Crowded
I was three days into this vacation and I had yet to have fun.
Sure, Trace and I hit up a few clubs and stuffed our faces at buffets, but I wasn't too keen on the idea of just wandering around aimlessly, looking at all the couples around me having fun. Everybody from married couples to summer flings made me jealous. They all had somebody and I had nobody. Of course, that could all change if I did more than just dance with a chick, but my heart wasn't into it.
Stupid ass heart.
I'm not in the best of moods either, if you can't tell. Teresa hasn't called me back yet and I was feeling extra rejected. Why is she the one ignoring me? It should be the other way around. Then again, I should be happy that there's no contact between us, right? That was the plan; to get rid of her. But she was suppose to miss me. She was suppose to call, begging for me to forgive her. That's what I wanted. I needed the satisfaction of knowing she needed me. I needed to know that I actually did matter to her.
"Dude," Trace groaned when he walked into the living room of my spacious penthouse and found me lounging on the sofa with the remote in my hand. "We're in South Beach. South Beach. Hot girls, great weather. . . food!"
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I'm just not feeling it today."
"You haven't felt it since we got here," Trace said, pushing my stretched out legs from the couch before he plopped down. I glared at him and sat up straight.
"Well, maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time and money."
"It wouldn't be a waste if you'd get that bitch out of your head and enjoy yourself."
"Don't call her-"
"Shut up," he interrupted, "Don't go defending her ass, alright? She wouldn't have defended you if I had called you a bitch."
"How do you know?"
"Because she doesn't care enough to do anything else for you. Not even call." I turned my attention back to the television without another word. I wanted to hit Trace. Punch him so bad that I'd break his nose because. . . damn it, I don't know. It just pisses me off when he does that. When he's saying exactly what I need to hear, but don't want to.
"Fuck you," I mumbled, "I paid for your ass to be sitting here. Don't try to talk all this shit to me."
"It's not shit," Trace said, "It's truth. And fuck the fact that you paid for me to be here. I'd rather be home than watch you mope around like some turd over some chick."
"She's not some chick."
"Oh, right, I forgot," he said sarcastically, "You love her, right? She's so special and she makes you laugh. . ."
"Yeah, she does," I said.
"Well, I don't see you laughing," he said, "And I for damn sure don't see her." I groaned and turned up the volume of the t.v. I was minding my own business when Trace punched me in the arm with what felt like all his might. I hissed in pain before punching him right back. He rubbed his arm as I rubbed mine, glaring at him.
"You're really mature," I said sarcastically. Trace flipped off the television and stood.
"You hit me back, so you're just as 'mature'." I guess he had a point, so I pouted.
"South Beach sucks." Trace rolled his eyes as I whined. He was annoyed and I knew it.
"Look, I don't know what to tell you," he sighed, "I've done all I can to entertain you and keep you-know-who outta your mind, but I give up because it's just not working." I frowned. Not because my best friend who had so much patience I sometimes wondered how it all fit into his little body gave up on me, but because I was pitful.
I've gotten drunk, high, and everything inbetween, yet here I was. Sulking and pouting because of her. Yes, her. I've just discovered that not saying her name eases the pressure in my temples and doesn't hurt quite as bad.
"Sorry," I apologized meekly as he sat back down, "I'm just not in a party mood, I guess."
"No," he corrected, "You're jadipped." I furrowed my brows, throughly confused.
"What?"
"Jaded and whipped," he explained simply, "Jadipped." I felt myself get angry and embarrassed before I finally decided he was right. I was in fact jadipped.
"It's really sad that you have to make up words to describe me." I tried to laugh, but it came out dry and fake. More of a weesy grunt than anything.
"Yeah," Trace agreed, "It is." He didn't say anything after that. In fact, he left after a fifteen minute awkward silence, promising he'd come back before ten to try one more club before 'officially' giving up. Even though I wasn't up for it, I said okay. Clubbing used to be fun, but every woman seems so plain now. So boring and the same as the next. They were fun to dance with, but not good enough to take home to mama.
