Chapter Sixteen: Hollow Souls
It’s going to be a long day.
The phone keeps ringing, even though five minutes ago, I asked not to be disturbed. This stupid secretary is on her way out the door today if that fucking phone on my desk rings again. I’m not in the mood nor do I have the time to tell her to leave me the fuck alone again. Does she not understand that I don’t want to speak with anyone? Jesus! How hard is it to answer the phone and take a message? My conference table is piled to the fucking ceiling with a shit-load of paperwork left from the two morons I got rid of this morning. Does she want to be the third? Fucking temps!
I’m about finished with the endless amount of paperwork enrolling someone into rehab requires. Ms. Levesque’s PR should consider herself lucky that I’m the one doing this paperwork for her because it’s been a complete headache. And Ms. Levesque should consider herself lucky that Johnny hasn’t dropped her ass as fast as he picked up her. Little bitch! What is with young Hollywood? Can’t they pick up another habit? Like releasing more than one hit album? Jesus!!
It took me over an hour to make phone calls to save Mr. Carter’s career and just for a second I wished I would have fired his PR after he’d already made these phone calls. Is not an easy thing to call someone and beg to schedule an interview with Nick Carter. No one cares. No one wants to have him at their shows or featured in their magazines. It’s a big waste of fucking time, if you ask me. And the talk about reuniting with his old group members is absolutely absurd. What are they going to do? I hate boy bands.
My computer keeps making a beeping sound that is driving me up the wall but it’s the indication that my inbox is yet again, full.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Martinez,” I can hear coming from my intercom. Oh so now she’s going directly into speakerphone? She’s so out of here!
“What?” I snap and continue signing my name repeatedly on the different sign-off sheets of the enrollment papers.
“Ms. Bomar is wanting to speak with you,” she says and I roll my eyes when I see the stupid secretary cringing on the other side of my glass walls. She looks on the verge of tears to have to interrupt me and okay, I feel a little bad.
“Put her through,” I say and try to sound a little less agitated.
“Hello,” Ms. Bomar comes through the speaker system.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Bomar?” I ask as I place the enrollment papers in the manila envelope for mailing and hope the temp knows where the mailroom is.
“Oh, hey,” she says and hesitates a bit.
“Hi,” I say and stare at the phone like an idiot. What should I say after the awkward moment of being seen at HER house?
“I know you’re probably tell me to go fuck myself and get it done, but…”
“What is it?” I ask and surprisingly I’m not so annoyed with her. Seriously, surprisingly in all caps, since she is the epitome of the fucking word.
“Justin left the dogs alone in the office and Brennen managed to chew through the fax machine’s chord.”
“Is he okay?” I ask, suddenly alert to her every word.
“Yeah, Justin’s fine. Why?”
“Not Mr. Timberlake, Ms. Bomar,” I say with a chuckle. “Brennen, is he okay?”
“Oh, well that’s why I’m calling,” she says and I can tell she’s running around. “I took Brennen to the vet to check out his burnt lip.”
“Ouch!” I say and I get a tug at my heart for the dog.
“He’s okay though, I spoke with the vet and he said he’ll be fine. He’s already eating everything that he can at the vet,” she says with a laugh. “He’s a big baby, I swear.”
“Mr. Timberlake or the dog?” I joke because I just couldn’t help myself.
“Both,” she says with a laugh an she grunts when she drops something and it makes a loud thud.
“What is the nature of this call, though? I’m a bit confused.”
“I have to pick up a new fax machine at the Santa Monica Staples because they don’t have the same model in the LA store. Justin doesn’t want a new one, it took him two months to learn how to use that one. He’s really technologically inclined, he doesn’t even own an ipod. Loser! Anyway he’s a cry baby so I have to run across town to get this new one because he needs these papers faxed today. I have an hour to get the fax machine and be back so that I can meet with the guy coming to reprogram the lighting. Trace turned the breaker off to unplug the live wire hanging from the socket and he accidentally reset the lights. He’s a fucking moron sometimes, I’m sure Barker has shared. Anyway, the guy from Lutron, that’s the lighting company’s name, is coming in an hour. Justin doesn’t like to have strangers wander around his house unattended so I have to be here to supervise. So I’m stuck here for as long as it takes for all the dimming zones or some shit like that to be programmed and it’s going to take at least four hours.”
