Chapter Eight: The baddest in town!
Universal Studios Lot
Rehearsals
She is model.
I knew it. I mean I didn’t literally know but I knew because of the way she walks. The way she sways her hips and the way her legs carry her, effortlessly. And a dead giver was the fact that I hate her. Of course I would hate her, I hate model bitches. Hate them. And just because she can wear those skimpy little numbers she wears doesn’t make her a top model. It only makes her a fucking bitch and a damn tease. Who did she think she was being on that runway half dressed?
And the way she thought that I was in that parking lot to see her, was ridiculous and wishful thinking on her part. My car was there and I needed to pick it up, plain and simple. It just so happened that her car was parked next to mine. A coincidence at it’s worst. I didn’t intentionally ask Trace to drive us all back to the house so that Cameron could get ready to head back to Canada. I didn’t pretend I was tired so that I didn’t have to ride to the airport with Cameron, I really was tired. But I wasn’t going to leave my car in a parking lot across town, fuck that. So what, if I saw her walking to her car at the exact same time. It was pure coincidence.
She may have thought that I was waiting on her but I wasn’t. I wasn’t! Okay well maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to tell her that I wanted to change something on my rider list. Maybe. I was getting ready to leave but then she came out with her hair a it wild from the different shit she had done to it. And she had these stupid, stupid short shorts that well…were short. And I was curious to know why she was leaving so late. That was it.
But then she opened her mouth to be rude yet again and that only makes me be an asshole. So what, that she was a model? So what? I didn’t mean to say that she fucks with my head out loud, it just came out. She acts like she doesn’t give a damn about anything when in reality she does. I mean she got me Runts! I don’t really care if she cares about me but really, who does that? And what’s up with the way she talks about Cameron? She’s never done anything to her. And the way she treated her at the office, what the hell? I’m through with being disrespected by this man-eater.
And what’s with the way she’s acting lately? She acts likes she’s scared of me or something. She rushes around to get me out of her sight like the fucking bitch that she is. Like at the parking lot for example. She was just dying to get into that flashy car of hers like she thought I was going to rape her or something. I may be an asshole but I wouldn’t hurt her. I mean, like why? When I got close to her and told her she needed to have an orgasm she was all nervous and jittery. I thought she was going to actually hit me or something cause her eyes got all glossy and shit. It kind of threw me off a bit cause I thought she was going to cry or something. Cause I mean it couldn’t be that…no it wasn’t that. She couldn’t have been nervous for other reasons. No way, she fucking hates me as much a I hate her. And I hate her fucking guts. She couldn’t have been nervous because she wanted me to like kiss her or something like that, right? Right.
I honestly couldn’t think of anything that Cameron had that she didn’t at such short notice. Right now I could come up with a list of a hundred things, like ummm, let’s see. Just because I can’t think of anything doesn’t mean there aren’t things. Anyway, even though it was an impromptu type of shit, I know I’m right. She needs to cum so hard that her fucking mother feels it. That’s what she needs. She needs a guy to I don’t know, suck her like she’s never been sucked before. Seriously. Someone that could wrap her long-ass legs around his shoulders and dig the fuck in. I’m pretty sure she would be incredibly delicious and all rough and shit. She would probably grip my hair all hard and curse a lot. I mean not my hair, just generally speaking. Cause I mean I wouldn’t touch her. No way! I’ll probably slice my throat before I even think about touching her like that.
I guess she’s doable and all that but I wouldn’t do her. She’s a bitch! I hate bitches who think their shit is too good for you. And she’s definitely full of herself. I would never put my lips of her shit and suck her so hard, my mother would feel it. Never! And I’m positive of this because I see her walk into the my reserved rehearsal studio and my stomach turn to knots. Or is it butterflies? Whatever! She makes me feel some type of way and at this particular moment I don’t want her here. What is she doing here?
Luckily for her, she hasn’t been around much these past two weeks. I had a million things to do. From creating a set list and putting finishing touches on the new tracks I’ll be performing plus doing a twenty thousand interviews. It’s a little harsh on my brain and body, getting used to all of this again. Although, I am tired and physically drained right now, I do love it. I’ve missed this and I thank God every day for allowing me to be this lucky.
I’m apparently being asked something by Ruben about the track we are about to rehearse but I’m too distracted by this bitch on the other side of the room. She’s talking to Johnny about something and she’s showing him so paper she has in her hands. For a second she looks up, like she felt my eyes of her or something. Just as quickly as she looks up she roils her eyes and continues her conversation with Johnny. I don’t even think Johnny noticed the look she just directed towards me because he’s reading something on the sheet of paper she gave him. He needs to see what I’m talking about every time I tell him what a bitch she is. That’ what he needs to be doing instead of reading whatever she gave him.