I know I'm wrong and probably sound really gay, but that's just the way I feel. I miss her. More than I should and more than I thought I would. I love her way too much.
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Damn, I miss him.
I stare down at Brownie, my childhood teddy bear that hasn't left my side since I was four, and sighed. Justin thought it was as cute as it was laughable and even bought him a Misses Justin named Cookie. I had packed her up with the rest of the things Justin had gotten me right before Shane and I left and as I stare down at the teddy in my hands, I realize he misses her.
"I'm sorry, Brownie," I whispered comfortingly to the chocolate brown bear in my arms, "No Justin means no Cookie. Too many memories, babe." His small black eyes stared at me, just like they always have, but I told myself he was angry and didn't want to understand. I couldn't blame him. I took away his love.
"What do you think?" Shane emerged from our hotel's bathroom, dressed in a pair of dark denium jeans and a pastel green button up shirt. He had on white Nike Airs and shades on, looking model-like in his GQ pose. I smiled and nodded approvingly, taking him all in.
"You look good," I commented, "Hot, actually." He smiled brightly and strolled over to me.
"You look good yourself," he said, leaning down and kissing me gently.
"Thank you," I said as he sat down next to me on the bed.
"What's this?" He reached over and took Brownie from my arms, looking disgusted and confused.
"It's Brownie," I said, reaching to retrieve him, but he moved him just out of my reach.
"Why'd you bring this thing?" he asked, examining it.
"I bought him because I can't leave him home alone for a week."
"It's a toy."
"It's my teddy," I corrected, going for him again, "Give me it."
"Can I just throw it out?"
"No!" I yelled, "Give it."
"Damn, whatever." He tossed Brownie on the bed like trash before standing up, "Let's go already. I don't want to be stuck in line for hours." He stood and stuck his hand out for me to take it. I stared at him before glancing back at Brownie lying crooked in the middle of the bed. Sad. Hurt. Confused. He reminded me of myself in that moment. Our feelings both disregarded by Shane who was still hovering above me, waiting for me to take his hand.
Even though my stomach knotted up in disargreement and doubt, I took his hand in mine and allowed him to pull me up from the bed. I grabbed my purse from the bureau in our hotel suite and glanced back at Brownie. I frowned, getting the strong urge to fix him up and make him comfortable before I left, but Shane pulled me out the door before I got a chance to. As we made her way down to the lobby via the elevator, my mind went back to Justin. Now he was just like Brownie. A crumpled mess tossed to the side because of Shane. I had saved his message and replayed it when Shane was in the shower, right before bed. Sometimes I got up and walked out to the living room and played it again.
I missed him. His light and soothing voice was more comforting than Shane's deep and gruff one. I wanted to call him and tell him that, but I was scared and embarrassed. Shy more like it. I didn't know what to say to him. He had thrown me out on my ass and only called me once saying he missed me. I was confused by it all. Why miss me if you're the one who kicked me out? I figured he was probably drunk, but I knew drunk Justin. He would've been laughing the whole time. He probably would've yelled or something weird and out of character would've been done.
So maybe he did miss me. But what if I call and he changed his mind and regretted calling? I wasn't gonna play myself like that. Besides, why mess up the good thing Shane and I have? After all these years I feel like we're a real couple again. Only bickering occassionally and laughing all the time. I'm not going to fuck that up.
"Okay, so it took me a while to even locate this damn place," Shane said suddenly as he unlocked the doors to his rented Rolls Royce.
"What's so great about this place?" I asked as I got in and he walked over to his driver's side.
"Well," he said, pulling the door shut behind him as he finally settled in with me, "It's hot."
"Hmm. . ." I mumbled, "Hot, huh?"
"Yep," he smiled, "Sizzlin'!" I giggled lightly and shook my head.
"Okay," I said, "But does this club have a name?"
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"Olive."