“Okay…” I say because I feel like I’ve just been put on a rollercoaster and yanked out without warning.
“So, Brennen’s still at the vet,” she says and I can tell she’s already in the car.
“And what does that mean?”
“Well I was wondering since both dogs seems to love you and well you seem to like them too…” she doesn’t say anything else, leaving the rest up to me.
“Where’s Mr. Timberlake?” I ask and I have to roll my eyes at this whole situation. When did I become the assistant here?
“Oh, well he said he would go get Brennen but Eric advised that he didn’t go anywhere.”
“Why?”
“Well, listen to this,” she says and I can hear the various voices of men shouting her name and asking where her boss was. Questions are being yelled about Mr. Timberlake and Ms. Diaz and I have to roll my eyes. “He wouldn’t even make it outside these gates if he went anywhere right now.”
“Fine. What vet is it, Ms. Bomar?”
“You’ll go get him?” she asks and she sounds really surprised, like I would let the dog stay for longer than he needs at a scary animal hospital. Come on!
“What vet, Ms. Bomar?”
“Rachel,” she corrects me and I shake my head. What is it with this family and their last names? Aren’t they proud of them? “It’s the vet on West Rodeo, it’s a large pink building, you can’t miss it.”
“When does he have to be picked up?” I say as I grab a steno pad from the conference table and set it in front of me to write down the information.
“An hour ago,” she says and I groan because I can’t stand the irresponsibility. “If you would do me this one favor, I swear I’ll owe you, Vanessa. There’s no one else that can go get him right now. Justin will be really grateful, and I’m sure he’ll repay you in some way.”
“What does that mean?” I don’t know why I’m getting defensive but I am.
“Nothing, I have to go but thank you so much,” she says and before I have a chance to respond, she’s off the phone.
What the hell just happened? Why did I just agree to do her job? I’m not his assistant, I’m barely his friend. I roll my eyes at the thought because I know I’m so full of shit it’s coming out of my ears. I seal the envelop with the rehab paperwork and stand to leave my office, grabbing my keys from my desk and my bag from one of the conference table’s chairs.
“Going somewhere?” I hear behind me and I can’t help the butterflies that are present in my stomach at the sound of his voice and the sight of him.
“I have to pick,” I start to say but stop, placing my hands on my hips although I have my bag on one and my keys in the other. “Wait, what are you doing here?”
“I believe you said this is where you’d be,” he says and he enters my office fully, closing the door behind him. We’re alone. He walks toward me, grabbing the keys out of my hand and throwing them across the little space that is on the conference table. I almost tell him that it’s a mahogany table and he should be careful but he’s too close. He’s not smiling or giving any indication to what he’s doing in my office. He takes my purse from my hand and I don’t even care when he drops my four hundred dollar Chanel bag on the floor. His hands go to my waist and he pulls me closer to him. “Hi,” he says and while it’s so fucking corny when everyone else in the universe says that, when he says it it’s a completely different word.
“Hi,” I say back and he smiles before placing his lips on mine. Oh. God. Not again. He’s kissing me like he’s been wanting it for ages and well I’m kissing him back. And the little speech I gave myself for being such an easy little whore these past few days, disappears into thin air. But… “Wait!”
“What?” he asks as his head starts dipping toward my neck. I can’t do any logical thinking with his lips on my neck. Or just on me, period. So I try to push him away, placing my hands between us instead of the back of his neck. When did I move them?
“Wait,” I say again and this time he looks at me. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?”
“Don’t be an ass, Mr. Timberlake,” I say and he releases me some at the words. I knew that would work.
“What’s the big deal, Ms. Martinez? I can come here whenever I want, it’s my management’s office.”
“Where’s Rachel?”
“She’s on her way to take my mother to the airport,” he says and he kisses my cheek and winks at me before walking to my sofa and taking a seat. “And you just called her by her first name. Just so you know.”
“What?” I asked confused because I don’t know what the hell is going on.
