Chapter Nineteen: Priorities
I said that out loud. Like, I really opened my mouth and asked Justin Timberlake if he would make love to me. Me. Vanessa Martinez.
I’m scared shitless.
Granted, Justin and I have already been intimate, physically. I know what I can expect when these layers of clothing disappear. I know that I can expect to be taken care of physically by the way he holds the side of my face when he kisses me. I know that he’s only thinking of me when he nibbles on the side of my neck making me shiver. Mr. Justin Timberlake knows what he’s doing.
But that’s not what is scaring the shit out of me.
The scary part is that as he deepens the kiss and makes a sound that comes deep within him, I’m catching feelings. And it nearly knocks me on my ass because this isn’t just physically intimate, it’s emotional. It’s that feeling that I don’t want him to ever stop kissing me this way. The feeling that I can do this forever without thinking of the consequences that may follow. The consequences that WILL follow. He’s like that vodka, raspberry and red bull drink, I can’t put down when I’m really in the mood to get trashed. I’m completely infatuated with this man.
And for the first time in a long time, it’s okay.
I don’t feel like I’m betraying everything that I stand for, anymore. I mean, I guess not as much. It’s not like I went after one of my clients, he started it. He initiated all of this and for god sakes, why would I have stopped him? He is absolutely insanely gorgeous. He’s sexy. He’s a full blown man. And I guess I knew that all along but didn’t want to actually admit it. And it scares me now that I’m not only thinking these things about him, I’m actually speaking them out loud. Of course not actually with the person but Barker and I have had some deep conversations about my feeling for this man.
I’m not by any means, vain, which most would find hard to believe. It’s not the physical attraction that has me infatuated with this man, although I’m not going to lie, it helps. Instead, it’s those conversations that I’ve had with him that have pulled me in. It was that feeling of comfort when his arms wrapped around me. It was the sincere words of encouragement that he whispered in my ear. It was the laughter that came out of me when he said something funny.
I, Vanessa Martinez, think Justin Timberlake is hilarious. Who would of thought that he would become a permanent fixture in my thoughts? I sure didn’t, which is why it’s overwhelmingly scary.
I’ve allowed myself to share things about myself that I’ve only shared with Barker. I found myself telling him about my childhood, my feelings and my family without hesitation. I’ve learned a lot about him as well because just as freely as I’ve talked, he’s done the same. I’ve learned that sometimes he’s lonely although he‘s surrounded by so many people. I’ve felt that way countless times and having someone like him admit to, made me feel normal. I’ve learned that he can’t go a day without hearing from his best friend and his mother. And I shared that I couldn’t possibly sleep without telling my best friend that I loved her. Justin Timberlake and I are the same.
While I had placed Mr. Timberlake in a category all in it’s self, the arrogant bastard category, I was wrong. I’ve learned that what others might say is arrogance, I see as confidence. There isn’t anything this man has wanted to do that he hasn’t done. I admire that and live by it, actually, because everything that I’ve wanted to do, I’ve done. At least professionally. Mr. Timberlake and I are the same.
When those phone calls came, I found myself smiling. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It’s a different kind of smile, compared to the permanent smile that I’ve come to master. It’s not the smile that photographers ask of me, it’ real. Barker says that I’m a different person now. She says that I look like a million bucks and that if she were Justin, she would lock me in a bank and let me collect interest. She’s often full of shit but she’s right. I haven’t felt this way in a long time and I’m enjoying it.
Except for the scary moments.
And those scary moments come at the end of my conversations with Justin Timberlake. When words are a the tip of my tongue and I catch myself. I’m catching myself at this very moment, as a matter of fact. I’m holding back like there’s no tomorrow because if I let those words slip, I don’t think I can come back from them.
“I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone this much,” he whispers as he places butterfly kisses down my neck. What is this man doing to me?
“I know,” I say because I don’t think I can actually say more than two words as his hands go around my waist and his right hand trails up the inside of my shirt and back down.
He looks down at me and I feel so small in his arms, so delicate. His eyes are shining like the bright superstar he is and I smile up at him. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss seeing that smile and I’m beside myself at the fact that it’s directed at only me. I can’t believe this.