"Olive?" I made a face as I questioned Trace who was sitting comfortably in the backseat with me as Mike drove us to this hot club Trace has been raving about for the last ten minutes.
"Yep," he said simply, smiling even wider.
"What kind of name is Olive?"
"I heard the guy who owns the place named it after his daughter."
"Why would you name your kid Olive?" I wrinkled my nose, making a mental note to smack anyone who suggested that name for my future child.
"Why would you name your kid Justin?" Trace shot back.
"The same reason why you would name him Juan and nickname him Trace." I smiled and looked him square in the eye. He bit his bottom lip and shoved me.
"Bitch." I laughed lightly and turned to look out the window. I felt my stomach sink as I looked at the crowd forming outside of Olive. Girls who looked like video hoes were in packs and guys who wanted those video hoes were looking them all up and down like the were pieces of meat. This was the typical club scene and the more I took it in, the more I wanted to crawl back into bed.
"Why are we here again?" I asked, pressing my forehead to the glass as I slumped over. Trace sighed and I blinked before glancing back at him, "Sorry. I'll stop complaining now."
"Thank you." I smirked. I guess it can't be too bad. Drinks. Music. Girls. Trace. I had everything I needed and I was as far away from her as possible. In fact, the moment I got into the club, she was as far away from my mind as possible. Especially since Trace and I met up with Francy and Fairrah; identical twins. Not only were these girls gorgeous and foreign (Peruvian to be exact), they were dancers. Really, really good dancers. We stuck with them most of the night, laughing and talking the night away. Everything was going so well that I was actually enjoying myself for the first time and without any physical harm from Trace.
"Justin?" I looked at Fairrah when she all but moaned my name out. My eyebrows perked in interest as I leaned into her to hear what she had to say over the music.
"Yes?" I replied, smiling all the while. She leaned over and her lips grazed my ear as she whispered.
"Do you want to go to VIP?" She pulled away far enough for me to see the sparkle in her eyes, confirming all the intentions she had. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to and I'd be lying if I said I didn't take her hand and pull her from the table we had been sharing with Trace and her sister before they disappeared just minutes before into the dancefloor. And I'd really be lying if I said I wasn't close to having a heart attack when I spotted the last person I thought I'd see in South Beach just a few feet away from me at the bar.
"Teresa." The pain shot right to my heart and temples when I mumbled her name beneath my breath, trying desperately to wipe her image from my eyes by blinking. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I was having a really bad dream.
"Justin?" Fairrah called over the bass, tugging my arm lightly. I glanced down at her, catching an amused and confused glimmer in her bright blue eyes.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. Her face twisted up in confusion before she laughed awkwardly.
"For what?" Her hands ran through his thick black hair and I glanced back at Teresa, sitting down comfortably at the bar, and remember how good her hair smelled.
"I have to find my friend," I said, "I have to go."
"Why?" I took a hold of her hand and bought it to my lips, kissing it gently.
"Please excuse me." I left her side and practically ran through the club, looking for any sign of Trace. As I bobbed and weaved through the crowd, my heart raced. Suddenly I felt like I was suffocating.
Don’t get me started, it’s getting kinda crowded in here
Back up off me, I’m feeling like I’m suffocating. . .
"Whoa, where's the fire?" I stopped looking when Trace skid to a stop in order not to bump into my rushed form. I rolled my eyes when he smiled up at me and he took the hint that I wasn't playing around. "What's wrong, man?"
"She's here!" I said loudly since we were standing right by the speakers. Trace gestured that he couldn't hear me, so I placed my hand on his back and guided him towards the bathrooms. We made our way inside and I checked every stall to make sure it was clear.
"What were you saying?" Trace asked, arms crossed.
"She's here," I said.
"Who?"
"Teresa." His face went from shocked to angry.
"What the fuck is she doing here?" I shrugged.
"I don't know, but I have to go. Now." Trace sucked his teeth.
"No way," he said, "You're not running away from her. You have to show her that you're okay."
"But I'm not," I stated, "I can't deal with her right now. I want to go."