“You called Rachel…”
“Not that, Justin,” I say placing my hands on my hips again and looking at him. “I mean, where’s Brennen?”
“At home,” he says with a smile and wide eyes that mock me.
“Please explain what the hell…”
“Calm the hell down, Vanessa,” he says putting his hand up like I’m fucking two. I want to kick his ass more than I want to kiss him, I swear. “I told Rachel to call, thought it would be funny.”
“Funny?” I ask and I swear he makes me so angry, I could get physical.
“She said you probably wouldn’t go get Brennen and tell her to go fuck herself,” he says with a laugh and stands to walk toward me again. “Now, me, I knew you would go.”
“Is that right?” I ask and he’s really close again. “How is that funny?”
“Well it wasn’t as funny as hearing Rachel tell that bogus lie,” he says with a chuckle. “And I do own an ipod, by the way. She was exaggerating.”
“You were listening to the conversation?”
“Three way works wonders,” he says and he kisses my lips quickly before stepping behind me to sit in my desk chair. “So, what are you doing?”
“I don’t like stupid games like that, Justin. I thought something really happened to the dog.”
“Alright, alright. It was dumb, I apologize. But I do appreciate that you would actually drop what you’re doing and go get my dog. You’re not such a bitch like everyone thinks.”
“Everyone?”
“Well Rachel, at least,” he says with a laugh that I can’t help but respond with a smile.
“What are you doing here?” I ask and I lean against my desk, my back toward the door and Justin sitting to my left.
“Came to hang out,” he says and he starts toying with my laptop.
“At my office?”
“It’s where you’re at, right?”
“Why would you want to hang out here? I have work,” I say and slap the hand that he tries to place on my thigh. Why didn’t I wear a skirt today?
“Why aren’t you wearing a skirt today?”
“Do you always ask questions?”
“Yes,” he says and leans back on my leather chair.
“I have work to do,” I say because if I don’t take my mind off of what I can let him do to me on this desk, I’m going to be in trouble.
“Well then work,” he says and he’s not as technologically inclined as his cousin said, because I see when he opens the address book on my laptop. I reach out and close the notebook with one hand, only to have him look at me disappointingly. “You know it’s not fair that you know so much about me and I don’t know anything about you. Other than what you told me on the bus, you haven’t shared anything else.”
“I’ve been busy working,” I say because I don’t know what else I could say. It baffles me that he wants to ask questions and expects answers. And it worries me that I want to tell him.
“For twelve fucking days, I know!” he says and grunts. I need to get away.
“You were counting?”
“What the fuck do you think? I was left with a hard-on in a dressing room after having sex against a fucking wall. You left my bus after the weirdest time I’ve ever had, in a good way of course. I saw you every day but we were both too busy to actually have a conversation, let alone for me to actually touch you. Then the night of my party, you wear that dress, but I’m too busy mingling with people I could give a shit about and I don’t get a single minute in with you because you were working. When all hope was fucking lost, I go home, go to sleep only to be woken up and I’m too tired to even move. You lay in bed with me and we sleep, which was all good and fine. But not enough contact for me, and I’m not just talking physically here, so don’t go there. Then I wake up to have you for a total of like five minutes and then you’re gone. So yeah, I was counting.”
“A simple yes would have been sufficient.”
“It would have, but I would have missed that blush you have going,” he says with a wide smile that I return like a stupid girl with a crush.
“Shut up,” I say and place my hands to my face in embarrassment.
“Who are you?” he says with a grin and I know what he means, oddly enough. He’s asking who the girl standing before him, blushing like an idiot is. And I can’t answer because I myself, don’t know. Who am I? “Seriously, though. Let’s go somewhere, you can work later. In a few days.”
“What are you trying to do, Justin? Wisk me away from all this work I have?”
“Precisely.”
“I can’t,” I really can’t just drop what I’m doing to go fuck up my career with him. I can’t, although Barker’s word play in my head when he gives me a look of disappointment.
“Why not?”
“I have paperwork to finish,” I say placing my hand over some papers on my desk.
“Okay,” he says standing from the chair and holding it out for me to sit. “I’ll wait.”
