25. I Will Go Sailing No More 

I wish someone could tell me why I’m spending my one day off this weekend braving after church traffic to meet Justin at his office of all places. This is the last thing I want to be doing and I really wish he had been more open about what the hell is going on instead of going all Da Vinci Code on my ass.

It’s been two weeks since we had our big important ‘Determine the Relationship’ dinner and I’m still in the process of moving out of Elliot’s townhouse and back into Justin’s place. The front entrance of Elliot’s home is completely littered with huge brown boxes filled with my shit and when I take in the entire scene I realize that I became something of a shopaholic when I was ceremoniously kicked out of Justin’s house. I guess I relied heavily on retail therapy while Justin and I were estranged.

Justin insisted I hire a moving company but I refused outright. Who needs a bunch of brawny, hairy men moving my precious belongings when I can watch Elliot and Trace bitch and moan about it all afternoon as they load box after box into Bentley Lexus and Trace’s enormous, gas guzzling Escalade?

I’m so caught up in the memory of Trace bitching me out for asking him to carry my lounge chair that I almost crash into the back of a Oldsmobile that slams on his breaks suddenly for no apparent reason. I swallow the urge to roll down my window and roll obscenities at the decrepit old man who shouldn’t be driving around the streets of Santa Monica in the first place. I’m trying to cut back on the excessive swearing at complete random strangers in and around the Los Angeles area. One of these days I’m going to cuss out some gang members and we all know that is going to end in terrible bloodshed.

I would, however, love to get another crack at Maura La Whora.

It surprises me that thoughts of Maura should plague me now. My life is absolutely amazing at the moment. I’ve got the love of my life back, my best friends are two insanely ridiculous males – one who enjoys Live Action Role Play and the other who thinks he grew up right in the throws of Compton – I have a dog who adores me, and while my job isn’t the best thing ever; I’m supporting myself and it seems like I’ll be getting a promotion any month now.

But there’s the persistent nagging in the back of my mind that tells me something is going to go horribly, horribly wrong since everything is going inexplicably right.

Twenty minutes of agonizing traffic later, I’m pulling into the parking garage that forms the foundation of the office buildings Justin’s various production companies and business ventures call home. This is where Justin makes the big bucks aside from making millions in music. I might be pumping up his ego when I say he’s the white Jay-Z or Diddy or whatever…but when his voice finally goes from singing like a girl all the time at least he’ll have something to fall back on.

I walk towards the main doors that will take me into the small lobby filled with elevators. I never expected to see Justin waiting by the tall glass doors, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looks like a small child at Christmas time – he can hardly contain his excitement. What he’s excited for I haven’t the faintest idea although I can’t help but think that his enthusiasm is the cutest damn thing I’ve seen in a while.

I find it so weird that mere months ago I was cursing his name. Now, we’re back to the lovely couple we were before Maura appeared and fucked everything up to hell. Justin can’t even wait for me to walk up to him. He bounds forward with endless energy and pulls me up in a huge hug before kissing me quickly.

“It took you long enough to get here!” he mumbles against my lips. I can’t help but smile as I kiss him again glad to be locked up in his embrace.

“Well, if someone hadn’t instructed me to drive down here during after church traffic maybe I would have gotten here on time,” I retort as he reluctantly lets me go, his hand absentmindedly reaching for mine.

“Oh whatever, you were totally playing with your new obsession at the house.”

I roll my eyes as he presses the button to call the elevator to attention. “Guitar Hero is not an obsession,” I explain in an exasperated tone as the doors to the elevator open. Justin leads me inside with a furtive smile playing at his lips. I’m about to say something else but soon he has me pinned against the wall of the elevator, his body wonderfully solid against mine.

“I know, I know,” he begins before he leans over and places delicate kisses on my neck, “it’s a way of life.”

I suppress a giggle as his lips brush against my collarbone. My hands rest on his shoulders while his hold onto my hips, “Being a Rock God is hard work,” I explain before I lean forward and kiss his head. He stops his latest assail on my throat and looks at me.

“Being a Rock God is my job. You can just be my Groupie Goddess,” he grins wickedly as he kisses me solidly. He tries to deepen the kiss but the elevator signals that our floor is quickly approaching.

