staff brings over. The distraction of the game we’re playing isn’t enough to noticing a few things about Mr. Timberlake.

He makes it a point to thank any of the staff members that brings him anything that he asked for. Very polite. His phone rang a few times and he hasn’t stopped our ‘fun’ to answer it, simply looking at the display and shoving it back in his pocket. Makes me curious a bit, but he‘s being a gentleman by keeping his promise of no interruptions. He kisses me and bites my lips lightly when I have my character kick his character’s ass. He’s sweet but competitive. He talks to me as though a few months ago we weren’t telling each other that we hated one another. He’s forgiving and caring. He treads lightly when we talk about my childhood and my father. He’s thoughtful and a good listener. He’s not afraid to call me on my bullshit when I tell him I’ve played the game a million times. He’s funny.

He’s everything…every part of my being is reaching out to him.

I find that Mr. Timberlake is changing before my eyes or maybe…I wonder if I’m the one converting into a ‘Justin Timberlake is a God’ fan.

I turn to him, not caring that we’re in the middle of a perfect game. “Justin?�

“You don’t want to play this anymore? We can go somewhere else,� he says stopping the brutal jabs he’s been giving the video game key pad.

“I love you,� I said it! I don’t care that with those words a boatload of shit might follow. I don’t care.

“Jesus Christ! I thought you’d never say that again,� he says and he pulls me against him and kisses me silly before parting our lips to say, “I’m one hundred percent sure that I love you with all my heart.“

And well…what can I say to that?

“Let’s get out here.�

Chapter Twenty-Two: Uncharted Territory
Part II

The music is annoyingly loud from a stereo system against the wall of the dance studio, I stupidly agreed to meet Marty in instead of staying home. The women in front of me are trying desperately to impress me but quite honestly they’re boring me to fucking death. I appreciate that Marty has jumped on the ‘Let’s make this tour happen’ bandwagon quicker that I have but shit, I’d rather be getting a full body wax. No, I rather be where I’ve been cooped up with Vanessa for the past two days. I want to sit in my house and for the love of God, I never thought I’d say this, I want to talk. And by talk I don’t mean just the deep shit like childhood memories or life regrets. We’ve talked about every possible subject that we could come up with, from movies to music to the nine eleven tragedy to the fashion industry to the current war. Hell, we even talked about underwear and the many uncomfortable varieties she’s had to endure during photo shoots. Of course that topic led to us having sex on…never mind. Moral of the fucking story in that for the first time in my life I have learned to relax.

And who in their right mind would have said that Vanessa Martinez, stuck up bitch of the fucking year would help me relax?

Not a fucking living soul.

Not only have I laughed and shared things about myself voluntarily, but I’ve actually enjoyed it. I hate talking about myself, I really do. I don’t really do as many interviews as I should because of this reason. I feel like the world knows too much of me already or at least what they think I am. Why submit myself to sharing the real personal stuff with the world? I’d be left with nothing and I will not have that. Screw that.

I’ve lived by the rules I’ve made for myself and I will not succumb to the needs of the information hogs in the world, who want to dig deep into your soul and leave you bare. Fuck that. When it comes to letting people into my world, my reality, I run the show. Those who know me would say that there are only a handful people that I honestly trust with those personal thoughts, regrets and memories. I thank God everyday for blessing me with those people because without them, those smart decisions could have been really stupid. And with those people, I can shed a tear without fear of what they might think. With those people I don’t have to hide the fact that sometimes I just want to fucking cry about something as stupid as my body aching after a tour. And that same group of people would tell me that I’m a jackass an hour later, when I’m ready to tour again. Those people understand. Those people get me. The real me.

I’ve also learned that sometimes what you see isn‘t what you get and when someone said that you can‘t judge a book by it‘s cover, they were one hundred fucking percent correct. I believed in that statement way before Vanessa Martinez came into my life and now that she is part of it, I’m sure of it and I‘m living by it. She’s a completely different person when it’s just me and her. No phone calls, no interruptions, no nothing.

Vanessa Martinez, dare I say it, gets me. Not Justin Timberlake the super-star, no. She gets me, just me, Justin, and that means a hell of a lot more than anything I’ve ever shared with a woman in my life. She’s almost like my mother, but not. Eww, scratch that, that was sick.

Anyway, while having this need to let Vanessa into my reality is an awesome feeling, I can’t help but be afraid of the fact that I don’t get her. I mean I get parts of her, if that makes sense. I get why she’s such a hard pill to swallow most of the time, I get it now. She’s independent and competitive which some may say about me and I can relate to that aspect of her life, one hundred and ten percent. I’ve been competing and battling against people who would like nothing more than to watch me fall flat on my face for world to see. But I’ve succumbed. She’s done the same, of course in a different arena, whether it was that first magazine spread at the age of fifteen or being the youngest female public relations director in the industry. Or whether it’s the fact that she’s absolutely mind-blowing at her job. She’s succeeded. A true champ.

I never really knew how tough this industry could be to people who work behind the scenes until she shared her experiences with me. It’s challenging to be a successful woman in an industry run by men, and I get why Vanessa works so hard to prove herself. But something’s troubling me. I may be part to blame to the fact that Vanessa has drawn up a temporary wall around the subject of her father’s death. I know I’ve been avoiding it as much a she has and I know I’m just as wrong for it as she is. I know that while she seems to be in control, I’ve done nothing but let her stack up that wall. It’s wrong, I know, but like I’ve been for the duration of our relationship, I’ve been selfish and I’m an ass.

Like today for instance, I should have asked her to stay away from the office and have her talk to me before she goes to the meeting with her father’s lawyer. But no, I watched her dress in one of her super hot suits and let her go to consume herself in her work without dealing with the reality that will come crashing down at this meeting. I haven’t seen her in four hours, the longest amount of time we‘ve been separated in two days.

I’ve talked on the phone with Barker three times since Vanessa left my house this morning. It’s annoying the hell out of me that I’ve spent more time talking to her best friend than with her, making this dance rehearsal a load of shit. I’ve made it a priority to keep Barker informed of Vanessa’s well being and while I’ve enjoyed the short interactions, I hate that I’ve talked to her more times than I have Vanessa. Why do I have to be here right now? I should tell Marty to choreograph this number however he wants to choreograph it and I’ll see it when it’s done. I know I’ve made a commitment to everyone that planning this tour would be a hands-on thing for me but shit! The only hands-on thing I’ve been doing for the past few days have only included Vanessa and yeah it‘s a perverted thing to say but no one understands how hot this woman is. If I’m not careful I might snatch her away and leave the country, fuck touring!

I now have a headache.

The dancers are apparently trying a catwalk performance that’s supposed to coordinate with the words to Sexy Ladies and Marty looks frustrated. The cue for me to give my opinion has come repeatedly but I’ve simple shaken it off, letting the other choreographers make decisions but this time when Marty looks at me with frustration written all over his face, I have to react.

“What’s the problem?� I ask, because I honestly don’t see what the hell he’s talking about. How does he want the poor girls to walk? Every single one of them is a dancer, not one of them is going to walk like a model because like I said, they‘re fucking dancers!! They dance!!

Now, who’s frustrated?

“It’s just not right, I don’t know,� Marty says walking back and forth examining the dancers like a wolf with sheep. He definitely shouldn’t have smoked that shit earlier. He looks crazy.

“I like it, I don’t know what else you want to change,� I say with a shrug, twisting the cap from my water bottle in my hand. “Once the stage is setup, we can make the adjustments we need to make. You’re making a bigger deal out of this track than it should be, man. It‘s not even one of my favorite songs.�

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have seventeen numbers to choreograph,� if he wasn’t a good friend of mine I’d tell him to go fuck himself.

“Shut up man,� I say throwing the cap toward him, making the girls shake their heads and chuckle. “I have to sing through all those seventeen numbers, fucker!�

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,� he says and waives me off before cueing one of his assistants to start the music again.

The music begins again but it’s not as loud as it was, allowing Marty to do his counts out loud. The more I hear the sound of my own voice, the more annoyed I am, I could throw up. I’m seriously sick of hearing the sound of my own voice and I haven’t even toured yet. It’s going to be a long tour! I want to get out here, and it seems as though my prayers are answered when one of the exit doors opens and in walks Vanessa Martinez. Thank God! I go to jump off the table I’ve been sitting on but she gives me a stern look. It’s the look that means she’s working and there are entirely too many people in the room for any kind of greeting. And by any kind, I mean groping because I haven’t spent this long amount of time without her in two days. It’s that fucking drug again.

She has a large envelope in her hands and before she changes her line of vision, she winks at me. I’m such a fucking loser because I blush like a schoolgirl.

“Mr. Kudelka,� she says walking toward Marty, interrupting the dance routine the group is in the middle of. If she would have done that to me I would have flipped a fucking lid. Good luck, Marty! I silently pray that he doesn’t say anything stupid to her, although she’d deserve it for interrupting. But shit I can’t help the laughter inside me creeping up my throat as the anticipation builds. This is the most exciting thing that’s come my way since I sat here. I watch her take her stiletto clad legs toward Marty, she‘s insanely hot, I swear to God. “I have the releases you’ll need to have all the dancers complete and return to me as soon as possible.�

“Like that!� Marty says loudly, and he points at Vanessa who stops in her stride, a little shocked. She turns to give me one of those looks that meant ‘What the hell is going on?’ that three months ago would have cause me to respond with a ‘What the fuck is your problem?’ look I’m so famous for. My, how things change. I shrug because I really don’t know what the fuck is going on. “I need you to walk like that!! Do it again!�

“Excuse me?� Vanessa says and her left hand automatically becomes attached to her hip. I want to laugh, badly.

One of the many conversations we’ve had on lazy times around my house was about whether she noticed or not, she did things that were what some would categorize as ghetto. Like doing the head roll shit Puertoriquen women do when they’re about to tell someone off. It’s barely noticeable with Vanessa because her etiquette is upscale and snobbish, but it’s there and sometimes it creeps up on her. I would bet a million dollars she doesn’t even notice that moving that left hand to her hip has put her in a ‘Oh hell naw’ stance. It’s quite entertaining to watch when it‘s not directed toward me, to be honest.

“Can you please show them how to walk like that? It’s for the show,� Marty says walking around the dancers to come face to face with Vanessa.

“What? You’re going to have to speak more clearly, Mr. Kudelka. You’re asking what of me? To walk?� Her tone is one of confusion when she turns slightly and looks at me. “Mr. Timberlake?�

“The dancers need a little help, Va-,� she opens her eyes wide at me and I catch myself before continuing.

“I’m not a dancer, Mr. Kudelka,� Vanessa says extending the envelope toward Marty’s hand.

“But you’re a model,� Marty states.

“I assure you, Mr. Kudelka, that I’m the Public Relations Director of Wright Entertainment Group. If you need reassurance of any kind I‘ll be happy to get one of my business cards or a copy of my contract.�

“No, you’re a model,� Marty says challengingly.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Timberlake? Are you in need of a new choreographer?� Vanessa asks and she’s looking at Marty like he has three hundred heads and just finished smoking some good shit. “It can be easily arranged, I assure you.�

“No, I’m good with the one I have,� I say trying not to chuckle because this discussion would have been so serious a few months ago. A few months ago I personally would have told her to get the fuck out of my dance studio, and Marty would have laughed it off. But Vanessa isn’t laughing and neither is Marty. Marty has that predatory look in his eye that he gets when he has a brand spanking new idea. And my guess is that he’s thinking he doesn’t give a damn who Vanessa is and just wants her to teach the dancers how to walk like she does. I know for a fact that Vanessa is very bleak on being given a damn about. Strike on Marty, I must say. And quite honestly, I don’t think anyone in this room can do what she does, at WEG or the runway. This should be interesting.

“It should only take a few minutes, I assure you,� Marty says mockingly and I have to shake my head in disappointment. Poor Marty. Vanessa looks at me for any type of clue as to what the fuck is going on, because I’m actually enjoying the interaction between the two. Vanessa can be laid back and fun, I witnessed it when we spent time at the arcade. But I can also bet that she’s not so laid back and fun when it comes to people whom she doesn’t know and trust. We see eye to eye on that as well as on many topics. So on that note, I personally don’t have any clues to give because the sooner this is done, the sooner I can get out of this dance studio. Even if it’s at the expense of my friend Marty because this is either going to go good, or really, really bad.

