Chapter Two: The secret’s out, the devil really does wear Prada!
One Hour Later
I just spent an hour of my life in a conference room full of people I could give a shit about. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I was excluded from the meeting, even though I was mandated to be there. I had to sit there while...while she… I don’t even know what to call it. What do you call a meeting where only one person speaks and the rest of the room stares in shock? Or a meeting in which everyone’s dirty laundry is put on the table?
Having to listen to the ‘alcohol is not your friend’ speech wouldn’t have been that bad”I’ve heard it at least three times a year since I was fourteen”if the person hadn’t blown that poor girls’ spot. I personally didn’t need to know that she had an underage-drinking problem, and would end up in rehab if she didn’t clean up her act. Leave that shit for the tabloids, I say. It didn’t stop this Vanessa person, that’s the bitch’s name, Vanessa Martinez, from telling her that her stupidity and ignorance would come to an end. She called her stupid in a room full of her so-called peers, for god sakes.
I almost lifted my head to look at Nick when bar fights and domestic violence involving girlfriends was mentioned. That of course doesn’t mean I didn’t imagine the cringe on his face. What the fuck is he doing here anyway? I thought he’d crawled under a rock like the rest of the other dicks in the back streets of fucking hell. Where the fuck have I been? Oh that’s right, I was forced to sit in a meeting about other people’s business.
This wasn’t a meeting; it was a massacre of some kind. I’m not too sharp on company policies or any of that mumbo jumbo bullshit, but it had to be illegal. Isn’t there something called client confidentiality or some shit like that? I want to ask Trace”he knows all the legal crap that I don’t bother myself with”but I’m too tired to even speak today and while part of me wanted to be at this meeting”the part where I have to play nice with people who do things for me”my brain said otherwise. I didn’t move from the chair I was in, not because I was tired but because Vanessa Martinez apparently claimed it as hers. I didn’t see her goddamn name on it. Technically it was Johnny’s chair, not hers!
I’m irate and I completely understand why everyone backs off from me as I walk, no wait, stomp towards the elevator. They all seem to know better, because right now I’m on a rampage and they know to keep their distance. And I pity the fucking fool who does get in my way. I can’t believe Trace is keeping up with me considering his legs are significantly shorter than mine. That almost makes me smile, almost. But at this particular moment, I don’t even want to be near him and that says a lot cause he’s my best friend. The only person I am interested in speaking with better be in his fucking office.
I can’t believe what my goddamn ears have heard this week and the funny thing about that, is that it’s only Monday. I’ve heard so much shit from everyone that I’m about ready to fly myself to the studio and not come out for another year. I don’t want to hear any of the bullshit that is being thrown my way at all. I wanted a break! Why can’t they understand that? I worked ten years straight, and the minute I want to do nothing all day, it becomes a problem. Screw that shit! And it’s not like I’ve been sitting on my ass lately, either. I’ve been in Miami with Timbaland for the better part of a month working hard as fuck on the new record and I don’t need to be interrupted while I’m in creative mode. Johnny knows that. Melinda knows that. And Trace especially knows that so I figured when he forced me to come here for this bullshit meeting that it was something very important. Instead, I come to this bullshit? Fuck this, man. Johnny was number one on my shit list right now. This is crazy. When I do decide that I want to record again, I am called in here to have this bitch in my face! Hell no! Who the fuck does she think she is? Who the fuck is she, period?
I’m tired; I had a bad night last night”well not bad, just a late one. My girl is away filming and it seems like my boys sense the moment she’s away from me or something. An hour after Cam left to the airport, Marty was at my doorstep, followed by Danja and the night became a blur.
This is not the way I wanted to start my newest week of recording. My day should have begun around eleven with a nice piece of ass (for the sake of saving my ass, I’ll say that ass should belong to my girl) lying next to me, then a nice long hot shower, a big ass brunch followed by an evening of recording. Instead, my best friend yanks me out of my empty bed, at seven thirty nonetheless, throws me in the shower, and forces me to come to this god forsaken meeting that apparently HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!
