I’m high as fuck, not that it’s a bad thing...it’s the way I am before every show. Normally, I hate doing shit in December. I guess I must be old school, but I consider Thanksgiving and every day that follows until January 2nd, family time. Maybe that’s because when I was younger, I was in Europe constantly, touring and working with the guys. We were forced to spend five holiday seasons unwrapping gifts in the back of some tour bus, and while I know it was what I had to do so I could live my dream, I still regret the time I missed away from my family and friends. I always will.
I’m done with all that now of course, paid my dues young so I could have a life now. I’m a successful solo artist, and I’m coming out onto the movie scene as well. A lot of people hate that I’m doing the acting thing, try to pressure me into doing another album but I really don’t give a shit, and I’m sick of hearing about it all the time. “Justin when are you going to make another album? Justin everybody wants you to tour!” I mean don’t they get that I’m still producing on the side? That I have a record label of my own that I’m trying to run? No, they don’t care. In this industry, it’s all about what you can do for other people. But you know what? My label, my management, the press, and my fans can all suck it, because I am who I am and I do what I want to do when it comes to my career.
I wouldn’t even be here tonight, but my mom talked me into doing this performance. It’s a charity show that will benefit St. Jude’s and I’m a sucker for sick little kids. I didn’t intend on visitors tonight though, and it pisses me off that Trace went ahead and had two complete strangers join in on our pre show shin dig without talking to me about it. Sure, he’ll make up the excuse later that he mentioned it to me and I just wasn’t paying attention, but I’m not accepting that shit. He knew what he was doing, and knew that I wouldn’t be able say no to him once the girls were standing in front of us. I may be a dick, but I know my limits, and being an asshole to a couple of women is something my momma would slap me for if she ever found out. That’s why I forced myself to suck it up and allow them access into my dressing room tonight. Lucky me, they haven’t screamed in my face or tried to rip my clothes off.
But the night is young.
I’m still pissed at him for this though. I mean, Trace is my best friend and I love the guy, but the party never left him, and since his second engagement has come and gone, he’s on the rampage for a good lay. Why is that my problem? I’m good with women, just got Jessica the hell out of my life, and was looking forward to spending a few days with Trace as we drove back to Shelby together. Last year we were too caught up in women to kick back and reminisce about years gone by, but this year we’re both single, and I wanted Christmas to be about us and our families. We’ve been planning to stop at random dive bars, sleep in crappy motels, the kind of places nobody gives a shit who I am.
Two days of bliss. Of nothing but the open road, a few beers, and my best friend at my side.
It was too perfect of a plan.
I should have expected something would happen to fuck it all up.
My mom offered to fly out and make the drive with us, but I think we need to have some down time from each other before Christmas. I mean, the last time she came here she tried to smoke some weed with me and a few of my friends, and man...I don’t know, they said it was kinda cool that she wanted to do it, but something just hits me the wrong way about smoking weed with my own mother. A few years a go I would have been down with it, but now...I’m thirty, and it’s just getting weird...
I guess that’s the price I pay for treating her more like a friend than the woman who gave birth to me, though. I’ve been trying to act more like her son lately. Yeah, it’s not working. It’s just too damn late.
The girls are pretty hot, but I can tell they’re younger than us. One of them doesn’t even look old enough to drink, but I know looks can be deceiving. Trace has never been the type for jailbait and neither have I. I trust his judgement. He can usually tell if a girl is lying about her age, so I’m not worried.
“So you girls go to school in LA?” Trace says, trying to stir up a pleasant conversation as he passes a drink to the pretty brunette seated beside him. I’ve discovered her name is Eva from listening to him talk to her.
“Just got my masters in accounting,” Eva smiles and takes a long sip of her drink. “UCLA.”
She’s the spunky one...all party, nothing like her friend here. I stare at her. Short blond hair, brown eyes, nervous expression on her face. She looks like she might fall over, pass out, or do something else embarrassing. It irks me. I hate hanging out with people who get weird around me, treat me I’m some kind of God. I take a good long drink of my Jack and coke, praying that it will drown out the insecurities lingering inside of me.
