I don’t know what the hell made me think that I’d have free time this year. What the fuck was I thinking? I clearly wasn’t or must have been thinking out of my ass, because it has been nationally declared that my personal life is over. I’m on full Justin Timberlake, the star, mode and I can’t shake it off. Who came up with the idea to tour for a year and half straight and get it out of the way? Oh, that’s right, it was the asshole looking at the dancers through the mirror in front of him, as Marty kills every ounce of energy left in his body. Yeah, me. I’m not one to complain usually, I’m really not. I love this shit, I love planning and I love doing my shit on stage and I can’t fucking think of another profession that would suit me so well. But fuck!!

I’ve been working my ass off for the last few weeks to make this huge tour a success or try to at least. From promoting my album to attending and performing at numerous award shows, I’m seriously contemplating suicide. No, really, I am. Maybe, that’s a little drastic but I’m just I don’t know, tired? I may ache a bit after the crucial work out regimen Jason, the drill sergeant, has me in or after rehearsing for ten hours with Marty, the dancing freak, but I’m not physically tired. I’m more mentally and emotionally tired. Yes, I realize I’m being such a little bitch but what the fuck? I miss Vanessa. There you go, there it is.

It’s been weeks since we’ve been able to spend more than an a few hours alone. Between my meetings, appearances across the country and her demanding job, I can’t even remember the last time I kissed her. I mean, I kissed her this morning as she kicked me out of her apartment to get my ass to rehearsal, I mean a real kiss. The ones that make us both moan like idiots because it feels so good. The ones that makes her run her fingers through the back of my head, the ones that make me want to swallow her whole and keep her inside me forever. A real kiss.

Last night when I arrived at her place, we were both so exhausted from working that laying in bed and sleeping seemed a hell of a lot more interesting than meeting Johnny for dinner. Of course laying next to this woman without touching her, no matter how exhausted I am, is nearly impossible. I had to get some and the act set us both over the I’m-so-fucking-tired-edge that we were out before I was even out, if you know what I mean. Crazy shit.

I still have three hours of rehearsals and I haven’t heard from her all day. I’m a little worried that I’m becoming whipped and it’s a dangerous thing when you have so much shit on your plate. My plate is stacked with this tour, finishing voice-overs for Shrek, this fucking tour, promoting my album, performing at everyone and their momma’s show and did I mention this tour? But that little side dish of Vanessa is looking way more appealing even though I’ve never been a fan of sides. Who wants a side of macaroni and cheese when you can have it as your meal? I mean come on!

Last week I spent three days in New York, minus Vanessa, doing press junkets for the third installment of the Shrek movies and with that came a bit of discomfort. And I don’t just mean the personal questions from stupid journalists. I mean the company in which I would be for hours each day. If I hadn’t enjoyed the process of the movie and if I hadn’t been such a big fan of Mike, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it. And when you’re dating the lead character in the movie and she asks you with hope in her eyes, well what the fuck, you get screwed into it. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love that I was able to do that type of work and I appreciate the experience but when I signed up for it I didn’t know that when the time came to promote it, I’d be in this awkward stage with the female lead. And if that wasn’t awkward enough, Rachel suddenly doesn’t want to be too close with Cameron and I felt a little uncomfortable when Rachel opted to stay in when the cast was invited to dinner. I could tell that Cameron was a little taken back by Rachel’s dismissive attitude but because I don’t get in the bullshit web women weave, I stayed the fuck out of it. However, it didn’t mean I wasn’t glad that Rachel was kind of embracing Vanessa, although she’ll swear she still thinks Vanessa is a bitch. Which is hard to believe when I caught those two talking about some handbags or some bullshit the other day, like they were the best of sorority sisters or some shit. I will never understand women, especially not my cousin and my new girlfriend, who hasn’t fucking called, but I digress.

During the cast dinner in New York, I purposely avoided sitting anywhere near Cameron and I think she did the same. We weren’t shooting daggers across the large table, calling each other names or anything but because I’ve been avoiding her calls for weeks, I think it was a given that it would be uncomfortable. I can’t honestly explain why I never answered her calls, I just didn’t and maybe I’m an asshole for it. And not that I minded or paid extra close attention to her, but she did bring a date while I intended to bring Rachel, to avoid more media frenzy, so I was considerate of the situation. She unlike myself, didn’t give a flying fuck apparently. Although I was forewarned by my ’people’ meaning Vanessa, to be careful what I said to the media in regards to having to attend events with my ex.