Other than the time this Martinez chick told me she was my new shadow and that I was in her chair, she ignored my presence. I could give a flying fuck what she was talking about, really. I was trying to take a nap and she annoyed me to death. I spent the hour looking down at her scuffed Prada shoes, and I wouldn’t know that except Cameron has the same pair, as she stood to the right of my chair. I’m a show freak and anyone who walks around with scuffed seven hundred dollar shoes really irks me. Fuck it, she just really irked me. When this meeting was over, Johnny and I were going to have a few words. And the word fuck would be introduced into the conversation repeatedly I could feel it coming. My head was down on the table the entire time, which clearly sent her over the edge. So far off the edge that it made her spill everyone’s laundry for all to hear. I could have gotten up and walked out of the meeting before it had even begun, I mean I’m Justin Timberlake for god sakes! I do as I please but somehow the thought of aggravating the new person made me stay. And many will agree with me when I say that I can be an asshole, so I stayed, in my chair. She needed to get off that high horse she’s riding with her flashy, fucked-up shoes.
It was getting way past my tolerance level when that fucking meeting finally ended. No one in that room wanted to hear any more of her bullshit. Although the two men to my right seemed to be more interested in her shimmying ass more than what she said. Yeah I watched her too but fuck, what can I say? I’m a man after all. She went on and on about how things were and how they were going to change. She ended her lecture telling everyone that all of these new things would be done without any “whining” to Johnny. That wasn’t just offensive to the people in the room”no one likes to be called a whiner. But when she said it she looked directly at my recently lifted head, she’d really fucked up with me, then. I don’t fucking whine. I simply state what is on my mind and what I want to be done and as WEG’s biggest selling artist, it better be carried out just as I have outlined or all hell would break loose. As you will soon see.
I stood by the elevator doors with a crowd of people around me who quickly stepped back after one glare from me. They certainly knew that look meant that they shouldn’t even think about riding the same elevator car I was. And they didn’t even know me. Damned if I’d be scrunched up with a bunch of assholes that sold fifty thousand units if they were lucky. Danity Kane? Please, I could knock them offstage without even trying and all I’d have to do is stand there. And Nick Carter? Enough said. Does the word flop mean anything to him?
I didn’t even know who the rest of those people were except that Jojo girl who cringed back from me the furthest. Pity. She was probably the only one I would’ve been nice to after the shit job she just received. Normally I would’ve pulled her aside and tried to talk to her for a minute, reassure her that this Vanessa chick was bugging and there’s nothing wrong with having a drink or two. I would’ve told her that Vanessa works for us, we don’t work for her; and not to trip over her little ego driven meeting. But I was too pissed off to be nice and I probably would’ve only scared her more, with my hoodie pulled down to where I could barely see and a the permanent scowl that was etched upon my face.
Finally, the elevator arrived and Trace and I got on but not before I glared at Nick Carter when he had the nerve to try to jump in with us. Like I said, tried.
Trace punched in Johnny’s floor and my anticipation raised a notch. I had quite a few things to say. The doors to the elevator were halfway closed when a hand stopped the doors from closing. The fingernails had that white tip bullshit that Britney used to get and a large diamond ring sits perfectly on the ring finger. I’m not an expert on diamonds, but I can tell it’s not a fake. The owner of the perfectly manicured hands boldly steps onto the elevator without a word and turns her back to us. I’m curious as to how she can afford a hundred thousand dollars ring if she just started her job. I know for a fact that Johnny is well off with WEG but employees around here splurge on things like Mercedes and BMW’s at the most. Diamond rings the size of fucking Texas isn’t in the budget. Now I’m even more curious as to where she got it. This girl was making me increasingly curious and it’s annoying.
I look over at Trace and he gives me the ‘look’, you know the one that says for me to ‘chill and let it go’. I don’t want to hear that shit right now, though. I’m about to tell her to get off my fucking elevator but the doors close and it’s too late.
