Chapter Fourteen: This is Houston…What’s the problem?
Part Two
My chest hurts.
It’s the type of pain that takes over your entire body and you can’t control it. It wraps you up tight and makes it nearly impossible for you to breathe. It starts at the pit of your stomach, then it travels to the center of your chest, up to your throat and lingers. It chokes you. It makes you fight against it until you’re too weak to keep struggle with it. It eats you alive and you know that no matter how hard you try to break free from it, you just can’t.
It’s my heart… breaking.
The flight of stairs that I just took, two at a time, with stiletto shoes, catch up with me when I reach the twelfth floor. I’m not out of shape by any means but the twelve flights are like climbing Mount Everest when you’ve been crying for the past hour.
Me, Vanessa Martinez, crying and I can’t stop.
It hurts to know that nothing I do will ever be enough to make my father love me. Nothing.
“I’ll meet you in Atlanta in two days, okay?” I shake my head, even though I know she can’t see me. “Please stop crying V, you’re making me so sad…”
“Don’t be, it’s alright. Have a good photo shoot tomorrow,” I’m walking down the hallway toward my room and my legs feel like Jell-O from climbing those stairs. “Don’t worry about me, Barker. I’ll be fine. I am fine. Always am.”
“I wish I could believe you, Vanessa,” she says and I hate that I’ve made her sad too. This is my own misery and I hate that I always bring Barker down with me. She says that‘s what sisters are for, but we don‘t share the same father, do we? “Try to relax a bit tonight, okay?”
“I’m fine, Barker,” I say walking as slowly as I can without falling over from the pain of my legs. “I’ll call you later.”
“I love you,” she says and tears slips from my eyes easily. I want her here with me, she’s my rock, the only person in my life that knows me. But I’m alone. Alone and brokenhearted, yet again.
“I love you too,” I say and end the call quickly before I start bawling my eyes out, like I did when I called her an hour ago.
“VANESSA!!” The loud call of my name makes me look up briefly from where I’m inserting my hotel key in the slot. Oh God, I don’t want to have this conversation. I continue trying to open my door and fail. What the hell is wrong with this stupid thing? “So, you’re deaf now?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he’s walking toward me. He’s carrying something but because I refuse to interact with anyone right now, I don’t know what it is. Nor do I care. I just want to go into my room and I don’t look at him when he’s standing next to me. I keep sliding the key card in the slot repeatedly to no avail. Fuck!
“Didn’t you hear me talking to you?” he asks and I just don’t want to deal with him right now. A tear slips out of my eye from frustration and I wipe it from under my shades quickly.
“Just leave me alone,” I say and I hate that I sound so stuffy, like I’m crying. Which is due to the fact that I am crying. I’m such a loser, like my father so often hints at.
“Vanessa,” he says grabbing my arm to stop my obvious attack on the key slot before he snatches the key out of my hand. “Are you crying?” he asks and he sounds a little concerned. It’s the last thing I need, I hate pity. He easily inserts the key and the small light turns green which aggravates me. It would open up for him, wouldn’t it? I don’t care, all I care about is that I’m in.
“Just leave me alone,” I say and I still haven’t looked at him. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want anybody feeling sorry for me. I push on the door and I’m inside my room without another word. I don’t know nor care if he said anything else.
I go straight for the bathroom, taking items of clothing off on my way to the large bathtub. I really hope this bath makes me feel better or my legs at the most and I can go to sleep. And just forget about this day. All of it. Even if it’s for just eight hours, while I sleep, because tomorrow, reality sinks in.
Within minutes, I’m in the tub, the hot water soothing my legs but not my heart. Nothing’s going to heal that, I know. It’s been broken for far too long and repairing it is impossible. The thought make fresh tears well up in my eyes and I’m miserable. I’m positive I’ve shed enough tears to make the tub overflow and it makes me sadder than I’ve ever been.
I thought for sure, this new job would make my father see how good I am. Show him that I can be even half as good as he’s been in this business. I thought that after being disappointed in me with my previous career choice, that he would find my new career something to be proud of. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong in his eyes.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
I’m trying not to fall asleep in the tub but Barker was right, the hot water has consoled me a bit, although the tears are still fresh. I think I’m more angry than I am sad, although the feelings are too deep to actually pick. I’m sad because it hurts and I’m angry because it hurts. In the end, it’s all the same, I guess. My eyes drift closed and the only sound in the room is the air conditioning system, humming on the other side of the bathroom door.