I don’t even want to rehearse right now. It’s the first run-through of this fucking song I recorded last week. I’m glad I’m going on this little pre-album tour thing but shit, I can’t concentrate. I fiddle with my ear piece just to buy time and see if she leaves. When I look up to see if she’s done talking to Johnny she’s still standing there. She’s not talking to Johnny anymore though. She’s standing there talking to Tim’s cousin again. When did he get here? I swear the meaning of closed set means absolutely nothing. Tim needs to get in here and take care of his stray fucking cousin. I’m beginning to get in a shitty mood, I‘m actually borderline. She’s all fucking smiles with this chump. And he is a fucking chump, he hangs around Tim for his fucking money. I swear to God, they both better leave! They could leave together too, I don’t care, I don’t. I really fucking don’t.
“You gonna keep us here all night man?” I can hear Ruben talking to me from his spot in front of the keyboard but I don’t look at him.
“You getting paid, right?” Didn’t I say I was in foul mood all of a sudden? I guess my mic is on and everyone in the room, including her, look up at me. I’m not even going to bother looking at her because she’ll just make me angrier. She’ll come over here talking about proper etiquette and treating the people who work for me with respect and all that bullshit. I don’t want to hear that shit right now. Or ever actually. “I’m kidding man!” I say turning toward him with a laugh while Ruben gives me the finger.
“What up, JT?” It’s Tim’s cousin behind me. Do I really have to talk to this mother fucker right now? I return his extended pound and say what’s up. I honestly can’t even remember his fucking name right now, let alone this stupid conversation he wants to have about one of Tim’s tracks.
“I’ll hit you later about that shit,” I say cutting the conversation. “Got rehearsals now,” If he had any common sense he would fucking know that. Maybe he didn’t notice it was a rehearsal because he was pimping it out with Vanessa!
“I hear you have added a new song to the set-list,” She’s approaching me now. Just what I need.
“Is there a problem with that?” I snap at her. She’s such a bitch. And what is she wearing? It’s nine o’clock at fucking night and she’s still in her suit. She needs a fucking life! I hope she doesn’t walk around this fucking tour wearing those little ass skirts.
“Is there a problem with your attitude, Mr. Timberlake?” she asks. She stands next to Dre, that’s his fucking name, and looks at me.
“Not at all,” I say with a fake smile. “I was just talking to Dre here but he’s on his way out. Meeting his GIRL in ten minutes. Right man?”
“I do have to run,” he says with a laugh that it totally meant for her. Is he fucking flirting with her? In front of me? What a fucking homo. “Good try playa!” he says to me with a laugh and says he’ll see her later before walking away. He’ll see her later?! Where? The hell he is!
“You aren’t going anywhere with him,” I say before I even realize I’m saying it out loud. What the hell am I thinking? I don’t give a damn if she leaves with him. It’s none of my business who she fucks. Is she fucking him? I swear to God…
“Excuse me?” She says and gives me a look of disbelief. “What the hell did you just say to me?“
“Nothing,” I say and turn to Ruben to tell him something about the music. I’m honestly too embarrassed to even repeat what the hell I just said. I’m just going to rehearse and forget she’s standing right there. I can’t see her but I know she’s standing there looking all commanding and shit.
“I will not be ignored Mr. Timberlake!” She says and she’s raising her fucking voice in front of all these people like she’s the fucking queen. I run this show! I don’t give a fuck what I said she’s not going to try to belittle me in front of all my god damn employees.
“I really could give a rat’s ass what you will or will not be, Ms. Martinez! I have to rehearse now, so get the fuck out of here!” I know I’m being glared at by Johnny from across the room but I’ve had enough! She’s not going to come in here and shake her fucking ass around here for some money hungry mother fucker! Not on my fucking watch, hell no! Who the fuck does she think she is?
“You are out line, Mr. Timberlake!” She’s gritting her teeth and she’s pissed. “What the hell is your problem, you arrogant son of a bitch?”
“My PROBLEM?” See, now she has me yelling and loosing my cool. Through the corner of my eye I can see everyone is looking at us and I don’t give a damn. I hate this bitch and if someone didn’t already know, well they know now.
“Yes, you problem! What does the prince of pop have crawling up his pretty little BEHIND?” I know she didn’t just go there.
“What’s the problem?” Johnny says when he comes over to us. He’s angry as well and right now I don’t know who he’s mad at. I don’t care either.
“The problem is this, Johnny,” I start to say in a stern voice. “I want her out of my life!”
“Out of your life?” She chuckles in the nastiest possible way, even for her. She must be extremely pissed. “You really think highly of yourself, Mr. Timberlake. Being in your life isn’t a God damn privilege, it’s actually more of a disease.”