“What’s the problem?� Vanessa turns to glance at the girls and she actually smiles at them. Not too friendly because she’s the boss, but a smile just big enough to gain the respect of the other women in the room. Things are looking up for Marty, I see. A month ago it would have shocked me to see this behavior from Vanessa but not now, now I know her. Now I see.

“There’s a part in this song,� Marty says and he signals his little bitch assistant in the back to start the track. I’m usually nicer, I swear, but today I’m just over having to deal with my life and I want to get out here. So yes, everyone is a little bitch today. “These ladies are instructed to walk as models would, down a runway.�

Marty is insisting on this part of the song to be perfect and if I was in a better mood, I’d be all over this trying to make it happen but I’m not. What he wants to be perfect is the part in the song in which I’m wanting a girl to walk as though she’s on a runway. I shake my head when Vanessa turns to me and raises an eyebrow questioningly. Funny, how just spending these few days with her has clued me in to all her little mannerisms and what they mean without having to speak a single word. The raised eyebrow comes in question to one of the many conversations we had about my album and how a few of the songs were recorded after different hellish encounters with her. SexyLadies was recorded after I went with Cameron and Trace to that show Vanessa turned out to be in, unbeknownst to me.

Listen, when artists say that they don’t use real life experiences in their music, they are lying through their fucking teeth, I promise. Bunch of fucking lies!! There are about ten songs in my new album that reference Vanessa whether I wanted them to or not. My life experiences where based on the fact that she’s been in my head since that Halloween party and although I’m not ready to admit that to anyone, especially her, it’s the truth. I’m not that big of a pussy to be over-sharing and letting her know she has me around her fucking pinky is what I‘d like to refer as over-sharing.

“Yes, I’ve heard the track a few times, Mr. Kudelka. What does that have to do with me?� Vanessa asks and I can tell she’s growing more annoyed by the minute. So maybe things aren’t looking up after all.

“Well,� Marty says looking at me and then back at Vanessa with a grin. “Justin tells me that you’re a model. So, I am asking that you please walk toward the other side of the room so that they can see how I’ve wanted them to walk. I can choreograph the shit out this song but I can’t show the ladies how to walk like supermodels because let’s face it, I’m a dude, and dudes don’t walk that way.�

“We’ve been here for hours and I’m not sure what he wants us to do. Will you please do us the favor before we quit on him and this tour turns to shit?� Nancy, one of my favorite dancers, says with a grunt after rolling her eyes at Marty. I swear those two have something going on but Marty is not letting anything out of the bag and I honestly don’t care enough to keep asking.

“What exactly do you need me to do?� Vanessa says and her hands are still on either side of her hips but the question kind of surprises me. I would have bet that she would have walked out on Marty and his request a few seconds ago, instead she’s standing there listening to Marty explain the ‘feel’ of what he’s trying to portray. Vanessa listens intently to what he’s saying and I have to cover my mouth to hide the smile that’s on my face. Marty knows what he’s doing, he’s mentioning me and how important this tour is to me and all this babble shit to get her to give in to his request and it’s pretty damn funny. What’s funnier is the fact that Vanessa is now into it, she shakes her head in agreement and actually gives Marty ideas about certain songs that he’s talking about.

Before I know it, Vanessa takes her suit jacket off and Marty ever so kindly places it neatly on a chair nearby. It doesn’t take long before my group of female dancers are talking runway lessons from the woman that I love. Wow, that sounds so good and yet so scary. I watch as Vanessa interacts with the dancers explaining the technique of balancing their bodies while walking and once again I’m impressed by her ability to capture people’s attention. I’m sure the dancers are just tired of listening to Marty bitch and figure listening to Vanessa explain something to them is worth it, but they are listening.

“She’s so fucking hot,� Marty says coming to stand next to me as I watch the group of women walking back and forth across the dance studio.

“Man, I hope you’re talking about Nancy like that or you’re fucking fired,� I said causing him to laugh like I was joking. Seriously, I’m not playing.

“Whatever man,� Marty says looking through the paperwork Vanessa set on a table behind me. “Are you staying for the guys’ practice?�

“No, I have some shit to do,� I catch Vanessa’s eye at that moment and wink at her with a smile but she actually rolls her eyes. The smile on her face is amazing and I think she’s beyond hot, I swear, she’s gonna make my heart leap out of my chest. “But you’re doing a good job, man. Thank you.�

“You know I got you, man. No worries,� Marty’s mirroring my stance, arms folded over his chest as we watch the women laugh and giggle at one another. “What exactly does she see in you?�

“Fuck you,� I say and although I know my friend is joking, I kind of wonder. What does she see in me?

“If you have somewhere to be, you better get to it before I make you rehearse with the girls,� Marty says and I really do believe him, so I clear my throat and wave my arms in the air to get Vanessa’s attention.

“Boy, look at the time, I’m out of here,� I don’t want to make the fact that Vanessa and I are leaving together, obvious for reasons we have already discussed. Reasons which I agree with and disagree with at the same time, if that makes sense.

We discussed the media, what having her by my side would do to my career and hers. I know that if the media found out that I was dating my PR, the person who released my break up with Cameron, nonetheless, that it would become a living hell for us. I know that the attention toward Vanessa wouldn’t be a positive one and I understand that it would affect her career. I know all this and although what we have is fresh, I also feel like I shouldn’t have to hide shit, ya know? This is all new to me, I haven’t had a girlfriend out of this stupid industry and I’m at a loss.

“I hope you know that you’ll be receiving a pay cut due to the amount of time I’ve spent doing your job, Mr. Kudelka,� Vanessa says a minute later as she puts her suit jacket on a few feet from where we stand.

“I would gladly take a pay cut, Ms. Martinez,� Marty is such an ass kisser sometimes. “It was worth while. Thank you.�

“I was kidding,� Vanessa says and she’s not really smiling or anything toward him so it’s kind of hard to know that she’s kidding. Kind of funny. She walks past me toward the door and I smile like a dumbass when she winks at me. Before leaving the room she turns to Marty. “Because no amount of money can cover the cost of my expertise, Mr. Kudelka.�

“That‘s righttttttt,� a few of the girls cheer in the background.

“You’ll be late in two minutes, Mr. Timberlake,� Vanessa says before briefly waving goodbye to the dancers and walking out of the door.

THAT is what I’m talking about!! THAT is an exit! She cracks me up. And wait, what am I late for? I don’t have an appointment.

“Later man,� I say to Marty as I grab my hat and set down t he water bottle I’ve entertained myself with. “Ladies,� I say with a waive before I’m out the door and walking, almost running, toward the exit. My fucking phone is vibrating in my pocket but I don’t care to answer it, I just want to get in my car and go. Where did she go?

“In a rush?� I hear coming from behind me and I stop my semi-dash to the door to turn to her.

“What took you so long?� I ask as I watch her walk toward me in the empty hallway. Somehow I’m getting a sense of déjà vu and I’m a little surprised when she puts her arms around my neck and kisses me. WOW! I don’t even know how else to describe it. My back is against the wall and my hands grip the sides of her to bring her closer to me and I swear I’m in heaven. I really am a pussy.

“Work,� she says after kissing the hell out me and leaving me stunned. Huh? She separates herself from me and straightens her jacket before continuing her walk toward the exit. Oh hell nah!

“What?�

“You coming?�

“You are not just walking away right now,� seriously!

“We’re missing the coffee,� is the only thing she says before the door closes behind her. I don’t really know what the fuck she’s talking about until I look around for nosy people in the hallway and realize that we were walking down the same hallway in which I almost swallowed her whole a few months ago. Someone’s playing games, I smile.

I’ve been walking on new territory with Vanessa, these past few days. New love. New conversations. New music. New tour ideas. New feelings. New attitude. New understanding. And I have a feeling, after this meeting we’re heading to, I’ll be walking on even more uncharted territory.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Overcoming Adversity

When I was six I experienced the toughest test of my young life. It was the first time I actually hurt, the first time I was pained by something, the first time my heart ached. It was the loss of my pet, Roger, that caused it. I loved that fish with all my heart and until this day I remember what it looked like as though I was looking at it face to face. I remember the black spot on its tiny head and how his eyes looked into mine every time I’d glue my nose to its bowl. I remember getting into a little bit of trouble with my English teacher because of that beautiful fish. She insisted that drawing a fish to dot the I in my last name was not appropriate. She sent a note home to my parents with Brian one day, clearly not trusting me as though I was a bad kid and she was a good teacher. As if. She requested I stay an hour after school on that note which Brian guarded with his life, little shit. Ms. DeGraff claimed she would teach me the proper penmanship for a six year old. Seriously? I was six and obsessed with a goldfish! She could have given me a break. Needless to say, I had piano lessons after school the day she requested I stay. I remember my father handed me one of his pretty stationary envelopes the next morning before going to school with our driver, Harry. I don’t know what that note to my teacher said but I still wonder to this day. Ms. DeGraff didn’t say anything about the pictures of Roger on the assignments we did after that day, that’s for certain.

But that night, when I got home from my piano instructor’s house, Roger had passed away. It hurt so bad to learn that my pet, the fish my father had gotten for me, was gone. It was the hardest I’d ever cried in my short life.

But years past and that wound healed and being excused from school to be taken to California in the middle of semester to meet with a modeling company at the tender age of twelve, isn’t my second hardest emotional test, no. The day is clearly cemented into my brain and my heart which is why I don’t think I’ll ever forget the excitement of two preteen, tall, very tall, girls. My mother advised, not yelled, but advised us to shut the hell up a few too many times on the five hour flight. My father sat quietly working on countless papers and I even remember the suit he had on that day. But Barker and I were thinking on gracing the covers of high fashion magazines. I don’t have to mention that we may have been a bit full of ourselves during that trip, I guess. In the long run one of those anxious preteens, not at twelve, but at twenty would grace those very same covers we hoped to be on one day. I still smile at the happiness in Barker’s eyes when her dreams became reality and that cover of Vogue hangs proudly in my father‘s office. I am even prouder of her now as I was when we were twelve. That trip was the second hardest emotional test I experienced and I might actually have to say that it was tougher than Roger’s passing.

The meeting with the modeling company was what we both imagined, it was beyond what we imagined, actually. Two tall, very excited, twelve year olds’ wearing vintage gowns and high fashion items that we’d only seen on the runways of those shows my mother took us to. It was a complete dream for the both of us but I think Barker wanted it more, I think Barker deserved it more than I did. I was twelve, tall and gorgeous in most eyes but I much have rather been in school with the debate team. Don’t misconstrued my words, I liked acting in front of the camera, I liked the attention and I liked the challenge that came from modeling, but it was Barker’s true love. She was amazing at it, she still is. She could make you feel exactly what she was feeling in one snapshot and photographers adored her. She was awesome then and she’s unbelievable now.

But at the end of that meeting, when Barker and I sat across the agents with my mother and father by our sides, the bastards broke my heart. I remember choking back the tears, remember the pain in my heart. I remember asking them why, asking them what was wrong. And if my father didn’t call out my name for me to relax, I would have told them to go fuck themselves. I really would have then if it had been suitable behavior for a twelve year old. I turned to my best friend, my sister, to find that she was smiling that beautiful smile she has and it was directed at me. I lost it then, I cried. I cried as though my heart was shattered because it really was. I couldn’t believe it.

The modeling company wanted me.

Not the gorgeous girl next to me, who told me she was so happy for me. Who hugged me tight and congratulated me over and over again. I was torn apart by the situation and Barker will still tell me how stupid I was for what I did. How retarded, her words, I was for telling those idiot, blind agents to kiss my ass and to shove their contract up their ass. I didn’t care that my mother, a black woman, was red with embarrassment and that I would probably not be hired to model Band-Aids for Johnson & Johnson let alone Vogue Magazine. I didn’t care. I hurt so badly for my friend because I knew I had ruined her chance. It would be the longest flight I’d ever taken, it was the second hardest time I cried.

But years past and high school came and went, with tons of modeling jobs in between to heal those new wounds, courtesy of a smarter agency of course. And then the college years began and saying it was the hardest time I cried to date, ever, would be an understatement. College was and I guess when I think about it, will always be a turning point for me. It was a good part of my life, I enjoyed that first year. That year when all I was thinking about was what extra course I could squeeze into my jam packed life. When my every waking moment was dedicate to school and those modeling jobs Barker wouldn’t let me pass up. Those were good times. Great times.

But things got a bit more complicated as time went on and to think it all changed in one single night, it baffles me. Sometimes I wonder how I would have turned out had I not given in to Barker’s need to do something that night. Had I not gone to a dirty bar and had I not agreed to stay to hear the band play.