“How is it possible to look that relaxed and still have tears in your eyes?” I hear and I almost have a heart attack. I sit up so quickly that the water, my tears, splash out of the tub and all over the tiled floor. Jesus Christ!!
“Jesus Christ! What are you doing?” I ask trying to cover up as much as possible as I sit in the middle of the tub looking up at the one and only, Justin Timberlake. I realize my attempt is null and I‘m positive he‘s gotten a very nice frontal view. “What are you doing in my room? Get out!”
“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you walk in here and forget about it, did you?” he asks and although I’m completely naked, I haven’t seen his making an effort to see what I was trying to cover up. I want to cry. Again. Why is this happening to me?
“Please get out,” I say and I know I sound pathetic when I say the words and fresh tears slide down my cheeks. I’m way beyond pathetic.
“No,” he says and turns toward the bathroom door. “Put some clothes on, we need to talk!” he says and slams the door behind him. I’m trapped. Justin Timberlake is in my room and I can’t do anything about it. I don’t have the heart to fight him and I don’t know that I want to.
I keep asking myself how he got into my room but then I remember that I didn’t stay outside the door with him long enough to take my key back when he opened it for me. Way to go, Vanessa!
I can’t stay in the bathroom all night, hiding, although I wouldn’t mind. So I stand up in the tub and grab the bathrobe from the hook near it. I try to put on the best act to date and walk out of the bathroom. My body is saying that I’m strong and I can hide every emotion coursing through my body as I walk out and enter the room. I’ve done this act for the past couple of years, I should be able to pull it off. I walk with my head held high and knock down anything that stands in my way. Even when I’m dying inside, which is ninety percent of the time.
But my mind is another thing all together and it‘s failing me. I’m not confident. I’m not the tough woman everyone thinks I am, right now. And unfortunately, for some unknown reason, Mr. Timberlake, is seeing through me. This isn’t right and I hate it, I hate that when I walk into the room and see him sitting on the bed looking up at me, I want to cry. And I hate even more when I do shed tears and they roll down my cheek, slowly. I’m not even strong enough to wipe it away and pretend it wasn’t there. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I let my father get to me like this? Why am I letting Justin Timberlake, see what only Barker sees? Why am I weak when I look at father? And why is it that I want to break down when I look at Justin Timberlake?
“Please just leave,” I say and I do wipe the tears from my face. He’s looking at me with confusion written all over his face. I don’t blame him one bit. Who understands me? Who?
“It was just sex, Vanessa. It’s not the end of the world. You don’t have to look so defeated, like it was the worst mistake of your fucking life! So it was a big risk we BOTH took, but it happened and we need to talk about it. You’re not making this any easier, Vanessa! JESUS CHRIST!! STOP FUCKING CRYING, PLEASE!! IT WAS SEX!! Do NOT make me feel guilty about it when it was the best thing that I‘ve felt in a long, long time. DO NOT TAKE THAT WAY FROM ME, PLEASE!!!”
He’s standing up looking at me with an expression that I can only register as guilt. He feels guilty over something that he shouldn‘t be. I let all of this happen. I did this. I made my father hate me. I made the choice to deceive my father and run away with Jared. I did this. I let Justin Timberlake touch me. I let him take me as his, sexually. I’m letting him see me this way. I did this.
Me. Me. ME.
“Justin, please just leave,” I say and I don’t miss the shock of his name coming out of my lips, from his eyes. “Please.”
“Vanessa,” he says and he sounds very apprehensive, like he’s scared of what I might do. He’s closing the small distance between us and he standing in front of me. He’s looking into my eyes and I can see his hypnotizing blue eyes read me like an open book. I want to look away but I can’t. I just can’t. It’s the first time I feel small around him. I’m only an inch shorter than he is but I can see how much bigger and taller he is with my shoes off. “You’re not crying over what happened with us earlier,” he’s not asking at all, he’s making a statement and fresh tears appear in my eyes. He’s right.