“Nessa, that’s enough!” Johnny says and I’m shocked when she actually backs down. I don’t say anything and look at Johnny.
“Do you see what you’ve put me to work with Uncle Johnny? He’s an arrogant son of a bitch that doesn’t know what’s good for him. Even if it bit him in the ass.” She looks at Johnny and then at me before smiling and walking away. What a fucking bitch! I know she wants to continue her rampage and I’ll be happy to oblige. I have a few choice words for her as well, a lot of them actually. But the only thing playing in my head was what she said.
“Uncle Johnny?” I ask Johnny and he looks at me and I swear I’ve never seem him look so, I don’t know, disappointed in me, I guess.
“Grow the up, Justin!” He says before he storms out of the fucking room too. What the fuck did I do? I look around the room and shake my head. Nosy assholes!
“You wanna pick this up later, man?” Ruben asks.
“Nah, it’s cool. Go for it,” I say and because I’m the fucking man around here, the bands starts playing and everyone acts as if nothing ever happened. Nothing did happen. Nothing at all.
I start singing the new track and although I wrote the song, I’m confused. I sing the opening lyrics and I try to zone out. I can tell the band is feeling it and I can almost imagine the crowd in front of me. I close my eyes and try to concentrate on something other than her. I can’t, when I open my eyes, I see that she’s walking into the room with Tim’s cousin and she’s all smiles. Didn’t she just tell me off? Shouldn’t she be venting somewhere? She looks cool as can be in her short skirt and suit jacket, enjoying the hell out of the conversation she’s having with Dre. Nothing phases this woman, I see. Not even me. The nerve! What’s so fucking charming about him? Wasn’t he fucking leaving?
“She looks like a model, except she's got a little more ass,” I sing and I can’t believe my fucking ears. What the hell did I do? What did I write? I can’t bring attention to myself by stopping, and I can’t keep my eyes from drifting over to them either. I’m stuck between a hard dick and fucking rock. Great! “Don't even bother, unless you've got that thing she likes, I hope she's going home with me tonight….”
She actually looks up at me and gives me that bored fucking look she always gives me. I’m not fucking boring! She is! I’m actually fucking ready to whoop someone’s ass. More specifically, Tim’s cousins’ ass . What the hell is wrong with me? Did I really write this shit? Why didn’t I realize I was writing a song about her when I was actually doing it? I swear I’m starting to think that my zoning out at the studio is causing shit like this to happen. Look at how Never Again turned out.
“Those flashing lights come from everywhere, the way they hit her I just stop and stare,” And I do just that. I’m frozen on my damn feet and I’m missing the cues from the band. Hell I’ve missed the entire song, it seems. She’s staring at me like I have two heads and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m out of the room. Rehearsal is over!
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Next Morning
“Stop at the Starbucks on the way,” I say to Rachel, who’s driving me to rehearsals. I’m too tired to even drive right now. My head hurts and I know it’s because of the hard partying I did last night. But I can’t skip out on rehearsals today. Not after yesterday’s rehearsals and Johnny calling me all night. I’m not a complete idiot, I didn’t answer.
Rachel pulls into the parking lot of one of the million Starbucks Coffee on the way and cuts the engine. “Herbal tea, extra sugar, right?”
“Try again,” I say and I don’t know how many times I’ve gone through this. I’m annoyed and she can tell. I don’ t mean to be an asshole but come on! Trace knew what I liked from Starbucks, why couldn’t she just study the damn list? Why couldn’t she have been productive and had already gotten the shit before I even woke up? Trace always did! It’s going to be a long day!
“Sorry,” She says and I feel horrible. I should probably stop taking her out with me as often too. I know what it’s like to have to work on a hangover.
“Lemon, extra honey,” I say to her and I’m not annoyed at her so much. I’m annoyed that Vanessa is right about Rachel. She’s inexperienced for this shit. But I’m not giving the botch the satisfaction. If I have to sit down with Rachel and write shit down for her, I will. Ms. Martinez can kiss my ass. “No sugar, Rach.”
“Got it,” she says before getting out of the car. I’m reading some current album reviews when a convertible parks in the vacant spot next to me. It’s her!
I don’t even know if she sees that I’m in the car but she grabs her purse from the passenger seat and gets out of the car. She’s wearing those stupid jeans again. They aren’t the ones with the blue emblems on the back like before but they were jeans. I hate myself for even remembering the fat that the ones she wore before had blue emblems on the pocket. I’m fucking losing it. When she closes her door she walks past my door and doesn’t look my way.
“It’s rude to stare, Mr. Timberlake,” she says before continuing her walk to the coffee shop’s door. When she open the door, she almost runs into Rachel. I can hear her say good morning to Rachel in that fake ass voice she uses, before entering the shop.