I did ask Vanessa to join me in New York for those days but that had been a really stupid question in my part, which makes sense cause I seem to be the dumbass in this relationship. I’ve learned that much in the past few months, but I still ask. She didn’t agree to join me because she didn’t want to be with me, I know she wants me. Trust me. It’s simply because it’s best if we keep things private and the fact that she’s swamped with work, well that didn’t help either. But I guess it was for the best that she didn’t come along because as she went over the schedule for my trip with my PR and Rachel, I could see the steam raising from the back of her neck. She still dislikes someone and I’ll use dislike lightly, very lightly. I haven’t bothered asking her why she has this ‘dislike’ for Cameron in fear that she’ll get into this whole blown out story about how women can tell if they like someone at sight and blah blah blah. But I won’t lie, it makes me feel good about myself that for some unknown reason she hates my ex. I‘d like to think it‘s because they have me in common and I‘m the shit. Right? Who wouldn’t think that way? Yeah, I know, women. I’m a fucking guy and my ego only gets stroked by moments like those. Fuck the adoration of fans, although I appreciate that, but my chest puffs up when the person I love shows the same feelings. That’s what I call an ego stroke, baby! And yes, I said love.

Needless to say I couldn’t wait to get back to L.A. after press junket hell and everyone around me knew it. In the end, if coming home to find Vanessa laying on my living room couch, asleep, wearing my t-shirt and boxers, was my reward for playing nice around my ex for three days, then it was well worth it. Speaking of my ex, Cameron hasn’t called in a while and I don’t know why it‘s coming to mind. Am I wrong for being curious as to what she wanted? I searched the house for anything that she might have left there, eliciting the phone calls but Rachel had done a pretty good job sweeping the house for Cameron paraphernalia, so that couldn’t have been it. I’m having that feeling you get when you’re debating with a bunch of what-ifs. I mean, I don’t think it would have affect me as much as I’m making it out to be in my fucking head but I’m curious and I can’t fucking help it. Didn’t I say my plate was full?

Have I mentioned that Vanessa hasn’t called?

I know I’m fucking up the dance routine that I mastered just two days ago and the look that Marty has on his face, let’s me know that. Usually I wouldn’t be such a little bitch about Vanessa not calling, we’re two busy mofos, but today is a bit different. Today she was meeting with her father’s lawyer for some final things on the will. We didn’t talk about it much because we’d been so tired last night but I know that every time she gets called to finalize something for her family, she returns to that depressive state of mind. She always seems to pull herself out of it within a few hours out of pure will power that she grabs out of thin air but I hate seeing her that way. It really burns me up actually. I wish I knew the right words to make her feel good about herself and accomplishments. I wish I could help her healing process but I’ve come to understand that no one but Vanessa herself can fix that.

I wish I could have gone with her like I’ve done every other time, I wish I could have take her to lunch and made her laugh after this meeting. I wish Barker wasn’t across the world working, so that she could have filled in for me. I wish she’d just call already so that I know that she’s okay. I really wish I could stop trying to protect her from her own feelings regarding her father‘s death, I really do. But I’m convinced that I can’t and it kills me to know that she’ll have this thing, these feelings inside eating at her as long as she lets it. She’s a tough cookie and if she knew I referred to her as a cookie, I’m sure she’ll kick my ass. But she is. She’s my tough cookie. The smile on my face is evident. I’m pathetic.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Marty says loudly over the music as everyone takes a sigh of relief at the sign of a break.

“Shut up, man!” I say as the group of dancers disburse across and out of the large rehearsal room.

“You know that attitude isn’t going to get you out of here early tonight,” Marty thinks he can threaten me and usually its entertaining to watch him think he’s the fucking man. But today I just give him the finger instead of arguing. He’s lucky he’s a top notch choreographer and a good friend of mine. If it wasn’t for that, I think I would have fired the son of a bitch a long time ago, he’s a fucking maniac slave driver! He’s also not one of Vanessa’s favorite people, which is fun to watch.

“You know that attitude of yours will get you in deep shit with V,” I respond because I can’t help it. He’s also not fond of her even though she helped him out a few times, she also won‘t admit to it. Things just happen to come through for Marty in the public relations department. “I have plans with her, fucker! You better not piss her off.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says throwing a water bottle in my direction. A few minutes later, he starts messing with the sound system like he’s a fucking DJ suddenly, when the side door leading to the offices of the rehearsal building opens and Vanessa walks in, phone attached to her ear. She makes my heart skip a beat every single time and I’m pretty much fucked with this one. She’s got me. Marty looks at her and then back at my cheesy-ass face and shakes his head. “Just get the fuck out here. Just fucking go.”