“Don’t,” I say when he slowly moves a strand of hair from my face. I don’t want to be touched. I want to be left alone. I need to recharge. I need to put all of this behind me and move on. I need to do what I’ve been doing with my emotions for the past five years. I need to become strong again. Strong on the outside and weak inside, where no one can see. Where no one can judge.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says and I close my eyes briefly and look up into his eyes again. His words sound sincere, his eyes give me a comfort that I’ve never felt before and I loose it. I’m crying hysterically on his chest within a second and his arms are around in a tight embrace. I can’t stop crying and I don’t care that it’s Justin Timberlake holding me for dear life. All I care about is that I feel a sense of comfort in his arms and I don’t want to let go. I can’t let go.
The cold tiled floor is gone from under my feet and the cool sheets from the Heavenly Bed embrace me. I can’t stop crying and when I feel him flushed against my body from behind, I cry harder. The blankets cover the both of us and I’ve never been in a more comfortable position. It’s warm. His hands slips under my arms and locks with my left as I lay. My right hand embraces our joined hands and my tears subside a bit. I’m okay.
“I’m here, Vanessa,” he whispers in my ear and the feeling that I get isn’t sexual by any means. It’s the feeling that Barker gives me. It’s comfort. It’s caring. It’s almost love. “Shh…sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
The meaning of his words and the affect that they are having on me, make my eyes drift closed. Sleep comes quickly after that. I don’t think about the consequences of it all. And the reality it will bring in the morning. I only let my body relax like it’s never been before. It’s like I’m on cloud nine in heaven and I’ve never felt soothing at this level before. Ever.
And it’s with Justin Timberlake, at that. Go figure.
---------------------------------------------
It’s reality time. Morning.
The bright beam in the room from the sun outside the window hits my eyes at full velocity and I cringe. I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to have to awkwardly apologize to Justin for being such a fucking drama queen last night. I don’t want to have to look at Justin and…
Wait…where is he?
I turn to look at the other side of the bed and I find that I’m alone. He’s gone. Thank God. I didn’t notice much of anything the night before, so I don’t know if he had been drinking. I hope he had been, I hope he was so drunk that he would have forgotten about all of it. It’s highly unlikely but I can only hope.
The room is freezing cold and I wonder for a second how I could of slept with it being below zero in the room. But then I hadn’t been cold at all. In fact, I’ve never been warmer. I can’t stop the sudden flush of my skin at the thought and I hate it. This is not me.
I need to work and get my mind of everything that happened. Everything. It’s a brand new day and I must take advantage of it and make it better than last night. I have to.
The piece of paper that crumbles under my weight as I drag myself out of bed catches my attention. And I think it was the sole purpose of it. I reach under my butt to retrieve it and on it are five words written in caps. WE STILL NEED TO TALK -Justin, it says and I drop the piece of paper to the floor. I’m so mortified. How could I have allowed him in my room? I mean technically I didn’t, he came in on his own. Uninvited. But I didn’t make him leave, which makes this feeling of embarrassment wash over me.
I get in the shower in hopes of washing the previous night away but it doesn’t and it plays in my head while I get dressed. The five garment bags I had brought here from Vegas are hanging in the closet and I hope the new suit I had tailored fits. I don’t pay much care to the weight of the garment bag that contains the suit, as I place it across the bed. I grab my make-up bag and blow dryer and head to the bathroom to get ready for an awkward day.
When I’m done with hair and make-up, I go to open the garment bag and realize that a Gucci logo is staring back at me. It’s not my garment bag but it’s not one of those moments where you think you’ve lost your luggage. I know who’s garment bag it is. When I look for the tag that’s attached to it, that’s when I panic. What did she do?!
I pull the zipper down on and instead of my suit, I have about seven pairs of jeans staring back at me. A little note is attached to one of the hangers and A more relaxed look is written on it. I rush to the other four bags and all I find are countless jeans and casual tops. I’m going to kill my best friend. I don’t know when she found the time to switch all my clothing, but she did. For all of hers, some with tags from when she shopped with Mr. Ayala in Vegas. As I’m rummaging through the bag on my bed, I remember when I she had an opportunity to do this and I shake my head.
I remember when she was leaving she volunteered to take my things down to one of the tour staff members to take to the next city. I’d been on the phone with one of my staff members in Los Angeles at the time. She must have switched her garment bags with mine. Which is why instead of having five Prada bags, I have five Gucci ones. Full of Barker’s clothes. This is the type of thing she does, it has her name written all over it. The tag on the bag clearly says my name and information, in her handwriting.