“Good fucking morning to you too!” I say out of my window. I don’t know if she heard me or not but it felt good to say it, so fuck it!
“She’s such a bitch!” Rachel says when she hands me my cup and starts the car. “You should have her fired, J.”
“Why?” I asked and I’m wondering if I said it out loud or just in my head. It’s obvious I did say it out loud because Rachel almost gets whiplash when she looks at me.
“Why? Are you serious right now? Are you still drunk from last night?” She’s asking these questions seriously cause she’s not laughing. “She treats you like shit, Justin! That’s why! She hates my guts. Always talks down to people. She hates me for no apparent reason. She treats you like you’re no one when in reality she wouldn’t have a fucking job if you didn’t exist! She’s a bitch from hell. THAT’S WHY!”
“Whoa! There’s no need for the shouting!” I say holding my head. Fuck! “Why do you think she hates you?! You have to admit that she’s a tiny bit right about your ability to remember shit, Rachel! You constantly forget the smallest little things and I‘m stuck sticking my fucking neck out for you. Am I wrong?”
“WHAT?!” She yells as we pull into the lot’s parking area. “I’m trying here Justin but sometimes your head gets a little big and it’s hard to keep up with you! One day you want herbal fucking tea with extra sugar and the next it’s lemon! Make up your fucking mind! I can’t believe you’re defending her! Are gonna fire me now, because she said so?”
“No one’s defending anyone. I can’t stand the bitch, either! But you have to admit just a little bit that you slack sometimes. That’s all I’m saying! I’m not firing you! You’re my cousin and you come first. Fuck what everyone else says!”
“Whatever, Justin! We’re family and all you seem to think about IS what other people think!” She says before getting out of the car and slamming the door. I know she’s gonna go off all day and fucking cry about it. Well I don’t really have fucking time for this shit!
“Well this is fucking great,” I mumble to myself as I walk toward the door. Why is everyone aggravating me? I knew it was going to be a long day. I just knew it! My cell phone is vibrating in my pocket and I just know it’s Cameron. I haven’t spoken to her in two days and because of all this rehearsal shit I couldn’t come to see her. I know she’s not happy. “Hello?”
“Hey!” She says and although I’m in a foul mood and my day is starting out bad, I smile when I hear her voice.
“Hey,” I say back as I walk inside. The music is blaring inside one of the rooms and I can barely hear her when she’s telling me how much she misses me. Unfortunately I can’t really say the same. I’ve been so busy with this tour planning that I’ve barely have the chance to bathe, let alone miss her. I’m a terrible person. “I will call you when I get home tonight, okay?”
Again I feel incredibly guilty when I tell her that I love her as well and hang up. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Maybe is all the stress about my new album or something. I have a lot of things on my mind and one of them walks in the door that I just walked in from. She places her Chanel sunglasses on her head and walks past me, without a word. Bitch.
“Good morning, Ms. Martinez,” I can’t keep my mouth shut around her and it’s only making things worse in the end.
“You already said good morning, Mr. Timberlake. I believe good fucking morning to me, is what you said,” she doesn’t turn around as she talks to me, instead keeps walking down the long corridor to the rehearsal room. She’s not going to keep walking away from me!
“You’re a fucking fraud,” I say and I’m leaning against the wall with my head resting on it. I can’t see her but I can hear that her shoes aren’t clicking against the hardwood floors. She stopped walking. The shoe sound picks up and I know she’s coming toward me.
“Are we really going there, Mr. Timberlake?” She asks and she’s standing in front of me. I look at her and I can see myself on her shades. It’s funny the shit you notice when you nerves get into gear.
“We aren’t really going anywhere, Ms. Martinez. I’m standing right here,” I say with a shrug. “But by all means if you wish to go there, go right ahead.”
“If anyone’s a fraud around here it’s you! You make people believe you’re hot shit when you aren‘t anything but an arrogant son of a bitch!”
“So I’m the fraud,” I state with a chuckle. “Are you sure it’s not you, Ms. Martinez? You say I make people believe I’m hot shit? This little job that you have is why people think I’m hot shit. If you don’t agree, you shouldn’t make people believe that about me. Isn’t that in your job description? Or didn’t Uncle Johnny explain that to you?”
“Fuck you,” she grits through her teeth when a group of people rehearsing in the other room head down the hall. When they clear out, she looks at me. “I’m not standing out here with you to argue like child that you are. If you want to continue acting like the spoiled little brat you are, go right ahead. I do my job very well, I have very high recommendation from people well above your celebrity, Mr. Timberlake. There’s no use in arguing about it, especially not with you. But try to remember one thing, Mr. Timberlake.”