It was late for me, it had been a day filled completely to the hilt with school and a modeling job that just drained me. Maybe I should have stayed in my apartment, maybe I should have gone to bed. Maybe.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t because that one little voice in my head kept telling me that I needed to have some fun. Oddly enough, it was my father who instructed Barker, in a stern voice, to make me enjoy myself. Funny, how things turn out, right? As I usually did, I followed Barker out of the door, leaving behind who I once were unbeknownst to me. And while I’m comfortable with whom I am now, I doubt I would have accomplished what I have in my life, had I not walked out of that door. But I did and I made decisions that helped shape my life to what it is now. A whirlwind of what ifs.

That night, I fell head over heels in lust with a guy that would eventually shatter my entire world, my very perfect existence.

Not only did I let Barker drag me into that bar that night, I voluntarily spent weeks there, sticking out like a sore thumb. A one of a kind diamond lost in a pawn shop, was one of the many comments I heard around campus. I didn’t care then and I wouldn’t care now what people thought or think of me. That hasn’t changed, obviously. In part, I have to thank those people who made those comments, ‘friends’ of mine who looked down on me for wanting to spend my free time at that bar. Everything must come full circle, they say and for me in that aspect it has. It is why I’ve volunteered my time and my hard earned money to charities whom I feel mean something.

But perhaps they were a little bit right, maybe I was lost in that grungy place as they looked from the outside in. But looking into that lead singer’s eyes helped me find my way, whether it was a good way or a bad one, would come later.

It took some time for that lead singer to notice me and the falling in love part didn’t happen over night. Nothing happened for quite some time, actually. I remember sitting toward the back of the grungy place, most of the time with a water bottle in my hand and I didn‘t even know his name. I wondered what he was about and wondered what was behind those beautiful blue eyes that shined in the darkened place. I wondered how his eyes could shine so brightly in that sad place. And I wondered why he looked almost taken aback by my presence. I can’t say that band he played with was any good, the drummer was a stoner and the bass player looked like something out the pits of hell. But then again, they all looked that way, yet I was drawn by the dark man who looked at me as though I was lost. Maybe it was true, maybe I didn’t belong there but one thing was for sure. That one night when bumping into him accidentally near the men’s bathroom, our eyes connected and our hearts followed. As cheesy as it may sound, it was instantaneously. It hit me so hard, I nearly fell over with complete and utter need for this man. It was a connection that until just recently, I thought I’d never feel again. His name was Jared and we connected that night, heart, body and soul.

And I became disconnected from myself.

I spend every waking moment with him after that night as though he‘d been part of my entire life, part of me. I devoted those days in which I would have been in front of a camera to this man. I remember having run out of excuses to tell my modeling agency and simply not showing up to my scheduled shoots. Funny how now, in my profession, I frown upon the kind of person I’d become back then. But you live and you learn. You love and hurt. You make decisions and mistakes follow. You suffer and others around you suffer.

Barker and I were the first to suffer from my sudden change of life.

The connection that I had with the love of my life, made the relationship with my best fiend, my sister, strain to almost the breaking point. She and I argued about him constantly and there were times when weeks would pass before I’d hear from her. She’d leave to do a photo shoot overseas or back to New York without a single word to me. I can’t deny that it hurt tremendously to have her upset with me. I’m a sucker for Barker and I guess I always will be. But he was there then, when she was not and it was convenient to just set our arguments aside and deal with them later. The last argument we had in regards to my boyfriend wasn’t any different than the other times. She’d claimed he was using me and the financial stability that I came with. As if, right? I was in love and accusing my best friend of being jealous was far more uncomplicated than admitting that she was right. She insisted that I was obsessed with my boyfriend and that although she could strangle me for being so stupid, she’d by my side when he stabbed me in the back. I should have listened. Could of, should of, would of, life is all about the what-ifs you encounter in the time you’re granted by God to be on this earth. What ifs.

Barker wasn’t the only aspect of my life that was suffering, my education suffered as well. Don’t get me wrong, I did earn passing grades, enough to get through but that was it. Instead of joining other activities on campus, I dropped the ones that were simply an option. Slowly but surely I dropped the days in which I would socialize with those people whom thought I was crazy for claiming to love the ‘piece of trash’ I called my boyfriend. I didn’t care though, because when those people turned their heads and forgot I existed, they were too late, I’d already left them behind. I’d left myself behind as well, I’d become a different person all together.

A few weeks went by and the more time I spent with Jared, the more I loved him. He truly made me happy, or what I thought happiness was at that time. Right now, I’m finding that happiness doesn’t come from a text book and there isn‘t a final thesis to write about it. Happiness is what you make of it. Happiness is what I chose when my father came to see me at that very hole in the wall bar, my place of employment, a few months later. When my father gave me the choice of transferring to another school at another state without my beloved boyfriend or staying and losing his respect, you can guess what the choice was. What if I’d chosen differently? What if?

I didn’t cry about my father’s harsh words. I didn’t look back when I walked out of the Dean’s office at my Ivy League University after dropping out. I didn’t flinch when the notice of eviction was posted on my apartment’s door. I found a way to get comfortable in that small apartment with Jared’s family without regret. I didn’t cry when my modeling agency dropped me and working at that bar would be my only means of eating and surviving. I didn’t cry because I had him with me and it was all that mattered to me. How naïve.

Sometimes I think about what would have been had I not let my curiosity take control of my actions. But it’s too late for that, I realize.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Jared came into the small kitchen in that crowded apartment, that my life took an even sharper turn. Aside from being the front man of that awful band, Jared was an aspiring actor. I should have known better, I should have known that when he told me he’d gotten a part in a pilot being shot in Los Angeles, it would be the end of my happiness. He went on and on about some random show called, My So-called Life and how it was the opportunity of a lifetime for him. I was genuinely happy for him, I really was, honest to God. But as we scraped for money and packed our things, I knew something was wrong. Something dark came over our heads and loomed in the distance.

Hollywood.

Courtesy of Barker’s credit card and her disapproval, we went to Los Angeles. And courtesy of the production company we stayed in a small studio apartment near Studio City. The first few days of shooting this odd and dark show went well. The director loved Jared alongside the strange looking red-head named Claire. I was so proud of him for getting through his jitters and for taking direction so well. He truly was amazingly talented and I wished only the best opportunities for him. And those opportunities came with invitations to dinner with cast members. Invites to parties full of people with a way ‘into’ the business. But those events, those parties, those opportunities came with a price. They often came with an invitation for one. And I didn’t mind staying in that studio apartment, alone every night, because he was fulfilling his dreams. The dreams that he’d share with me while laying in bed at night. The dreams that made my own take second fiddle. He’d made it to Hollywood and he wasn’t going back.

I was by his side when the show’s pilot aired and I was by his side when it got picked up by a major network. But by his side I was not, when he walked out of that studio apartment, headed for another party. Another night of meeting people who would help his career. Meeting people that encouraged him to dress differently and people who fed him hopes of becoming an Oscar winning actor in the future. And the person who believed in him, who was proudest of him, the person who’d given up their life for him, stayed behind, missing him and loving him. I stood by his side, I was the only one there for him but I’d had enough. Barker came to rescue me, a few weeks later with the company of my father.

He didn’t say much to me that night, he simply stood by the door as I turned and gathered my stuff. I don’t know why I didn’t question why they were there. I don’t know why I couldn’t say anything to either one but I knew that it was time to go. It was time to stop believing that Jared would come through the door and everything would be good again. I just knew that my heart was breaking by the minute as I walked out of that apartment building. But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I couldn’t walk away from him like he did those nights after making love to me, headed for another Hollywood extravaganza. I spoke to my father then, asking him to drive to that ritzy hotel where I knew Jared was. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. Maybe I should have gone home and left everything the way it was. But I walked into that hotel with Barker and going into that grand ballroom hadn’t been necessary to find Jared.

My once dark and grungy boyfriend was before me, clad in a tuxedo and kissing another woman like he just merely hours had been kissing me. At the time, I hadn’t recognized the woman in his arms and frankly I wish I never had.

Hollywood had stolen my man, Hollywood had taken a hold of his genuinely good heart and it had corrupted him enough to destroy our love. He’d let it rule his life within weeks and he’d towed my heart through it and left me gasping for air. He’d ripped my heart out and handed it back to me without a blink of those beautiful blue eyes. It would be the third time in my life, that I would cry. And it would be my father’s shoulder that I would rest my head on although he never spoke a word to me. I was going home.

The months that followed were probably the most heartbreaking days of my entire life. Jared never called, simply accepted that I was gone. Just like that.

I barely left my room in that mansion at the Hamptons, mainly because I was ashamed of what I’d become. I’d let ‘love’ blind me ad steer me toward the wrong direction. But one afternoon my father, who avoided me for months, stopped by my room. Barker and I had been shocked to have him knocking on the door but we both looked at him with respect and adoration like we always did. He said eight words to me that day. You’re not going to accomplish anything in here. And he dropped a large envelope on my bed before walking out of my room. When I think about it now, it was all so dramatic, so movie-like. When Barker smiled at me and squeezed my hand before following my father out of my room, I knew she knew what was inside that envelope.

Columbia University.

I’d never questioned my fathers ability to get things done, to get what he wants and I didn’t question him then. I didn’t ask him how he’d managed to transfer me from colleges and how he’d managed to have the Dean of my other school write a recommendation letter. It simply was, what it was. And that day I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I stopped thinking that my broken heart was the only thing left in me. I got my life back together, I moved back to the city and I began a fresh course, in life and in school.

A few years after that, I had a Management’s Degree and an interview with Naomi Campbell’s people. And although working with this woman was tough , it was the challenge of doing it that kept me by her side for years. I learned a lot about the modeling business pool, while keeping my feet right in there as well. My modeling jobs changed from random fashion magazines to a lot of charity work. I learned to manage time and a schedule filled with Naomi Campbell’s needs. Saying she’s the biggest diva in the world would be a complete understatement. But I am proud to admit that she is one of my dearest friends. I survived her all those years and that’s top notch for anyone.

But I became bored with it. I needed something else.

When I gave the news to my father that I’d quit my job, he had this blank expression on his face. I don’t know what he’d been thinking but I knew that I didn’t want to see it again. I felt small and ashamed of even the biggest accomplishments in my life. I became obsessed with having my father be proud of me, and having my father’s respect was all I could think of. Making my father proud would become the dark cloud that lingers over me till this very day.

I modeled exclusively for a large charity organization for almost a year before my father visited me in my new condo in the city. He hadn’t brought my mother along, but he didn’t come alone. I hadn’t seen Uncle Johnny in ages, mainly keeping in touch through emails and yearly family photos. At first, I’d felt bombarded with all the information Uncle Johnny had been dishing out. He’d explained a position at his management company that he knew I’d be great at. I obviously can’t deny that it was a great opportunity and the need to do something different was tickling at my toes. But the decision factor came when my father said to Johnny, not me, that I’d be great at it.

I knew after those words that I had to delve into the entertainment business, courtesy of my Uncle Johnny, because someway somehow, I could make my father proud. I was ready then.

But what I wasn’t ready for, was Justin Timberlake.

I wasn’t expecting the man who was barely awake in my first staff meeting to be driving me home from a meeting that would help shape the rest of my life. I never imagined that I would find myself dreading the day in which I would be terrified to see my family. Never imagined that Justin Timberlake would help me get through it without losing my mind. I’ve avoided my family like a plague, and I am ashamed of myself for it but I can’t say I would have been able to walk into that room, had Justin not been there. I couldn’t have looked at my mother in the eyes and told her that everything would be alright if he hadn‘t been there to reassure me of that fact. My father is gone and while nothing will ever be the same, Justin makes me feel as though everything will be okay. Isn’t that the most ridiculous notion in the world? Justin Timberlake, my saving grace.

I’ve only briefly talked to Barker prior to engaging in the tightest hug know to man kind outside my father’s lawyer’s office. I’ve felt a void in my heart where she rests and I’m embarrassed to call myself her best friend. I purposely ignored her calls and those of them that I answered lasted mere minutes before excusing myself to attend a nonexistent meeting. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve that smile and kiss she gave me after that hug and I don’t deserve the worry in her eyes for me.

I’m truly sorry for my distance from my family and the added hurt I must have been causing them. I really am. But I couldn’t face them, I couldn’t face them knowing that they counted on me. No one had to show me or tell me that I would become the backbone to this family, it was a weight dropped on my shoulder the minute my father was six feet under. And the saddest part about it is how I’m supposed to keep them up while barely standing on solid ground myself. How do I do that? How do I fill shoes only one person could wear? How do I become my father, when I couldn’t even make him proud?