I don’t have time to get another suit delivered and the shops I noticed in the lobby of the hotel had clothes that had nothing to do with business. I have to wear something from here because wearing the suit I had on the day before is not an option. I forgo the two pairs of William Rast jeans and grab a pair of True Religion that I know fit me because I’ve worn them before.
I have to chuckle when I find the suit jacket she’d borrowed from me on the last hanger. She’s always complaining that I dress too businesslike and yet she was taking yet another one of my suits. She’s nuts and I love her for it.
When I’m ready, I call down to the concierge and have him send someone for my things. The buses leave in twenty minutes and I’m dreading the moment. It will be the first trip to the next city on the buses, instead of having flown, for me. I’m not looking forward to being cramped in a small bus having to share pleasantries with make-up artists and stylists. Even though I hired them myself, they weren’t picked out of a thousand because I liked any of them that‘s for sure. They were picked because they had absolutely no personal interest in Justin Timberlake, no one on this tour does.
Yeah, no one…well wait, no….no one.
There’s a blacked out Excursion alongside the four buses and I know it’s the car that must have taken Justin to his radio interview this morning. I’m not heading that way. I may be on the emotional wreck bus but I’m not crazy. I make a beeline toward the bus that Mrs. Jones, the make-up artist is standing in front of with one of the dancers and Ms. Bomar. That’s my ride.
“Good morning, Ms. Martinez,” the driver, a chubby black man, greets me at the bottom of the steps. “We should be heading out in about five minutes.”
“Good morning,” I say and watch as Ms. Bomar rounds the bus and stand behind the driver. She doesn’t say anything, simply hugs the driver from behind and tickles his belly.
“You’re not driving like a maniac this time, right?” she asks the driver, in a childlike voice and I have to roll my eyes. She is a child. God, I can’t tolerate her and I don’t stand around waiting for the driver to say anything back.
There’s no one on the bus and it’s eerily quiet but I know once the staff climbs in, the quiet will no longer be. I sit on the long bench like seat that I know will be my bed the minute I see it. I’m not sleeping in one of those coffins beds that Uncle Johnny warned me about. I’d rather risk falling on my ass from this seat, than to climb into one of those. There’s a Vogue magazine on the bench across from me and I take it, in hopes to entertain myself while I wait for everyone to get on the bus. I’m only trying to distract myself from all the things that are running wild in my mind.
But then everything goes blank.
I’m being attacked by what I only hope is a dog and not some vicious animal that has roamed around the streets of Houston, Texas and has managed to run into this bus. It’s a large dog and weighs a ton and if it wanted to bite into me, it probably would have already. But instead it’s sitting on my lap and licking the hell out of my face. What the hell?
“BRENNEN!!” I hear being yelled outside the bus and I immediately know it’s Ms. Bomar. I try to push the licker far enough from my face so that his long tongue doesn’t reach me. But then there’s another one. The other dog jumps onto my lap and I don’t know how these two large dogs have managed to fit on it but they are, my thighs are crunched. They are almost twice my size combined, I notice. “BUCKLEY!!”
Ms. Bomar practically trips over herself when she runs up the steps of the bus, making it shake a bit. The dogs stop licking my hands and face to look at her. They aren’t amused and neither am I. two Boxers stay on my lap and I can feel them getting more and more comfortable. There goes my already sore legs.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Ms. Bomar says and I look at her briefly before petting Brennen’s head. I can see the driver step onto the bus behind her and take a seat behind the wheel. “Down,” she says to the dogs and they seem oblivious to her command. It actually makes me chuckle a bit. She can’t even handle the dogs. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t think they’d be so excited.”
“Right,” I say and when Buckley decides it’s his turn to lick my face I shake my head at him and he stops his attempt. “Down,” I say and funny enough, they both look at me and get off my lap. Brennen, the first dog, jumps on the seat across from me and drops himself on it, heavily. Buckley lays at my feet and I know he’s going to drool on my boots. And if he wasn’t so cute, I’d care about the very expensive boots, but he‘s adorable.
“You would have reign over them, wouldn’t you?” Ms. Bomar say sitting next to Brennen and grabbing the Vogue magazine that was on the floor. Why is she getting so comfortable? “Bitches always do,” she mumbles and I have to laugh. On the inside of course.
“And the puppies always follow around,” I say and although I’m not accustomed to do it, I shrug. “Life is a bitch, isn’t it? Or should I say, life’s a Vanessa?”