“I will personally take care of it, clearly it’s not something you’re capable of doing. Good day,” she still standing by the door, staring at Marty who won’t look at her. He’s pushing buttons on the sound system and ignoring that she’s standing there, purposely. Finally not being able to resist the scorching heat on his back, he turns with a smirk across his face. He’s clearly in for a shitload of words that are about to leave her beautiful mouth. I’m just sitting on the bench, leaning against the mirrored wall, watching quietly. “Mr. Kudelka, I’m aware that you were raised in the ‘hood’ and that perhaps you aren’t aware of when you’re being offensive. Using foul language in a place of business is considered crass and unprofessional. So to say that using foul language loudly in a place of business when someone is on a telephone call is very unprofessional, is an understatement. Not to mention that speaking to your employee in that manner is grounds for termination.  Now if you’ll excuse me, we’ll just FUCKING go now.”

“Yeah, Marty!! How fucking unprofessional can you be?” I yell out obnoxiously loud from across the room and it’s the first sign of a smile I see in her face since she’s walked in. Good sign.

“You’re such an asshole, Timberlake.” Marty says as he returns the finger favor and walks out of the room chuckling.

“You ARE an asshole,” Vanessa says with a shy smile on her face that’s only directed at me and yeah, I don’t give a fuck, she’s fucking cute!!

“Hi,” I say as I stand from the bench and walk toward her. We’re both blushing dickheads and I leap forward to embrace her in my arms. When my lips make contact with hers, it’s the real kiss. It’s the kiss I’ve been thinking about all day and it’s the kiss that makes us moan as Rachel walks in the room.

“Oh god,” Rachel says as she walks past our joined bodies and I can hear the pure disgust in her voice. She’s a dickhead too! “Get a room.”

“Get a brain,” I say as Vanessa straighten herself up as best as she can, since I won’t fully release her from my grasp.

“Get a shower,” Rachel says and continues to grab the countless agendas and shit regarding my tour from the floor space she’d been occupying for hours. “I’m taking your car, don’t wait up after your wash your stank ass!”

“I didn’t even break a sweat today, Chickenhead! You better act like you know,” I don’t know why suddenly I’m in a great mood and fucking with Rachel, well I do know why but Rachel rolls her eyes at me and exit’s the room, making Vanessa chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Rachel’s had a rough day, I mean, with having to deal with some demon lady from WEG all day and all. Any ideas who that could be?”

“Excuse me but I will have you know that I didn’t call her once today, not once,” she seems pretty convince about her answer as she stands there with her hand on her hip, giving that Puertoriquen stance that I absolutely love.

“Really?” I tease as I walk to a table where my cell phone has been place by Marty after the object kept flying across the floor repeatedly. I’m surprised it’s still alive and functioning. Motorola bitches!

“Yes, really,” she says as she watches me and her eyes divert to a group of dancers that enter the room. I can see her shoulders straighten and she’s Ms. Cruela Martinez within seconds. Kind of turns me on. Two women with the taste of ONE. Nice!

“Ready to go?” I ask under my breath as to not make her uncomfortable around the ‘non-aware’ part of my tour crew. I’m honestly wondering why the hell I would even play along with this secret stuff with people who are going to catch on quickly once the tour starts. I mean it’s inevitable. And every single one of these people have signed confidentiality agreements that have them bind at the ass, which needless to say, Vanessa made them sign, with their blood at that. Rules are rules, I guess.

“Yes,” she simply says as she turns to walk in the direction she’d just came from. I can’t help but watch her every time because well, I’m a pig and she’s my woman.

“Hey Nancy!” I’m fairly certain that every one of those dancers is hating on the fact that I’m heading toward the door but fuck it, I’m the motha fucking boss here. Peace out! “Tell your boyfriend, I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Tell your girlfriend her shoes are hot then,” she says making the rest of the crew laugh.

“I will certainly do that, Ms. Kudelka,” I say with a wink as she gives me the oh so famous finger we’ve taken the liberty to constantly use. I simply wink at her and smile before opening the door and walking out after my oh-so-delicious girlfriend in hot shoes. “I’m out!”

Vanessa is nowhere in sight when I exit the building but Mike is waiting by her car, acting like he’s going somewhere with me. I think not.

“Finished early?” he asks with a smirk on his face. I’m so sick of his “you’re a pussy and you’re whipped” jokes I can smell one coming a mile away. “Or is the boss calling the shots again?”

“Shut up, Mike. Where is she?” I ask and I jump in the driver seat of her car, anxious to get the hell out of this tour rehearsal hell.

“She’s coming right now,” he points to the door I just exited and I’m wondering where that briefcase she’s carrying had been. She certainly didn’t carry it in when she went into the rehearsal room, that’s for sure. Cause this semi hard-on that I have going on as I watch her sexy ass walking toward the car, would have happened inside the rehearsal room.

“Hey,” she says when she gets in the car and maneuvers to place the briefcase behind my seat.

“What were you doing? Torturing more of my dancers with confidentiality agreements?”