“The anxiousness is killing me,” I say sarcastically.
“I always and I mean always,” she says in almost a whisper as she stands as close to me as I did in the parking lot two weeks ago. What the fuck is she doing? Is this payback of some sort? “Get things done my way.”
“Is that right?” I ask and everything happens so fast that I can’t get a grasp of what I’m doing, or that it‘s actually me doing it. The coffee cup she had in her hand lands on the floor next to the one I apparently had already dropped and she’s pinned against the wall. My hands are on either side of her head and I’m looking into her eyes. My torso is flushed with hers and my body tightens. She’s so close, I can smell the caramel from whatever she was drinking on her lips and my eyes close for a second as I breath her in. When I open my eyes, her eyes are opened wide and she’s looking at me in shock. But she’s not fighting me which actually makes me press into her more. “Is this your way, Ms. Martinez?”
“What are you doing?” She asks in a whisper and she’s breathing just as hard as I am. I can’t talk and I can’t move my body away from her either. It feels too good. I’m stuck. “Get off me,” she whispers again but her body language is speaking volumes. Her right leg shifts and the movement causes my dick to harden against her even more. She doesn’t want me to move at all, hell I don’t want to. I’m fine where I’m at.
“I hate you for this,” I whisper against her lips before my tongue is down her throat. I don’t know what I’m doing and I honestly could give a damn. This feels too damn good to stop. This feel too damn good to care that I have the Public Relations Director pinned up against the wall of a very public hallway. It feels too good to even think about the fact that she’s kissing me back. And it sure feel too good when that right leg comes up against me and my pulsating dick rubs against the seam of her jeans. I can’t help but grunt and she fucking moans at the contact. I’m seriously about to loose it in every aspect of the word. If she makes an attempt to move her hands from where they are pinned on my chest, I‘m fucking her right here. Fuck the consequences, fuck everything. If she touches any other part of me, I swear I’m going to make a fucking fool of myself, cause she feels too fucking good.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on right now but I do know that my hands grab her ass and squeeze. In a swift move I lift her against the wall and I’m grinding into her. I can’t fucking stop, I hate these fucking jeans! I swear I do! I can feel the heat coming from her through my jeans and I want to die. My mouth is still attached to hers like it’s been since I lost my mind ten seconds ago. Her hands come up to my face and she pulls me closer to her, my God! What is she doing to me? My hat flies off my head and I’m completely and utterly lost, it‘s a wrap for me. And if that wasn’t enough, she moans again. Oh God, I need to get these mother fucking jeans off! There’s a door on the other side of us and I need to get her in there. Now!
My movement to carry her, apparently brings her back to earth. The next thing I know I’m against the wall I was originally leaning on. Where did she get the strength? She’s standing in front of me and she looks absolutely mortified. Well damn! She’s breathing heavy and her white shirt is halfway down her shoulder. Did I do that? Shit! She picks up her purse and sunglasses from the floor and angrily looks at me.
“If you ever put your fucking hands on me again, I swear to God I will kill YOU!!” She says storming down the hallway.
What the fuck just happened? I want to straighten myself up before someone comes out but I can’t. I’m standing there with my hand on my head and a bad case of blue balls. I slid down the wall until I’m sitting with my knees up and pick up my hat. I’m still out of breath and I try to calm my heart down a few million notches. Jesus!
“What the fuck did I just do?” I ask myself, resting my head on the wall and placing the hat over my head.
“The band is waiting for you,” I hear Rachel coming down the hallway. I look up and she’s inspecting the area in which I just nearly fornicated in. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Umm, nothing. I’ll be right in,” I really hope she’s not in one of her nosy moods today because I’m not explaining anything. To anyone. Ever.
“Why are these cups on the floor?” She’s asking me as I stand and adjust my hat on my head.
“I dropped them, I’ll be right in, Rachel,” I say again so that she gets the hint and goes away.
“You’re just a bundle full of joy today, I really should call Aunt Lynn,” She says with a smirk, placing the two cups in my hands. “You know what’s funny?”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes, Rach.” I say and put the two cups in a trash can nearby. “Or your threats.”
“You only had one cup and now you have two,” she says shaking her head. I know where she’s going with this but I really don’t want to hear it. “That’s not the funny part though,”
“I’ll be in there in a minute, Rach,” I say in a stern voice so she can shut the hell up.
“Wait, here comes the funny part. I just saw Vanessa Martinez through the window. And guess what?” She says with a raised brow.
“So she walked by here, big fucking deal, Rachel! What’s your point? I bumped into her and she dropped her coffee. I wasn’t planning your fucking demise with her.” I don’t know why I’m lying, well I do know. It’s because I’ve just basically been caught red handed. By my cousin, at that. “There’s nothing funny about that, is there?”
