Chapter Twenty-Two: Uncharted Territory
Part II
The music is annoyingly loud from a stereo system against the wall of the dance studio, I stupidly agreed to meet Marty in instead of staying home. The women in front of me are trying desperately to impress me but quite honestly they’re boring me to fucking death. I appreciate that Marty has jumped on the ‘Let’s make this tour happen’ bandwagon quicker that I have but shit, I’d rather be getting a full body wax. No, I rather be where I’ve been cooped up with Vanessa for the past two days. I want to sit in my house and for the love of God, I never thought I’d say this, I want to talk. And by talk I don’t mean just the deep shit like childhood memories or life regrets. We’ve talked about every possible subject that we could come up with, from movies to music to the nine eleven tragedy to the fashion industry to the current war. Hell, we even talked about underwear and the many uncomfortable varieties she’s had to endure during photo shoots. Of course that topic led to us having sex on…never mind. Moral of the fucking story in that for the first time in my life I have learned to relax.
And who in their right mind would have said that Vanessa Martinez, stuck up bitch of the fucking year would help me relax?
Not a fucking living soul.
Not only have I laughed and shared things about myself voluntarily, but I’ve actually enjoyed it. I hate talking about myself, I really do. I don’t really do as many interviews as I should because of this reason. I feel like the world knows too much of me already or at least what they think I am. Why submit myself to sharing the real personal stuff with the world? I’d be left with nothing and I will not have that. Screw that.
I’ve lived by the rules I’ve made for myself and I will not succumb to the needs of the information hogs in the world, who want to dig deep into your soul and leave you bare. Fuck that. When it comes to letting people into my world, my reality, I run the show. Those who know me would say that there are only a handful people that I honestly trust with those personal thoughts, regrets and memories. I thank God everyday for blessing me with those people because without them, those smart decisions could have been really stupid. And with those people, I can shed a tear without fear of what they might think. With those people I don’t have to hide the fact that sometimes I just want to fucking cry about something as stupid as my body aching after a tour. And that same group of people would tell me that I’m a jackass an hour later, when I’m ready to tour again. Those people understand. Those people get me. The real me.
I’ve also learned that sometimes what you see isn‘t what you get and when someone said that you can‘t judge a book by it‘s cover, they were one hundred fucking percent correct. I believed in that statement way before Vanessa Martinez came into my life and now that she is part of it, I’m sure of it and I‘m living by it. She’s a completely different person when it’s just me and her. No phone calls, no interruptions, no nothing.
Vanessa Martinez, dare I say it, gets me. Not Justin Timberlake the super-star, no. She gets me, just me, Justin, and that means a hell of a lot more than anything I’ve ever shared with a woman in my life. She’s almost like my mother, but not. Eww, scratch that, that was sick.
Anyway, while having this need to let Vanessa into my reality is an awesome feeling, I can’t help but be afraid of the fact that I don’t get her. I mean I get parts of her, if that makes sense. I get why she’s such a hard pill to swallow most of the time, I get it now. She’s independent and competitive which some may say about me and I can relate to that aspect of her life, one hundred and ten percent. I’ve been competing and battling against people who would like nothing more than to watch me fall flat on my face for world to see. But I’ve succumbed. She’s done the same, of course in a different arena, whether it was that first magazine spread at the age of fifteen or being the youngest female public relations director in the industry. Or whether it’s the fact that she’s absolutely mind-blowing at her job. She’s succeeded. A true champ.
I never really knew how tough this industry could be to people who work behind the scenes until she shared her experiences with me. It’s challenging to be a successful woman in an industry run by men, and I get why Vanessa works so hard to prove herself. But something’s troubling me. I may be part to blame to the fact that Vanessa has drawn up a temporary wall around the subject of her father’s death. I know I’ve been avoiding it as much a she has and I know I’m just as wrong for it as she is. I know that while she seems to be in control, I’ve done nothing but let her stack up that wall. It’s wrong, I know, but like I’ve been for the duration of our relationship, I’ve been selfish and I’m an ass.
Like today for instance, I should have asked her to stay away from the office and have her talk to me before she goes to the meeting with her father’s lawyer. But no, I watched her dress in one of her super hot suits and let her go to consume herself in her work without dealing with the reality that will come crashing down at this meeting. I haven’t seen her in four hours, the longest amount of time we‘ve been separated in two days.
I’ve talked on the phone with Barker three times since Vanessa left my house this morning. It’s annoying the hell out of me that I’ve spent more time talking to her best friend than with her, making this dance rehearsal a load of shit. I’ve made it a priority to keep Barker informed of Vanessa’s well being and while I’ve enjoyed the short interactions, I hate that I’ve talked to her more times than I have Vanessa. Why do I have to be here right now? I should tell Marty to choreograph this number however he wants to choreograph it and I’ll see it when it’s done. I know I’ve made a commitment to everyone that planning this tour would be a hands-on thing for me but shit! The only hands-on thing I’ve been doing for the past few days have only included Vanessa and yeah it‘s a perverted thing to say but no one understands how hot this woman is. If I’m not careful I might snatch her away and leave the country, fuck touring!