“Justin…”
“I’ll be on the couch,” he says and he sits on the couch, moving the Rollingstone magazine with his face on it to the side and grabbing one with Christina Aguilera on the cover instead. He’s grabs a bottle of water from the coffee table and drinks from it. Funny how at this very moment I notice things like the fact that he‘s not so full of himself, as I previously assumed. He’s not wearing one of his suits, which is what I’ve been seeing on his for the past month. Instead he’s wearing one of the William Rast jackets, I’ve seen his best friend wearing, and jeans. His sneakers are obviously new and I wonder if he wears the same shoes twice. He doesn’t seem like the type to do that, but I wonder. “You’re not going to finish if you stand there, staring.”
“I wasn’t staring,” I’m lying through my teeth. Of course, I was staring. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get that water on my white couch.”
“Liar,” he says and he’s flipping through the magazine like he’s not talking to me. “You saw my living room and the five white couches. No stains. And it’s water, it’s not going to do anything.”
“Are you seriously sitting there while I work?” I say and for the first time I look outside my office. Everything seems normal out there and I want to chastised myself for being so unprofessional. For letting him walk in here and forgetting that I have responsibilities as a professional woman. But Barker’s words keep playing in my head. Don’t let your thick head get in the way of having fun, even if that fun is with Justin Timberlake.
“You’re wasting valuable time here?’ he says looking at his watch and returning to the magazine.
“What are we doing, Justin? What is this?” I ask and this time he looks up at me and I loose a little of myself which kind of shocks me. What am I doing? Is this the right thing to do? Is this the type of fun I can afford at this point in my life? When does the fun stop? When does it begin?
“I can’t answer that, Vanessa. You’re overanalyzing as much as I am, right now. I don’t know what we’re doing but I’m not trying to stop it, either. You should probably do the same because if we don’t, we’ll never know and we’ll be asking ourselves what ifs.”
“It’s that simple to you?”
“No, but I’m going with it for now. I meant what I said before about wanting to know more about you. And if nothing else, at the end of the day, we’ll at least be friends.”
“That’s what you want? To be friends?” I ask and I don’t mean to sound offended but I guess I do. Friends? “A month ago we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, Justin. Now I’m letting you come into my personal space, my hotel room, me.” I’m sitting behind my desk and he looks at me with a smile. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Because you sound like me when I talked to my mother,” he says shaking his head. “And please let it be known that a month ago, looking at you wasn’t a burden, now listening to you, was a different story, I could have done without. I don’t know when this happened between us but it has and what’s so wrong about it?
“Everything,” I respond because it’s honestly how I feel. Everything about this situation is just wrong, yet I’ve never felt so right in anyone’s arms. I’m so confused.
“Why?” he asks moving to the chair across from my desk. “Why is it wrong?”
“I can give you a long list of reasons,” and I’m hoping he doesn’t ask me to name them because I can only come up with one honest answer. I’m scared shitless.
“Like?”
“You’re my client, for one,” I say and I have to come up with these reasons quick because he’s expecting more. “You’re a musician and I’m in public relations. You’re twenty-five and I’m twenty-eight. You work in a studio, I work in an office. My father would hate me even more, if that were possible. My uncle wouldn’t approve. I have a private life, you clearly don’t. The list goes on and on, Justin.”
“Those are stupid reasons and you know it,” he says, placing his folded hands in front of him. “I’m a client of WEG, which means I’m a client of Johnny’s, you just work here. Me being a musician is what led us where we’re at, so don’t go knocking that. Cameron is nine years older than me. Your three years are nothing, mean nothing. You were on tour for over a month and you managed, you didn’t die. While I’m accustomed to work in front of fifty thousand people, on stage, you work alone behind a desk. It still doesn’t make a difference, work is work. As far as your father? Well, with all due respect, fuck your father! And I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m only asking you take a few days off to hang out with me. And Johnny? I have him wrapped around my finger, I’m like a son he never had, he loves me. And you keep my private life private, it’s your job. Why not be in it? You can try to come up with a thousand other reasons, bullshit ones, but at the end of the fucking day, it happened. We happened. Whether you admit it or not. And whatever this is will continue to happen as long as we both want it to. Which we both do. So I don‘t see what the fucking problem is.”