“Oh well that’s not the funny part either, Justin,” She says with a serious expression on her face that worries me. She’s angry and I can tell she thinks I’m betraying the family blood line or something. “What’s funny is that Vanessa’s shade of lipstick matches the one on your face,” she says before walking away.
I rest my head on the wall and let out a sigh of frustration. Now there are eye witnesses to what I just did. Great! I’m not worried about the girlfriend aspect of my life. She’s not going to find out unless I tell her or god forbid Vanessa does. I trust Rachel and although right now she thinks I’m working with the enemy, she would never stab me in the back. Cameron wouldn’t believe her anyway. Trust me, I know. I don’t just trust anyone to be my assistant and know every aspect of my life. Rachel has my back. I know it.
What I don’t know is where the lead suspect to all this went and I’m hoping it isn’t anywhere near the rehearsal room. Before I enter the room I make sure to stop by a set of glass doors and wipe my face in the reflection. I’m relieved when I walk in and she’s not around. I distract myself from the state of euphoria that I’m in from kissing her, long enough to interact with my band. It’s a hard thing to do when your dick is throbbing and wants nothing more than to snuggle into a hot wet…
“Ms. Bomar, may I see you for a few minutes?” She’s at the door and she has a clipboard in her hand. She doesn’t look at me, at all. She looks put back together like she did when she walked in the entrance ten minutes ago. Fucking flawless!
“Sure,” Rachel says before looking at me before rolling her eyes. She’s pissed!
Vanessa turns and leaves out the same door she just came in without another word to anyone. The least she could have done was glance my way. I mean I don’t care that she didn’t but still. She’s acting like nothing happened out there. And shit, I wish I could do that too! If I have to get hard every time I fucking look at her then she needs to feel some type of way too! Fuck that! She was the one all up on me like a fucking leech, so she better act like she knows. Okay, so maybe she didn’t have a choice since everything happened so fast but still. She could have pushed me away like she did at the end. She could have stopped me if she wanted cause no matter how much I wanted it, I would have backed down. I would have.
What the fuck am I talking about? I can’t stand this woman and now I’m thinking all this shit? She’s nothing but a stuck up little bitch who thinks she owns planet earth. She treats Rachel like shit. She has Johnny wrapped around her finger. She talks to me like I’m some type of mold growing on her kitchen counter. And she’s fucking ugly! Who the fuck am I trying to kid? She’s as far from ugly as I am from being in a rock band. I’m completely and utterly sure that I have lost my fucking mind!
Rachel comes in the room about an hour later and if she looked pissed before she left, now she’s right on the edge. She picks up her purse and asks if I need anything when the band and I finish up a song.
“No I’m alright,” I say before chugging down half a bottle of water. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” She says as she checks her Blackberry for messages. “I have to run to the dry cleaners to get that suit you told me about. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
“I’m good. You’re not going to tell me what she said to you?” I ask sitting on one of the chairs in the room. “I can’t stick up for you if I don’t know what’s going on. What do you think?”
“You know what? I’m not so sure you want to know what that meeting was about so that you could stick up for me. I think you just want to know what she said. Period. So that you can carry on with this little disgusting battle of the sexes you two have going. That’s what I think.”
“What are you talking about? She’s nobody,” I say with a shrug and I believe what I’m saying. She isn’t anyone. That is until she walks in the room with the damn clipboard in her hand and walks in our direction. She’s somebody alright. Some body, that is.
“Here we go,” Rachel mumbles and shakes her head.
“I have the final rider list for you, Mr. Timberlake. If you would sign on the highlighted area here I can make it happen,” She’s looking at me and talking to me but that’s it. No expression. No emotion. Nothing. I snatch the clipboard from her hand and she doesn’t even flinch. “Very mature, Mr. Timberlake.”
“Thanks,” I say back and hand her the signed sheet of paper attached to the clipboard.
“I’ve taken the liberty to make all of your hotel reservations during the tour, that of course being that Ms. Bomar forgot to make them,” she says looking at Rachel then at me. “Nonetheless, will there be possibilities of any groupies joining you on this tour?”
“What?” I ask and find that Rachel is echoing my words. She’s just as shocked. Did she just ask me if I’m going to have groupies?
“WILL YOU BE TAKING GROUPIES INTO YOUR HOTEL ROOM, MR. TIMBERLAKE?” She’s pronouncing every single word like we’re retarded or something and I want to slam her against the wall. Wait! I already did that!
“What kind of fucking question is that?” I say trying to keep my voice to calm and patient notch.
“I don’t even want to know. I’ll be back in an hour, Justin.” Rachel says leaving me in this little corner with this witch. Good job, cousin!