“No, Mr. Timberlake, I wasn’t. If you must know I was getting my things from the office I’ve been using for three hours to work on YOUR tour schedule. That’s what I was doing. What are YOU doing in MY seat?” That question seems oddly familiar.

“I’m driving, you know the…wait what? Three hours? You’ve been here for three hours?”

“Do you need your ears checked before going on tour. Mr. Timberlake? Because frankly I don’t know how I would get my staff to explain why Justin Timberlake can’t hear let alone sing. Three hours is what I said.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve been in there for three hours and it is till about five minutes ago that you make your presence known? Is that what you‘re saying?” I’m already driving around the other cars in the lot, giving Mike the finger to fuck off as I ask these questions. She looking at me with a bored expression across her face and I want to kiss her but the traffic on Robertson Boulevard doesn’t allow for that.

“If I would have entered that room prior to a decent time, according to your shitty choreographer’s standards, he would have had a god damn heart attack. And not that I minded giving the son of a bitch a heart attack, but it would have prevented you from doing what you were supposed to be doing. Which by the way, is rehearsing, not looking at your phone every five seconds.”

“And what exactly gives you the impression that you entering the room would have prevented my ability to work? Extra confident aren’t you?” We’re halfway home and I realize that this ‘argument’ will last to right about the time we enter the gates to my house.

“One doesn’t need to be extra confident, Mr. Timberlake. One knows she is well justified in making that statement simply from one’s experience. I‘m fully aware of your lack of work ethics when I walk into the room, thank you very much.”

“Oh but one should talk about work ethics, when ONE was watching ME the entire time, instead of being in an office working on MY tour schedule. Right? Every five seconds, is what you said, right?”

“Ohh shut up,” she says smacking my arm and rolling her eyes. It’s a sign of defeat and I have yet again, won this one. I love it. I’m the man, I know.

“Hi,” I say as cheesy as I can possible remember being. Ever. She turns her head away from the traffic around us and smiles at me.

“Hi,” the smile that’s on her lips make the red light stay red for an extra twenty seconds when I lean across the console to kiss her lips. The newly darkened windows in her car prevent the neighboring car to see who we are and I’m thankful. This is why we try to avoid public outings. All it takes is one photo in which I fucking forget who I am and do something stupid. You know, like kiss WEG‘s Director of Public Relations at a stop light while driving her car. “You better go,” she says tapping my shoulder lightly and it’s only then that I hear the honking behind me. Can I just kiss my girl?!! Fuck!! Drivers in L.A. are in such a hurry to get fucking nowhere!!

“Someday I’d like to be able to et out of my car and kick someone’s ass for honking their fucking horn at me. I swear to god!” Shit, like this irks me because had I been someone else, not ME, I could have easily put my window down and given the asshole the finger without any worries. But I’m not someone else, I’m me. Yes, I’m fucking whining. Have I mentioned that I’m tired lately?

“You’re tired,” Vanessa says as we both watch a group of about ten paparazzi hounds to our right as we pass by the Ivy. By the hint of blond hair I can see in the mist of the crowd that surrounds it I can immediately tell that it‘s Paris.

“I’m fine,” I say shaking my head at the scene beside us and I’m thankful once again for the pitch black tint on the car. “Why do they do that? Why does she submit herself to that type of invasion all the time?”

“Paris, you mean?” Vanessa asks as we make a left onto Santa Monica Boulevard and we’re one paparazzi street closer to my house. “I’m not sure why anyone would purposely dine at places like the Ivy but it’s what she does. Being photographed in compromising situations is what has skyrocketed her stupid fame. I feel a need to call up her PR and just let him have a piece of my mind sometimes. But it’s what Paris does, I can’t fathom why so many people love her, but it is what it is.”

“She’s actually not as ditzy as the media makes her out to be but in situations like that, where she’s basically asking for it, I don’t fucking blame the media all that much. I could never do it. Put myself out there as much as she and everyone else does.”

“There’s a difference between you and them, Justin,” she says looking at me with a look that shows me that she’s being sincere. “You we’re raised by money hungry parents or managed by people after the fame. You’ve had humble surroundings your entire career and I think that’s good. And it’s why people are shocked beyond relief when you lift that precious finger of yours. You’re different because you know how to keep your feet on the ground and flashing yourself across Hollywood Boulevard is not you. Your mother raised you well, that of course is not counting into affect the complete disregard for respect toward women when you spoke to me in the past. Or rather yelled.”

“Are you referring to that finger I lifted last week as I walked out of Millennium?” I ask with a chuckle as we both sign in relief when we finally turn into Laurel Canyon Boulevard. Almost home.

“Yeah, I meant to ask you about those last night, smartass,” she says smacking my arm playfully. “You can’t keep doing that to your PR, he’s going to have a coronary over that finger of yours.”