"Well, go," Trace huffed, "But I'm staying."
"What?" I said, "No. You have to leave with me. What if she sees me or something?"
"Keep walking."
"I don't think I can."
"You really are a bitch." There wasn't a hint of a smile on his face and I was offended.
"I'm not a bitch," I argued, "I just. . . can't."
"Too bad," he said, "If you'll excuse me, I have a very hot girl to dump."
"What?"
"Elisha, duh," Trace said, "I only talked to Fancy because you seemed to like Fairrah."
"Whatever, man," I sighed, "Why can't you dump her and then leave with me?"
"Because there's a time to run and there's a time to fight. You gotta fight. Even if you don't think you're ready, you have to put up a huge front like you're okay. Don't let her think she's winning. If you want her to need you, you have to make yourself as unavailable as possible. Be a dick. Be a jerk. Treat her like she smacked your mama. No, don't do that. That's murder right there." I laughed because it's true and Trace smiled.
"Okay," I said. "But when I'm done playing her, can I please leave?" He rolled his eyes.
"Sure," he said, "We can leave."
Now here’s my problem, I’m not gonna be your man on the side
Forget about it, you know damn well it wouldn’t be right. . .
Trace and I took our separate ways when we left the bathroom and danced with a girl as I looked around for Teresa. I tried not to be obvious and I clearly wasn't because when I glanced to my right, she was there, grinding into some man. I felt myself burn with jealously and anger as she reached behind her and ran her hands down his face. The way her hips moved with his was too sensueous for me to bare and I took my eyes away, focusing more on the unidentified female in front of me, pressing her ass into my crotch as I rubbed up against her.
I don’t know what you been thinking bout me. . .
It wasn't until I was halfway through making babies with the girl I was dancing with that I a familiar voice called out to me.
"Damn, Justin," she shouted over the music, "Don't break her." Everything in me wanted to stop at the sound of her voice and immediately replace the chick in front of me with her, but then I remembered what Trace and my mother had told me.
Did you think this was gonna be that easy?
Hell no you must be going crazy. . .
I ignored her. Flat out ignored her. Even though I could feel her presence and hear her voice, I pretended to by lost in the music and so entranced by the body in front of me that she didn't exist in that moment. I surprised myself so much I smiled. I was proud, especially when she called me again and all I did was flip the girl around and grinded into her.
Why don’t you get out of my life, get out of my sight
Get off of my back . . .
Then I felt the jab of her finger right in my shoulder bone and I stopped dancing. The woman in my arms gave me her back again and touched her toes, dipping down and up again.
"What?" I asked irritably. Teresa was annoyed, I could see it past her phony smile.
"I got your call." I sighed and looked away from her. I could feel my will breaking down.
"Yeah. . ." I mumbled, not knowing what to say.
"I miss you too." My heart lept in my chest when the words left her mouth and I found myself straining my neck to look at her. She smiled softly; more sincere. I've seen that smile before. It was happiness and an apology wrapped up into one. It was 'haha, I got you again' and 'oh, you're so easy'. It was 'I want your body, not your heart'. It was everything I didn't want or need.
I know what’s going on
I won’t be second to none. . .
"Well," I said, "Sounds like a personal problem." Her smile flattered and, as if I planned it, the girl I was dancing with turned around and placed her hand on my cheek, demanding my attention again. Although part of me wanted to turn back around and retrack my previous statement, another part of me didn't. Another part of me was happy that this girl I didn't even know had some how helped me do something in a second that I couldn't do in years: turn my back on Teresa. Ignore her existant. Not gravel at her feet and accept another one of her lame ass apologies. And I was grateful.
Back off 'cause you’re crowding my space
You need to get out of my face. . .
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I was in shock when I turned around and stomped off from Justin's back as he continued to dance with that stupid, fake, video hoe-dancing bitch. Who the hell was she anyway? Was she a new girlfriend? No. . . it's too soon after us. . . but there really was no us. . . but there was to him. . . right?