“Groupies? Are you joking, right now?” I ask looking up at her as she stands with the clipboard in her hand and pen on the other.
“I’m not laughing,” she says. “I have to make sure your security is covered when you go in and out of those hotels, Mr. Timberlake. So if you have guests, I would appreciate if you’d let me know. I’m assuming Ms. Diaz will be making an appearance as well. I don’t need to remind you that the equipment the paparazzi has belong to them, correct? No more assaulting camera men from either of you?”
“Is this conversation leading anywhere because frankly I’m sick of hearing you talk.” I’m over this bitch! I really am!
“I’m sick of a lot of things as well, Mr. Timberlake. I don’t advertise them as well as you, but I’m sick of it.” She says smirking at me like she always does, as though she’s laughing at me and mocking me. Nothing drives me up the wall farther than that little smirk she gives me. I want to kill her!
“Sick of what, Ms. Martinez? Your own voice? Isn’t it a drag?” She wants to mock me, well how you like me now bitches?!
“Oh no, I’m sick and when I’m done being sick, I’m tired. I’m sick and tired of your immature and unprofessional ways, and quiet frankly, all of your shit.” She says with a smile and manages to look so fucking mean when she says it. She reminds me of those obsessive fans who get angry because you don’t want to take more than one picture with them. Scary bitch! “Now that it’s out of the way. All the shit, that is. I spoke with the designer of the suits you’ll be wearing and he will be here tomorrow to take your measurements one last time.”
“For what?” I ask and I really could give a damn but now that I have her acting unprofessional, I want to keep it up. This front she puts up need to come down as fast as those little skirts she wears. Or up, whichever way you look at it.
“It’s a precautionary process. You may have gained a few beer related pounds that you aren’t aware of and the suits might have to be readjusted.”
“Are you calling me fat?” I ask before I actually chuckle. Is she serious? I’m not fat by any means, maybe my dick. At least my waist isn’t nonexistent like hers. Well that’s a fucking lie, she has lots of curves. Nice ones too for what I’ve seen and touched. Enough of that though.
“No, I’m calling back gossip magazines that have pictures of you drinking it up last night. That’s who I’m calling, to yet again do MY job.” She says and flips through the sheets of paper on her clipboard.
“You seriously need to get over yourself,” I’ve never had a problem biting my tongue and avoiding confrontation but I can’t help it with her. She winds me up to the extreme and I can’t stop my vocal chords.
“I spoke with Mr. Wright and he informed me that the first tour date is being changed to the House of Blues in Anaheim instead of the Hollywood one. A date was added, which you know about, in Boston not New York. Everything is finalized and ready to go.”
“So you’re ignoring me?” I ask and she looks bored. She must have taken really good acting lessons because the expression on her face is faultless.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Timberlake I wasn’t aware that you were speaking anything that would be of interest to me.” She says and looks down at me. She reapplied her lipstick I notice and I can’t help but smile and shake my head.
“You’re something else,” I say with a chuckle.
“I also wasn’t aware that I was a comedian, Mr. Timberlake. If you have no further questions, I will see you on opening night.” She starts to walk away and I hate when she does that. Why can’t she ever finish a conversation with me? She always walks away!
“Cameron will probably be there,” I say and I don’t even know why I would go there. But if I’ve learned a few things about Ms. Martinez is that she has a high distaste for my girlfriend. I can’t believe I’m using the woman I love as bait right now but it’s said and done and I can’t take it back.
“Good for you, Mr. Timberlake,” she looks over her shoulder when she says it, and keeps walking. She doesn’t look any more vicious than she has during this conversation and it pisses me off. She’s giving up? No more being a bitch? Just like that? Or at least bitchier, I should say. Because fact of the matter is, she’s always been a bitch.
I have two more hours of rehearsals and I’m not going to be productive if she’s around, I know this for a fact. I know that I shouldn’t care that she’s acting as though her tongue wasn’t down my throat half an hour ago, but fuck it I do. I don’t care that I have a very publicized girlfriend, whom I do love. I don’t care. Maybe I’ll care tomorrow but I do know I don’t care today. I will get this bitch out of my system. Even if it kills me.
Two Hours Later
Nonchalantly I look for her for about five minutes before I find her across the hallway in a large conference room. She’s working on a bunch of paperwork on the table and she looks up at me when I enter the room. This is dangerous. I shouldn’t be behind closed doors with this woman. I should move my hand from the door knob that I’m locking and get out. But I’m not. I’m walking toward her and she has that look on her face. That face of pure mortification and I don’t feel one ounce of guilt because behind that look I can see that she’s not mortified at all, she’s actually anxious.