“We have a long ride ahead of us and I could do without the tension in here. For Justin’s sake, do you think we could be civilized?” She asks but I don’t have a chance to reply because the bus is moving. We are moving. We, as in Justin’s dogs, his assistant and me. This is not the ‘we’ I was expecting. Not by a long shot. What the hell is going on?
I’m about to ask that very question when Brennen jumps up from the seat and walks to the door at the back of the bus. He must have heard something that I didn’t because the door opens and Mr. Timberlake walks out into the narrow path. Jesus Christ, I’m on his bus!! He’s on his phone and he pets Brennen on the head but his eyes have been glued on me as he talks on the phone.
I turn to look at Ms. Bomar and she gives me a strange look and then looks at her cousin before opening the magazine to some random page.
“I’m on the wrong bus,” I say and I’m not really talking to her, more to myself.
“No you’re not,” he says and places the phone back in his ear. “I’ll call you later, Ma. Okay, I love you too. Yeah. Okay, bye.”
“What is going on?” I ask and I look from Ms. Bomar to him. Ms. Bomar is looking at me like I’ve grown two heads and doesn’t say anything.
“I was clear when I said we still needed to talk, didn’t I?” he says, taking a seat at the small eating table on the other side of me. The two dogs immediately go to him. Buckley gets first dibs on his lap and Brennen disappointedly sits next to him.
“What?” I ask and I’m so confused as to what the hell I’m doing on this bus. I want off!
“I’ll be in the back if you need me, Justin,” Ms. Bomar gets up from her seat, looking bored as ever and walks to the back of the bus, where she closes the door behind her. Now who’s the rude bitch?
“What did you do?”
“You have a knack at knowing things that I will do or say, before I even do them. What do you think I did?” He says as he pets the dog on his lap. It’s really sad to say, let alone feel it, but I’ve never wanted to be a dog more than I do at the moment. It’s horrible. “I changed your bus assignment.”
“You can’t fucking do that, Mr. Timberlake!” I say and he raises his eyebrows at me.
“Oh, so we’re back to that?” he shakes his head and looks at me, through me. I hate him. “Let me put it this way, Ms. Martinez. This is MY tour. MY bus. MY choice. MY staff. I will do whatever the FUCK I want to do. And if that’s changing your fucking bus assignment, then it is what it is. So buckle up, Vanessa, it’s a long twelve hours to Atlanta.”
Oh. My. God.
“You can’t do this,” I say and try to hold myself steady when the bus goes over a speed bump. The driver slides the dark thick curtain behind him and Justin and I are alone.
“Take a look behind you, Vanessa,” he says pointing to the windows behind me. “I can do this, and I did. We’re moving.”
“This is crazy, you shouldn’t have done this.”
“Crazy? Oh no, it’s not crazy. Crazy would be for me to go into your room and find you bawling your ass off. Crazy would be me thinking that I did something wrong. Crazy would be me having a need to know what made you cry like that. That’s crazy.”
“I can’t have this conversation with you. Please, make him stop this bus,” I’m looking straight ahead and I know we’re already getting off the ramp and onto the highway.
“You keep saying you can’t do a lot of things with me, Vanessa. We both know that’s not the case,” he says and looks at me with those bright blue eyes of his. “We’ve done more than enough. Together.”
“Get me off this bus, Justin,” I say and grunt when Brennen jumps on the seat and plants himself on my lap.
“He’s shy,” he says and chuckles.
“I see that,” I say before the dogs licks my cheek and I laugh because I can’t help myself. I love dogs.
“Do you like my dogs?”
“If I said yes, would you tell the driver to stop the bus?” I’m avoiding having to look at him and play with Brennen’s ears instead.
“You don’t have to like the dogs,” he says and when I look up at him, he shrugs. “They seem to like you, so that’s good enough. The don‘t like strangers.”
“I am a stranger,” I say with a smile that’s evoked by Brennen who is now trying to bite on one of my bracelets.
“Not to me,” Justin says and this time I look up at him. He has a serious expression on his face and he’s staring at me. “What happened?”
“Why does it matter?” I ask and stand to take off my suit jacket and preventing more drool from the dog to get on it. I set throw it across from me to land where Ms. Bomar had previously been.
“It just does,” he says and Buckley jumps from his lap to see what Brennen’s up to.