"Ugh." I was officially pissed off. I knew I should've just turned my head the other way when I saw him dancing, but no. I had to lie to Shane and say I was tired and thristy so he would walk away to get me a drink as I spoke to Justin. Served me right. I knew that message was bullshit.
Sounds like a personal problem? That asshole.
"Yo, where'd you go?" I turned and saw Shane walking up to me with a martini glass in his hand. "I went to find you where I left you at on the floor and were gone.
"Sorry," I apologized, scooting over in the booth I somehow made my way to in the mist of my anger. He sat and I scanned the crowd for any sign of Justin. He was now dancing with a new girl with blonde hair. I guess the other girl wasn't special after all.
"What are you looking at?" I cupped Shane's face in my hands before he could see Justin and turned his attention back to me.
"Nothing," I lied, "You got something right here." I pretended to clean something from his cheek and smiled weakly when I was done.
"Here," Shane said, pushing my drink over to me, "Apple." I nodded approvingly before plucking out the olive and chugging it down. Shane laughed and I smiled.
"What?" I asked.
"You really needed that, didn't you?" I shrugged. "Are you mad about that bear?" I rose a brow before I finally remembered Brownie's crumpled image.
"No," I lied again, "Some bitch just irked my nerves a little."
"What happened?" I shrugged again, trying to make up a story to tell him.
"She was just mad because she looks a mess and I don't," I stated nonchalantly, "You know. Girl stuff."
"Uh huh. . ." Shane said, taking a swing of the beer in his hands. Silence fell between us, but my mind was going a mile a minute. Everything was Justin. I knew he might be a little angry, but not to the point of being an ass to me. He threw me out, not the other way around. I didn't even leave him. If I knew he'd act like this, I would've just left. Maybe things wouldn't be this divided. The look on his face when he saw me was anything, but pleased. I felt unwanted by him for the first time in a long time. In fact, the last time I felt this rejected by him was when I told him about Shane.
"You wanna dance?" Shane asked suddenly when the DJ announced that Ciara's 'Get Up' was coming up. I debated over it as the beat came through the speakers. Everybody cheered and gathered together on the floor. I saw Justin just across the floor. Him and that midget Trace were standing together with two other girls, smiling and moving around to the beat. They looked so happy. He looked so happy.
"No, go 'head and dance with someone else." Shane looked over my features for a moment before he reached out and held my chin in his hand.
"You sure you're alright?" I rolled my eyes playfully and took his hand in mine. I brought it to my lips and kissed his fingertips gently.
"Go. Have fun." He sighed and stood, walking out and mingling into the crowd. I rested my head in my hands and took his bottle of beer from its coaster. I stared at the Miller Lite label and then looked up. Though the club was dark, I say the quick glance Justin had given me and I saw the even quicker frown that crossed his face.
He used to smile when he saw me.
I brought the brown bottle to my mouth and took the cool liquid down in one gulp. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and scanned the floor again. Justin had disappeared and Shane was long gone. I was alone, angry, confused, and in much need of a drink. A very, very strong drink.
A light bulb went off in my head and I got up and went straight for the bar. The woman working the bar did tricks as some guy stared at her in amazement. I watched her work also, finding it as interesting as it could be since I was ready to leave now, with or without Shane.
"Need something strong?" It took me a second to realize she was talking to me and she smiled. "I'll take that as a yes." I had no idea what she was making, but vodka and some type of cream was involved. Whatever it was ended up being topped with whipped topping.
"Thanks." She winked and nodded.
"On the house." I smiled. Finally, some good news. I licked the topping off and swirled the drink around in the glass before finally taking a sip. It was cold and sweet, but bitter with Vodka. I liked it. No, I loved it.
"This is really good!" I commented over the music. She nodded and smiled again before taking orders from two other women. By the fifth sip I recognized the sweetness as Coconut and the cold was from the ice. I drank it up and she sent me another without me having to say anything. I hope this is on the house too 'cause Lord knows I don't have any money.
