nine: drive
The weekend had come to a close and the Levitt estate, which had previously been filled with a good handful of twenty and thirty something’s, was now almost empty, occupied only by the daughter of the house and her husband-to-be. Meanwhile, the roads back to New York were packed with vacationers scurrying back to their corners of the city before the Tuesday workday began. Among them, of course, were Justin and Nadia.
Yawning as they reached their first standstill in traffic, Justin looked over to Nadia, who seemed completely content in the moment. “So I guess you did okay without your cell phone,” he brought to her attention with a grin.
She smiled in reply, but kept her eyes on the road ahead. “I guess I did.”
“You have a good weekend?”
“I can’t complain.” She finally set her gaze on him and added, “Thanks for keeping me busy.”
He was almost blushing, but absolutely agreed. “I’m glad you stopped being mad at me.”
“Oh, I’m still mad at you.”
“No you’re not.”
“I promise you, I am,” she chuckled. “It’s not like I talked to you this weekend. At all. We didn’t resolve anything.”
“Yeah, but--.”
“So why wouldn’t I still be mad at you?”
“Because…”
“Because?”
“Because… we fucked, like, all weekend.”
“Yeah, and it was awesome, but honestly, if Mila hadn’t showed her ass, I wouldn’t have given you a second glance, baby.”
He was stunned. He was speechless. He thought they were in the midst of starting something cool and fun, and all the while, she was mad at him? She was getting revenge on his ex? “Nadia, are you serious right now?”
“Of course I am. I don’t get why you’re surprised.”
“Well sorry, I just assume that you don’t have sex with someone you’re mad at.”
“Well I assumed you would remember someone you had sex with, and we both know how wrong I was about that, so…”
“I said I was sorry.”
“And I said I was mad at you…”
“You’re seriously mad at me,” he asked one more time for confirmation.
“…Yes.”
“So. If I asked you out on a date, your answer would be?”
“’Kill yourself.’”
“Got it.”
“So we’re clear now?” she glanced over to him. A sense of satisfaction washed over her, knowing that his ego had been knocked around a bit.
“Crystal.”
The two of them continued down the road, enjoying only the sounds of the radio as they inched their way to Brooklyn. Nadia was content in their silence, but Justin was deflated, to say the least, and he wanted to speak on it.
“I’m not just an asshole,” he announced, turning off the sweet serenade of Adele’s voice filling the car.
Nadia only looked at him.
“I mean, I know I can be “ I have been, to you, for sure. But I used to be a good guy, and I’d like to think that that part of me hasn’t completely disappeared.” He sighed, thinking of times where he was actually a nice guy, back when he was happy. “I know I can’t control what impression you have of me, but I really, really want you to believe that there’s more than just the son of a bitch who fucked and forgot about it. That’s not me,” he promised. “Sometimes I act up and don’t say the right things or call at the right moment or what have you. But as I get more comfortable with you, I promise I can open up and be whatever guy you’re looking for. You know, once I truly sort out all the shit in my life, I really am a good guy. I mean, I’m an asshole too, and I’m honest enough to admit that, but I think I’m multifaceted too, and so… I’m sorry if I’ve just shown you one side up to now, but there’s more to me. I promise.”
She looked at him for a long time, questioning where to go from there. Was this the part where she gave in or just gave up? If she cut him off now, while she was still angry, before she got even a little bit attached, she could save herself a lot of time and emotion in the long run. And she knew that. But the man was sitting there pouring his heart out, and she could tell from his nervousness that that wasn’t something he did often. She couldn’t ignore it.
“Fuck me,” Nadia chuckled to herself, hating that she’d been pulled in so easily. “Fuck me in the ass.”
“Really?” he piped up a bit with a joke.
“Shut up.”
“You never know with you, apparently…”
“Why did you and Mila break up?” she queried suddenly. It was something she wondered about back when the news broke several months prior, and she’d considered asking Kristin about it on a few different occasions, but never got the nerve. So if he was going to offer to open up, she was going to take him up on it.