“I have to ask you something,” he says as he backs me toward the my bed. The back of my knees hit the edge of the mattress and I land in a sitting position.
“And what’s that?” I ask as I crawl backwards onto my pillows and hope he follows. I’m not disappointed, because he removes the thin jacket he has on and I watch as he takes his shoes off. He crawls up the bed, a smile on his lips as he kisses the top of my foot.
“I have to be in New York tomorrow for the fashion show,” he says as he busies himself with the button and zipper of my jeans. He smiles as he traces his finger over the emblem of the button, a W and an R, and I never thought I’d be jealous of a stupid button. He’s hovering over me like an tiger creeps up on it’s prey and the look on his face is just…beautiful. I couldn’t describe it any other way. It’s a look of pure… I don’t know, it’s just real. And beautiful. “Would you go with me,” he asks as he dips his head to place a soft kiss right above the waist line of my underwear.
Am I supposed to answer when I can feel his breath so close to me? He slowly pulls down on the waist of my jeans and I swear I don’t even lift off the bed, but the jeans are at my ankles. He throws the jeans somewhere and his right hand traces up my leg. I shiver at the contact. What was the question?
“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I ask when he looks up at me and smiles at the goose bumps now present on my legs. This is serious.
“I haven’t asked yet, Ms. Martinez,” he says with a light chuckle as he teasingly kisses the center of the small strip of underwear. I’m going to kill him. “Mmm,” he says and I’ve never heard anything so sexy in my entire life. He kisses the previous spot he’d been, before kissing my belly button. His hand trails inside my shirt as I watch him. He’s not looking into my eyes but he’s concentrating on every inch he’s exposing of my body.
It’s so fucking hot in here.
I allow him to slide the tank top over my head and when my arms come down, his eyes meet mine. He smiles at me and he moves closer to me, bringing his lips against mine. He’s so delicious. “Will you come to New York with me,” he says as he trails his finger over the top of my exposed breast, then pulls his hand away to rest on the other side of me. Please take the bra off! Please! He’s hovering over me and I look up at him, wanting nothing than to feel his skin against mine. “…as my girlfriend?”
Girlfriend? Huh? What?
“What?” I ask looking at him with a confused expression on my face. Because I really am confused. What? He wants me to be his girlfriend?
“You heard me,” he says as he places a soft kiss on my stomach, then another on the top of my left breast. “There’s no possible way I can go through what I just went through these past three fucking weeks,” he stops the teasing of my breasts long enough to unclip the front clasp of my bra. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says as he takes one of my eager nipples into his mouth. He licks and sucks, so gentle, I swear I’m melting into the mattress. He pays homage to the other breast and I let out a soft moan that make him follow suit. “You’re mine, Vanessa.”
How can I argue with that? He can have me any time he wants if it means he’s going to make me feel like I’m feeling right now. He kisses me so hard that I forget where I’m at, who I am, and what planet we’re from. There’s so much emotion in that one kiss that my heart squeezes tight and those stupid words are being swallowed by him. My arms pull him closer to me by his t-shirt…
And then there’s a loud banging on my door.
What the fuck?
“What the fuck?” Justin says sitting up on his legs and looking at the door and then back at me.
“VANESSA! Open the door!” It’s Barker and she sounds frantic. I jump out of the bed, as naked as I am, I don’t care. Something’s wrong with my sister. Something’s really wrong. I just know it.
“Barker?” I say as I unlock my door. When did Justin do that? I don’t have time to think about that as I swing the door open, my arm over my chest. My best friend has tears brimming in her eyes and she looks distraught. Her cell phone is in her hand and I just know something is terribly wrong. “What happened?”
“It’s dad, V,” she says and the tears that she’s been holding back come flowing down her cheeks. My heart stops. “He had a heart attack.”
And I think I just had one myself.
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When I was six years old, my father bought me my first goldfish. I remember being so excited about my new pet. I called him, Roger and he had a black spot on the top of it’s little head. He was adorable. I loved my dad so much for that gift. I remember the rules that my father set for me and my new pet. There was always a catch. He instructed me to feed the fish twice a day and not to ever feed it more than that because he could die. I couldn’t fathom the thought of Roger ever dying, so I took this very seriously, and for a few weeks I followed through with my promise.