“Would you behave yourself please? We’re in a place of business,” I chastise him as I push him away from me. He seems put off that I would stop his sensual attack and I can tell that he’s about to sulk in the corner of the elevator. “Maybe we can christen your office later,” I offer and his expression immediately brightens before the elevator doors spring to life.

I was so preoccupied by Justin’s advancements in the elevator that I didn’t realize he brought me up to the floor that houses his new, fledgling record company – Tennman Records. I give him a skeptical look as he takes my hand and leads me to the front desk where a bored looking secretary is stationed. 

 The woman can sense someone is approaching and she looks up quickly from her computer. I almost want to roll my eyes – she’s probably surfing Facebook or Myspace or some shit like that. “Good afternoon Stacey,” Justin greets her and I’m surprised that he’s actually taken the time to know who the hell is working for him. This is something the Old Justin would have never done. I guess some of my better qualities have rubbed off on him. 

“You’re all set and ready to go, Mr. Timberlake,” she states with a curt nod in our direction. Justin just offers her a goofy smile and heads towards the large double doors that will take us out of the front waiting area and into the depths of what I’m sure is a state of the art headquarters for administrative work and a plethora of recording studios.

I expect to see a team of people running in and out of offices, phones to be ringing off the hook, and the appearance of some of the new acts Justin recently signed to the label while he was over in Europe. But my expectations are a bit high seeing as the entire building is deathly silent. Aside from Justin and I, I think Stacey is the only other person in this part of the edifice.

I start to slow down so I can read Justin’s face and ask him what the hell is going on but he pushes forward, dragging me along with him. “Justin what…” I begin but he turns around and hugs me tightly. I don’t know how long we stand there, but it takes me a while to realize that he’s actually trembling. I don’t know if it’s fear, excitement, anxiousness, or some recent bladder issues, but the guy is really starting to freak me out.

“Justin are you okay?” I ask him as I pull away to look up at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he pauses slightly and puts on a brave smile. Yeah, something is definitely up, “it just suddenly hit me that I’m running this entire record label. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I know you can handle it,” I reassure him and he smiles his appreciation, “I mean you aren’t going to be touring forever and this is a nice cash cow to fall back on. Plus, you get to help other people reach for their dreams and goals and all that schmaltzy shit…” I was going to continue but Justin cuts me off with a huge guffaw.

“I’ve never heard someone put it that way,” he explains, “Only you Lo, only you.” I stand there silently as he steals another kiss and then pulls me down the corridor.

I let my eyes wander to take in what Justin has invested so much time and money into during his free time on the road. You know…when he wasn’t out partying and getting shit face drunk.

The walls are swathed in a deep red and the fabric that covers them seems to be made of suede or some other texture that would make anyone want to rub against it like some pervert on a bus during rush hour. Every so often the walls are decorated with some of Justin’s gold or platinum records. It’s amazing how many accolades his garnered over the years and as we continue our little Walk of Progress the pride I hold for him grows steadily in the pit of my stomach. To think that without my help and guidance he wouldn’t have half the shit festooning the walls.

That sounds a bit pretentious of me, but I have to give myself a pat on the back. He was an insufferable idiot at the start of our...well, I guess you could call it relationship. If I weren’t there from the beginning, hauling his ass out of bed for recording sessions or taking the bong out of his lap when he was fucking around with Timbaland or Trace, none of this shit would have gotten done.

I’m going to take a page out of Justin the Cocky Bastard’s book when I say that I’m pretty fucking awesome.

But I would never, ever be his personal assistant again. Not in a million years. You’d have to hold me at gunpoint to take that position and I think he knows it. Maybe now that we’re together it would be different, but I would be much too lenient with him in regards to blowing off interviews and I couldn’t do that to him. Justin’s career comes first and I think it took a hell of a lot of drama to make me realize that. I can sit here and bitch until the cows come home about how he puts more stock in his vocation than me…but it wouldn’t make any difference. He’s been doing this long before he met me and I’ll just have to put up with the fact that his career is his wife…I’m just the mistress.

