I know she's in Mississippi, but not where. Maybe she'll show up when we perform in Biloxi if I don't see her before hand. I plan on heading home in three weeks, my body and mind demanding a break before we leave for tour. Justin is going to split the time between his hometown and Britney, Joey is flying his family out to Kelly and Brihana, Chris is staying in Orlando and JC plans on seeing his family in Chicago for a week before unwinding in LA. Me? I'm staying back home, taking refuge in my own place. It'd be nice if I could find the disappearing teen girl I've known for about a decade.
"Have any of you heard from her since the release party?"
"No, why?" Joey asks.
"I wish I did, I'm worried," JC tells me, writing something down and signing it quickly.
"Yeah, right. Consider who we're talking about," Chris reminds us, scoffing and rolling his eyes.
"Anyone have an idea of where she could be?"
"Just leave her alone for awhile. She just dumped Nick, ended a tour and has who knows how many things happening right now," Justin points out, being entirely right.
"I don't think she's doing much of anything, she would have said something," JC informs me.
"Unless we've pissed her off."
"Lance," Joey says, dropping an arm over my shoulders. "She's taking down time. I can almost guarantee it."
"But where? That's the million dollar question," Chris retorts.
"Where does she have a house?"
JC's eyes close, fingers straightening out as he names the places he knows of. "Orlando, Tampa, Old Orchard, Worcester, Boston, Leominster, LA, Beverly Hills, Myrtle Beach, Ellisville and Clinton. Those are the ones I know of."
"How did she afford all of them? How does she now?"
Justin grins like a fool. "She became a landlord."
"Which ones?"
"Leominster, Worcester. She has five in each town."
"She's not letting anything pass her up."
"Not in her lifetime, Lance."
"Who maintains the properties out there?"
"Her friend Sherri's family."
"I suppose it makes sense."
It's been three weeks and I just pulled up to my parents' house, seeing my old bed frame on the inside porch. Why would it be there? I push it to the back of my mind, using my old key to walk in and smell my mom's home cooking. It's a welcome smell. I don't hear a sound, but decide to investigate to make sure nobody's home. I check each room to come up empty, leaving my room for last. I glance inside, unsure I even saw the two bodies I think I did on a new bed and swear one is Sam and I double check. I sit in the beanbag chair near the closet at the foot of the bed, patiently waiting on them to get out of bed. Keep in mind that it's close to 1pm. I don't have to wait long, she looks around the room and climbs out of bed, an angry glare apparent in her eyes as she shoos me down the hall toward my sister's old room. "Who is that?" I demand to know, pointing angrily toward my old room.
"Devin. What are you doing here? Your momma told me you'd be here around supper, not fucking lunch," she quietly bites. She has on Simpsons pj pants, a black tank top and no socks. Her hair is in a messy ponytail.
"Sam, why didn't you tell me that you were coming home?" I thrust my arm outward again.
"Because I didn't want you to know." She sighs, dropping her face into her hand as she shows her frustration. I wait for an explanation, my arms folded over my chest and a glare that expresses my anger, curiosity and my irritation. "I needed space from the eleven guys I've been surrounded by and following around the world for the past two or three years, time to be normal, find myself and to be the real me."
I keep glaring at her and Devin across the table, even though I trust him entirely when it comes to her. "What's wrong, James?" she snaps at me, growling my name.
I smile, shaking my head. "Nothing."
The rest of the meal is spent with her and I not talking to one another, Devin looks like he feels guilty or like he's part of the problem. She and I finished at about the same time, my mom already filling the dish washer and Devin having joined Stacy, Ford and dad in the living room. We get into the kitchen and try to scurry away once we deposit it in the sink, mom stopping us by grabbing our wrists to pull us over to the nook area of her kitchen, shoving us into the chairs at the small table. "What in the world is going on between you two?" she angrily inquires, arms crossed and tapping her foot at a fast pace, clearly infuriated at our behavior and irritated that we aren't dealing with this more maturely.
Sam just dismisses the situation, I shrug because it's between her and I and only we can solve it. My mom slams her hand on the table between us and I jump, seeing her do the same, wincing. Mom knows it gets her to spill the beans, every last one of them. "James came home earlier and I woke up to find him sittin' at the bottom of the bed."
She looks at me. "When was this?"
"Right after lunch, maybe close to one," I admit.
"Jazz, come on, you know I don't allow these things to happen under my roof and for good reason too."
"That you know of," we both mutter, barely audible and sneak a quick glare at the other person, our eyes refocusing on her before she could react. Mine is from the week or two we first spent together. I begin pondering what she's implying it about, some outrageous things at the forefront of my brain.
I look at mom, my mind reeling and I blurt out the one thing neither had expected, the speed of their jaws slamming onto the floor making it known. "Has she slept with him?" I direct a finger toward the living room.
Once my mom mustered enough wits, she cursed me up and down, telling me not to talk like that and ending it with 'why don't you go to your house until you feel ready to reword that accusation?' She's pretty pissed at me and saying that Sam feels the same would be an understatement, she punched me hard enough in the chest to knock the air clean out of my lungs on my parents' porch.
I'm wearing a pair of blue Wranglers, an Pheonix Suns jersey and a pair of Nike shoes. It's been three days and no word from Sam, the only reminder of the day I came home is a bruise in the shape and size of her fist. There's one thing about her that not many people are aware of-her ability to hold things against someone if what that person had come across rude or unjust. My best guess is that I came off as both, considering then bruise is still tender and I don't blame her after how I had come across. I can tell what they had believed I was insinuating that evening. Dad had called and gave me a second round of choice words the next day after he got home from work, a calmer tone than mom had used.
I wish I knew if Sam would ever forgive me, but again I have to admit to myself that she's as unpredictable as always. My house phone rings and I grab the cordless, noting the number on it being JC's. "Hi, JC."
"Did you have good reason to even suspect that she slept with the guy visiting her?" he snarls.
"They were sleeping in my old room on a new bed with the door shut and she seemed livid that I had shown up early, quietly chewed me a new one. She barely spoke to me for the rest of the day. My mom made me and Sam tell her what was the issue and after that is when I decided to ask if she had slept with him," I ramble off, knowing better than to have the both of them mad at me. Don't even begin to think I'm scared of them, it's a respect thing more than anything else.
"I'll talk to you later," he tells me, disconnecting the call before I can even say bye.
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