I now have a headache.
The dancers are apparently trying a catwalk performance that’s supposed to coordinate with the words to Sexy Ladies and Marty looks frustrated. The cue for me to give my opinion has come repeatedly but I’ve simple shaken it off, letting the other choreographers make decisions but this time when Marty looks at me with frustration written all over his face, I have to react.
“What’s the problem?” I ask, because I honestly don’t see what the hell he’s talking about. How does he want the poor girls to walk? Every single one of them is a dancer, not one of them is going to walk like a model because like I said, they‘re fucking dancers!! They dance!!
Now, who’s frustrated?
“It’s just not right, I don’t know,” Marty says walking back and forth examining the dancers like a wolf with sheep. He definitely shouldn’t have smoked that shit earlier. He looks crazy.
“I like it, I don’t know what else you want to change,” I say with a shrug, twisting the cap from my water bottle in my hand. “Once the stage is setup, we can make the adjustments we need to make. You’re making a bigger deal out of this track than it should be, man. It‘s not even one of my favorite songs.”
“Easy for you to say, you don’t have seventeen numbers to choreograph,” if he wasn’t a good friend of mine I’d tell him to go fuck himself.
“Shut up man,” I say throwing the cap toward him, making the girls shake their heads and chuckle. “I have to sing through all those seventeen numbers, fucker!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says and waives me off before cueing one of his assistants to start the music again.
The music begins again but it’s not as loud as it was, allowing Marty to do his counts out loud. The more I hear the sound of my own voice, the more annoyed I am, I could throw up. I’m seriously sick of hearing the sound of my own voice and I haven’t even toured yet. It’s going to be a long tour! I want to get out here, and it seems as though my prayers are answered when one of the exit doors opens and in walks Vanessa Martinez. Thank God! I go to jump off the table I’ve been sitting on but she gives me a stern look. It’s the look that means she’s working and there are entirely too many people in the room for any kind of greeting. And by any kind, I mean groping because I haven’t spent this long amount of time without her in two days. It’s that fucking drug again.
She has a large envelope in her hands and before she changes her line of vision, she winks at me. I’m such a fucking loser because I blush like a schoolgirl.
“Mr. Kudelka,” she says walking toward Marty, interrupting the dance routine the group is in the middle of. If she would have done that to me I would have flipped a fucking lid. Good luck, Marty! I silently pray that he doesn’t say anything stupid to her, although she’d deserve it for interrupting. But shit I can’t help the laughter inside me creeping up my throat as the anticipation builds. This is the most exciting thing that’s come my way since I sat here. I watch her take her stiletto clad legs toward Marty, she‘s insanely hot, I swear to God. “I have the releases you’ll need to have all the dancers complete and return to me as soon as possible.”
“Like that!” Marty says loudly, and he points at Vanessa who stops in her stride, a little shocked. She turns to give me one of those looks that meant ‘What the hell is going on?’ that three months ago would have cause me to respond with a ‘What the fuck is your problem?’ look I’m so famous for. My, how things change. I shrug because I really don’t know what the fuck is going on. “I need you to walk like that!! Do it again!”
“Excuse me?” Vanessa says and her left hand automatically becomes attached to her hip. I want to laugh, badly.
One of the many conversations we’ve had on lazy times around my house was about whether she noticed or not, she did things that were what some would categorize as ghetto. Like doing the head roll shit Puertoriquen women do when they’re about to tell someone off. It’s barely noticeable with Vanessa because her etiquette is upscale and snobbish, but it’s there and sometimes it creeps up on her. I would bet a million dollars she doesn’t even notice that moving that left hand to her hip has put her in a ‘Oh hell naw’ stance. It’s quite entertaining to watch when it‘s not directed toward me, to be honest.
“Can you please show them how to walk like that? It’s for the show,” Marty says walking around the dancers to come face to face with Vanessa.
“What? You’re going to have to speak more clearly, Mr. Kudelka. You’re asking what of me? To walk?” Her tone is one of confusion when she turns slightly and looks at me. “Mr. Timberlake?”
“The dancers need a little help, Va-,” she opens her eyes wide at me and I catch myself before continuing.
“I’m not a dancer, Mr. Kudelka,” Vanessa says extending the envelope toward Marty’s hand.
“But you’re a model,” Marty states.
“I assure you, Mr. Kudelka, that I’m the Public Relations Director of Wright Entertainment Group. If you need reassurance of any kind I‘ll be happy to get one of my business cards or a copy of my contract.”