My father saw how responsible I was being and how much attention I was paying to Roger, even when I had recitals, cheerleading and school work. He came to me one day and told me that if I kept doing a good job in taking care of Roger, that he would be happy to buy me another fish. I really wanted that because Roger would be alone when I wasn’t home. He needed a friend.
My six year old mind went running, thinking of ways to show my father that I could do it. Thinking of ways to get Roger a new friend. I came up with a plan al on my own, if I made Roger ‘healthy’ as in plump, my dad would see that I was doing an extremely good job. So I fed Roger twice in the morning and if I had time I fed him twice in the afternoon before I headed out to whatever extra curricular activities I had. And right before my father tucked me in for the night, I fed him.
I know now, that I got too anxious, too ambitious, too much. Needless to say, I didn’t get a second gold fish and Roger died three weeks later. My brother Brian, always told me that the goldfish died of ‘natural’ causes but I knew it had been me. I killed Roger.
I don’t know why this random thought keeps replaying in my head, but it’s there and I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking of a stupid fish.
Barker is sitting next to me and she sniffles every few minutes, making me aware of her presence. She feel asleep, shortly after we boarded the plane from the exhaustion caused by the endless tears streaming down her face. I can’t even console her. I’m a terrible person, I know it. She’s my everything and I can’t find it in me to comfort her. I just can’t.
The private jet we are currently occupying at a whopping seven thousand dollars a flight, starts to make it’s descent and the pressure in my ear increases. I haven’t said a word, I realize, as I look down at my watch and adjust the time to my current location. And the last words that I remember speaking was a very short goodbye to the man who has this private jet at his disposal.
Justin.
With everything that is stirring inside my head about my father, I find it incredibly odd that Justin Timberlake is still on my mind. The memory of him comforting Barker while I ran around getting our things ready my heart flutter. I didn’t say anything when he immediately made a phone call, quietly in my kitchen. He sat by Barker, his hand rubbing her back in comfort when he told me in almost a whisper that the jet was ready whenever I was. He himself drove us to the airport, in record time. He didn’t hesitate once as he walked with Barker and I through a crowded airport. When he looked me in the eyes before I followed Barker onto the jet, I just turned and said goodbye.
How awful.
It’s been hours. And I haven’t shed a tear. I went through enough psychology courses in school to know that I will eventually break down. I know that our unexpected trip to the Hamptons will come crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. But right now, I just can’t.
The silence between my best friend and I continues as the jet’s landing gear makes contact with the airstrip. And as we exit the large jet, onto the November weather of New York, the silence seems to get louder. My phone starts to ring as soon as I turn it on, but I’m in too much of a comatose state to actually answer it. The phone is chucked inside my bag as we make our way through security and onto the quiet airport. I don’t want to make nice with the airport staff as they carry our bags to the awaiting car. I don’t want to smile. I don’t want to cry.
I just want to see my father.
Brian is standing by the large SUV, waiting for us and Barker runs to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. My brother’s eyes are swollen from crying and Barker sobs on his shoulder as he hugs her tightly to his chest. The scene is heartbreaking and yet, I walk around them and get into the car without a word.
I can’t do anything.
“Vanessa,” my brother’s voice sound hoarse and I cringe at the sound. I know what he’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it. I know he’s worried about me right now but I don’t want to hear that everything will be alright. Nothing is alright. Nothing.
“Don’t, Brian,” is the only thing I say as the car starts heading out of the airport’s private airstrip. My line of vision is focused on the road ahead of us. I don’t say anything else. I just stare. My heart tightens inside my chest and it physically hurts to breath. I’m trying to will myself to calm down but my nerves are shot. I need to cry, but I can’t and the harder I try to, the more my chest hurts. I’m dying.
I just want to see my father.
The drive from the airport to the hospital seems like an eternity and by the time the car comes to a stop at the man entrance, I’m ready to jump out. My legs are working on overload as I walk around a few people standing outside, smoking cigarettes while their loved ones are inside the forsaken place. It’s really sad that people have no consideration. As if having a smoke is more important than staying by their loved one’s side. I hate people.