He sighed heavily, not quite sure of the answer. He never had been sure, which was probably why the divorce had been so hard on him. He had no resolve about it, the shit just hurt. “I guess… we were broken long before we broke up,” he admitted solemnly. “But even so, I gotta be honest, nothing ever hurt like her.”
“Ten years is a long time,” she supplied consolingly. “It’s supposed to hurt.”
“I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have,” he began to recall. “Like straight up bitch shit.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Very funny.”
“Did you ever hit her?”
“No… not really.”
“Not really? What the fuck does that mean?” she laughed.
“I told her I was gonna shake the shit outta her. And I did.”
Nadia shook her head in shame. “All right then, Chris Rock.”
“No, but we had a very turbulent relationship the last few years. Like, breaking dishes and calling the cops and shit. She swore she could fight me, too.”
“How the hell did the two of you last ten years together?”
“I’m not sure,” he chuckled. “I mean, when it was good, it was so good. But when it was bad, it was ridiculous.”
February 2007…
It was a warm evening in Los Angeles, and Justin and Mila were on their way to Clive Davis’ annual Pre-Grammy Party, where Justin had been invited to perform. He had been pretty excited about, not only the night, but the weekend in general, as he had been so busy with the commencement of his tour, he was enjoying being able to kick back for a couple of days. Mila, however, wasn’t really feeling the festivities and had to be coerced to even come out that night.
“Can you please try and be in a good mood,” Justin begged of her as he headed down San Vincente towards downtown LA. “I need you to be you tonight.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but you look pissed.”
“Well I’m not, so let me be.”
“Alrighty then.”
Truth be told, Mila hated going to all these music events where Justin was deemed bigger than life. She’d just left her longtime sitcom, and the movie roles weren’t exactly rolling in, so her only current claim to fame was voiceover work. She knew she should have been unconditionally supportive of her husband, and deep down, she was, but her career just seemed stagnant in comparison, so on the surface, she was jealous.
“What ever happened to you hating the Grammy’s?” she recalled suddenly. “I mean, three years ago, I had to practically drag you to these events.”
“Obviously, I got over it,” he laughed offhandedly. “That was a terrible period of my life, by the way, so thanks for bringing that up right now…”
“I’m just saying. It’s quite the three-sixty.”
“One-eighty.”
“What?”
“I think you mean one-eighty. If I’d done a three-sixty, I’d be back where I started.”
“You know what I meant. Don’t be an asshole.”
“I’m just trying to save you from looking like an idiot in front of other people.”
She rolled her big bright eyes at him and sighed. “What time is this thing supposed to be over?”
“So you’re really gonna be a bitch tonight, huh?”
“Would you rather me be one tomorrow at the show?”
“I’d rather you not be one at all,” he half-laughed. “I’m gonna be on tour most of the year. Is this really how you want to send me off onto the road?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she sneered.
“It’s supposed to mean please lighten the fuck up.”
“It’s not like I won’t see you, so that’s not exactly the best motivator, is it?”
“Mila…”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“You’re such a bitch,” he continued to chuckle to himself, if only to keep from blowing up.
“Stop saying that.”
“Stop being one.”
“You first.”
“You’re so mature.”
“Oh, please spare me your rants about how young I am. We’re two years apart, Justin, not twelve.”
“The way you act sometimes…”
“Why did you even want me to come?” she sighed. “Clearly, this isn’t fun for either one of us.”
“Silly me, I thought having my wife by my side would enrich my evening. Fuck me for loving you.”
Mila innately scoffed in response.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean,” he demanded loudly, almost swerving when he looked at her.
“It means I’m not stupid, Justin! You play the role of husband well, but I hear the stories. I see the texts from your slutty ass dancers. You probably can’t wait to really get on this tour.”
“What the fuck, do you see me responding to their texts?”
“You’re too smart for that,” she knew. “But they all smile in my face and act all respectful and shit. That bitch Michele is coming for you, and I know you. You’re gonna let her have it all.”
