Part 1
"You know something?" Justin asked, stretching his long legs across the wooden coffee table in front of him, "I don't like him."
"You know something?" Francheska asked, "I don't give a damn."
"You should," Justin pouted.
"You should get your feet off my table, too, but I don't see that happening." Justin immediately dropped his feet to the floor and gazed up at her from his spot on the couch.
"Now my part of the deal is settled," he said, "You should start caring now." Francheska sighed and paused her cleaning to plop down next to her friend. She patted his denim covered knee and thought for a moment.
"I do care," she assured him, "I just. . . I'm not going to drop Darnell because you don't approve."
"Why not?"
"Because you haven't approved of anybody I've dated since. . . since I've known you."
"Well, maybe if you picked the right guy. . ."
"And what guy would that be?"
"I don't know," Justin said, "But it's not him."
"You don't even know Darnell," Francheska sighed, "If you just got to know the guy, maybe who'd like him."
"He's a pervert."
"What guy isn't?"
"Look, he has no respect," Justin ranted, "I could be standing somewhere talking to you and he'll run up and cop a feel on your ass like I'm invisible."
"And what about you and Cassie?" she questioned. "Y'all swap spit like two horny teenagers twenty-four/seven with absolutely no regard to anybody else in the room; especially me."
"Well, we're in a stable relationship," Justin explained, "You and Darnell are a growing, new. . . thing."
"Don't call our relationship a thing."
"Relationship. . ." Justin huffed, "It's been a week. . ."
"It's been three months, thank you very much."
"It feels more like a week."
"Whatever, man," Francheska groaned, standing up and grabbing the broom leaning on her stereo. "If you're not here to help me clean, you're creating a bigger mess."
"Your mom's a mess," Justin childishly muttered.
"Your mom," Francheska shot back.
"Don't talk about my mama."
"Don't talk about mine."
"I really hate you," Justin pouted.
"Then get the steppin'," Francheska said nonchalantly.
"You can't kick me out."
"I think I just did."
"Are you serious?" Justin asked.
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"Franny-"
"Out." She pointed toward her front door and Justin stood up.
"What are you mad about?"
"The fact that you even asked that pisses me off even more."
"Okay, whatever," Justin said, rolling his eyes and walking towards the door. "PMS."
"What did you say?"
"I said PMS," Justin repeated loudly, "You get a little crazy around your lady time."
"It's not PMS," Francheska denied, "It's JRT."
"What-"
"Justin Randall Timberlake, dumbass."
"Hey, watch it."
"I'll watch you walk out my door."
"You know what, I don't know what happened within the last five minutes, but you need to lose the attitude."
"What part of 'get out' didn't you understand?"
"You are so damn bi-polar."
"Then get out of my bi-polar house."
"Stop talking."
"Get out and you wouldn't hear me."
"What is wrong with you?"
"You're wrong with me!" Francheska yelled, "Damn, just get out already. I do not want to fight."
"I think yelling kinda makes this a fight."
"If you don't get the fuck outta my house right now, I'm gonna-"
"Gonna what?" Justin asked rhetorically, "Beat me with your broom stick, witch?"
"Oh, you were just one letter away from getting your ass whooped."
"Whooped?" Justin asked, "By you? Ha! That would be the day."
"Say it and today will be the day if you don't get out of my house!" she assured, slamming the broom down and stomping her foot for emphasis. Justin looked her up and down before finally rolling his eyes.
"Whatever," he mumbled, "I'm out." Francheska turned her back to him until she heard her door open and slam shut. With a heavy sigh, she shook the previous argument from her head and continued to clean. Justin, however, mumbled profanities all the way home, trying to figure out when they went from their normal, playful bickering to an actual fight.
It seemed as though she was angry for no reason, but he knew Francheska well enough to know that her anger was caused by something beyond their petty fight. So, being the person that he was, he didn't hold it against her. He decided to give them both a few hours to cool off before setting up a small meeting for them at a quiet restaurant not too far from his LA mansion and just close enough to her home that she wouldn't complain about wasting gas.
Justin was seated in a private, VIP section of the Asian-style joint when Francheska came in, anger clearly evident in the way she walked; heavy and strong, a far cry from her usual graceful stride. He didn't try to smile at her, but stood accordingly to pull out her chair. Francheska, of course, pulled it out herself without paying much mind to the annoyed expression that crossed his features before he sat back in his seat.
"Can we make this quick," she demanded more than asked, "I have a date to get ready for."
"With Darnell?"
"No, with Santa," she said sarcastically.
"No need to get smart."
"No need to get in my business either, but that doesn't stop you."
"Are you hungry?" Justin asked, ignoring her previous statement.
"I'm not trying to ruin my appetite."
"You don't have to get a steak or anything," Justin said, "A little snack or something."
"I have a date, Justin," she reminded, "I'm going to have dinner and I don't want to spoil it."
"Please, since when does too much food become a problem?" Justin questioned, "You love food as much as I love -"
"Food?" she interrupted. Justin smiled weakly.
"I guess so."