As soon as I step foot into the place I feel the coldness of it. The over-sterilized smell of metal, sheets and uniforms, makes me want to gag. I’ve hated hospitals since I was a child and haven’t stepped foot in one in I don’t know how long. The white walls creep me out and the attempt to make is colorful with pretty paintings, doesn’t help. It’s cold here. No color in the world will change what this place is. It’s a place where people come to die. Where people cry more often than laugh. It’s not where I want to be.
Brian and Barker walk closely behind me toward the reception desk, where I can tell is a woman that I’m not going to like very much. She’s rolling her eyes at someone who’s on the other end of the telephone conversation she’s having. Very professional.
“Excuse me,” I say when she hangs up the phone with a huff and mumbles something about people being stupid. She gives me a death glare and it takes a second for mine to appear. Why is this bitch choosing to fuck with me, right now?
“Can I help you?” she asks but it’s the last thing she wants to do.
“We’re here for Martinez, do we need to check in?” Brian asks stepping in front of me and blocking my view of the bitch who was about to get a piece of my mind.
“Oh,” the wench says and shakes her head. “No, you can go straight to the room. You don’t have to check in.”
“Thank you,” my brother says and I feel him give me a little punch as he places his hand on the small of my back. Barker is standing by the elevators waiting on us and she wipes at her eyes with the back of her sleeve in an attempt to stop crying. I really wish I could do that. I wish I could cry.
The silence returns as we travel up to the third floor of the creepy hospital. There’s a waiting room at the end of the busy hallway that Brian leads us through and Barker holds my hand as we walk. But I still don’t say anything. I’m a little taken aback by the amount of people in that small waiting room. I see faces that haven’t seen in a long time. Co-workers of my father’s, friends and family members that I haven’t seen in years, even though they live close by. My brother’s wife is tucked away in a corner with my niece in her arms and I find myself envying the peaceful look that graces my nieces face as she sleeps. I wished this was all a dream. A bad dream.
The silence in the room, creeps me out and the rush of everyone coming to our sides to extends hugs and sympathy, make me want to throw up. As I’m being hugged and kissed by people I could actually care less about a the moment, Roger comes rushing into my mind again. I want to see my father.
Escaping from the grasp of I don’t even know who, I make a beeline for the room across the hall. I know my father is in there and the longer I wait to see him, the more I seem to be choking on something. I can’t breath.
The room I enter suddenly goes pitch black and I can barely see in front of me. I wonder how this could possibly be a hospital while I’ve never been more scared. Shouldn’t I feel taken care of here? I can hear some kind of beeping coming from deep inside the room. The sound is loud in my ears, yet it fades away and comes back loudly in my ears. What is going on? I hear what sounds like curtain rods scrapping against metal and my vision blurs from the darkness. Then suddenly I can see my father on the hospital bed and it seems as though a light is being illuminated over his body. What in the heavens? There are tubes coming out of his mouth and he’s shaking uncontrollably. What’s happening to my father? I want to scream out but I can’t. And the beeping gets louder and louder and I can’t do anything. I can’t see around me. Nothing.
And then the light around my father’s shaking body is gone, and everything is getting dark again. What the fuck is up with this hospital?
I can feel two hands grabbing my shoulders and I’m not sure if they haven’t been there since I walked into this room. I’m confused. And I wish that stupid beeping would stop! Jesus Christ!!
“He’s flat lining! He’s flat lining!”
I don’t recognize that voice but I do recognize my mother’s cries from somewhere in the room. She’s crying hysterically and I feel my heart breaking. I can hear people moving around frantically and the peeping continues. I can’t fucking see!!
MOM!! I can’t reach her. But I can hear her yelling. What’s happening?
“He’s gone, I’m sorry. He’s gone,” it’s that voice again and my mother’s cries increase. “Get them out of here!!”
I don’t know who’s touching me. I don’t know who’s around me. But I do know what those words mean.
My father is the one that’s gone.
My father is dead and I never, ever made him proud.
And it turns out that the darkness was me.
Fainting.
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Author’s note: Don’t kill me, girls! This was hard to get out but please trust me that it’s all worth the frustration. I love ya’ll!
AND THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE VOTES!! Check out the awards page!
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Tags: interracial wallsex celebrityj enemiesturnedlovers