“What if I say I don’t want it to keep happening?”
“You’d be lying, plain and simple. You’d be lying to me and worse of all you’d be lying to yourself. It’s already happening, Vanessa. Whether it’s about sex, friendship or business. It’s there. You can’t get me out your head. Your stomach ties in knots when you look at me and I can do whatever I want to you, whenever I want. You wouldn’t stop me. You would let it happen. Again.”
“It’s not…”
“No,” he says stopping my words. “I know all of this because it’s exactly how I feel. Unless my knack for reading people is off, I’m positive you feel the same way. Don‘t bullshit me, Vanessa. And definitely stop bullshitting yourself.”
“I don’t like this,” I say and try not to look at him. I really don’t like the fact that he’s absolutely, one hundred percent, right. No one has ever been able to read me like this, except for Barker. And I love that girl with all my heart. Where does that put Justin Timberlake?
The room is in completely silence for a good five minutes before I look up at him and he’s just looking at me. I’m drawn in with his eyes and a part of me wants to bolt, get out of there and find a new job. Or maybe stay modeling for as long as I can, making it my career. But another part wants to take that chance. Take that chance that Barker says I should take. That change that I took many years ago. But that first part of me is screaming that I should think. That I should’ve learned from my mistakes and not repeat history.
But everything that is clouding my mind and shockingly enough, my heart, is gone when I change my line of vision. My heart stops beating and the pain that haunts me at my most vulnerable moments, is present.
My father is outside my office.
“Who is that?” I hear Justin ask but I’m too shocked to respond and when he asks again, it’s too late. My father opens the door to my office and I feel my shoulders physically slump. He scares me to death.
“Dad? What are you doing here?” I can feel myself getting flustered by the second and I stand to straighten out my jacket and smooth down my pants.
He strides in purposefully, barely glancing at Justin, who in return looks up at him, a scowl on his face. I don’t have time to analyze the way he’s looking at my father nor do I want to. I’m in a comatose state.
“You looked shocked to see me, sweetheart,“ he says and I really wished he didn’t sound so mean while attempting to be sweet.
“A little bit,“ I say and I want to wake up from this nightmare.
“I came to discuss your job with you, something I hear you’ve been having some problems with lately.” He takes a seat on the couch Justin previously occupied and looks at me. I want to disappear.
“What do you mean, Dad? Things are going fine, I’ve been working on getting everything in order and”,” I say walking around my desk and although my full attention is on my father, I can feel Justin’s eyes on me.
“I’m not here to hear a list of your accomplishments, Vanessa. I’m here to ask you what in the hell you’re doing with Mr. Timberlake?” I stop walking in my tracks and Justin turns to look at my father. I could cry. What does he mean? how can he know what happened with Justin? I barely know. It‘s not possible that he‘s talking about what I, and apparently Justin, are thinking.
“What?” I ask because I can’t hide my shock.
“From what I understand, you’ve let things get out of hand. Again. I already told you that Johnny mentioned that the two of you aren’t getting along.”
“Mr. Martinez,” Justin says and I close my eyes briefly because I can hear the hostility in Justin’s voice. It’s usually directed at me and while it’s comforting that his nasty tone isn’t directed at me, it’s also discomforting. But then, this whole moment is as bad as it gets, in my book. I’m so embarrassed. “I’m Justin Timberlake, the person you’re referring to.”
“I know who you are, Son,” my father is clearly not impressed by the one and only, Mr. Timberlake and he turns his attention to me without another word.
“There’s been some misunderstanding here, Sir; Vanessa and I get along just fine. I’ve never had a better PR person before and…”
My father flicks his eyes over Justin with distaste, and I swallow hard when he cuts him off. “Excuse me, Mr. Timberlake, but this is between my daughter and I. I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of this right now. There are things going on here that you know nothing about.”
“Mr. Timberlake was just leaving,” I say because if I don’t get him out of here, this isn’t going to end well. I can tell by the expression on Justin’s face that he’s not going to shut up. God, help me.