“To whom? It’s over and done with.”
“To me, it matters to me. I was there, remember? It’s not over and done with because I don’t know what made you so sad. I wan to know.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because it shouldn’t matter what made me act like an fucking drama queen. Not to you. It’s none of your business.”
“You made it my business, Vanessa. And I don’t give a damn what you say, you wanted to make it my business. And don’t give me any shit about it just being the fact that I was the only person around. That’s bullshit. You wanted me there and you know it.”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
“Just admit it, Vanessa.”
“There’s nothing to admit, Justin!”
“You’re lying and it doesn’t fit you at all. Just like that fucked up attitude you have doesn’t fit either. Something tells me that other woman you’ve become when I touch you is the real Vanessa Martinez. This person that walks around with a dick up her ass is not you. It‘s wall you‘ve built around you to keep people from seeing what I saw last night. The real you.”
“Well tell that something to shut the fuck up, Justin. What makes you a fucking expert?”
“I’m not by any means, trust me. But I’m an expert on being sad. I know sad, I’ve lived it. Don’t pretend that I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Mr. Timberlake.”
“Don’t retrieve to that Mr. Timberlake bullshit, Vanessa. You say that I don’t know anything about you, well enlighten me because you’re driving me insane.”
“It’s all about you, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s about you. You and how you’re trying to deny that we, me and YOU, have something. That’s what it’s all about. And what I saw in you last night is what’s keeping this thing from moving forward.”
“So, what? You want me to tell you all about the skeletons in my closet so that you can get under my skirt again? Is that it? That’s what you want?”
“You’re misinterpreting my words, Vanessa. Don’t,” he says and folds his hands on top of the table. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“What do you mean then?”
“You’re hot and cold. I don’t like the cold, and I’m pretty positive you don’t like it either. But when it’s hot, it’s at a boiling point.”
“Your analogies are out of this world,” I say and I chuckle bitterly. I don’t know why what he’s saying to me makes my stomach flutter but it does. I know what he’s trying to say, I know because shit…I like him too.
“Would it make you feel better if I say it? Because I can, I’m not afraid to say it. I like you, I really do,” he says and he’s serious when I look at him. A little shy maybe which I find comforting. “And it’s not because of the sex, although I have to say that it was hot,” my face is incredibly hot and I can’t say a word nor can I look at him. “I don’t know what it is, it’s just there. I just know that I’m intrigued.”
“My father hates me,” I blurt out and I don’t know why I’m telling him this and I don’t know why it’s okay.
“What?”
“Last night,” I say and I look at him briefly before focusing on the dogs on either side of me. “That’s why I was in the state that I was. My father thinks I’m a disgrace to the family.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a fact. He called me last night during the show, which by the way WE HAVE to discuss, and gave me the spiel of the century. I couldn’t handle it, I never can.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“About ME? What did I do? I don’t even know the man. Why would he make you feel like that over me?” He sounds completely confused and I can see a bit of guilt flash through his eyes, even though he doesn’t know why.
“Mr. Wright,” I say and he raises his eyebrow at me warningly. “Uncle Johnny told him that you weren’t impressed with me. That you basically hated me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t matter. Truth of the matter is, in the Martinez family, we don’t fail. We don’t have client not like us. We are all business,” I say and when I look at him, he looks a bit take aback. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Justin. I am business. I love my job. I just wish it were enough to make my father happy. Proud. That’s all.”
“What about you?” he asks. “What about making you happy? Who’s going to make YOU proud?”
“What made me happy was what has made me who I am.”
“Explain.”
“Why?”
“Just tell me, Vanessa. Who am I going to tell? You above anyone on this tour know how much I value my personal life. Why would it ever leave this bus? Tel me.”
“Fine,” I say and put my legs up to my chest comfortably. I don’t miss the way he looks at my jean clad legs and I try not to blush. “My last year of college, I met someone.”
“Okay,” he says and he’s actually green with jealousy and I haven’t even said anything.
“It was one of those very rare night, when Barker came to visit and begged me to lay off the books,” the thought makes me smile and he smiles at me as well. I know he knows the meaning of having a friend like that. I see it in Trace. “We went to a bar down the street from my apartment, it was kind of gross. Dirty and smoky, but it was apparently the popular hang out. I wouldn’t know. Local bands played every night and it’s probably the grungiest place I’ve ever been to.”