“He’ll survive,” I say with a shrug. “You did.”

“Oh don’t get yourself twisted there, Mr. Timberlake. I think the proper words are that you survived me, from the beginning you were doomed for failure. Don‘t be confused.”

“I’m sorry, my bad, maybe I’m confused about who survived that night in that hotel room too. For some reason, I seem to remember being the one walking out of the room and if I do remember correctly you were the one that died and went to heaven, making me the victorious one. I mean, I think that’s the way it went. Let me think…yep, that’s the way it went.”

“You’re a pig,” she says with a laugh and even in the darkened car, I can see her blush.

“I know,” I says with a wink as the gates to my house open just wide enough for the car to get through. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I had a dinner with your assistant about an hour ago,” she says as the garage door opens and we’re illuminated by the automated lights through the inside of the garage and the house.

“You had dinner with Rachel? Wow, Rachel knew you were at millennium too?”

“Where do you think she was for two hours? We ordered food while we went over some of your scheduled appearances during the tour. Which by the way, I did get a hold of Ellen’s people and arranged for her to come to the show in Memphis for the appearance on her show, all accommodations paid including flight arrangements, instead of you flying back to L.A. to do it. You did say, you wanted an extra day in Memphis, right?”

“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks,” I say as we enter the house and are immediately greeted by Buckley and Brennen, who are super excited that their motha fucking master is home! I feel them, I really do, cause I’m glad to be home too. “So you already ate?”

“Yes,” she says kissing Brennen’s head repeatedly. “You want me to make something for you or did you want to order out?”

“I can order pizza, I don’t know how much more of your cooking I can take in a week,” I say jokingly because well she deserves a jab. How did she have the balls to have dinner with my assistant  just a few doors down from me? And I didn’t even know she was there?! That’s messed up!!

“Your master is an ungrateful son of a bitch, isn’t he? He doesn’t appreciate anything, does he?” she’s talking to Buckley in a baby voice that makes me smile and her left hand is lifted in the most precious thing in the world. She’s giving me the finger.

“Lovely,” I say with a bored expression across my face and she smiles when both dogs sit at her feet and stare at me. Nothing but traitors these dogs are. Traitors. “Would you like to take a shower with me or did you take one with Rachel as well?”

“Well when you extend an offer in that manner, you’d be lucky if I even stay tonight,” she says with a roll of her eyes, as she flips through the various menus that permanently live on top of the kitchen island.

“Right, because missing a shower with me to drive across town to your place is so much better than showering with me,” I’m already halfway up the stairs, mumbling some random bullshit so that she hears me. I hear her mumbling away as well, and I have to chuckle. “Don’t order that hideous pizza you like again!!”

“What’s wrong with anchovies and onions?!” I hear her yell from the kitchen and I have to cringe at the thought of that awful pizza she ordered a few days ago. “Whatever!! I’m not even hungry you ass!!”

“Thank you!!!” I’m so glad to be home finally, arguing about her taste in pizza toppings and I swear if someone would tell me this is the way I’d spend the rest of my life, I’d take it. Without a doubt in my mind, I would argue with her till I was red in the fucking face if it meant that when I got out of the shower every night, she’d be there.

Usually my showers are quick, not wanting to waste any time I could be eating or sleeping but I take my time under the hot spray. It’s not long before I feel the cool breeze enter the hot shower and her arms wrap around my shoulders. The feel of her body pressed against mine makes my body quiver and she giggles knowingly. She’s going to kill me one of these days, I swear to God.

“Hello there, Mr. Timberlake,” she whispers in this incredibly sexy voice that makes me want to take her into the studio and record her saying the things she says to me, so that it can last forever. “Happy to see me, I see.”

“Don’t act so surprise, Ms. Martinez,” I say caressing the side of her face, water dripping slowly down her cheek and down toward her shoulders. “You’ve been doing that for a long time now.”

“Have I?” she says and the look that she gives me, lets me know she’s up to no good. And I love it. “Do I always make you THIS happy?” And she of course follows that with tantalizing slow strokes of my man down there. Why doesn’t this ever get old? I mean, she could do this every single day when we shower, and every touch is still new to me. Shit!

“Now, now,” I say shaking my finger at her like a disappointed teacher. “Remember what happened to you last time you tried to do that, Ms. Martinez. Do you really want to go there?”

“Go where? Here?” See, now she’s fucking with me as she grabs a hold of my man and squeezes. She knows I won’t be able to stop until she can’t walk herself out of here. She’s playing games and well…needless to say, it’s so on.

-----------------------------------------------
“How could he even get a rise out of that. That’s his sister and this movie is disgusting,” Vanessa is struggling to grab the remote control that I have under my thigh to no avail. I’m trying to swallow the pizza, plain thank you very much, that I have in my mouth as she tries desperately to reach the remote.