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I woke up in pain. Complete and utter pain. My head. My back. My legs. My di-
"Good morning. . ." My eyes slide open when an unfamiliar hand slide down my chest. I groaned when the sun hit my face and tried to remember where the hell I was.
"Mornin'." I didn't see what was so good about it, especially since I didn't have a clue when this girl with bright blue eyes was. She looked vaguely familiar, but still a stranger.
"Did you sleep well?" I caught onto the accent quick and matched the eyes and hair of this stranger to one of the twins from Olive. What the hell was her name? Faith. . . Fairy. . .Francheska. . .
"Um. . . yeah," I lied, sitting up and causing her to get off of me. I looked down at the white sheets covering me and remember them being part of my hotel suite. Now I knew where I was. I just can't remember how I got here and what happened in between.
"Yeah?" she questioned. I felt the bed shifting behind me before the feel of her warm, soft breast pressed against my back.
"Yep," I answered nonchalantly. I was uncomfortable with her being so comfortable, especially when she ran her hands down my chest and whispered in my ear.
"That's funny 'cause I don't remember us doing much sleeping." She giggled and I smiled, that same cocky smirk that's been associated with me a miillion times in the past. It's not that I was, but I had to be cocky sometimes. Especially in situations like this. I couldn't make it seem like I'm a punk in a panic, even though I kind of am.
"Well . . . um. . ." Damn it, what is her name?
"Fairrah," she supplied before nipping on my ear. I enjoyed the feeling for a moment.
"Fairrah, I have a meeting to attend to," I lied. She instantly pulled away from me and scooted back over to her side of the bed.
"All you had to say was leave." I smiled.
"That would've been kind of rude."
"No, forgetting my name is rude," she corrected, "Asking me to leave instead of lying is not."
"Sorry," I apologized, "I hope you didn't get any ideas from last night."
"No, I didn't," she shrugged off as she stood from the bed, completely naked and gorgeous, might I add. She walked around carelessly as she picked up items of her clothing and got dressed. I sat in the center of the bed and watched.
"I had fun," I said, even though I couldn't remember half of what we talked about or any of the sex we had.
"Me too," she said, "Exvcept when we said 'Teresa'. That I didn't like."
"What-"
"No, no. It's okay," she shushed, "You didn't remember my name, right? So you made up another one, so what." I didn't know what to say to that, so I nodded. "It's not the end of the world."
"Okay." This was awkward. She was just stand there, staring at me like I was suppose to do something.
"It was nice knowing you Mr. Timberlake." She walked over to me and leaned down to kiss my cheek. "Maybe another time, eh?" I shrugged.
"Maybe." She smiled and nodded before waving goodbye. I have to say she's one of the nicest one-nighters I've ever had. I usually have to run out before day break in order to keep them from begging me to stay or forcing me to stay, for that matter. Fairrah was a refreshing change, but her informing me of my name mix up was anything but refreshing.
Damn it. No matter how hard I try, she's always there in my mind. Waiting for the perfect moment to ruin something for me. . . even sex. Ugh.
"Get out of my head," I demanded to nobody as I ran my hands over my buzzed head. I closed my eyes, letting the pain that shot through my forehead the moment I spoke pass. Knowing she could be anywhere near me made me sick with desire and confusion and anger. I wanted her gone, but I wanted her here. I missed her, but then again I didn't. . . Okay, who am I kidding? I miss her. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, yet . . . I can't figure out why.
I know her. I know the games she plays. I know in my heart that she didn't come down here alone. Shane has to be somewhere. . . or worse, someone else. I really wouldn't put it past her.
I had to leave. I had to leave this room. This city. This state. I needed to get away from her. This place may be big, but now that she's here too, it feels cramped. . . crowded.
"Yo." I hadn't realized I picked up the phone, let alone dialed Trace's number, but I knew why I called.
"Pack your bags," I said, "We're going home."
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Song Credit(s):
"Crowded" - Jeannie Ortega
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