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.
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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.
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Tags: interracial wallsex celebrityj enemiesturnedlovers