It’s only eight floors up to our destination, which apparently is also hers. I look at Trace once again before I speak and I catch him admiring our elevator intruder’s ass. Fucking traitor. Any other time I wouldn’t blame him for doing it, but not today. Today I’m abnormally irritated. Today her fine ass and long ass legs that could wrap quite nicely around my waist could vanish and I wouldn’t give a damn.
When I’m done with my thoughts on Trace, it’s too late once again. The doors open up to Johnny’s floor. She steps off the elevator and starts to walk slowly toward the glass doors to Johnny’s reception area. Like I said before, I’m a man and looking at her ass as she walked couldn’t have been helped. Especially the way she switched it with every step she took. Homegirl was a freak underneath her cool exterior”I could spot them every time. Too bad she was rubbing me the wrong way because I could have definitely rubbed her the right way, that is, if I didn’t despise her. But I do, so things were definitely not going anywhere except into Johnny’s office to have her fired or removed the fuck away from me and my career.
“I’m going to go see Melinda,” Trace says before starting to walk down a long corridor leading to the assistants’ offices.
He’s a great assistant, really, but right now, I don’t need one. Knowing someone since birth helps a lot when you don’t feel like talking. Clearly, that’s not the case today and he knows it. Which is why he’s making a clean break from what’s about to go down. I notice that Cruela Deville is standing by the glass doors, apparently waiting for me. Who the hell asked her to do that?
“Good,” I’m speaking to him but I can’t take my glaring eyes off the woman in front of us.
“I’m going to talk to her about some scheduled studio times that weren’t right on the calendar,” he says and I look toward his direction only to find him staring at her as well, only he has lust written on his face while mine screams, BITCH!
“Whatever,” I shrug and I realize it’s a bad habit but I don’t care.
While I’m trying to handle this shadow business, I’m glad he’s doing his job. None of my shit gets to him enough for him to fail at his job. Trace knows me. He knows what I want and does it without question. What’s been bugging me a bit is that he’s been working more over at William Rast, while we’ve both been taking time to train Rachael to become my new assistant. Rachael’s great. I love her. She’s my cousin and I’ll do anything for family”or Trace, but she just doesn’t ‘get’ me in the way Trace does without even saying a word. Just like Johnny and Melinda know me. These are people I’ve worked with for the better part of a decade and things were going just right as far as I was concerned. What I didn’t need was a know-it-all-bitch with a chip on her shoulder the size of a fucking log. Hell to the fucking naw, to quote Whitney Houston.
Unfortunately with Rachael, I constantly have to correct her or change what she’s working on and do so in a nice voice. Sometimes I just want my damn water, room temperature like I ALWAYS drink it without having to remind her for the seventy-fifth time. Hell, I can roar at Trace and he doesn’t give a fuck, just gives that shit right back. But Rachael’s not like that; I have to be nice and patient with her and her mistakes. Fuck. My whole life was going to shit.
As I take the few steps, it takes to reach the glass doors I notice that she rolls her eyes at Trace’s retreating form and I’m pissed. What did he do to her? This bitch had better know who she’s messing with here.
“Problem?” I can’t help but ask. I’m trying to ignore her but the venom that she spews out of her eyes makes me want to rip them out.
“Do you always speak to people who worship the ground you walk in that way, Mr. Timberlake?” she speaks with a calm voice and I have to give her credit for that. I mean I don’t know this bitch from a can of paint but I can tell she’s just as irate as I am.
“He doesn’t worship the ground I walk in, first of all. And second, no I don’t, only the people who stand in my way,” I get a sudden jolt through my body when I touch her upper arm and shove her to the side to open the door. I’m ignoring the prickly sensation that goes through my body at the contact and walk past her into the office. I barely had to push her to the side; I was raised better than that. And while she may be a complete bitch, canceling out the morals, I didn’t use force when I did it. Despite my animosity towards her, I felt a frisson of sexual tension for the few seconds we touched which pissed me off. Shit just kept getting better and better. No way was I fucking around with this bitch, no matter how hot she was. And I can admit she was hot, even though I can’t stand her. But just because a girl is hot doesn’t mean you gotta fuck around with her. I learned that lesson a long time ago, the hard way. She was a perfect example of why sometimes it’s just better to be horny than to get caught up in some shit with a crazy ass bitch.