"Look, is there a point to this?" Francheska looked around the dimly lit area they were seated in and took in the red walls with gold embrodiery. For a moment, she wondered if it was possible to get her walls that way, but Justin cleared his throat and removed her from her thoughts.
"I want to know the reason why you're really angry."
"Because you were born," she replied. Justin gave her a tired look.
"I'm serious, Franny."
"Look, man. . ." She sighed. "You don't. . . You don't respect me."
"What?" Justin asked in disbelief, "I don't respect you?"
"No, you don't."
"How could you even think that?" he asked, "If I didn't respect, I wouldn't have been your friend in the first place."
"Well, you have a funny way of showing respect."
"How do you figure?"
"Well, for starters, you always put your damn feet on my table," she said, "I'm serious when I say that, too. How many times do I have to say not to do that?"
"That's not disrespecting you, that's me being me."
"Whatever," she said, "You don't acknowledge any relationship that I've been in."
"You haven't had any relationships," Justin stated, "They've been flings."
"No, they were flings to you, but they meant something to me," Francheska argued, "The fact that you even said that proves that you don't respect me or my judgement."
"I do respect you," Justin said, "Just not the trash you like to call boyfriends."
"See, right there!" Francheska said, "I feel like I'm talking to my father."
"I'm not trying to be your father," Justin assured, "I'm trying to be honest with you."
"No, you're trying to control me and who I date."
"You need help with dating," Justin told her, "You don't know how to do it."
"What?!"
"See, that's why I can't say anything to you," Justin said, "You take things the wrong way."
"How could I not take it the wrong way when you're talking to me like I'm an idiot?"
"I didn't say you were an-"
"'You don't know how to do it,'" Francheska mocked, "Don't act all high and mighty on me."
"That's not what I'm doing," Justin said with a sigh, "Look, I'm saying is that I've had more experience with the whole relationship thing."
"Oh god. . ."
"I'm serious," Justin said earnestly, "Your longest relationship was in the third grade with some kid named Keven Spencer."
Francheska gasped. "It was not!"
"Then what was?" Justin challenged.
"I. . ." she trailed off and Justin chuckled. "You know what? Fine. Maybe I don't have the perfect dating record, but neither do you."
"I've had some really good relationships," Justin said, "They just ended badly."
"Because you didn't know what you were doing," Francheska mumbled.
"What?"
"You heard me," Francheska said, "You didn't know what you were doing."
"I-"
"Got cheated on in just about every relationship you've been in?" she interrupted, "Kinda makes you wonder if Boy Wonder really knows anything about relationships."
"I didn't make anyone cheat," Justin said through cletched teeth.
"So they just made themselves unhappy?"
"Yeah, they did," Justin said, "At least I stuck around and tried to make things work instead of fucking and leaving."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm not trying, I'm saying it," Justin snapped, "You hit and run. That's your idea of a relationship. I'm surprised you haven't left Darnell yet."
"How dare you?!" Francheska said, "You're the biggest manwhore I've ever met."
"Me?" Justin questioned, "I'm not the one who boned all of Cali and left 'em high and dry."
"No, you're the one who fucked all of Europe and the U.S."
"Oh, please," Justin said dismissively, "I have one bad month after Britney and all of a sudden I'm doing all of Europe?"
"Month?" Francheska laughed drily, "More like two years."
"At least I wasn't a fuck up my whole life."
"No, just 99 percent of it."
"You know what? I don't even know why I wasted my time coming here," Justin huffed, "Whatever issues you have in that messed up head of yours is no longer my concern." He stood and slammed his chair in, Francheska did the same.
"Well, no surprise there," she said, "The only time you care about what I have to say is when you need some damn advice about some petty problem you have."
"Are you kidding me?" Justin asked, "You're the one who's calling me and telling about how 'great' your new man is. The same man you're calling me two days later about, telling me he's garbage."
"What about you calling me at three in the morning to bitch about stubbing your baby toe?"
"At least I called you," Justin said, "When was the last time you picked up the phone and tried to initiate any type of communication between us?"
"Maybe if you'd stop calling, I'd get the chance."
"That's just like you; always finding some way to blame someone else."
"You should talk Mr. The-world-is-out-to-get-me."
"I've never once said that to you."
"You didn't put it in those words, but the way you bitch and moan about how terribly hard your life is says it all!"
"Excuse me?" The yelling ceased the moment Justin and Francheska heard the voice of a fragile looking woman that seemed to come from thin air. She was practically a midget with her flat slides on her small feet. Her Asian features were sharp and clean like the strands of silver hair that covered her head and wrapped up in a bun that sat on the back of her hair. Justin smiled softy as Francheska looked her over, taking notice of her silk outfit that was practically identical to the design on the walls of the restaurant.
"Sorry," Justin apologized, "We didn't mean to be so loud."
"Oh, no problem," the woman assured before lifting a plate up in her hands. "Cookie?" Justin and Francheska looked over the two sugarcoated pieces of shortbread cookies that rested on the plate.
"That's okay," Francheska said, "I was just leaving."
"Oh, it's a special," the woman told her, "You must try." Justin reached for his cookie and Francheska did the same, figuring that eating a cookie was better than being kicked out for their rowdy behavior.