I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m being forced to face the reality of things.

“What are you thinking?�

“Everything,� We’re nearing the Justin’s gated community and I wonder how many of those vultures with cameras will make it beyond the gates with us.

“Do you want to talk about that everything?� I turn my face away from the window to look at him to find that sincere mile he gives when he’s worried and trying to make me feel better. It’s not a smile of pity, that I have learned, it’s a reassuring smile and I can’t help but smile back when it does just that. Sometimes I wonder if the man reads up on book on how to make women swoon at his every move. But I doubt he has time to breathe let alone read.

“I don’t really fell up to talking about sad stuff tonight,� it’s taking a lot for me to speak this way, this open. A few months ago I would have told him to mind his business and to fuck off, that’s for sure. But a few months ago I would have been hiding from myself, avoiding any contact with actual emotions. He did this to me. Justin.

“No sad stuff. Check,� he says and I can see his jaw clench a bit when one of the vultures who happens to have scored ‘friends’ in the gated community follows behind us in the car. “What would you like to do tonight?�

“Don’t you have a meeting with Jive?�

“I’ll call Johnny and…�

“Don’t, Justin. Go to your meeting, I’ll be fine.� I appreciate that he wants to stay as close to me as possible, but I will not let him use me as an excuse not to work. I won’t. “I’m sure it’s important and I’ll probably be bad company anyway. Don‘t skip out on work because of me.�

“You’re right,� his response makes me smile because no matter how I’m feeling, being told that I’m right still makes me tingle. It’s the only bit of self confidence I still have.

“I’m always right,� he looks at me with a bored depression that makes my lips twitch. He’s a really good actor, he looks serious and not impressed with my response.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t skip out on work because of you,� he reaches for the garage door opener above his head and looks at me and I can see the twinkle in his eye even in the darkened car. “I’m skipping out on work because of me.�

“Really?� I ask as I step out of the car and follow him to the door into the kitchen.

“That’s right,� he says as he takes my briefcase from my hand and enters the house. I watch as he bypasses his security pad by the entryway and continues to walk further into the house. “I’m skipping out on a meeting to hangout with them. Totally not about you.�

I obviously must have missed cars on the way inside the garage because I would have noticed that Barker’s car was outside the house. I also missed the luggage by the kitchen door because I almost trip over them and I round the kitchen wall. Trace, Joanna, Rachel and Barker are sitting in front of the TV, popcorn on their laps and they are staring at me with wide smiles.

“It’s about time!!� Trace says obnoxiously loud.

“My ear, you ass!!� Joanna grunts and smacks him on the chest before smiling at me.

“Welcome to movie night, Ms. Martinez,� Justin whispers in my ear before kissing the side of my head. “I did promise no sad stuff.�

“Thank you,� I say and I don’t care that people in the room are staring, I kiss his lips softly.

“Oh alright already,� Barker says throwing pop corn at our heads. “Can we watch the movie already? Where did you take her to dinner, Justin? Memphis? Geez!�

“Why are you friends with her again?� Justin asks making sure Barker heard him.

“Hey!� she protests loudly, throwing more popcorn toward his face. “She’s on a loan to you Trousersnake, don’t push it.�

“You didn’t just say that word?� Trace says laughing and Joanna covers her face with a pillow to stop from being seen laughing at poor Justin, who is completely red in the face.

“This is why I’m friends with her,� I say as I caress his red face, before kissing his lips quickly and jumping on the couch with Barker.

“Please take those shoes off, V! You’re stabbing me!� Barker says as we both collapse to the floor in a fit of laughter.

I don’t know what we’re laughing about but all I know is that it feels good to laugh. It feels good to have that release and it feels even better when I catch a glimpse at Justin and he’s sitting on the edge of the couch watching me with love in his eyes.

Thank you for movie night, Justin.

This is not the fourth time I would cry…

ls23 Chapter Twenty-Three: Something

I don’t know what the hell made me think that I’d have free time this year. What the fuck was I thinking? I clearly wasn’t or must have been thinking out of my ass, because it has been nationally declared that my personal life is over. I’m on full Justin Timberlake, the star, mode and I can’t shake it off. Who came up with the idea to tour for a year and half straight and get it out of the way? Oh, that’s right, it was the asshole looking at the dancers through the mirror in front of him, as Marty kills every ounce of energy left in his body. Yeah, me. I’m not one to complain usually, I’m really not. I love this shit, I love planning and I love doing my shit on stage and I can’t fucking think of another profession that would suit me so well. But fuck!!

I’ve been working my ass off for the last few weeks to make this huge tour a success or try to at least. From promoting my album to attending and performing at numerous award shows, I’m seriously contemplating suicide. No, really, I am. Maybe, that’s a little drastic but I’m just I don’t know, tired? I may ache a bit after the crucial work out regimen Jason, the drill sergeant, has me in or after rehearsing for ten hours with Marty, the dancing freak, but I’m not physically tired. I’m more mentally and emotionally tired. Yes, I realize I’m being such a little bitch but what the fuck? I miss Vanessa. There you go, there it is.

It’s been weeks since we’ve been able to spend more than an a few hours alone. Between my meetings, appearances across the country and her demanding job, I can’t even remember the last time I kissed her. I mean, I kissed her this morning as she kicked me out of her apartment to get my ass to rehearsal, I mean a real kiss. The ones that make us both moan like idiots because it feels so good. The ones that makes her run her fingers through the back of my head, the ones that make me want to swallow her whole and keep her inside me forever. A real kiss.

Last night when I arrived at her place, we were both so exhausted from working that laying in bed and sleeping seemed a hell of a lot more interesting than meeting Johnny for dinner. Of course laying next to this woman without touching her, no matter how exhausted I am, is nearly impossible. I had to get some and the act set us both over the I’m-so-fucking-tired-edge that we were out before I was even out, if you know what I mean. Crazy shit.

I still have three hours of rehearsals and I haven’t heard from her all day. I’m a little worried that I’m becoming whipped and it’s a dangerous thing when you have so much shit on your plate. My plate is stacked with this tour, finishing voice-overs for Shrek, this fucking tour, promoting my album, performing at everyone and their momma’s show and did I mention this tour? But that little side dish of Vanessa is looking way more appealing even though I’ve never been a fan of sides. Who wants a side of macaroni and cheese when you can have it as your meal? I mean come on!

Last week I spent three days in New York, minus Vanessa, doing press junkets for the third installment of the Shrek movies and with that came a bit of discomfort. And I don’t just mean the personal questions from stupid journalists. I mean the company in which I would be for hours each day. If I hadn’t enjoyed the process of the movie and if I hadn’t been such a big fan of Mike, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it. And when you’re dating the lead character in the movie and she asks you with hope in her eyes, well what the fuck, you get screwed into it. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love that I was able to do that type of work and I appreciate the experience but when I signed up for it I didn’t know that when the time came to promote it, I’d be in this awkward stage with the female lead. And if that wasn’t awkward enough, Rachel suddenly doesn’t want to be too close with Cameron and I felt a little uncomfortable when Rachel opted to stay in when the cast was invited to dinner. I could tell that Cameron was a little taken back by Rachel’s dismissive attitude but because I don’t get in the bullshit web women weave, I stayed the fuck out of it. However, it didn’t mean I wasn’t glad that Rachel was kind of embracing Vanessa, although she’ll swear she still thinks Vanessa is a bitch. Which is hard to believe when I caught those two talking about some handbags or some bullshit the other day, like they were the best of sorority sisters or some shit. I will never understand women, especially not my cousin and my new girlfriend, who hasn’t fucking called, but I digress.

During the cast dinner in New York, I purposely avoided sitting anywhere near Cameron and I think she did the same. We weren’t shooting daggers across the large table, calling each other names or anything but because I’ve been avoiding her calls for weeks, I think it was a given that it would be uncomfortable. I can’t honestly explain why I never answered her calls, I just didn’t and maybe I’m an asshole for it. And not that I minded or paid extra close attention to her, but she did bring a date while I intended to bring Rachel, to avoid more media frenzy, so I was considerate of the situation. She unlike myself, didn’t give a flying fuck apparently. Although I was forewarned by my ’people’ meaning Vanessa, to be careful what I said to the media in regards to having to attend events with my ex.

I did ask Vanessa to join me in New York for those days but that had been a really stupid question in my part, which makes sense cause I seem to be the dumbass in this relationship. I’ve learned that much in the past few months, but I still ask. She didn’t agree to join me because she didn’t want to be with me, I know she wants me. Trust me. It’s simply because it’s best if we keep things private and the fact that she’s swamped with work, well that didn’t help either. But I guess it was for the best that she didn’t come along because as she went over the schedule for my trip with my PR and Rachel, I could see the steam raising from the back of her neck. She still dislikes someone and I’ll use dislike lightly, very lightly. I haven’t bothered asking her why she has this ‘dislike’ for Cameron in fear that she’ll get into this whole blown out story about how women can tell if they like someone at sight and blah blah blah. But I won’t lie, it makes me feel good about myself that for some unknown reason she hates my ex. I‘d like to think it‘s because they have me in common and I‘m the shit. Right? Who wouldn’t think that way? Yeah, I know, women. I’m a fucking guy and my ego only gets stroked by moments like those. Fuck the adoration of fans, although I appreciate that, but my chest puffs up when the person I love shows the same feelings. That’s what I call an ego stroke, baby! And yes, I said love.

Needless to say I couldn’t wait to get back to L.A. after press junket hell and everyone around me knew it. In the end, if coming home to find Vanessa laying on my living room couch, asleep, wearing my t-shirt and boxers, was my reward for playing nice around my ex for three days, then it was well worth it. Speaking of my ex, Cameron hasn’t called in a while and I don’t know why it‘s coming to mind. Am I wrong for being curious as to what she wanted? I searched the house for anything that she might have left there, eliciting the phone calls but Rachel had done a pretty good job sweeping the house for Cameron paraphernalia, so that couldn’t have been it. I’m having that feeling you get when you’re debating with a bunch of what-ifs. I mean, I don’t think it would have affect me as much as I’m making it out to be in my fucking head but I’m curious and I can’t fucking help it. Didn’t I say my plate was full?

Have I mentioned that Vanessa hasn’t called?

I know I’m fucking up the dance routine that I mastered just two days ago and the look that Marty has on his face, let’s me know that. Usually I wouldn’t be such a little bitch about Vanessa not calling, we’re two busy mofos, but today is a bit different. Today she was meeting with her father’s lawyer for some final things on the will. We didn’t talk about it much because we’d been so tired last night but I know that every time she gets called to finalize something for her family, she returns to that depressive state of mind. She always seems to pull herself out of it within a few hours out of pure will power that she grabs out of thin air but I hate seeing her that way. It really burns me up actually. I wish I knew the right words to make her feel good about herself and accomplishments. I wish I could help her healing process but I’ve come to understand that no one but Vanessa herself can fix that.

I wish I could have gone with her like I’ve done every other time, I wish I could have take her to lunch and made her laugh after this meeting. I wish Barker wasn’t across the world working, so that she could have filled in for me. I wish she’d just call already so that I know that she’s okay. I really wish I could stop trying to protect her from her own feelings regarding her father‘s death, I really do. But I’m convinced that I can’t and it kills me to know that she’ll have this thing, these feelings inside eating at her as long as she lets it. She’s a tough cookie and if she knew I referred to her as a cookie, I’m sure she’ll kick my ass. But she is. She’s my tough cookie. The smile on my face is evident. I’m pathetic.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?� Marty says loudly over the music as everyone takes a sigh of relief at the sign of a break.

“Shut up, man!� I say as the group of dancers disburse across and out of the large rehearsal room.

“You know that attitude isn’t going to get you out of here early tonight,� Marty thinks he can threaten me and usually its entertaining to watch him think he’s the fucking man. But today I just give him the finger instead of arguing. He’s lucky he’s a top notch choreographer and a good friend of mine. If it wasn’t for that, I think I would have fired the son of a bitch a long time ago, he’s a fucking maniac slave driver! He’s also not one of Vanessa’s favorite people, which is fun to watch.