I stalk past the secretary I made the mistake of screwing a couple of months back when Cam was on location. She now knew better than to say a word to me about interrupting Mr. Wright. I’m glad she’s finally caught on to the one night is ONE night. She was a lousy fuck and a nag; I had to avoid coming here for months. So she better have not come at me with some bullshit about interrupting her boss. Fuck that shit. He better have fucking time for me. I opened the door to his office with the palm of my hand, letting it slam back against the wall loudly.
Johnny didn’t even flinch, lounging back in his chair with a cigar like he was waiting for me. Which I knew his ass was. He knew I wasn’t going to sit back and let this bitch try to run my career. Despite my shitty mood, I had to smile at the sight. He knew me too well, I was becoming predictable, but it was amusing to watch.
“Justin! What the fuck has your panties in a bunch today?” he asked pleasantly, as if he didn’t already know. Asshole. Sneaky asshole, actually.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked in the same tone as I sat down on his leather chair and put my fresh pair of Jordan’s on the edge of his mahogany desk. Screw propriety, this man owed me an explanation and I was getting it. Whether he liked it or not. “Who the fuck is Vanessa Martinez and why the fuck does she think that she’s gong to be my new ‘shadow’, as she put it?”
He sighed and swung his feet down from his side of the desk. I don’t know what that sigh was for, he knew what was coming as soon as the meeting was over, if I had even made it to the damn waste of time. I could be lying in bed with… I want to think about Cameron but all I could imagine was Cruela’s long legs wrapped around me and my hand cupped around her...shit. Who the hell am I trying to kid? Right now, I want to be either in bed having some banging sex or in the studio.
“Vanessa explained everything in the meeting, Justin. She’s taking charge of the Public Relations Department. I can’t do it anymore if I want to cultivate new clients. While we could all live comfortably with what you bring to this firm, you’d have to work three hundred and sixty-five days a year to keep us all up to our current standard of living. You wouldn’t want to mess with that, now would you? I didn’t think so. As far as this shadow business you’re talking about, Trace is moving over to William Rast”against my better advisement, if you remember”and with Rachael’s inexperience, you’ll be left out to dry. I’m not going to be available as much as I was when your first album came out and you need some tuning up,” he’s pissing me off. “She’s already talking to Rolling Stone about a cover and she already has two major appearances scheduled, and you haven’t even finished recording; the girl knows what she’s doing. I know she comes across as a little hard to deal with, but do you think I’d put your career in the hands of someone who didn’t know what they were doing? Trust me on this, Justin. V knows her stuff and she’s going to get you all the publicity you need and then some.”
“And what the fuck does ‘tuning up’ mean? Tuning up? I wasn’t aware I was a fucking machine.” I usually restrain myself from cursing so much around Johnny but I’m making an exception this time. A huge one.
“With the new album in progress you’ll need professionals behind you and,” I put my feet down and stand over Johnny, my face contorted. “Rachael’s doing as well as can be expected in such a little amount of time, Johnny. You know that,” I told him. “What the fuck do you want from her? Look, man, given the proper time and guidance, she’ll work out just fine. You know I don’t like new people around me knowing my business. Things are staying exactly as they are and I don’t want to hear another fucking word from Vanessa or you about it.”
“Don’t count your chicken’s just yet, Justin,” he says to my back as I go toward his door. I’m thinking I’m done and what I said is law, but then he says. “I didn’t say Rachael wouldn’t be your assistant. I’m saying Vanessa will take care of your image and publicity from head to toe. And there’s not a thing you can do to change that. Don’t give me any shit about it again. Do I make myself clear, JUSTIN?!” I turn toward him at his words and I could kick his ass but I can’t disrespect this man. He’s like a fucking third father to me!