I just want to feel normal. That’s my Christmas wish in fact, lame as it is, and it’s one of the reasons why Trace agreed to make the road trip back to Shelby with me this year.
“What about you?”
Silence.
“Dara,” Eva grits out.
“Huh...oh...” Her eyes dart to her friend, to Trace, and then back to me.
I roll my eyes and slouch before taking another drink.
“I graduated too, with my masters degree,” ‘Dara’ says. “Hospitality and Tourism.”
“And...” Eva giggles. “Her birthday was last week.”
“No shit, really?” Trace smiles. “That’s an excuse to have a party.”
Dara guzzles her drink. “It’s not my birthday anymore.”
“Belated,” Trace shrugs. “Still a valid excuse. Besides, it’s Christmas. The whole month of December is one big party.”
It’s apparent to me now, that she’s most likely lusted after me for years, and years. She was one of those chicks who painted I heart JuJu on her cheeks, and plastered pin ups of me all over her bedroom walls. Being here with us is her birthday and Christmas gift all rolled into one. Her friend did this, probably gave Trace head to get a couple of passes to hang out with us before my performance.
It’s amazing how well I can read women.
“How bout it, man?” Trace asks. “After the show we should go to Crowne Bar or something. Show these girls a good time.”
I just shrug. “Whatever.”
“He’s perkier than this, I swear,” Trace laughs and hands Dara another mixed concoction. “It’s the weed talking for him right now. Sometimes he can’t handle it.”
“Trace stop acting like a fucking asshole.” I stand up and slam my drink down on the small table. “You’re showing off, and it’s fine, but don’t embarrass me at the same time.”
The girls both stare at me.
“Well, it’s true!”
Nobody says anything, and then Trace just shakes his head.
All right. That was cold. I mean, it’s the holidays, and he’s here with me when he could be home with his family already. He felt bad. I mean, I’m a popular guy but I’m so lonely at the same time. I was going to drive to Shelby by myself, but he wouldn’t let me do that. He knows it’s the relationship thing that’s gotten the best of me. I mean, spending seven years with somebody and having nothing to show for it is harsh.
That’s twice that I’ve been through it now. I’m better off single.
I just can’t hold anything together and the only one who gets that is Trace, because he still hasn’t been able to settle down after two engagements. Me? I won’t even attempt to put a ring on a woman’s finger. That shit terrifies me. Trace will, ‘cause his heart is too fuckin’ big. The sad thing? He always gets screwed in the end.
“I...I’m gonna go watch a couple of the other acts before I have to go on,” I say to them.
“So go.” Trace waves me away. “You need to be by yourself, I guess.”
I storm out. My bodyguard, Eric, is right outside the curtain. I say nothing to him, just storm off towards the stage. I know he’s following me, but he’s keeping his distance. That’s what he does when I’m pissed, because he hates it just as much as everybody else does. I guess I can be a little bitch when I’m angry, but fuck, I hate it when Trace starts acting like a child.
Maybe that’s why he can’t get his relationships past the ring. He’s too immature.
I’m just an asshole, most of the time. I work too much, don’t focus on the relationship. I guess I loved her. I mean, seven years...yeah, I loved her but, she couldn’t handle the way I work. People don’t think I’m working when they don’t see me putting something out, but they’re so out of the loop. I’m either filming, writing, or producing, all the time. I told Jessica it wasn’t my fault that I had a career and the biggest thing she had going for her in the last couple of years was a poorly publicized production of Anything Goes.
Then I told her I thought she sucked in it too, because I was angry.
A month later, she was done. But I’d been done for months before that argument.
My mom was pissed. She likes Jessica, thought I would actually settle down with her. For about half a second I believed I would, and then I melted back into my usual self.
I’m thirty, rich, famous, and...pathetically single. People say they’d love to switch places with me, that my life is so easy. Sure, I’m not denying that having money is great. It is. It helps not having to worry about it, and fame...yeah, it has it’s perks too.
But it’s not everything.
Especially at Christmas.
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