“That’s not really his sister, their parents got married, they didn’t even grow up together,” I’m trying to make her see why this is one of my favorite movies and she refuses to see the karma of the story. Kind of like that song I wrote, ya know?

“Oh and your twin brother there, filled you in on that fact as he talked about how he wants to fuck his step sister?” Now she’s being a smartass cause she knows she likes the movie but will not admit it. I don’t care how many times we’ll have to watch it, she’ll have to admit she likes it one of these days. It’s my goal.

“Twin brother? Whatever, we don’t even look alike that much,” I say with a shrug as I lean over to kiss her nose with my greasy, cheesy lips.

“Eww, gross! Stop it!” she’s pushing me away but not hard enough for me not to complete my task. She has a greasy, cheesy nose for a record three seconds before she wipes it of with the t-shirt I’m wearing. “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Ryan?”

“Have you?” I don’t know how many modeling jobs you’re going to get with such a greasy nose,” I chuckle at my own silliness and she smacks the back of my head. “I’m trying to eat here, Miss.”

“Are you going to eat that whole pie, Sir? Or should I say, pig?”

“Are you jealous that I can eat ALL of this pie and still look like this and you can’t?”

“Are we going to be able to watch this movie without the surround sound of your sloppy eating habits?”

“Are you going to admit that you love this sloppy eating habits of mine in other occurrences in this room?”

“Are you going to continue being vulgar about our sex life?” We’ve been playing this game for a while now. We like to call it ‘Are you?’ which is ironic because neither one of us likes to be questioned about anything.

“Are you going to tell me about your meeting today and what that is?” I got her with that one. I’ve been staring at that envelope on my dresser since I sat on my bed to watch this movie. I don’t know what it is but it’s not addressed to me and I know it’s there because she wants me to ask. It’s a prop of sorts and it has served its purpose because I’ve been eating, watching a bit of the movie, and back to staring at the envelope. I’m kind of a sucker for this stupid game. I’m also always losing even though I’ve been trained by professionals with very high regard on how to dodge intrusive questions. Vanessa is one of those people, if I may add.

“My father’s lawyer gave it to me today,” she says and sits up to look at it in the same manner that I am. It’s a simple white envelope, addressed to Nessa, and it’s the biggest elephant in the room.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” she says looking at me with raised brows in question. I don’t know why she’s looking at me that way but it’s unnerving and I can’t eat any more. I think the five slices have settled in my stomach, I’m full.

“You haven’t opened it?” I ask lifting the large pizza box from in front of me and placing it on the floor. Brennen and Buckley jump up at the chance to grab it. “I don’t think so,” they both stop in their tracks and sit, looking at me with pitiful faces. “Why haven’t you opened it?”

“I don’t know,” she says getting up from the bed and walking around to where the pizza box was surely leaking grease onto the carpet. I watch a she picks up the box and the plastic bag I had under it to protect the bed and places it on the dressing table by the closet. “I don’t know if I really want to open it, just yet.”

“Is it from your dad?” I know it’s a stupid question but I have to cover my bases here. I know these emotions concerning her father are lingering inside of her and like I said, I feel the need to make her better. I just do.

“Yes,” she says and she grabs the envelope from the dresser on her way back into bed. I can’t read her right now and it bothers me a little. Maybe I should have ignore the gigantic elephant in the room and continued to watch the movie instead. But it’s me here, I have to say something. “What do you think?”

“If you’re asking me if you should open it, I will have to say yes. You know how I am with secrets and the unknown. I would open it BUT this is yours, not mine. Your decision, Vanessa.”

“Did you know that my father owns about forty percent of RCA Latin Records? How did I not know that? How did I managed to miss such an important aspect of my father’s career?”

“Don’t do that, stop beating yourself up. I’m sure you missed that small detail of your father’s life while, I don’t know, you were building up YOUR own career. But that‘s just my guess,” I say as we both lay in bed, looking into each other’s eyes, the envelope is now laying between us, like some type of shield. I can’t help but feel as though whatever was in that envelope will help us both. Again, the unknown is a scary thing. “Live your life, V.”

“I‘m trying,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and suddenly I want to rip that envelope to shreds. “Barker got the house in London, she’s really happy about it. She loves that house, she always has. Maybe she’ll invite us for a weekend soon, after she demolishes my mother‘s décor in it, I‘m sure.” She’s unconsciously playing with the pillowcase on my pillow, something she does when she’s deep in thought, and she looks sad. “Brian couldn’t be in on the conference call today, though.”

“Why not?”