“You know that attitude of yours will get you in deep shit with V,� I respond because I can’t help it. He’s also not fond of her even though she helped him out a few times, she also won‘t admit to it. Things just happen to come through for Marty in the public relations department. “I have plans with her, fucker! You better not piss her off.�

“Yeah, okay,� he says throwing a water bottle in my direction. A few minutes later, he starts messing with the sound system like he’s a fucking DJ suddenly, when the side door leading to the offices of the rehearsal building opens and Vanessa walks in, phone attached to her ear. She makes my heart skip a beat every single time and I’m pretty much fucked with this one. She’s got me. Marty looks at her and then back at my cheesy-ass face and shakes his head. “Just get the fuck out here. Just fucking go.�

“I will personally take care of it, clearly it’s not something you’re capable of doing. Good day,� she still standing by the door, staring at Marty who won’t look at her. He’s pushing buttons on the sound system and ignoring that she’s standing there, purposely. Finally not being able to resist the scorching heat on his back, he turns with a smirk across his face. He’s clearly in for a shitload of words that are about to leave her beautiful mouth. I’m just sitting on the bench, leaning against the mirrored wall, watching quietly. “Mr. Kudelka, I’m aware that you were raised in the ‘hood’ and that perhaps you aren’t aware of when you’re being offensive. Using foul language in a place of business is considered crass and unprofessional. So to say that using foul language loudly in a place of business when someone is on a telephone call is very unprofessional, is an understatement. Not to mention that speaking to your employee in that manner is grounds for termination.  Now if you’ll excuse me, we’ll just FUCKING go now.�

“Yeah, Marty!! How fucking unprofessional can you be?� I yell out obnoxiously loud from across the room and it’s the first sign of a smile I see in her face since she’s walked in. Good sign.

“You’re such an asshole, Timberlake.� Marty says as he returns the finger favor and walks out of the room chuckling.

“You ARE an asshole,� Vanessa says with a shy smile on her face that’s only directed at me and yeah, I don’t give a fuck, she’s fucking cute!!

“Hi,� I say as I stand from the bench and walk toward her. We’re both blushing dickheads and I leap forward to embrace her in my arms. When my lips make contact with hers, it’s the real kiss. It’s the kiss I’ve been thinking about all day and it’s the kiss that makes us moan as Rachel walks in the room.

“Oh god,� Rachel says as she walks past our joined bodies and I can hear the pure disgust in her voice. She’s a dickhead too! “Get a room.�

“Get a brain,� I say as Vanessa straighten herself up as best as she can, since I won’t fully release her from my grasp.

“Get a shower,� Rachel says and continues to grab the countless agendas and shit regarding my tour from the floor space she’d been occupying for hours. “I’m taking your car, don’t wait up after your wash your stank ass!�

“I didn’t even break a sweat today, Chickenhead! You better act like you know,� I don’t know why suddenly I’m in a great mood and fucking with Rachel, well I do know why but Rachel rolls her eyes at me and exit’s the room, making Vanessa chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Rachel’s had a rough day, I mean, with having to deal with some demon lady from WEG all day and all. Any ideas who that could be?�

“Excuse me but I will have you know that I didn’t call her once today, not once,� she seems pretty convince about her answer as she stands there with her hand on her hip, giving that Puertoriquen stance that I absolutely love.

“Really?� I tease as I walk to a table where my cell phone has been place by Marty after the object kept flying across the floor repeatedly. I’m surprised it’s still alive and functioning. Motorola bitches!

“Yes, really,� she says as she watches me and her eyes divert to a group of dancers that enter the room. I can see her shoulders straighten and she’s Ms. Cruela Martinez within seconds. Kind of turns me on. Two women with the taste of ONE. Nice!

“Ready to go?� I ask under my breath as to not make her uncomfortable around the ‘non-aware’ part of my tour crew. I’m honestly wondering why the hell I would even play along with this secret stuff with people who are going to catch on quickly once the tour starts. I mean it’s inevitable. And every single one of these people have signed confidentiality agreements that have them bind at the ass, which needless to say, Vanessa made them sign, with their blood at that. Rules are rules, I guess.

“Yes,� she simply says as she turns to walk in the direction she’d just came from. I can’t help but watch her every time because well, I’m a pig and she’s my woman.

“Hey Nancy!� I’m fairly certain that every one of those dancers is hating on the fact that I’m heading toward the door but fuck it, I’m the motha fucking boss here. Peace out! “Tell your boyfriend, I’ll talk to him tomorrow.�

“Tell your girlfriend her shoes are hot then,� she says making the rest of the crew laugh.

“I will certainly do that, Ms. Kudelka,� I say with a wink as she gives me the oh so famous finger we’ve taken the liberty to constantly use. I simply wink at her and smile before opening the door and walking out after my oh-so-delicious girlfriend in hot shoes. “I’m out!�

Vanessa is nowhere in sight when I exit the building but Mike is waiting by her car, acting like he’s going somewhere with me. I think not.

“Finished early?� he asks with a smirk on his face. I’m so sick of his “you’re a pussy and you’re whipped� jokes I can smell one coming a mile away. “Or is the boss calling the shots again?�

“Shut up, Mike. Where is she?� I ask and I jump in the driver seat of her car, anxious to get the hell out of this tour rehearsal hell.

“She’s coming right now,� he points to the door I just exited and I’m wondering where that briefcase she’s carrying had been. She certainly didn’t carry it in when she went into the rehearsal room, that’s for sure. Cause this semi hard-on that I have going on as I watch her sexy ass walking toward the car, would have happened inside the rehearsal room.

“Hey,� she says when she gets in the car and maneuvers to place the briefcase behind my seat.

“What were you doing? Torturing more of my dancers with confidentiality agreements?�

“No, Mr. Timberlake, I wasn’t. If you must know I was getting my things from the office I’ve been using for three hours to work on YOUR tour schedule. That’s what I was doing. What are YOU doing in MY seat?� That question seems oddly familiar.

“I’m driving, you know the…wait what? Three hours? You’ve been here for three hours?�

“Do you need your ears checked before going on tour. Mr. Timberlake? Because frankly I don’t know how I would get my staff to explain why Justin Timberlake can’t hear let alone sing. Three hours is what I said.�

“You’re telling me that you’ve been in there for three hours and it is till about five minutes ago that you make your presence known? Is that what you‘re saying?� I’m already driving around the other cars in the lot, giving Mike the finger to fuck off as I ask these questions. She looking at me with a bored expression across her face and I want to kiss her but the traffic on Robertson Boulevard doesn’t allow for that.

“If I would have entered that room prior to a decent time, according to your shitty choreographer’s standards, he would have had a god damn heart attack. And not that I minded giving the son of a bitch a heart attack, but it would have prevented you from doing what you were supposed to be doing. Which by the way, is rehearsing, not looking at your phone every five seconds.�

“And what exactly gives you the impression that you entering the room would have prevented my ability to work? Extra confident aren’t you?� We’re halfway home and I realize that this ‘argument’ will last to right about the time we enter the gates to my house.

“One doesn’t need to be extra confident, Mr. Timberlake. One knows she is well justified in making that statement simply from one’s experience. I‘m fully aware of your lack of work ethics when I walk into the room, thank you very much.�

“Oh but one should talk about work ethics, when ONE was watching ME the entire time, instead of being in an office working on MY tour schedule. Right? Every five seconds, is what you said, right?�

“Ohh shut up,� she says smacking my arm and rolling her eyes. It’s a sign of defeat and I have yet again, won this one. I love it. I’m the man, I know.

“Hi,� I say as cheesy as I can possible remember being. Ever. She turns her head away from the traffic around us and smiles at me.

“Hi,� the smile that’s on her lips make the red light stay red for an extra twenty seconds when I lean across the console to kiss her lips. The newly darkened windows in her car prevent the neighboring car to see who we are and I’m thankful. This is why we try to avoid public outings. All it takes is one photo in which I fucking forget who I am and do something stupid. You know, like kiss WEG‘s Director of Public Relations at a stop light while driving her car. “You better go,� she says tapping my shoulder lightly and it’s only then that I hear the honking behind me. Can I just kiss my girl?!! Fuck!! Drivers in L.A. are in such a hurry to get fucking nowhere!!

“Someday I’d like to be able to et out of my car and kick someone’s ass for honking their fucking horn at me. I swear to god!� Shit, like this irks me because had I been someone else, not ME, I could have easily put my window down and given the asshole the finger without any worries. But I’m not someone else, I’m me. Yes, I’m fucking whining. Have I mentioned that I’m tired lately?

“You’re tired,� Vanessa says as we both watch a group of about ten paparazzi hounds to our right as we pass by the Ivy. By the hint of blond hair I can see in the mist of the crowd that surrounds it I can immediately tell that it‘s Paris.

“I’m fine,� I say shaking my head at the scene beside us and I’m thankful once again for the pitch black tint on the car. “Why do they do that? Why does she submit herself to that type of invasion all the time?�

“Paris, you mean?� Vanessa asks as we make a left onto Santa Monica Boulevard and we’re one paparazzi street closer to my house. “I’m not sure why anyone would purposely dine at places like the Ivy but it’s what she does. Being photographed in compromising situations is what has skyrocketed her stupid fame. I feel a need to call up her PR and just let him have a piece of my mind sometimes. But it’s what Paris does, I can’t fathom why so many people love her, but it is what it is.�

“She’s actually not as ditzy as the media makes her out to be but in situations like that, where she’s basically asking for it, I don’t fucking blame the media all that much. I could never do it. Put myself out there as much as she and everyone else does.�

“There’s a difference between you and them, Justin,� she says looking at me with a look that shows me that she’s being sincere. “You we’re raised by money hungry parents or managed by people after the fame. You’ve had humble surroundings your entire career and I think that’s good. And it’s why people are shocked beyond relief when you lift that precious finger of yours. You’re different because you know how to keep your feet on the ground and flashing yourself across Hollywood Boulevard is not you. Your mother raised you well, that of course is not counting into affect the complete disregard for respect toward women when you spoke to me in the past. Or rather yelled.�

“Are you referring to that finger I lifted last week as I walked out of Millennium?� I ask with a chuckle as we both sign in relief when we finally turn into Laurel Canyon Boulevard. Almost home.

“Yeah, I meant to ask you about those last night, smartass,� she says smacking my arm playfully. “You can’t keep doing that to your PR, he’s going to have a coronary over that finger of yours.�

“He’ll survive,� I say with a shrug. “You did.�

“Oh don’t get yourself twisted there, Mr. Timberlake. I think the proper words are that you survived me, from the beginning you were doomed for failure. Don‘t be confused.�

“I’m sorry, my bad, maybe I’m confused about who survived that night in that hotel room too. For some reason, I seem to remember being the one walking out of the room and if I do remember correctly you were the one that died and went to heaven, making me the victorious one. I mean, I think that’s the way it went. Let me think…yep, that’s the way it went.�

“You’re a pig,� she says with a laugh and even in the darkened car, I can see her blush.

“I know,� I says with a wink as the gates to my house open just wide enough for the car to get through. “Are you hungry?�

“No, I had a dinner with your assistant about an hour ago,� she says as the garage door opens and we’re illuminated by the automated lights through the inside of the garage and the house.

“You had dinner with Rachel? Wow, Rachel knew you were at millennium too?�

“Where do you think she was for two hours? We ordered food while we went over some of your scheduled appearances during the tour. Which by the way, I did get a hold of Ellen’s people and arranged for her to come to the show in Memphis for the appearance on her show, all accommodations paid including flight arrangements, instead of you flying back to L.A. to do it. You did say, you wanted an extra day in Memphis, right?�

“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks,� I say as we enter the house and are immediately greeted by Buckley and Brennen, who are super excited that their motha fucking master is home! I feel them, I really do, cause I’m glad to be home too. “So you already ate?�

“Yes,� she says kissing Brennen’s head repeatedly. “You want me to make something for you or did you want to order out?�

“I can order pizza, I don’t know how much more of your cooking I can take in a week,� I say jokingly because well she deserves a jab. How did she have the balls to have dinner with my assistant  just a few doors down from me? And I didn’t even know she was there?! That’s messed up!!

“Your master is an ungrateful son of a bitch, isn’t he? He doesn’t appreciate anything, does he?� she’s talking to Buckley in a baby voice that makes me smile and her left hand is lifted in the most precious thing in the world. She’s giving me the finger.

“Lovely,� I say with a bored expression across my face and she smiles when both dogs sit at her feet and stare at me. Nothing but traitors these dogs are. Traitors. “Would you like to take a shower with me or did you take one with Rachel as well?�

“Well when you extend an offer in that manner, you’d be lucky if I even stay tonight,� she says with a roll of her eyes, as she flips through the various menus that permanently live on top of the kitchen island.