“No, I wasn’t,” he says and he gets up from the chair to lean against my desk. His arms cross over his chest and he looks at my dad defiantly.
“Justin,” I say and the minute his name leaves my mouth, I regret it. And I try to remain calm when I give Justin a look of warning. “Mr. Timberlake, we’ll continue our conversation at another time,” he looks at me and I can see the anger in his eyes and I don’t miss the hint of hurt in there either. I feel like shit.
“Yes, Son, why don’t you run along and let my daughter and I discuss the changes that are necessary in your career. She’s obviously in need of my help. As always,” My father is not kidding around, and I can tell it’s gong to be a hell of a day when this discussion ends. “To be completely honest, I didn’t think you could handle it, Vanessa and it looks like I’m right.”
“With all due respect, SIR!” Justin says and I swear I’m in a really scary movie, where you’re shaking out of your boots. This isn’t happening. This couldn’t be possibly happening. “I don’t believe I acquired your help. Nor will I. I will not deny that Ms. Martinez and I have had our differences. We’ve come a long way since then and the wall between our differences is no longer there. Your daughter has done an amazing job and my image, nor my career have ever been at this level, thanks to her unmistakable work. I personally would be congratulating her instead of talking down to her as if she’s a child. Again, with all due respect, Sir!”
Oh. My. God.
“Excuse me?” My father says, standing from the sofa and I swear I’m having a heart attack at the age of twenty-eight.
“Dad, Mr. Timberlake has had bad day, please excuse him,” I don’t know where I got the balls to even say that, but I just did and I can’t take it back. “If you’ll just give me a chance to explain to you “ in private “ you’ll see that I have everything under control. In fact, I just released a statement for Mr. Timberlake ending his relationship with Ms. Diaz. I was on tour with him for a month and things couldn’t have gone better. Just let me tell you…”
“I don’t need to hear your excuses yet again, Vanessa. When Johnny tells me things are going smoothly and working out, then maybe I’ll have time to listen to your pathetic excuses. As it is, coming by here has set my entire schedule back by about an hour…”
“Don‘t let us keep you then,” Justin says and I‘m mortified.
“Please excuse us, Mr. Timberlake!” I snap because I can‘t handle this right now. Justin is obviously fueling with anger and distaste for my father. While it tugs at my heart strings that he’s defending me, I don‘t need him to. No one can defend me against my father.
“You know what? Fine, Ms. Martinez!” Justin says raising his hands in defeat and walking around me to the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sir!” he says leaving my office and never looking back.
“That kid is clearly a problem but not an excuse. Do you think I have time to chase after you and remind you of your responsibilities all day, Vanessa?”
“He’s not a kid, Dad,” I say carefully. “And I know you are very busy, which is why I was a little surprised to see you. Please have a seat, Sir.”
“I have responsibilities of my own, far more important than babysitting some teen idol. How hard can it be to simply be professional and do your job without allowing your personal feelings to interfere? Johnny and I both do it everyday; I would’ve thought you’d have at least learned by example from watching us all these years. Once again, I’m very disappointed in you, but why should I be surprised? It’s happened time and time again,” the tears well up in my eyes and I will them to go away. He‘s admitted to being disappointed in my for the first time in my life. The feeling the courses through me is far more hurtful than when I just thought he was disappointed. I never thought it would be any different. It is. A huge difference. “I’ve finally come to grips with the fact that I have to lower my expectations regarding my own daughter. It’s really sad. Now, I’ve got appointments to attend; do you understand the point of my visit?”
“Yes, Sir,” I say and I try to concentrate on the lamp across the room to keep my tears from flowing. It’s an impossible task, and tears steam down my cheeks.
“So I can expect this to be the last I hear about you having trouble with one of your clients? Not only is my reputation affected by your screw-ups, but WEG’s reputation is riding on this as well. Do not disappoint the one man who was willing to give you a chance. Am I understood, Vanessa?”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry … you won’t have to worry about this again. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”
“It better be. Call your mother, she’s worried sick since you left Kayla’s party,” and he’s out the door without another word. No, I love you’s, or hugs and kisses. Nothing.