We walk until we can’t go any further. Justin stops at the end of the hallway in front of a closed cherry wood door that accents the colors in the wall perfectly. His tall frame covers the bulk of the door as he struggles with a huge set of keys. With some difficultly and much swearing, he manages to unlock the door and it isn’t until he leads me past the open door that I read what’s posted on the door in silver iron letters –

PRESIDENT 

So he wants to show me his office. That’s great. I’m sure it has a wonderful view and I hope he knows I was only half kidding about christening his office. I mean I would probably comply if we were the only two people in the building but his secretary could walk in at any moment and that would be a rather awkward situation. I don’t think Stacey wants to know her new boss that intimately.

I’m about to tell Justin that there is no way in hell I’m going to perform acts of debauchery in his office when he stops in front of the desk and turns towards me, the most mischievous grin I’ve ever seen plastered on his face.

“Look, I…” I try to start but he silences me with a look that seems to say, ‘give me time to explain myself.’ I stand dumbfounded as he comes up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. Pushing me forward, I have no choice but to walk around the desk and into the seat at the head of a rather imposing and impressive desk.

I look up at Justin with I’m sure is a look of utmost confusion. “I’ll be right back,” he informs me before he practically skips out of the office. I turn in the swivel chair to take in the magnificent view that only the best office in the building can provide.

Tennman Records is situated on the top floor of an office building that is close to the touristy part of Santa Monica but is so ordinary that it wouldn’t scream ‘Justin Timberlake Comes Here When He Isn’t Making Music Or Touring The World!’ The President’s office faces west and has the most breathtaking views of the pier and Pacific Ocean. It makes me sad that Justin will hardly use this office since I’m sure most of his involvement with the company will be from the road. After all, he’s going on tour this fall and won’t be able to spend every waking moment in this rather magnificent workplace.

I turn in the chair to face the desk again and I smile when I see a framed picture of Justin and I sitting on the surface. At least he’s had time to put some personal touches into the place. And at least I’ll have somewhat of a presence here whenever he finds himself sitting in this chair for a ‘day at the office.’

The sound of someone stampeding down the hall makes me tear my gaze away from the picture of Justin and I. Looking through the open door, I see Justin come gallivanting down the corridor that goofy, idiotic smile that I adore so much still plastered on his face. But there’s something else playing at his expression. I can’t quite place it and quite frankly I’m finding myself growing frustrated. This is one of the first times I can’t really read him and I don’t like it at all.

“It looks good,” he tells me as he enters the room, “Looks damn good.”

“Sorry,” I begin as I lean forward in the chair, my forearms resting comfortably on the desk, “but what looks damn good?”

“Oh, wait a second,” he interjects. I watch as he holds up a blank plaque and sets it down on the desk. My brow furrows as he takes a step back and stands in the threshold of the door. He takes in the scene before him with a perceptive gaze and nods in approval, “Now it’s perfect.”

The espionage that he’s trying to pull is really starting to piss me off - so much in fact that I reach over the length of the desk and snatch the plaque off the surface. I can feel his eyes on me as I slowly turn the placard over my breath hitching in my throat as I’m faced with letters that unmistakably form words that I’m all too familiar with.

LAUREN WALTERS – PRESIDENT 

“Justin,” I begin, my heart pounding its way into my throat, “What the fuck is this?”

“Your new position,” he exalts as he takes a seat in one of the plush chairs opposite of mine, the enormous desk separating us.

“What do you mean? You’re the president,” I point out. I really don’t have time for this sort of fuckery. I could be back at his house schooling Trace in the ways of Guitar Hero; I was ready to graduate to expert level, too.

“No,” he states slowly as if he’s speaking to a retarded child, “I’m the CEO. There isn’t any way in hell I could be president.”

“And why ever not?”

“Because when the label is up and running, the president needs to be in the office running all of the shit. I can’t possibly do that because I’ll be on the road and pursuing other projects.”

“And you have this funny idea in your head that I could do this job?” I ask him. I swear if this is some kind of joke I will leave him here and now. The fact that he’s dangling my dream job in front of my face – a job I’ve wanted ever since I arrived at Stanford as a doe eyed, innocent freshman – just isn’t fair. I would never dangle an Oscar winning role in front of his greedy little paws no matter how much I enjoy watching him squirm.