Justin was the first to bite into his cookie and was pleased by the sugary taste it left in his mouth. He smiled and nodded as he ate the cookie. Francheska bit down on hers as well, feeling somewhat pressured to do so by the old woman's expectant gaze. The cookie seemed to melt in her mouth and warm her as the crumbs dissolved against her taste buds. The woman waited and watched until they were done.
"Good?" she asked. They both nodded as they swallowed what was left of their cookies.
"Thanks," they said in unison before glaring at each other. The woman smiled.
"It was my pleasure." She smiled, wide and warm, at the both of them before respectfully nodding and walking away. The moment she was out of eyesight, Francheska sighed.
"Offering some damn cookies like I asked for that shit. . ." she mumbled angrily. Justin rolled his eyes and looked at her with disgust.
"That damn woman gave you a cookie and you still complain. You are so ungrateful."
"Fuck you," she spat, "I wasn't directing that statement to your dumb ass."
"You better watch your mouth when you're talking to me."
"You. Are. Not. My. Father." she said slowly.
"I wish I was," Justin said, "Maybe I could backhand you without being arrested for assault."
"I wish you would lay your crusty ass hands on me,” Francheska growled, “That would be the last time you’d see your fingers.” Justin narrowed his eyes and adjusted his jacket.
“You are very lucky my mother raised me right.”
“She raised you into a big ass mama’s boy,” she hissed, “That’s why you can’t keep a woman satisfied. You’re too busy crying your mom’s shoulder.”
“First of all, your damn straight I’m a mama’s boy,” he stated confidently, “Second of all, don’t hate on my relationship with my mom because you don’t have one with yours.”
The air in Francheska’s lungs seemed to have been vacuumed out of her as she heaved in a heavy breath.
“How dare you?” she whispered, her hurt surpassing her anger. When Justin saw the look in her eyes, guilt washed over him. Maybe he had taken it too far, but the mother line was something she had crossed, not him.
“I’m done here,” he told her before brushing past her body and exiting the restaurant.
Sweet mother of God…
My head.
My pounding head.
Why did I drink so much last night?
Oh yeah… Justin Timberlake. Asshole extraordinaire.
I really hated him sometimes… Most the time… No, sometimes. Got damn it, thinking about him and his stupid, bigheaded self makes me nauseous. Or maybe that’s just the hang over…
“Hey, babe.” My eyes squeezed even tighter as the voice reverberated through my head. It took me a minute to realized it was the voice of a groggy female. A female… I couldn’t have gotten that drunk. “Babe?”
Could I?
I continued to squeeze my eyes shut and prayed that it was just a dream. A horrible dream, but the girl kept calling me babe and poking my side. It was real. I had had lesbian sex last night with a needy woman who loved the word babe.
No, no, no, no, noooooooooooooo!
Remain calm, Franny… I told myself as my hands balled up at my side as I wished this all away.
“Okay, I get it,” she whispered in what she probably thought was a sexy voice, “You want your morning nookie…”
Her hand brushed my face and jumped out of the bed so fast I had barely felt myself move. My eyes were still closed as I hyperventilated.
“Okay, look…” I began before coughing to clear my throat, “I’m not your-“ I stopped to cough again because my voice was still clogged. “I’m not-“ What the hell is wrong with my voice?
“What is wrong with you?” she asked in a voice that sounded all too familiar. It couldn’t be…
“Cassie?” I whispered as I heard the bed creak and the sound of her weight against the carpeted floor.
“Who else would it be?” Oh god, I had sex with Cassie… And what was wrong with my voice?
“Wait, wait, wait…” I groaned in despair. This was not happening.
“Open your eyes.”
“No.” I cleared my throat again. “What is wrong with my voice?”
“Nothing’s wrong with your voice,” she assured, “Justin, open your damn eyes!” She grabbed my wrist and I pulled away.
“Please, do not touch me,” I said as I backed away before coming to a halt. “What did you just call me?”
“Are you still drunk?” she asked and laughed to herself as panic took over my chest.
“What the hell did you just call me?”
“I called you Justin ‘cause that’s your name,” she huffed before slapping my arm, “This is not funny! Open your eyes now!” By the pitch of her batty scream I knew that it was Cassie and I knew I wasn’t dreaming, but it still could not be real.
I slowly peeked open my eyes and saw her in front of me, hands on her waist as she wore the silk baby doll gown I had help Justin pick out for her birthday last year.
“Oh god, no! NO!” I said as I looked down at my shirtless body and oversized hands. I wore boxers and a nothing else as I ran to the bathroom and stood in front of the body length mirrors that lined the cream colored walls.
I could not believe who was staring back at me.
Brown haired, blue-eyed, six feet, one inches tall Justin Randall Timberlake.
I rubbed his eyes and opened them again only to see the same pale motherfucker from before.
And then I screamed.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Well, this is based off of the Freaky Friday movie and whatnot, but I'm trying to make it original. It's just a little humor I guess. Don't take it too seriously 'cause I won't, lol.
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