“Right, because missing a shower with me to drive across town to your place is so much better than showering with me,� I’m already halfway up the stairs, mumbling some random bullshit so that she hears me. I hear her mumbling away as well, and I have to chuckle. “Don’t order that hideous pizza you like again!!�

“What’s wrong with anchovies and onions?!� I hear her yell from the kitchen and I have to cringe at the thought of that awful pizza she ordered a few days ago. “Whatever!! I’m not even hungry you ass!!�

“Thank you!!!� I’m so glad to be home finally, arguing about her taste in pizza toppings and I swear if someone would tell me this is the way I’d spend the rest of my life, I’d take it. Without a doubt in my mind, I would argue with her till I was red in the fucking face if it meant that when I got out of the shower every night, she’d be there.

Usually my showers are quick, not wanting to waste any time I could be eating or sleeping but I take my time under the hot spray. It’s not long before I feel the cool breeze enter the hot shower and her arms wrap around my shoulders. The feel of her body pressed against mine makes my body quiver and she giggles knowingly. She’s going to kill me one of these days, I swear to God.

“Hello there, Mr. Timberlake,� she whispers in this incredibly sexy voice that makes me want to take her into the studio and record her saying the things she says to me, so that it can last forever. “Happy to see me, I see.�

“Don’t act so surprise, Ms. Martinez,� I say caressing the side of her face, water dripping slowly down her cheek and down toward her shoulders. “You’ve been doing that for a long time now.�

“Have I?� she says and the look that she gives me, lets me know she’s up to no good. And I love it. “Do I always make you THIS happy?� And she of course follows that with tantalizing slow strokes of my man down there. Why doesn’t this ever get old? I mean, she could do this every single day when we shower, and every touch is still new to me. Shit!

“Now, now,� I say shaking my finger at her like a disappointed teacher. “Remember what happened to you last time you tried to do that, Ms. Martinez. Do you really want to go there?�

“Go where? Here?� See, now she’s fucking with me as she grabs a hold of my man and squeezes. She knows I won’t be able to stop until she can’t walk herself out of here. She’s playing games and well…needless to say, it’s so on.

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“How could he even get a rise out of that. That’s his sister and this movie is disgusting,� Vanessa is struggling to grab the remote control that I have under my thigh to no avail. I’m trying to swallow the pizza, plain thank you very much, that I have in my mouth as she tries desperately to reach the remote.

“That’s not really his sister, their parents got married, they didn’t even grow up together,� I’m trying to make her see why this is one of my favorite movies and she refuses to see the karma of the story. Kind of like that song I wrote, ya know?

“Oh and your twin brother there, filled you in on that fact as he talked about how he wants to fuck his step sister?� Now she’s being a smartass cause she knows she likes the movie but will not admit it. I don’t care how many times we’ll have to watch it, she’ll have to admit she likes it one of these days. It’s my goal.

“Twin brother? Whatever, we don’t even look alike that much,� I say with a shrug as I lean over to kiss her nose with my greasy, cheesy lips.

“Eww, gross! Stop it!� she’s pushing me away but not hard enough for me not to complete my task. She has a greasy, cheesy nose for a record three seconds before she wipes it of with the t-shirt I’m wearing. “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Ryan?�

“Have you?� I don’t know how many modeling jobs you’re going to get with such a greasy nose,� I chuckle at my own silliness and she smacks the back of my head. “I’m trying to eat here, Miss.�

“Are you going to eat that whole pie, Sir? Or should I say, pig?�

“Are you jealous that I can eat ALL of this pie and still look like this and you can’t?�

“Are we going to be able to watch this movie without the surround sound of your sloppy eating habits?�

“Are you going to admit that you love this sloppy eating habits of mine in other occurrences in this room?�

“Are you going to continue being vulgar about our sex life?� We’ve been playing this game for a while now. We like to call it ‘Are you?’ which is ironic because neither one of us likes to be questioned about anything.

“Are you going to tell me about your meeting today and what that is?� I got her with that one. I’ve been staring at that envelope on my dresser since I sat on my bed to watch this movie. I don’t know what it is but it’s not addressed to me and I know it’s there because she wants me to ask. It’s a prop of sorts and it has served its purpose because I’ve been eating, watching a bit of the movie, and back to staring at the envelope. I’m kind of a sucker for this stupid game. I’m also always losing even though I’ve been trained by professionals with very high regard on how to dodge intrusive questions. Vanessa is one of those people, if I may add.

“My father’s lawyer gave it to me today,� she says and sits up to look at it in the same manner that I am. It’s a simple white envelope, addressed to Nessa, and it’s the biggest elephant in the room.

“What is it?�

“I’m not sure,� she says looking at me with raised brows in question. I don’t know why she’s looking at me that way but it’s unnerving and I can’t eat any more. I think the five slices have settled in my stomach, I’m full.

“You haven’t opened it?� I ask lifting the large pizza box from in front of me and placing it on the floor. Brennen and Buckley jump up at the chance to grab it. “I don’t think so,� they both stop in their tracks and sit, looking at me with pitiful faces. “Why haven’t you opened it?�

“I don’t know,� she says getting up from the bed and walking around to where the pizza box was surely leaking grease onto the carpet. I watch a she picks up the box and the plastic bag I had under it to protect the bed and places it on the dressing table by the closet. “I don’t know if I really want to open it, just yet.�

“Is it from your dad?� I know it’s a stupid question but I have to cover my bases here. I know these emotions concerning her father are lingering inside of her and like I said, I feel the need to make her better. I just do.

“Yes,� she says and she grabs the envelope from the dresser on her way back into bed. I can’t read her right now and it bothers me a little. Maybe I should have ignore the gigantic elephant in the room and continued to watch the movie instead. But it’s me here, I have to say something. “What do you think?�

“If you’re asking me if you should open it, I will have to say yes. You know how I am with secrets and the unknown. I would open it BUT this is yours, not mine. Your decision, Vanessa.�

“Did you know that my father owns about forty percent of RCA Latin Records? How did I not know that? How did I managed to miss such an important aspect of my father’s career?�

“Don’t do that, stop beating yourself up. I’m sure you missed that small detail of your father’s life while, I don’t know, you were building up YOUR own career. But that‘s just my guess,� I say as we both lay in bed, looking into each other’s eyes, the envelope is now laying between us, like some type of shield. I can’t help but feel as though whatever was in that envelope will help us both. Again, the unknown is a scary thing. “Live your life, V.�

“I‘m trying,� she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and suddenly I want to rip that envelope to shreds. “Barker got the house in London, she’s really happy about it. She loves that house, she always has. Maybe she’ll invite us for a weekend soon, after she demolishes my mother‘s décor in it, I‘m sure.� She’s unconsciously playing with the pillowcase on my pillow, something she does when she’s deep in thought, and she looks sad. “Brian couldn’t be in on the conference call today, though.�

“Why not?�

“He’s having another baby, well sister-in-law from hell is. They just found out a few days ago,� she smiles and this time the sparkle in her eyes appear momentarily, but just as fast, it‘s gone. Talk about an emotional rollercoaster. I’m right on the front cart with her though, I feel her.

“That’s pretty cool,� I say and smile. “How’s your mother doing?�

“She bought a handbag last week,� she says with another smile that reaches her eyes, just for a moment. “She must be doing better.�

“Did the lawyer give you a clue as to what’s in it?� She’s still playing with the pillowcase and she’s staring at the envelope as if it will jump out and bite her at any moment. Quite honestly, I want to rip it open and I’m seething at the mouth to hear her ask me.

“No,� she picks up the envelope and I can literally see the goose bumps that coat her arm as she moves it closer between our faces. “Open it for me?�

“Are you sure?� I don’t know why the fuck I’m asking cause if she would say no, that she wasn’t sure, I’d be seriously disappointed. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a fucking knowing people’s business. Unbelievable.

“It’s either now or never because I don’t know when I’ll have the courage to again.�

“Okay,� I’m trying not to rip into it like a fucking maniac and give off my anxiousness but I also don’t want to take my time opening it and having her change her mind. There’s a hand written letter inside and I know I said I was curious but just the feeling of the fancy stationary in my hand, makes this too personal. I feel unworthy of touching it and I hand it to her in hopes that she will grab it away from me. I really shouldn’t have touched that, I think I may have broken some precious gift. Fuck!! “It’s a letter from your dad.�

“Read it to me,� WHAT!! I don’t know if I can do that, Lady!! You asked me to open it, I did! I can’t read it to you!! No way!! I feel like I’ve just been caught in this man’s daughter’s room with my pants down. I shouldn’t have opened that.

“Vanessa I don’t…�

“Justin, please. I can’t even stop my hands from shaking long enough to even hold it,� for the first time I notice the position that she’s in. she’s hugging her knees o her chest and her hands are shaking. God! What did I get myself into? “Please?�

“Oh man…you’re killing me here,� I know I said I wanted to help her and make her better in regards to her feelings toward her father but shit, this is crazy! What if I read this letter to her and it makes her worse? What if the pretty stationary is just a cover up for him being mean to her? A rock and a hard place, like I’ve said before. Damn it!

“Please.� I can hear the fear of the unknown in her voice and I know that I have to do this for her. I have to be there for her like I’ve been promising to be. I have to do this.

“Vanessa,� she looks at me with wide eyes and I want nothing more than to hug her close to me and tell her that it was a blank page. Tell her that it’s nothing but we both know there are words on that piece of paper. “Whatever is in those words, whatever your father wanted you to know, whether it is or isn’t what you wanted them to be. Please remember that you have friends and family that love you. You have me and I LOVE YOU.�

“I love you too, Justin.�

Hearing those words just never gets old, ya know? Never.

“You ready?�

“As I’ll ever be,� she says in a soft voice that’s barely audible. She’s basically talking to herself, and that’s okay.

“My Nessa,� I already feel like a scumbag, just reading those two little words. I’m so invading her privacy it’s not even funny. “I struggled for months thinking of ways to somehow get this to you without actually having to cause pain in anyone’s hearts, but this is the way things must be. Your mother is refusing to be in the same room with me as I write this because she says it’s too final. You know how dramatic your mother can be, but shhh…don‘t tell her I said that. She‘ll have my head on a stick.“

For reassuring purposes only, I pause to look at Vanessa. She’s still sitting in the same position, her head now leaning against the headboard of my bed and she has a tiny smile on her face. She must be picturing what I’m reading. I wish I could too.

“That mother of yours is amazing, isn’t she? She’s very open about her feelings and nothing gets held back with her. So unlike me, right? I think sometimes people are so tightly bound to their feelings that its hard to let them out, hard to show the true feelings. I think that’s the only explanation to my ways.�

Call me an idiot if you’d like. But yeah, I pause again because I’m not sure I should be reading any of this is the first place let alone read through it without giving Vanessa a chance of grasping to what he’s trying to convey. Unfortunately, Mr. Martinez is conveying a whole lot of ‘non of my business’ through me at the moment.

“I don’t intend to justify my ways in this letter by any means. I want to tell you about the happiest day of my life because I feel that you need to know this bit of information. On January 31, 1979, I received the most precious gift a man could ever received. A little girl. I remember the first time I set my eyes on you. You wouldn’t stop crying and the doctor assured your mother and I that there was nothing wrong. I felt this pain in my heart so deep that I couldn’t pick you up. The nurses tried, your mother tried and even the doctor couldn’t calm you down. Finally after two hours of your birth, your mother extends you to me. I don’t know why I was so scared to hold you, you were my daughter after all. I had experience with your brother under my belt but I reached for you, I was a nervous wreck.�

Vanessa has her eyes closed and I wish I could be inside her right now. Feel what she’s feeling, hurt like she’s hurting.

“Do you want me to stop?� I ask because seriously, this is becoming way too emotional at the moment. She shakes her head and I take a deep breath to continue riding on this coaster.

“But something happened, you stopped crying. You snuggled against my arm and you were sleep in record time. Everyone in the room looked at me with questioning eyes. I didn’t notice that tears were falling from my eyes until I noticed one of my own tears trickle down your tiny little beautiful face. I know a father becomes a guardian for their child as soon as the child is born perhaps as soon as the child is conceived but I think at that moment, I became your shield. Your protector.�

We’ve just stepped up the emotional ladder here and I know this because I can see a single tear slowly fall from Vanessa’s right eye. Her eyes remain closed, tightly this time and I watch quietly as the second tear falls and third. I have to smile because the tears mean something, tears are usually a sign of hurt, happiness or sadness, a tear means there’s a break somewhere. And at this point, any break is good because I haven’t seen any of it since her father past away.