“I can’t picture you in a place like that,” he chuckles a bit and shakes his head.
“Yeah, I know,” I say and look out the window. “I met him there.”
“Let me guess,” he interrupts. “Not your father’s first choice.”
“I lied to my father for the first time in my life, for him. I denied having a relationship with an inspiring actor who could barely pay his rent. That bar became my home, his band played every night and I loved him,” the memories make me pause and chuckle bitterly. “My father found out, I don’t know how nor do I care, really. Not anymore.”
“I’m listening.”
“My father nearly blew a vessel. He told me I wasn’t part of the family as long as I was with this man. He said that I would regret disregarding my studies over someone so worthless. He was horrible and I hated him for speaking about my first love, my everything that way. He cut off all my income, I only went to school, I didn’t have any money. I had to get a job, at that bar of course. I dropped out of Howard and was evicted out of my apartment within six months, which was what my father had already paid for.”
“You moved in with him?” He sounds bitter and I have to look at him to see if he’s okay.
“With his aunt, in a two bedroom apartment fitting six people already.”
“How was that?”
“Tight,” I say and laugh, he joins in laughter and Buckley goes to him. The dog climbs onto his lap again and it’s not Justin who’s jealous now.
“Please continue,” he says smiling at me. I can’t really believe we’re having this conversation.
“My boyfriend then got a callback from one of the many readings he’d gone to. Everything changed. I had Barker max out her credit card for me. I was determined to tag along with him and see his career take off. I hopped on a plane with a grunge band member, the man I loved and landed in Hollywood with an actor.”
“What happened?”
“I went back to New York, enrolled in NYU and was working with Naomi Campbell, a year later.”
“What happened? Why did you end up in New York again?”
“Nothing. Everything,” I say with a shrug. “My father was right. My boyfriend wasn’t good enough. He left me for someone else. Someone in the industry that he was hoping to be a part of.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “Tell me about it. I went back to the Hamptons where I endured two months of my father’s tough love. I got over it, though. Look where I am now. Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad? You’re on Justin Timberlake’s private tour bus. That’s beyond anything you could ever do,” he says sarcastically but deep down I know he thinks he’s the shit. I don’t blame him, everyone around him praises him, so why not?
“So that’s it, story over.”
“I’ll let you be for right now,” he says standing up and dusting any hair from the dog he night have on his lap. “Are you hungry? Did you eat breakfast?”
“No I didn’t,” I say and I notice how nervous he suddenly is. What’s his problem? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says as he opens the refrigerator in the kitchen area and rummaged through what I see is enough food to feed a small country.
“I shouldn’t have shared any of this with you. Now you’re acting weird and I want to kick you ass,” my outburst makes him look at me and chuckle.
“That’s not it,” he says and takes a platter of lunchmeat out of the fridge. How does that fit in there? “White or wheat?” he asks putting two bags of bread in front of him.
“Wheat,” I say and open stand to grab the tray from his other hand. “What is it then?”
“I just let my eyes wander when you were just sitting over there, that’s all.”
“Oh,” I say and I’m blushing like a fucking schoolgirl. I’m such an idiot. I should be telling him he’s a pervert and call it a day.
“Yeah, oh,” he says with a chuckle as he takes the ingredients we need for the sandwiches out of the refrigerator. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Shut up,” I say because I really don’t want to get in this subject. I’ve revealed enough already.
“Why?” he laughs as he spreads mayo on both his and my slice of wheat bread. Good taste. “The same way I told you how much of a bitch you can be, is the same way I’m going to tell you that I want you.”
“Oh my God, shut up,” I say looking around the bus.
“The driver is paid very well as you probably know. And my mother and Rachel gossip on the phone about me every chance they get. So don’t worry about Rachel, if that’s why you’re looking around.”
“You told your MOTHER!! ARE YOU INSANE?!” I yell and almost pull my hair out. “Jesus Christ!! I’m going to loose my job!!” I stand and start pacing the small area like a maniac. “I can’t believe…” and my words are cut off because he’s kissing me and I can’t remember my name let alone what I was saying.
-----------------------------
Author’s Note: I’d like to thank Blackchick for letting me borrow her Heavenly Bed. You can have it back now, girl. God only know how much you both enjoy it.
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Tags: interracial wallsex celebrityj enemiesturnedlovers