“You’d be perfect! You said if I could find a job where you could spend time with me you’d leave that shit hole at the Hilton.” A waver of uncertainty flashes in Justin’s blue eyes and I can sense that he’s starting to freak out just a little bit. I’m sure he thought I would fall to my knees in worship that he could manage to find a job like this for me. But I can’t help but be cautious. This is a life changing moment for me and I don’t want to fuck it up.

“Justin,” I sigh heavily as I shift my weight in what I can only assume is a very expensive Italian leather chair. My hands brush over my name on the plaque and I can’t help but feel honored that he would trust me with his baby. But I also feel insulted, “I told you I wouldn’t come back and work for you. Not in a million years – we both know what will happen if it came to that."

“No, no, no, you’re missing the point, Lauren!” Justin exclaims hastily as he catapults himself out of his chair. He rushes around the desk and stops in front of me, quickly kneeling so he’s just below my eye level. “You aren’t working for me. I mean the president has to have meetings with the CEO every now and then, but for the most part the president is her own boss. You deal with the inter-workings of the office; you work directly with the talent. You make all the executive decisions but come to me with the really, really big stuff…

I’m working all of this in my mind, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. I should be disagreeing with him. This is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. But I can’t help but think that his words are making complete and total sense to me. I wouldn’t be working with Justin on a daily basis. He would be off touring and dealing with his other endeavors. I would be here in this beautiful office in Santa Monica every single day being the boss, getting paid bank, and from time to time, I would have to get on a plane and go to wherever Justin is. We would have to discuss business of course, but there are twenty-four hours in a day and no one can talk business that long, especially when you only have two people signed to an up and coming label…

I can only think of one thing right now: When the fucking hell did Justin grow a fully functioning brain?

“Lauren? Are you there?” his voice interjects my rambling thoughts and I look from my name on the placard to his anxious face and I find that words have escaped me. I have been rendered speechless and aside from the time when he can be really infuriating or exceedingly romantic, this very rarely happens. “Do you have anything to say? Like yes?”

My mouth flaps open and closed like a fish out of water and my brain can’t wrap its head around the words that I want to say. His expectant look falters and I feel like he’s about to suggest we forget the whole thing. “Would you say something?” he asks through a nervous laugh, “You’re starting to freak me out.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him stupidly as I grip the sign so tightly I feel as if I’m going to break my fingers, or snap the placard in half.

“A simple ‘yes,’ or ‘no,’ would do,” he counters and I can tell he’s praying my response will be the former and not the latter.

“Justin…” the initial shock of what he’s offered me is wearing off and I feel my ability to form coherent sentences is coming back to me.

He sighs heavily and starts to rise to his feet, “Well I thought this was going to work…can’t blame a guy for trying.” His entire body is tense with disappointment as he gets to his feet and turns his back to me. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d expect him to start crying or weeping or something that is entirely out of character for Justin to do at a time like this.

“No, I’m glad you did try,” I explain not finding the nerve to get up out of my seat, “Because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to accept your offer…”

I watch with a small smile as he sighs with relief and turns around to face me. He’s down on his knees again in front of me, pausing halfway to kiss me quickly on the forehead. “Do you mean it?” he asks me, “Will you really take the position?”

“Of course I will! Do you know me at all you silly ass?” I ask with a giggle as a huge grin spreads across his face lighting up his handsome features. “Did you honestly expect me to turn down my dream job, especially when it brings me closer to you?”

“No, which is why you scared me shitless when you weren’t saying anything,” he responds with a nervous laugh as he rests his hands on my knees.

“You caught me off guard, I didn’t expect this at all.”

“Oh good,” he breathes out a sigh of relief, “so will you marry me, too?”

His question hits me in the pit of my stomach and it feels like I’ve collided with fifteen thousand speeding trains. If I was without words ten seconds ago I’m going to need someone to revive me now. I’m so caught off guard that my nameplate falls out of my hands and clatters unceremoniously to the floor. Neither of us makes a move to put it back on the desk. All I can look at is the solemn, hopefully look glued onto his face and his deep blue eyes are searching for any sort of indication of an answer on what I’m sure is a dumbfounded expression.