“He’s having another baby, well sister-in-law from hell is. They just found out a few days ago,” she smiles and this time the sparkle in her eyes appear momentarily, but just as fast, it‘s gone. Talk about an emotional rollercoaster. I’m right on the front cart with her though, I feel her.

“That’s pretty cool,” I say and smile. “How’s your mother doing?”

“She bought a handbag last week,” she says with another smile that reaches her eyes, just for a moment. “She must be doing better.”

“Did the lawyer give you a clue as to what’s in it?” She’s still playing with the pillowcase and she’s staring at the envelope as if it will jump out and bite her at any moment. Quite honestly, I want to rip it open and I’m seething at the mouth to hear her ask me.

“No,” she picks up the envelope and I can literally see the goose bumps that coat her arm as she moves it closer between our faces. “Open it for me?”

“Are you sure?” I don’t know why the fuck I’m asking cause if she would say no, that she wasn’t sure, I’d be seriously disappointed. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a fucking knowing people’s business. Unbelievable.

“It’s either now or never because I don’t know when I’ll have the courage to again.”

“Okay,” I’m trying not to rip into it like a fucking maniac and give off my anxiousness but I also don’t want to take my time opening it and having her change her mind. There’s a hand written letter inside and I know I said I was curious but just the feeling of the fancy stationary in my hand, makes this too personal. I feel unworthy of touching it and I hand it to her in hopes that she will grab it away from me. I really shouldn’t have touched that, I think I may have broken some precious gift. Fuck!! “It’s a letter from your dad.”

“Read it to me,” WHAT!! I don’t know if I can do that, Lady!! You asked me to open it, I did! I can’t read it to you!! No way!! I feel like I’ve just been caught in this man’s daughter’s room with my pants down. I shouldn’t have opened that.

“Vanessa I don’t…”

“Justin, please. I can’t even stop my hands from shaking long enough to even hold it,” for the first time I notice the position that she’s in. she’s hugging her knees o her chest and her hands are shaking. God! What did I get myself into? “Please?”

“Oh man…you’re killing me here,” I know I said I wanted to help her and make her better in regards to her feelings toward her father but shit, this is crazy! What if I read this letter to her and it makes her worse? What if the pretty stationary is just a cover up for him being mean to her? A rock and a hard place, like I’ve said before. Damn it!

“Please.” I can hear the fear of the unknown in her voice and I know that I have to do this for her. I have to be there for her like I’ve been promising to be. I have to do this.

“Vanessa,” she looks at me with wide eyes and I want nothing more than to hug her close to me and tell her that it was a blank page. Tell her that it’s nothing but we both know there are words on that piece of paper. “Whatever is in those words, whatever your father wanted you to know, whether it is or isn’t what you wanted them to be. Please remember that you have friends and family that love you. You have me and I LOVE YOU.”

“I love you too, Justin.”

Hearing those words just never gets old, ya know? Never.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she says in a soft voice that’s barely audible. She’s basically talking to herself, and that’s okay.

“My Nessa,” I already feel like a scumbag, just reading those two little words. I’m so invading her privacy it’s not even funny. “I struggled for months thinking of ways to somehow get this to you without actually having to cause pain in anyone’s hearts, but this is the way things must be. Your mother is refusing to be in the same room with me as I write this because she says it’s too final. You know how dramatic your mother can be, but shhh…don‘t tell her I said that. She‘ll have my head on a stick.“

For reassuring purposes only, I pause to look at Vanessa. She’s still sitting in the same position, her head now leaning against the headboard of my bed and she has a tiny smile on her face. She must be picturing what I’m reading. I wish I could too.

“That mother of yours is amazing, isn’t she? She’s very open about her feelings and nothing gets held back with her. So unlike me, right? I think sometimes people are so tightly bound to their feelings that its hard to let them out, hard to show the true feelings. I think that’s the only explanation to my ways.”

Call me an idiot if you’d like. But yeah, I pause again because I’m not sure I should be reading any of this is the first place let alone read through it without giving Vanessa a chance of grasping to what he’s trying to convey. Unfortunately, Mr. Martinez is conveying a whole lot of ‘non of my business’ through me at the moment.

“I don’t intend to justify my ways in this letter by any means. I want to tell you about the happiest day of my life because I feel that you need to know this bit of information. On January 31, 1979, I received the most precious gift a man could ever received. A little girl. I remember the first time I set my eyes on you. You wouldn’t stop crying and the doctor assured your mother and I that there was nothing wrong. I felt this pain in my heart so deep that I couldn’t pick you up. The nurses tried, your mother tried and even the doctor couldn’t calm you down. Finally after two hours of your birth, your mother extends you to me. I don’t know why I was so scared to hold you, you were my daughter after all. I had experience with your brother under my belt but I reached for you, I was a nervous wreck.”