“Did you forget to add something to your list, Mr. Timberlake.” She tries to look as though my presence in a locked conference room doesn’t bother her. She crosses her legs and swivels the chair so that when I stop my trek toward her, I’m standing directly in front of her.
“You know I’m not here about a fucking list,” She raises her eyebrow at me in question and keeps her emotions in check. “You know why I’m here.”
“If I knew why you were here, I wouldn’t have asked, Mr. Timberlake. What is it that you want?” She asks and crosses her legs in the other direction. Is she nervous? I have to give her credit for being so laidback and not letting this situation falter her demeanor.
“You know what the hell I want,” I say before placing my hand under her crossed knee and moving her leg so that they are both flat on the chair. Suddenly, I’m on my knees in front of her and my hands goes to her inner thigh. She took her jacket off and she’s wearing one of those little tank tops thingies Britney used to wear. I can see her tight stomach muscles contract when my hands move up to the inseam of her jeans. I haven’t spread her legs but they are spread wide enough for my hands to get in there.
“It’s not happening, Mr. Timberlake,” She says looking down at me. I want to strap a piece of duct tape on her mouth. She needs to shut the fuck up. She’s ruining how much I’m enjoying having my face so close to her. I want to taste her so bad, I actually could give a damn what she’s talking about.
“Shut up,” I say before my hands go to her fly and unbutton her jeans. This is happening whether she says so or not. She hasn’t made an attempt stop me, which means she’s letting it happen. Her right arms is resting on the conference table and her left on the chairs large armrest. She wants this as bad as I do. I know she does.
“Fuck you,” she says when my hands squeeze behind her and start pulling down on the back of her jeans.
“Oh, I will,” I say and I don’t even have to tug on the waist of her jeans much before she lifts her ass off the chair for me to slid the jeans down. I want to fucking whimper when I notice that she’s not wearing any underwear, she’s gorgeous. I look up at her and she gives me that stupid raised brow. She’s going to kill me. My dick is harder than it has ever been in my entire life. I’m losing control. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
“I’m not doing anything, Mr. Timberlake. You seem to be the one doing something,” she says to me and I’m annoyed that she still looks bored. How the fuck can she still be bored? She’s sitting on a leather conference room chair, her jeans are at her knees and Justin Timberlake has his hands on her inner thighs. Bored isn’t what I’m looking for.
“I’m doing something alright,” I say before slowly spreading her legs as far as the jeans on her ankles allow. It’s a good spread, I can say that. She’s completely open to me and I do let out that whimper I’ve been holding back when I see the tiny ring. She’s fucking pierced! “Jesus Christ!”
“Vanessa, actually,” she says and I drag her ass to the edge of the chair.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say and before she has a chance to say anything I have that little ring in my mouth. I realize for the first time that I really am love stoned, in every sexual meaning of the word, of course. She squirms a little and I hastily grab her ass and bring her down to my face. I’m addicted to her taste and I can’t stop my tongue and lips from sucking on that ring and the flesh that it’s piercing through. She tastes like no other woman I’ve been with. When I look up to see her face my eyes open wide in shock and close again. What the hell? What’s going on? When I open my eyes I see Rachel standing over me with a confused and suspicious look on her face. Where did Vanessa go?
“Are you spending the night here or what?” She asks and I’m confused. I sit up and rub my eyes. The rehearsal room is empty and I can see that it’s night fall through the window on the far side of the room.
“Where’s Vanessa?” I ask and I’m not really asking her as much as I’m asking myself.
“What? That bitch left hours ago, before you even finished rehearsing. Are you alright?” She’s looking at me in an odd way. Confusion written on her face. Shit! It’s probably mirroring my face. Cause I’m baffled. I was dreaming? Holy shit! It seemed so real, I can almost taste her.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask while I try to get a grip of what just happened.
“Like ten minutes or so. What are you? High?” Rachel asks as she grabs her oversized purse, which I had been using for a pillow. “Stop using my purse to lay your big head on, Justin!”
“I wouldn’t talk about big heads, Rach,” I say with a laugh. Anything to keep me from thinking about this dream I just had. Or was that a nightmare? No, definitely a dream, quite possibly a wet one.
“Shut up,” she says with a laugh. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I say standing and grabbing a fresh bottled water from the table beside the door. “I can’t believe I just fell asleep that easily.”
“You rehearsed for five hours, I would think you were tired. I would have fallen asleep too,” She says as we make our way to the car.
Funny that she says that, though. I don’t remember rehearsing at all. I’m not physically tired in the least. I’m more mentally exhausted than anything else. I have a long, stressful ass tour ahead of me starting next week. And believe when I say, it will have nothing to do with the show.
LoveStoned by Lynn
Story Tags: interracial wallsex celebrityj enemiesturnedlovers