We’re stuck in time and space and the only thing that is going to bring us out of it is if I say something or a meteor crashes through the windows of what is now my office and starts the Apocalypse.

There is no way I can formulate any sort of word right now so I just sputter and string together syllables. I sound like a babbling idiot.

“Wha-wha-wha-aa-at?” My heart is beating so irregularly in my chest I think it’s going to pop out of my chest and start spazzing out on the floor. My mind is racing and all I can really think about is the fact that he just fucking proposed. He proposed marriage and all I can do is sit on this expensive Italian leather swivel chair and stutter like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.

It isn’t until he takes his hands off my knees that I realize he was holding onto them for dear life. They’re screaming in relief and I’m surprised he didn’t shatter at least one of them. I want to lean forward and rub the strain out of the bone and thinly stretched muscles, but I find that I can’t even blink let alone move my hands.

I watch carefully as Justin leans back on his haunches and pulls out a small box from his pocket. You know…a box small enough to house a ring that changes the lives of so many fucking couples. My mind is completely blown – if someone asked me to perform simple addition and subtraction I probably would just look at them like they were speaking an archaic language. I expected that maybe one day he would propose or we would seriously talk about getting married, but I didn’t realize he was thinking about doing it so soon.

“I can get all romantic and spew all these gilded words for you to make it sound like I’m some kind of poet…but I’ve done that already Lauren, it’s everything you’ve already heard before and I think everything you already know. You know how I feel about you – even when we were apart for the better part of this year know that I never stopped feeling all of those things I felt about you…” he pauses for a moment as if he’s trying to figure out what to say next. I can’t believe he didn’t write any of this down – if I was proposing or something of the sort I’d have a speech memorized.

But that’s the difference between the two of us – if Justin went the route of preparing some sort of proposal speech he’d sound so robotic and stoic. The fact that he’s doing it off the cuff and from the very core of his being makes it the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed.

But he’s proposing. He has the fucking ring in the box…Holy shit…

“I just hope you know that you’re my better half. When I think of all the things I want to be, I look no further than you for guidance and support. You’ve changed me in more ways than I can describe and I wouldn’t change the time we’ve spent, or didn’t spend, for the world. Not being with you has made me realize that I can’t live without you. You’ve seen me at my best, and at my worst and I love you so much it really fucking hurts sometimes…”

My vision of him is becoming clouded with tears and I try to blink them away furiously without having him see that I’m succumbing to the emotions that are bubbling at the very heart of me. I never thought that this would happen in a million years and now that the moment is finally in front of my face; I’m freaking out.

“This doesn’t have to be an engaged-to-be-married or anything…after this we don’t have to put those announcements in papers and set a date and plan a wedding. I see it as a promise that one of these days it’ll happen. There isn’t anyone else for me Lauren; you’re it for me, and I just wanted you to know that and to give you this.”

The blurry image of Justin cracks open the black velvet box but I don’t see the ring – all I can see is him kneeling before me, scared as hell and completely vulnerable. He’s put all of himself – his pride, dignity, and everything else on the chopping block and he’s given me the power to completely destroy him.

The thought of walking away crosses my mind for a split second but it’s just a blip on the radar and it passes almost as quickly as it came. My body is on autopilot as I feel myself slowly slip out of the chair and onto the floor, our faces completely level with one another.

If someone walked into the room right now, it would look like no one was in the room at all – we’re completely protected by the enormous desk that is mine. This entire room is mine. The ring in his outstretched, shaking hand is mine. And the man in front of me – the man who has put me through my paces, the man who I can sometimes love and hate at the same time, the man who will, surprisingly enough, do anything for me is mine.

All I have to do is reach out and take it.

He gingerly reaches out with the one hand that isn’t still holding onto the box and takes hold of one of my hands. I squeeze it reassuringly and try to find some words – any words – that will make me sound as eloquent as him. There’s really only one thing I can say right now –

“Ask me the question,” I all but whisper and he doesn’t have to take time to read into what I’m asking him. We’ve somehow reached this higher plane of understanding that I really can’t explain – I guess the only thing I can say is when you’ve been through so much with one person it’s almost like you have this ridiculous understanding of everything and anything they’re thinking.

