Chapter 5

The following morning (9:10 a.m.)

Justin woke up and for once had a smile on his face. The incident that happened last night had him thinking all night. He knew he had to move on because it was all starting to take a toll on him.

He ambled downstairs and entered the kitchen, immediately coming face to face with Terri. The moment he laid eyes on her, his whole mood from happy had changed. He didn't want to fire her but he knew if she gave him no choice but to, he would.

"Um, morning." he greeted, taking a seat at the bar. She looked over her shoulder to stare at him.

"Oh...good morning, mister Timberlake." she replied with a smile. "How have things been? I haven't seen you yesterday." he held his head down, intertwining his fingers together.

"I know. I got caught up with work." he lied. "How have you been?" she shook her head in pity as she continued chopping up onions.

"I dunno. You tell me." she mumbled, tossing the diced onions in a frying pan. "On my way in this morning, I bumped into Beyonce. The famous Beyonce Knowles." he looked away, biting his lip in thought. "Let me guess, she was here talking to you about her upcoming album...around four in the morning?" she spoke sarcastically.

"You know what?" he stood up, making his way across the kitchen floor towards her. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you in my business all the time? Did I hire you to be a private investigator? Huh?" she ignored him, continuing with what she was doing. "No. You're here to cook and clean. That's the only reason why you're here."

"Oh yeah?" she slammed the knife on the counter, quickly turning to face him. "You know what? IF you took that stick out of your ass and hook up with somebody, maybe I wouldn't be here meddling all in your business." he shut his eyes, reframing himself from doing something he would regret. "Isn't that right? All I'm here for is to cook and clean. Something a girlfriend does." he gritted his teeth heatedly. "The only difference, you're giving me money instead of paying me back in the bedroom."

"So this is what this is all about? You're upset because I won't fuck you?"

"I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on earth!!" she shouted. "Oh and here..." she grabbed a folded up piece of paper, tossing it at him. "I almost forgot to give that to you. It's from Beyonce." he reached down, grabbing the note from off the floor. "That bitch is just using you. She doesn't want you for yourself. She wants what YOU can lavish her with." he unfolded the paper, slowly scanning through the words.

After reading the letter, a smirk slowly formed across his lips. "Let me ask you something, Terri." he reached out, grabbing the knife from her and sitting it on the counter. "Beyonce and I are both rich. We make a couple million a year. We're in the same profession. We both have everything we could ever want. So why would she want my money? Hmm? I think the person you..." he pointed to her. "...should be questioning is yourself. Don't be pissed off because I don't wanna sleep with you. You only sound desperate and there's something you should know. I despise women who are only desperate to get in a guy's pants." he turned, proceeding out the room. "Oh and one more thing." he looked over his shoulder to stare at her. "Happy eighteenth birthday. You're officially old enough to have your heart broken. But come to think about it, I got my heart broken when I was fourteen. But now I realize I started too early." he shook his head. "It never pays to rush with your heart." she held her head down, on the verge of tears. "I'll see you later. I gotta get ready for a date." he proceeded out of the kitchen.

Meanwhile...

Justin entered Maggiano's Little Italy restaurant, immediately approached by a waitress. "Afternoon, table for one?"

"Um, no. I'm supposed to be meeting someone here." he looked around for the specific woman. "She should be under the name, Knowles."

"Oh, well she walked in a few minutes ago. Follow me this way." he followed the woman towards a table where his beautiful date sat. She instantly locked eyes with his, feeling this chill run up her spine. He returned a smile, slowly leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

"How's it going?" she smiled, intertwining her fingers together.

"Nothing much. Um, thanks for joining me. I thought you were gonna say no." he chuckled softly.

"Now why would I do that? Only if I had plans." he took a seat across from her. "Um..." he looked up at the waitress. "I'll take one of those Bacardi Limon...cocktails."

"All right. Be right back." she walked off, leaving the pair alone.

Beyonce kept her eyes on the individual in front of her who had his head in a menu. "Damn, they changed a lot. I haven't been here in a while." he shut the menu, slowly looking up to gaze at her. "Did you decide what you're gonna get?"

"Um..." she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm having a hard time deciding on whether to get the Broccoli Fettuccine Alfredo or the Shrimp Oreganata."

"Mmm. Which one looks more delicious. That's how I used to pick mine."

"Well the Alfredo does." he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well there you have it. Pick the Alfredo. I'm getting the Angel hair, Coach Joey Z's Pomodora Sauce." she flashed him an odd look.

"What? You're getting the Angel hair what?" he broke out laughing.

"I'll let you taste some of it. It's really good. They have like this nice tomato sauce and that um...roasted garlic stuff. Mmm damn. I can taste it now." she rolled her eyes playfully.

"I'm sure you can." she shook her head. "Any way..."
_____________

Thirty minutes later, they had received their food and begin eating. "This Broccoli Alfredo is...oh my god." she licked her lips. "It's amazing. Very delicious."

"Wait till you try this." he held up a fork of noodles mixed with sauce and other ingredients. "Open up." she leaned over, accepting the portion from him. The moment it hit her tongue, she yearned for more.

"Ohhh..." she moaned, chewing down on the food. "Even better. Wanna trade?" he stuffed a serving in his mouth, finally locking eyes with hers.

"Okay, but you have to give me something in return." he spoke with this look on his face.

"All right. What is it?"

"Come here." he motioned her over. She leaned in, watching his face inch closer to hers. He leisurely met lips with hers, kissing her passionately. A soft moan escaped her lips as he gradually pulled away, ending the intimate moment. "Mmm. Now that..." he licked his lips. "That was even more delicious." she giggled faintly.

"You still owe me your dinner."

"Hahaha. I lied." he teased.

An hour and a half later (1:23 p.m.)

Beyonce stepped out of her car, shutting the door afterwards. "I hope this girl is doing what she's supposed to be doing." Justin spoke while ambling towards his house. He enetered the mansion, flicking on the hallway light. "Terri?!" he called, looking back to gaze at Beyonce. "Lock the door for me, please."

"Sure."

"Terri?!" he called once more, nearly being blown away by her loud voice.

"I'm in the kitchen!"

"Um...why don't you wait for me upstairs in my room. I'm gonna go get us something to snack on."

"All right." she ambled up the stairs, towards the master bedroom. On his way to the kitchen, he could hear humming. And the closer he had gotten, it became louder and louder.

When he stepped in the spacious room, he pulled out an item from his back pocket. "Hello." he greeted, getting her attention.

"Afternoon, mister Timberlake. I was just tidying up." he nodded, leaning against the counter.

"Well that's good. I um, need you to hook up some spicy wings with celery sticks." her eyes zoomed in on the envelope he held.

"How many?"

"Uhhh twenty wings and a few celery sticks." her eyes lit up surprisingly.

"You're gonna eat all that by yourself?" he didn't want to tell her he had company because it was none of her business.

"I'll be back down in like thirty minutes for it. Oh and um...here's a little birthday present from me." he handed her the envelope. "Don't spend too much." she held a questioning look, watching him depart the room. She then, immediately tore the envelope open, pulling out a check written out to her for one million dollars. Her heart dropped that instant. For one, none of her weekly checks came up to that much. She didn't even make that much in a month. This had to be some catch, she thought. Either that, or he was just too generous.