Vanessa has her eyes closed and I wish I could be inside her right now. Feel what she’s feeling, hurt like she’s hurting.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask because seriously, this is becoming way too emotional at the moment. She shakes her head and I take a deep breath to continue riding on this coaster.

“But something happened, you stopped crying. You snuggled against my arm and you were sleep in record time. Everyone in the room looked at me with questioning eyes. I didn’t notice that tears were falling from my eyes until I noticed one of my own tears trickle down your tiny little beautiful face. I know a father becomes a guardian for their child as soon as the child is born perhaps as soon as the child is conceived but I think at that moment, I became your shield. Your protector.”

We’ve just stepped up the emotional ladder here and I know this because I can see a single tear slowly fall from Vanessa’s right eye. Her eyes remain closed, tightly this time and I watch quietly as the second tear falls and third. I have to smile because the tears mean something, tears are usually a sign of hurt, happiness or sadness, a tear means there’s a break somewhere. And at this point, any break is good because I haven’t seen any of it since her father past away.

“I know this may seem odd to you, me expressing my emotions even if it’s on paper but one thing I hope you’ve learned from me is how to read people, even through a piece of paper. I know you are positive that these words I am now expressing to you are real, although I realize it may be too late.”

The words make her go into this quiet sob and I feel like breaking down and crying with her, for her. She makes me feel way too much, way too soon, and it’s the most scared I’ve felt in a very long time.

“I’m hoping that while your read this, you remember all the good times we had. It’s funny, but there’s one particular time that plays over and over in my head. Do you remember that day I brought a goldfish home for you. Do you remember Roger? God, I wish I could see that smile of yours again. For years, I’ve wished I could make you that happy every time I saw you, Nessa. Please be happy again. For your dad?”

Okay, so now I ruined the letter with one of my stupid tears. I know it’s a stupid reason to be tearing up about but I know that this goldfish he’s referring to meant the world to Vanessa. I know that these words are touching her heart because they are touching mine right now, and I didn’t even have a goldfish. Ever. She’s sobbing a little harder now and I know that if I reach over for her, to comfort her, I will never finish doing what she’s asked me to do. I have to try to ignore the pure sadness that echos in the large room from the sincere and painful sobbing. I’m torn.

“On another note, I want to praise you for choosing Aundrea as your friend, your sister. Take care of her the best that you can, Vanessa because you are the sparkle in that girls’ life. You saved her from things you may never know about and she is truly the best friend you could ever want. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but did you know that I became quite a bit jealous about your relationship with her. She was a stranger that became your source of happiness, when I had taken that spot in your life for so long. I was your hero, you’d told me so many times. Aundrea, or Barker as you call her, took my little girl, my joy, my happiness, away from me. But trust me when I say, I’m positively glad she was there for you when I couldn’t be. There’s only so much a father can do. I love her dearly for the person she was, is and will continue to be. She’ took good care of my little girl and I will be forever indebted to her.”

Ohh man, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I mean I can see the end of the letter but it seems like I have a million pages to read. His little girl, my girl is now in a fetus position on my bed and the wet spot on her pillow, grows before my eyes. She’s free.

“I don’t want to bore you with my silly thoughts but before I seal this envelope, I want you to know something. That day you decided to leave everything behind to go after that love that consumed you, my heart was broken. I cried for days, Vanessa. Not because I thought you’d made a mistake, that was for you to learn, to experience. I cried because you didn’t need me anymore, you didn’t need this old man’s affection as much as you needed his. It took some time for this to settle in and for understanding of the situation but I did understand, Vanessa. I had to let you go for a while because in my mind, the hero was always victorious. I never once intended to hurt you, not once. And I apologize if my harsh ways were an indication of that. I simply needed you to need me for my own selfish reasons. I’m sorry, Princess. I really am.

But you’ve managed to pull one on me after that time in our lives, didn’t you? You’ve become one of the most successful women in your choice of career and you have succeeded in being not only my pride and joy, you’ve become MY HERO.”

I can’t even describe the sound that comes out of her body at the words of her father. The emotion is such a large scale that I can’t contain myself. I reach for her and before I can even pull her toward me, she’s nearly inside my chest. There’s only a few more lines on the letter and I want to finish it but I get choked up myself as I read.

“Vanessa, I know I may have never said this to you and realize that now I am too late and I‘m deeply sorry for keeping these feelings to myself and showing you the complete opposite. I was unjust and down right wrong and it will be my biggest regret in life and in death.

I am one hundred and twenty percent proud of you. Always have and forever will. Please remember that. Love, Dad.”

And the only thing I can do is sooth her as she cries for the fourth time in her life. I can’t stop her and I don’t intend to. She needs this. Thank you, Mr. Martinez, for setting your little girl free.