It’s a scary and thrilling thing to possess all at the same time.

Steeling himself, Justin takes a big breath and holds onto my left hand biting his lip to keep his words from shaking, “Lauren Walters, will you marry me?”

We’re both crying on the floor of this semi-high rise office building as he slips the ring onto my finger as I’m vigorously nodding my head in approval. Once the ring is safely placed and the box is stowed away, I waste no time in flinging my arms around his neck and hugging him for all I’m worth. I feel his arms wrap around my waist and all we can do is sit on the damn floor and hold onto one another.

 “You had me scared for a minute,” Justin whispers into my ear as a hand reaches up to stroke my hair, “I almost thought you were going to say ‘no.’”

“And I thought you were going to change your mind,” I counter as we untangle each other from our embrace so we can get a better vantage point of the other’s face. He grins at me and wipes the tears off of my face before he kisses me gingerly.

“Never. You’re stuck with me now, Walters.”

“Well, shit,” I groan good naturedly, “I kind of walked right into that one didn’t I?”

“Do you regret it?”

“No. You’re going to be stuck with me for a long time, Timberlake.”

“It’s okay…I knew what I was getting myself into. Besides, whenever I need you to beat the hell out of my lagging staff I can just give you tons of tequila and let you do your thing,” he explains with one of his trademark goofy laughs.

“So you’re going to make me fight all your battles for you?”

“No,” he says firmly, all traces of teasing gone, “you’ll never have to fight for anything again.”

“I could get used to that,” I tell him as I lean forward and rest my forehead against his. I don’t think anyone in living memory has ever been this happy. At least I can’t remember a time when I felt so incandescently joyous, or anyone else that I know for that matter.

“Good.” I don’t object as he closes the distance between us and kisses me soundly on the mouth. I smile against his lips as he lowers me down onto the floor, the desk still offering us a shield from the rest of the office.

“So,” he mumbles against the soft skin of my neck, “earlier you were talking about christening the office…”

“I’m not going to do that when someone else is here!” I whisper fervently into his ear, trying desperately to ignore his increasing kisses.

“When I went out to get your new nameplate I told her to go on her lunch break. I told her to take her time.”

“You are very, very bad,” I giggle as I push him away so I can look at his face. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching the light bounce off of his eyes, or the myriad of expressions he goes through in just two minutes.

“It’s my nature,” he says with an air of nonchalance.

“Well,” I start as I take a long time to digest his request, “I don’t see why not.” The wickedness that gleams in his eyes sends chills down my spine and I have a feeling that I will have some very good memories to look forward to when I sit at this desk in the future.

He starts to kiss me ardently and my hands have already found their way underneath the hemline of his shirt when I hear the opening and closing of a door in the distance.

“What the fuck?” Justin grumbles in frustration as he pulls away from me. I almost want to tell him to forget the door and to focus on the here and now, but I’m also concerned. Maybe Stacey forgot something and came back to get it…

“Justin! Lo-ho! Where the hell are you?”

“Remind me to smother Trace tonight while he’s sleeping,” Justin seethes as he hoists himself off of me and helps me to my feet.

“I brought Elliot with me! We want to see the rock! Lauren, you better have said yes or we’re going to have to kick your ass!”

“Can we do it together?” I ask him as he grabs onto my hand and brings it up to his lips to kiss it quickly.

“We have a whole lifetime to torment Trace. Maybe we should wait until he’s old and decrepit to kill him off.”

“But he’s very small,” I grumble, “it wouldn’t be that hard.”

Justin throws his head back and laughs loudly, loudly enough to alert Trace of our presence in the back office. I can hear Trace and Elliot rushing down the corridor – their frenzied footsteps sounding like a roll of distant thunder on the horizon growing steadily louder. I look up at Justin who’s staring at me with a look that only means one thing – love.

Grinning at him, we head for the door, ready to meet our future.

 -The End-