“Fucking crystal! But don’t think for one second that I’m going along with this. If she’s so fucking great at her job, let me see it. Until I see some results, I’m not fucking around with some bitch in a pair of jacked up shoes”I yell as I storm out of his office. I don’t even notice who is in the reception area. For all I know the bitch was still standing there but I’m pissed and walking a mile a fucking minute toward the elevator. “TRACE!!” I yell out in the hallway while I wait for the elevator that seems to be taking a century to arrive, when in actuality it’s been about five seconds.
“Way to go, J!” I hear Trace’s sarcastic comment as he appears next to me; Melinda is walking toward me shaking her head.
“Hey gorgeous,” I manage to say to her before kissing her cheek. She doesn’t say anything to me but I can tell she thinks I’m being an asshole. My line of vision is directed to the inside of the glass doors where Cruela is talking to Jill, the nag. Cruela looks at me and has the audacity to wink and waive at me while a fucking smile, a fake one, adorns her face. The fucking bitch!
My business completed and my brand new top of the line Escalade waiting, I was done.
Trace opened the entrance door and I strode through, a scowl on my face. My world had just become a pile of shit, thanks to Vanessa Martinez, Queen of Bitchland.
I’m not a fucking toy to be played with and Johnny knows this shit. My new shadow? I don’t need a new god damn shadow! I have Trace doing that as it is with Rachael waiting in the wings. Why would I need a new one?
Who the fuck is this bitch? And what the hell am I going to have to do to get her out of my fucking face?
“You need to chill the hell out,” I hear from Trace as we ride through Santa Monica Boulevard toward the studio. Chill? It’s official, my day was a hot fucking mess.
“Chill out? About what?” I ask and if he mentions this crazy bitch we just met, I’m taking all that shit I said about him being a great assistant, back. I swear to God.
“Everything, just chill out. You have studio time scheduled for the next three months. You don’t have to do anything but that. So retract the fucking claws, chill out,”
he says as he lights a cigarette and opens the window halfway.
“Whatever! You need to put that shit out, I am going to the studio, I can’t be around that shit,” I snap and he shrugs as he puffs on his Newport again.
“Don’t play the damn diva role, Justin. It’s me you’re talking to here not someone who doesn’t know you. This shit doesn’t bother you and the window is down anyway, shut up,” he’s such an asshole. Sometimes I think I’m looking in the mirror when I speak to him, I swear.
“Why the fuck you gotta bring her up? You know I didn’t like that bitch. Are you trying to ruin the rest of my fucking day?” I ask before turning to look at a woman on a convertible at the stoplight.
“And who the hell are you talking about? I didn’t mention anyone,” he says and chuckles. “I’m sensing a bit of lust, Justin. Be careful.”
“What?” I ask looking at him in shock.
“You know what. Don’t play fucking dumb,” he’s chuckling now and I want to reach over and punch him in his face. “Ohh shit….we’ve got trouble,” he says to Eric in the front seat.
“She hot, huh?” Eric says and I’m a skinny white boy so I can’t reach over and bunch him so I put my headphones over my head and my hoodie is placed over my head, once again. Assholes!
“Blazing,” Trace says and I can hear them because I don’t turn my headphones on, sue me, I’m not stupid. I‘m not going to sit here and let them talk shit without me hearing what they say.
My girl is away for two months, I have eight tracks to record that aren’t even written yet, I have two songs to work on with Jc, I’m loosing my best friend as an assistant, he’s being replaced by my cousin who doesn’t fucking know me as well, I’m horny and I have a Prada-shoe-diamond-ring-wearing-psycho-bitch on my ass. I know I said it was official before but I think it’s definitely official now, my life is fucking shitty. Great!
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Tags: interracial wallsex celebrityj enemiesturnedlovers