“I know this may seem odd to you, me expressing my emotions even if it’s on paper but one thing I hope you’ve learned from me is how to read people, even through a piece of paper. I know you are positive that these words I am now expressing to you are real, although I realize it may be too late.�

The words make her go into this quiet sob and I feel like breaking down and crying with her, for her. She makes me feel way too much, way too soon, and it’s the most scared I’ve felt in a very long time.

“I’m hoping that while your read this, you remember all the good times we had. It’s funny, but there’s one particular time that plays over and over in my head. Do you remember that day I brought a goldfish home for you. Do you remember Roger? God, I wish I could see that smile of yours again. For years, I’ve wished I could make you that happy every time I saw you, Nessa. Please be happy again. For your dad?�

Okay, so now I ruined the letter with one of my stupid tears. I know it’s a stupid reason to be tearing up about but I know that this goldfish he’s referring to meant the world to Vanessa. I know that these words are touching her heart because they are touching mine right now, and I didn’t even have a goldfish. Ever. She’s sobbing a little harder now and I know that if I reach over for her, to comfort her, I will never finish doing what she’s asked me to do. I have to try to ignore the pure sadness that echos in the large room from the sincere and painful sobbing. I’m torn.

“On another note, I want to praise you for choosing Aundrea as your friend, your sister. Take care of her the best that you can, Vanessa because you are the sparkle in that girls’ life. You saved her from things you may never know about and she is truly the best friend you could ever want. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but did you know that I became quite a bit jealous about your relationship with her. She was a stranger that became your source of happiness, when I had taken that spot in your life for so long. I was your hero, you’d told me so many times. Aundrea, or Barker as you call her, took my little girl, my joy, my happiness, away from me. But trust me when I say, I’m positively glad she was there for you when I couldn’t be. There’s only so much a father can do. I love her dearly for the person she was, is and will continue to be. She’ took good care of my little girl and I will be forever indebted to her.�

Ohh man, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I mean I can see the end of the letter but it seems like I have a million pages to read. His little girl, my girl is now in a fetus position on my bed and the wet spot on her pillow, grows before my eyes. She’s free.

“I don’t want to bore you with my silly thoughts but before I seal this envelope, I want you to know something. That day you decided to leave everything behind to go after that love that consumed you, my heart was broken. I cried for days, Vanessa. Not because I thought you’d made a mistake, that was for you to learn, to experience. I cried because you didn’t need me anymore, you didn’t need this old man’s affection as much as you needed his. It took some time for this to settle in and for understanding of the situation but I did understand, Vanessa. I had to let you go for a while because in my mind, the hero was always victorious. I never once intended to hurt you, not once. And I apologize if my harsh ways were an indication of that. I simply needed you to need me for my own selfish reasons. I’m sorry, Princess. I really am.

But you’ve managed to pull one on me after that time in our lives, didn’t you? You’ve become one of the most successful women in your choice of career and you have succeeded in being not only my pride and joy, you’ve become MY HERO.�

I can’t even describe the sound that comes out of her body at the words of her father. The emotion is such a large scale that I can’t contain myself. I reach for her and before I can even pull her toward me, she’s nearly inside my chest. There’s only a few more lines on the letter and I want to finish it but I get choked up myself as I read.

“Vanessa, I know I may have never said this to you and realize that now I am too late and I‘m deeply sorry for keeping these feelings to myself and showing you the complete opposite. I was unjust and down right wrong and it will be my biggest regret in life and in death.

I am one hundred and twenty percent proud of you. Always have and forever will. Please remember that. Love, Dad.�

And the only thing I can do is sooth her as she cries for the fourth time in her life. I can’t stop her and I don’t intend to. She needs this. Thank you, Mr. Martinez, for setting your little girl free.

Untitled Chapter Twenty-Four: Breathe

It’s bizarre being in here and sitting on this chair, touching his things, breathing the same air that he once did. I remember entering this office many times throughout the years but I never once paid as much attention to the space until these past few weeks. And even though I’ve been in and out of this office for a little past a month, it is not until now that I’ve actually started soak it in. I’m not going to lie; I haven’t taken the time purposely, avoiding this feeling that is burning inside my chest as I let my eyes drift around the large area.

My father’s office.

If I concentrate enough I can pick up the scent of his cologne still lingering in the room. It’s not strong and someone who didn’t know my father wouldn’t pick it up, but I do know him and I know him like the back of my hand. I’ve come into this office and been thrown into his work, his shoes, his life in a blink of an eye. It’s exhausting to have to sit here and do what he did to the best of my abilities. Or at least attempt to do it any type of justice. I’ve been trying my best to make decisions he would have normally made had he’d been here. The detail is what has me here in the first place, he isn’t here and will never be again. It makes me sad but I’m trying to do my best to make him proud and even after his death and the feelings that transpired from it, it truly is the hardest challenge of my entire life.

When the CEO of RCA records called me a little over a month ago, I was shocked that he’d been calling me in the first place. Sure, I knew whom he was, even remembered him from various social gatherings at the Martinez’ estate, but we weren’t close. During this conversation, he went on and on about my father and how he’d change the company and how much of an asset he’d been to RCA. He truly seemed fond of my father and I appreciated the kind words. Frankly, I’d been a bit emotional throughout the conversation. He once again proved that my father had been proud of me as he mentioned the high regard in which my father spoke of me and my abilities in the management business. I didn’t know what to say to that, and I also didn’t know what to say when he’d offered me the opportunity to fill my father’s shoes, sort of speak. Yes, Raul Martinez, had been raving about his daughter and hell, I cried again. It feels so good to be able to cry, it’s not even something I can explain. I feel good. He’d even apologized for having started the process of replacing the position that my father commanded for years with someone else. He assured me that no one would ever do what my father did and that he’d hope to find a candidate who could do just half of what my father could. My heart swelled.

I listened to his very thorough explanation to what he was extending to me and how much my father would have loved to have me replace him, even if it would be for a short amount of time. Needless to say, I was a bit hesitant at first because I’d just recently learned that my father had been proud of me for the first time in my life and to jump right into his shoes in the family was hard enough. Not to mention the fact that he was asking me to step into his professional shoes. It took an entire week of questioning myself, talking to those around me constantly, to decide that it would be the honorable thing to do. I think I owed myself the challenge to make my father proud of me once again, even if he wasn’t around to personally see it. I accepted the challenge after a brief moment of silence on my part, of course. And I know he’s looking down on me as I scan the book shelf behind his desk.

I smile at the picture of Brian, Barker and I in front of Cinderella’s Castle at Disney World during Barker‘s birthday trip. I remember that day as if it were yesterday and what I hold dear to my heart was those rides my father and I took by ourselves on that trip. I think he started calling me Princess after that. On the wall on the opposite side of his desk, there’s a large frame with Barker’s cover of Vogue and next to it, my cover of Harper’s Bazaar. There’s an equally large frame with a picture of Brian right after he’d been promoted. He really had been proud and the thought makes me smile once again.

“Que usted cree, Senorita Martinez?� Yes, I’ve been daydreaming a bit while on conference call with various record execs. But I will not apologize for thinking about my father, I refuse. It’s the longest amount of time I’ve had without having to speak in over a month and it was due.

“Bueno si el Senor Iglesia,� I’ve had to brush up on my Spanish quite a bit since I’ve been here and I never realized how much of it I still remembered. I haven’t had many conversations in Spanish other than when I speak to my father’s side of the family, maybe once a year. If that. “Se decide completar el contrato con RCA, podemos seguir con nuestros planes para el nuevo disco. Como le mensione anteriormente, no podemos seguir artrasando las reservaciones que hay en el estudio por mucho tiempo,� the door to the office opens quietly and the eyes that peak through it make my heart leap out of my chest.

Justin.

I watch as he enters the room quietly and I smile at him with what I’m sure is the sickest display of affection known to Vanessa-mankind. I put my finger across my lips in silence so that he doesn’t speak and interrupt my conference call. He rolls his eyes and stands at the door, his arms crossed across his chest and I want to leap at him.

I haven’t seen him in six days and yes, I’ve been counting. He’s been so busy with the opening of his tour; we’ve barely seen each other. I managed to escape the chaos that is juggling three careers for two days so that I could go to his Atlanta show. I’ve missed him entirely too much and I’m wondering if it’s possible to fall in love with him all over again every time I see him.

“Como le dije anteriormente, RCA no quiere ver a el Senor Iglesia moverse con otra compania y estaremos dispuestos a cumplir con nuestra oferta. De verdad que seria su decicion pero no queremos precinarlo de ni ninguna manera,� I have to turn my vision away from Justin as I speak because his eyes are about to bug out of his head, the more I speak.

“De verdad no quisiera tomarles mas de su tiempo. Por favor dejeme saber lo mas pronto possible como se va a resorver este asunto. Que pase un buen fin de semana, y hablaremos el Lunes si Dios lo permite.�

As soon as I hit the end button on the phone, I look up at Justin to find his smiling face. He shakes his head and walks slowly toward my desk, my father’s desk.

“I swear to God if that wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is,� And he leans over the desk to place his soft lips on mine with a kiss that leaves me in a daze. “Can you please speak Spanish to me while I make love to you tonight?�

“Hmmm,� I say because I can’t help the sensation that goes through my body as his lips linger over mine. No other part of our bodies are touching and yet it’s the most satisfying touch, I’ve gotten in six days. Six very long, exhausting, lonely, hectic days. I’ve missed him so much. “I’ve missed you.�

“What? Huh? What did you say?� he stands up straight, holding his chest in shock and he looks around the room like the idiot that he is. “You didn’t say you missed me, did you? I mean not the person who said she would be too busy to miss me, right? No, not the person who left the tour swearing that she wouldn’t miss my sloppy eating habits. No way. You missed me? Is that what Ms. Martinez has just said to Mr. Timberlake?�

“Shut up,� I said with a roll of my eyes for his entertainment.

“Why don’t you come around this large chunk of furniture and tell me to my face, Ms. Martinez? Scared?� He’s so stupidly adorable that I want to kick myself in the face so that I can stop smiling. Because I haven’t seen him in six days and I’m dying for his touch, I stand from the comfortable chair I’ve been in for an hour and round the large desk.

“Shut up,� I say as I walk myself so close to him that our noses touch and he smiles.

“Make me,� he says and well I’ve learned how to shut him up and it’s always to my advantage. I place my lips on his and his arms come around me to hold me tight against him. God, I’ve missed him.

“Hi,� I say when we finally break our lips apart to get a breath in. He chooses this moment to squeeze my ass lightly and to wink at me in that cheesy ass way that he does.

“Hi,� he says and he kisses my nose, my cheek, my forehead and back to my lips with a soft kiss, “I’ve missed you too, Vanessa.�

“How was your trip?� My arms are still wrapped around him and we’re both still holding on for dear life because we both know that in two days we’ll have to break apart again. So sad. “Long ride?�

“The longest since I knew I’d see you and I’d be able to do this,� and he kisses my neck excruciatingly slow. “I hate that I can’t wake up with you next to me, V.�

“Please don’t, Justin. I miss you too but you know I made a commitment here,� I say and although we aren’t griping at each other like we were seconds ago, we aren’t letting go. “You know that right? You understand?�

“Of course I do, but can you just do something for me?� he’s still involved in placing soft kisses all around my face and I have to giggle at his silliness. Me. I giggle now. Wow.

“What?�

“Can you turn your cell phone off, computer and anything remotely close to the outside world for the next two days?�

“Why?� I realize this is a stupid question, yes.

“Because you’re mine for the next two days. Just you, me and room service at the Ritz,� and he kisses me so soft and slow that I can’t argue with him.

“Deal,� I say and he lets me go long enough for me to turn everything off in my dad’s office and I’m walking out following him and Eric within minutes. And because Mr. Timberlake’s my client and nothing else, I walk behind him to avoid any talk from the people around us. He’s just my client, people!! Sure he is. Right.

So the Ritz-Carlton it is and I’m so giddy, I can’t freaking stand it.

---------------------------------

Girlfriend.

That’s what he called me just a little over four hours ago when I spoke to him as I walked the chaos that is John F. Kennedy Airport. The word never once bothered me or scared me before because it was never referring to me. At least not in a long time, anyway. But when Justin said as giddy as a five year old at Disney, that he couldn’t wait to introduce his girlfriend to his family, girlfriend being me, well it’s the scariest fucking word I’ve ever heard.