“No, you’re a model,” Marty says challengingly.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Timberlake? Are you in need of a new choreographer?” Vanessa asks and she’s looking at Marty like he has three hundred heads and just finished smoking some good shit. “It can be easily arranged, I assure you.”
“No, I’m good with the one I have,” I say trying not to chuckle because this discussion would have been so serious a few months ago. A few months ago I personally would have told her to get the fuck out of my dance studio, and Marty would have laughed it off. But Vanessa isn’t laughing and neither is Marty. Marty has that predatory look in his eye that he gets when he has a brand spanking new idea. And my guess is that he’s thinking he doesn’t give a damn who Vanessa is and just wants her to teach the dancers how to walk like she does. I know for a fact that Vanessa is very bleak on being given a damn about. Strike on Marty, I must say. And quite honestly, I don’t think anyone in this room can do what she does, at WEG or the runway. This should be interesting.
“It should only take a few minutes, I assure you,” Marty says mockingly and I have to shake my head in disappointment. Poor Marty. Vanessa looks at me for any type of clue as to what the fuck is going on, because I’m actually enjoying the interaction between the two. Vanessa can be laid back and fun, I witnessed it when we spent time at the arcade. But I can also bet that she’s not so laid back and fun when it comes to people whom she doesn’t know and trust. We see eye to eye on that as well as on many topics. So on that note, I personally don’t have any clues to give because the sooner this is done, the sooner I can get out of this dance studio. Even if it’s at the expense of my friend Marty because this is either going to go good, or really, really bad.
“What’s the problem?” Vanessa turns to glance at the girls and she actually smiles at them. Not too friendly because she’s the boss, but a smile just big enough to gain the respect of the other women in the room. Things are looking up for Marty, I see. A month ago it would have shocked me to see this behavior from Vanessa but not now, now I know her. Now I see.
“There’s a part in this song,” Marty says and he signals his little bitch assistant in the back to start the track. I’m usually nicer, I swear, but today I’m just over having to deal with my life and I want to get out here. So yes, everyone is a little bitch today. “These ladies are instructed to walk as models would, down a runway.”
Marty is insisting on this part of the song to be perfect and if I was in a better mood, I’d be all over this trying to make it happen but I’m not. What he wants to be perfect is the part in the song in which I’m wanting a girl to walk as though she’s on a runway. I shake my head when Vanessa turns to me and raises an eyebrow questioningly. Funny, how just spending these few days with her has clued me in to all her little mannerisms and what they mean without having to speak a single word. The raised eyebrow comes in question to one of the many conversations we had about my album and how a few of the songs were recorded after different hellish encounters with her. SexyLadies was recorded after I went with Cameron and Trace to that show Vanessa turned out to be in, unbeknownst to me.
Listen, when artists say that they don’t use real life experiences in their music, they are lying through their fucking teeth, I promise. Bunch of fucking lies!! There are about ten songs in my new album that reference Vanessa whether I wanted them to or not. My life experiences where based on the fact that she’s been in my head since that Halloween party and although I’m not ready to admit that to anyone, especially her, it’s the truth. I’m not that big of a pussy to be over-sharing and letting her know she has me around her fucking pinky is what I‘d like to refer as over-sharing.
“Yes, I’ve heard the track a few times, Mr. Kudelka. What does that have to do with me?” Vanessa asks and I can tell she’s growing more annoyed by the minute. So maybe things aren’t looking up after all.
“Well,” Marty says looking at me and then back at Vanessa with a grin. “Justin tells me that you’re a model. So, I am asking that you please walk toward the other side of the room so that they can see how I’ve wanted them to walk. I can choreograph the shit out this song but I can’t show the ladies how to walk like supermodels because let’s face it, I’m a dude, and dudes don’t walk that way.”
“We’ve been here for hours and I’m not sure what he wants us to do. Will you please do us the favor before we quit on him and this tour turns to shit?” Nancy, one of my favorite dancers, says with a grunt after rolling her eyes at Marty. I swear those two have something going on but Marty is not letting anything out of the bag and I honestly don’t care enough to keep asking.
“What exactly do you need me to do?” Vanessa says and her hands are still on either side of her hips but the question kind of surprises me. I would have bet that she would have walked out on Marty and his request a few seconds ago, instead she’s standing there listening to Marty explain the ‘feel’ of what he’s trying to portray. Vanessa listens intently to what he’s saying and I have to cover my mouth to hide the smile that’s on my face. Marty knows what he’s doing, he’s mentioning me and how important this tour is to me and all this babble shit to get her to give in to his request and it’s pretty damn funny. What’s funnier is the fact that Vanessa is now into it, she shakes her head in agreement and actually gives Marty ideas about certain songs that he’s talking about.