And I just cry.
------------------------
2:07am
It’s cold and lonely in my condo. Sort of like my life when Barker’s off working. I hate this.
I can’t sleep and I curse at myself because I’m on my way out of the door at two o’clock in the morning. And while I’m not comfortable admitting to this, I need a hug. I need to be in someone’s arms and the only person I can think of, that I know can give me what I need right now, isn’t far away.
I can’t believe I’m on my way to Justin Timberlake’s house.
I circle my street three times, trying to chicken out but in the end I’m on the freeway ten minutes later. I think it’s the dumbest thing I could possibly be doing but I need to stop crying. I need a hug from a friend. I need something.
I’ve tried calling Barker but her phone must not have good reception because the call dropped every time I tried to say hello. Which is best, I’ve ruined her photo shoots with my crying and miserable stages far too many times. I don’t know where else to go.
The guard outside the gated community, doesn’t question who I am and let’s me inside. I hope to God there aren’t any paparazzi stalking the neighborhood looking for one of the hundred celebrities in the area. The last thing I need is to photographed going into Justin Timberlake’s home at two o’clock in the morning, crying, on top of all that. I should turn around and go home.
I should. But I don’t.
It’s only after arguing with myself to get out of the car or go home, for about five minutes, I do. The tears that were on my face have dried but I don’t think it was their last appearance. I can feel myself choking with them.
The lights are out inside the house as far as I can see through my blurry vision and the tinted door. The loud sound of the doorbell makes me regret that I’m here and I want to run away. But the damage is done, I already rang the doorbell and leaving would be stupid. Only because the guard at the end of the drive, has my information. Justin would know if I was here or not, either way.
I’m not ringing the doorbell again, but I’ll wait for a good minute or two before leaving. I really want to run away, I really do. But not as much as I want him to hold me. Not as much as I need his comfort right now.
And then the door opens.
It’s not Justin.
And I realize my father was right. I’m a big disappointment. I wrap myself in and around things that are too great for me. Too much for me to handle. Like getting involved with Justin Timberlake and believing that he could comfort me at times when my heart ached.
I’m disappointed in myself.
Because once again I’m staring in the face of the shot caller. The one person who helped change my life completely. The one person who’s sole purpose is to remind me, that I have failed.
It’s Cameron Diaz.
Again.
“Who is it?” Justin comes from behind her and stops in his tracks when he sees me standing there. The look he gives me isn’t very comforting and I realize what a mistake it was to come to his house. What the hell was I thinking?
“I was just dropping this off for Trace,” I say quickly, extending the cd case in my hand to him. “Barker wanted to make sure he had it before he leaves in the morning.”
“Okay,” he says taking the case and looking at me with sad eyes that I don’t want to see. I don’t want to be comforted anymore. I’m glad I’ve always planned ahead, even in my most miserable times. Although Barker did ask me to mail the cd to Trace, before she left, I’ve always had a plan b and the cd was plan b, the minute I left my condo. Improvisation is always key, in preventing getting hurt.
“I advice you to think over the statement you’ve released about you and Ms. Diaz, Mr. Timberlake. Going back and forth with your relationship is confusing and unfair,” I say and turn to walk toward my car, wiping the stupid lone tear that escapes my eye. Son of a bitch.
“What?” he asks as he steps around the bitch who hasn’t said a fucking word.
“It’s unfair to you fans, Mr. Timberlake. You either mean what you say or you don’t,” I say as I get into my car.
“You’re assuming, Vanessa,” he says and I don’t care anymore. I’m done.
“Have a great night with your girlfriend, Mr. Timberlake,” and I‘m backing my car out of his driveway without a look back as I exit the gate.
This is my life in a nutshell.
And I cry some more, after that.
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Author’s Note: Thanks to Lynn (not myself..lol) on JJB for her help! I’d also like to thank everyone on JJB for being so supportive and patient with me. I love Ya’ll!! And those manips everyone has made are what keep Vanessa and Justin going strong, at least for now,J. Love ya, Candygirl!
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Tags: interracial wallsex celebrityj enemiesturnedlovers