I guess is not so much the actual word that scares me, it’s the context in which it’s used. He’s called me his girlfriend plenty of times and although it’d been in front the likes of Trace or his assistant, the title wasn’t bad. But now, well now it’s a whole new story because now I am his girlfriend in his family’s eyes. It’s a huge title that to be quiet honest, I’ve never experienced. In my only other experience being a girlfriend I’d just been ‘another’ one and not much of a big deal. But now? Now it’s completely different.

I haven’t faced Mrs. Harless in God knows how long, she insists that I call her Lynn but there’s no chance in hell that’s happening. No matter how many times I’ve spoken to that woman on the telephone, she’s not just Justin’s co-manager, she’s his mother. His mother! His mother, whom he tells everything to and his mother who knows that we spent two days cooped up at the Ritz having sex and eating ice cream a few weeks back. His mother! I think I may have a nervous breakdown before this plane ever lands.

I swear I’ve never been so nervous to meet someone in my entire life. I’ve met countless idols of mine, whom I would drool and fantasized about when I was a kid, yet the thought of landing in Memphis, Tennessee makes me want to vomit. Seriously, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. The goddamn butterflies are creating fucking havoc in my stomach. And I swear if it wasn’t because I haven’t seen Justin in two weeks and I’m yearning for his kiss, I would have told him to fly to New York instead. But that would have been stupid of me and irresponsible of him since he has a show going on as I look out of the airplane’s window down at the city lights of Memphis, Tennessee.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, I can’t believe I actually hopped on a plane after another man.  And not just any man, Justin Timberlake at that. I’ve gone completely bananas over this man and I’m not sure I can stop myself from jumping in head first into this relationship. I think I may have already jumped in, actually. And the butterflies in my stomach tell me so as I walk through the airport about half an hour later.

It’s not as busy as I thought it would be but I’m glad I brought two carry-on bags with me instead of my regular luggage. I would hate to walk behind the file of people who walked off the plane before me and try to grab my luggage from the carousel. I’m too nervous for all that shit right now, with my nerves on edge, I wouldn’t doubt if I flipped out on someone reaching around me to grab a fifty pound luggage. It wasn’t pretty the last time someone did that, is all I’ll say.

I’m not sure who is picking me up but Justin assured me he’d have someone there to get me against my better advice. His show is going on two miles away from the airport and I could have easily grabbed a cab. But telling Justin Timberlake what to do and how things are is hard when you stop being the Director of Public Relations and you become the girlfriend. Totally different kind of ball game because on the third quarter of this game, I agreed to let him send someone for me.

I can see a large black SUV outside the glass doors of the airport, sticking out like sore thumb and I know the car is for me. Strangely enough I can see Rachel standing off to the side with Mike and they are both avoiding any type of contact with the two young ladies across them. Why they are standing outside the car in the first place boggles my mind. I silently make a mental note of that and put it away in a mental volt of work as I was instructed to do by dare I say it, boyfriend.

I stop and watch as the young girls stare at Rachel as though she’d grown two heads and I can see Mike shake his head at something one of them says. I know those girls are wondering what the hell Rachel is doing with one of Justin‘s bodyguards at the airport when Justin was on stage at the moment. Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? No, ladies!! Justin is not here but guess what? His girlfriend sure is!! I make my way around people heading toward the door and I notice when Mike sees me because he walks a very short distance between me and Rachel to meet me.  I mentally pat his back for following his bosses’ stern policy on protecting his people, his family. The young ladies give me a strange look as though they were surprised to see me, when I walk up to the car and hand Mike my two bags. I want to tell them to fuck off but the professional side of me that hasn’t been eaten away by the girlfriend title, smiles at them.

“You’re missing a good show, ladies. Didn’t get tickets?� I ask with a smile and Rachel looks at me before raising her eyebrow at me in question.

“It’s a great show we hear, but we’re going to Monday night’s show,� one of the young women says but she’s still looking at Rachel weird.

“Is there a problem?� I have to ask and for some reason I have the urge to protect Rachel from those down right dirty looks. What are they, jealous? That’s his cousin for crying out loud! Now, if you only knew the things I have done with your idol, Ladies, you’d burn me at the stake that I’m sure you have in your backyard.

“Not at all,� the girl with the look of death toward Rachel says and she pulls on the other one’s arm. The one being pulled away actually rolls her eyes at Rachel and I want to kick her ass. Who would have thought I’d be sticking up for her of all people?

“You want to retract those claws there, Vanessa?� Rachel says with a chuckle as she opens the car door and hops inside, not missing a key stroke on that phone of hers.

“Did you not see the way she looked at you? Thanks, Mike,� I say as he closes the door behind me. “Little bitch, I hate those girls. I really do.�

“You’re just like him, I swear, it’s disgusting,� Rachel says as we watch Mike get in the passenger side of the car and tells the driver he can go.

“Like who?� I ask as I turn to watch the two girls meet up with three other guys at the end of the sidewalk. Whores.

“Like my wonderful cousin from hell,� she says with laugh as she presses buttons on her cell phone. “I swear he gets more upset than I do when girls act like that. I’m used to it and he needs to ignore them like I do. They‘re just jealous for some reason. I‘d like to see them try to keep up with Justin for a day and see how jealous of my job they‘ll be. They would probably start one of those anti-Justin sites like they have for the Backstreet Boys.�

“That doesn’t bother you? The way they look at you like they want to kill you for being close with him? I would kick their asses.�

“This, coming from the Director of Public Relations?� she asks with a smile.

“No, this coming from the girlfriend.� There. I said it. The girlfriend.

“Ohh the girlfriend. Well then that’s different,� she says and I can tell she‘s trying not to laugh when Mike looks back at my comment. Great, I’m a nervous fucking wreck and I’m being made fun of.

“Do you get off that thing ever?� I ask because I’m trying to get my head out of my ass, and trying to not think about the fact that in just an hour, I’ll be in Timberlake land. And hell I’ve been in Timberlake heaven but not land and I want to throw up.

“Again, the pot calling the tea kettle black?� she says with a raised brow. I huff in annoyance with myself and she laughs. “You’re a losing it aren’t you?�

“What?�

“You’re in freak mode right now, ha!� she laughs and points at me accusingly. “Oh my God, call the press, Mike! Hell has frozen over. I swear if I knew that coming to Memphis was your breaking point I would have told Justin to rearrange that first meeting.�

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,� I say with a shrug of my shoulders but she’s right. I’m a red-faced mess!

“I’m sure!� she says and she’s still making fun of me with comments about hell freezing over and how great it was. I could kick her, I really could. “Let me just say that you’re going to love my grandmother. Wait until she gets a hold of you.�

“What does that mean?�

“Ohh you’ll see. And here I thought I could come home finally and relax and do nothing,� she shakes her head and is still laughing at me like I’m this big fucking joke. This was a mistake. This fucking sucks balls larger that Mr. Adlers’, really way bigger. “Now I have to be alert this weekend. This will be great.�

“Shut up, Ms. Bomar,� I say just because I know she hates it but apparently the situation that I’m in is so funny, the proper name use is insignificant. Fuck!

“Look at that, just in time, he’s done,� she says and it’s the first time I realize that we’re heading in through the gates of the back lot of the venue. It was obviously closer to the airport than I thought. I could have probably walked here, Justin!

“What?�

“He’s done, he should be coming any second now, knowing he‘s been an anxiety attack waiting to happen since he knew you were coming,� There are busses all around us and one of the doors is open, shining light into the darkened parking lot. “Speak of the devil. Boyfriend. Twelve o’clock,� she says pointing to the door on the far left of the one that’s open and I can see Eric walk out first and behind him I can barely see, but I know it’s Justin’s head. My heart beats fast. I’ve missed him.

“Oh,� I immediately plaster on my confident I’m not intimidated by what I’m about to endure all weekend face and smile. He’s laughing about something one of his crew security staff says to him and he throws his head back with laughter. God, he’s gorgeous. How long does it take to walk fifty yards to the damn truck? Why is he walking so slow? Jesus!!

“Calm down, he’ll make it,� Rachel says with a chuckle and I have to give her a glare that only makes her chuckle more. When did I lose her respect? Oh yeah, when I started considering her as a human being. My bad. And for the love of God, get here already, Timberlake!!

“What up, Mike!� Justin’s head pops into the window next to Mike’s face and he tries to kiss his security guards cheek only to be pushed back so hard, it makes him grunt. But he’s laughing when he opens the back door to the SUV and his smile widens when he sees me. He doesn’t say anything to me, instead he climbs in next to me and catches the side of Mike’s head with his hand. The large security guard turn half way on his seat and points a finger at Justin menacingly.

“You’re fucking lucky, right now. Just wait, you skinny white-ass punk!�

“Words, just words,� comes from Rachel who is still glued to her phone and for the first time I notice that she’s not reading emails and arranging appointments for he cousin, she’s playing a game. Awesome!

“Tell’em, Rach!� Justin says as he finally sits back and he’s yet to address me. Wtf?! “Hey, Joe!� he says as we start slowly pulling out of the parking lot that suddenly is bustling with tour bus drivers, crew member and dancers. “Where did you pick this groupie at? Didn’t I say I wanted a blond tonight?�

“Sorry there Justin,� the driver chuckles and Mike shakes his head.

“I guess a groupie is a groupie,� Justin says with a shrugs and he finally turns to me and winks. “What special talents to you have?�

“You,� I’m about to tell him off for being such a disgusting pig but I’m silenced by the weight of his entire body and he climbs on me as best as he can in the small space and his lips are on mine.

“Three words,� I hear Rachel say in my Justin-esque coma. “GET A ROOM�  and then I hear the chuckles throughout the car. What have I become? Who have I become?

------------------

It’s about an hour drive to his family home and I sit back, with Justin’s arm around me as he tells everyone about the different segments he just filmed for the Ellen show. He rants and raves about how much he loves that woman and if I didn’t know better I’d be jealous. Yes, me. Jealous. But I DO know better and the fact is, Ellen would prefer me. And I’m so okay with that because the kiss on the lips Justin gives her every time he sees her, would have had me over the edge.

“How was your flight?� he asks as he opens a Jolly Rancher that Rachel throws at him. He outs the piece of candy in his mouth and throws the paper at Mike’s head for good measure.

“Long,� I saw and I snuggle closer to his chest when he squeezes me to him. “How did that interview yesterday go?�

“Didn’t do it,� he says with a shrugs and I hear Rachel chuckle.

“What?� I raise my head from his chest to look at him and he smiles at me with a smirk across his face. “What do you mean you didn’t do it? Justin! Damnit, I had to reschedule around your rescheduled schedule for that interview.�

“Can you say that four times in a row? Reschedule around your rescheduled schedule, mouth full.� Oh so he’s being funny.

“Seriously, Justin, not cool.� I reach for my cell phone and find that not only am I getting red hit with anger, but that I can’t find my phone. It was just in there! What the hell?!

“Seriously, Vanessa, chill out,� he tries to pull me toward him and I resist because damnit, this is what I was afraid of. This thing exactly, where he skips out on his responsibilities and I’m fucking stuck between being the god forsaken girlfriend, and the Director of PR. “Are you really going there right now?�

“Please don’t speak to me right now, Justin,� I’m still searching for my phone in my bag and I’m getting so frustrated that I just want to scream.

“Fineeee,� he says and it irks me that I can sense a hint of laughter in his tone, “but just so you know, you better stick with someone in this car, if you’re gonna survive my grandmother this weekend.�

“Ohh not me, I’m just the spectator,� Rachel says and when I look up from my mad search for my missing phone, I notice that we are pulling into the driveway of said grandmother’s home.

Shit.

“Justin,� I say as he’s climbing out of the car and he looks at me with what I know is an expression of resistance. Because  I can so tell he wants to laugh. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

“Yes?�

“Alright, fine. I’ll forget about this till later. Now, don’t you dare leave me unprotected!� he laughs, throwing his head back once again and he yanks me out of the car into his arms and kisses my lips.

“I got you,� he smacks my ass with a groan and kisses my lips again before grabbing my hand. Rachel is already entering the house,  and I can hear the shouts of greeting coming from inside the house. Here I go. “Relax, V, it’s only my family.�

“That’s what I’m afraid of.� I mumble and it’s too late to back out, I’m entering Timberlake land.

Wish me luck, I may just need it.
 

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October 12, 2013.
Keep Calm. Yes, I'm finishing this chapter. Posting soon.