Before I know it, Vanessa takes her suit jacket off and Marty ever so kindly places it neatly on a chair nearby. It doesn’t take long before my group of female dancers are talking runway lessons from the woman that I love. Wow, that sounds so good and yet so scary. I watch as Vanessa interacts with the dancers explaining the technique of balancing their bodies while walking and once again I’m impressed by her ability to capture people’s attention. I’m sure the dancers are just tired of listening to Marty bitch and figure listening to Vanessa explain something to them is worth it, but they are listening.
“She’s so fucking hot,” Marty says coming to stand next to me as I watch the group of women walking back and forth across the dance studio.
“Man, I hope you’re talking about Nancy like that or you’re fucking fired,” I said causing him to laugh like I was joking. Seriously, I’m not playing.
“Whatever man,” Marty says looking through the paperwork Vanessa set on a table behind me. “Are you staying for the guys’ practice?”
“No, I have some shit to do,” I catch Vanessa’s eye at that moment and wink at her with a smile but she actually rolls her eyes. The smile on her face is amazing and I think she’s beyond hot, I swear, she’s gonna make my heart leap out of my chest. “But you’re doing a good job, man. Thank you.”
“You know I got you, man. No worries,” Marty’s mirroring my stance, arms folded over his chest as we watch the women laugh and giggle at one another. “What exactly does she see in you?”
“Fuck you,” I say and although I know my friend is joking, I kind of wonder. What does she see in me?
“If you have somewhere to be, you better get to it before I make you rehearse with the girls,” Marty says and I really do believe him, so I clear my throat and wave my arms in the air to get Vanessa’s attention.
“Boy, look at the time, I’m out of here,” I don’t want to make the fact that Vanessa and I are leaving together, obvious for reasons we have already discussed. Reasons which I agree with and disagree with at the same time, if that makes sense.
We discussed the media, what having her by my side would do to my career and hers. I know that if the media found out that I was dating my PR, the person who released my break up with Cameron, nonetheless, that it would become a living hell for us. I know that the attention toward Vanessa wouldn’t be a positive one and I understand that it would affect her career. I know all this and although what we have is fresh, I also feel like I shouldn’t have to hide shit, ya know? This is all new to me, I haven’t had a girlfriend out of this stupid industry and I’m at a loss.
“I hope you know that you’ll be receiving a pay cut due to the amount of time I’ve spent doing your job, Mr. Kudelka,” Vanessa says a minute later as she puts her suit jacket on a few feet from where we stand.
“I would gladly take a pay cut, Ms. Martinez,” Marty is such an ass kisser sometimes. “It was worth while. Thank you.”
“I was kidding,” Vanessa says and she’s not really smiling or anything toward him so it’s kind of hard to know that she’s kidding. Kind of funny. She walks past me toward the door and I smile like a dumbass when she winks at me. Before leaving the room she turns to Marty. “Because no amount of money can cover the cost of my expertise, Mr. Kudelka.”
“That‘s righttttttt,” a few of the girls cheer in the background.
“You’ll be late in two minutes, Mr. Timberlake,” Vanessa says before briefly waving goodbye to the dancers and walking out of the door.
THAT is what I’m talking about!! THAT is an exit! She cracks me up. And wait, what am I late for? I don’t have an appointment.
“Later man,” I say to Marty as I grab my hat and set down t he water bottle I’ve entertained myself with. “Ladies,” I say with a waive before I’m out the door and walking, almost running, toward the exit. My fucking phone is vibrating in my pocket but I don’t care to answer it, I just want to get in my car and go. Where did she go?
“In a rush?” I hear coming from behind me and I stop my semi-dash to the door to turn to her.
“What took you so long?” I ask as I watch her walk toward me in the empty hallway. Somehow I’m getting a sense of déjà vu and I’m a little surprised when she puts her arms around my neck and kisses me. WOW! I don’t even know how else to describe it. My back is against the wall and my hands grip the sides of her to bring her closer to me and I swear I’m in heaven. I really am a pussy.
“Work,” she says after kissing the hell out me and leaving me stunned. Huh? She separates herself from me and straightens her jacket before continuing her walk toward the exit. Oh hell nah!
“What?”
“You coming?”
“You are not just walking away right now,” seriously!
“We’re missing the coffee,” is the only thing she says before the door closes behind her. I don’t really know what the fuck she’s talking about until I look around for nosy people in the hallway and realize that we were walking down the same hallway in which I almost swallowed her whole a few months ago. Someone’s playing games, I smile.
I’ve been walking on new territory with Vanessa, these past few days. New love. New conversations. New music. New tour ideas. New feelings. New attitude. New understanding. And I have a feeling, after this meeting we’re heading to, I’ll be walking on even more uncharted territory.
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Tags: interracial wallsex celebrityj enemiesturnedlovers