“Mila, you sound insane.”
“Justin, I’ve done this with you before. Don’t act like I’m the crazy one here.”
“But you are…”
“Justin! In 2003, did you or did you not tell me that that girl stated, plain as day, that she wanted to fuck you?”
“And I told you about it! Why would I be in trouble for that?”
“You told me about it after you kissed her! And not only did you not replace her on that tour, but you put her on this one!” she shouted. “I’m not crazy, but you most certainly are if you think that’s cool.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re friends. Nothing happened, and she’s a good dancer. I thought you understood that.”
“I understand that she’s a whore and you’re a fucking moron, apparently.”
He knew she was in a mood, and when she got in a mood, there was point in even trying reasoning with her. But he was about to be in a mood too if she didn’t stop talking to him like that. “Please, do me a kindness and shut the fuck up.”
“I’ll shut the fuck up if you give me your phone.”
“If I give you my phone?” he repeated with his eyebrows raised in incredulity. “Are you serious right now?”
“Dead serious.”
He hesitantly reached into his pocket to give it up, but stopped himself. “Why?”
“Because I wanna see what’s in it.”
“No,” he refuted.
“No?”
“I’m not playing this game with you, Mi. Either you trust me or you don’t, but I’m not gonna sit here trying to prove myself to you.”
She frowned at him for a long time and then sat back in her seat with her arms folded, pouting like a little kid. “You’re such a goddamn liar.”
“Think what you want, baby.”
“Gimme the phone!” she yelled, beginning to punch his right arm. “Give it to me.”
“You’re gonna fucking kill us!” he yelled back, swerving along the relatively crowded road. “Stop it,” he was trying to elbow her off of him.
“Give me the phone then!”
Not wanting to die, he quickly pulled to the side of the road and handed over his Sidekick to his seething wife. While Justin was, by no means, a saint, he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.
She scrolled through his messages, most of which were business-related and innocent, but there were too many texts from his female dancers, and she didn’t like it. “Look at this shit. Why is Ava texting you at two in the morning, ‘Come hang out with us?’ Huh?”
“They wanted me to hang out with them…?”
“You’re their boss. And you’re married. That’s fucking inappropriate.”
“Mila, they’re the only people I have to spend time with in all these strange cities. The dancers and the band.”
“I don’t see any messages like that from Marty,” she realized. “Nothing from Kevin or Sky. Just all these fucking bitches! Ava, Tammy, Denosh, what the fuck, Justin.”
“I can’t help who texts me,” he shrugged.
“You’re such a fucking whore,” she began to punch him again angrily. “Stop being a whore!”
“Mila, calm the fuck down,” he pinned her arms together so that she couldn’t hit him anymore. “Listen to me.” He looked her straight in the eye, and spoke slowly so that she could hear every word. “You have to trust me. We’ve done this before and we made it out on the other side. But if you don’t trust me, you are going to lose me. And fast.”
She narrowed her eyes at him as she took in his words. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise,” he returned evenly.
“Oh, now you’re gonna leave me, Justin? Is that what it is now?”
“I’m just giving you fair warning.”
She was able to wrestle out of his grip and knocked him in the head with her left hand. “Fuck you.”
“You’re a child.”
“And you’re a whore,” she maintained angrily. “You gonna leave me. I wish your bitch ass would.”
And then he broke. He hopped out of his big black Range Rover, taking his keys with him, and stood outside of it for a good twenty seconds, just taking in the scenery “ the cars, the streetlights, the buildings along the sidewalk. But before he knew it, he was opening Mila’s door and pulling her out of the car.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she yelled in a panic, trying to fight him off. “Let me go!”
“Get out of my fucking car,” he was yelling too, and obviously much stronger than her, was able to pull her out completely. “Fuck you. Good night.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” she followed him back to the driver’s side, still screaming. “You motherfucker! What the fuck, Justin!”
Her voice was so gravelly and annoying, he couldn’t wait to get away from it. He swiftly made it back inside his car, almost closing her arm in the door as he did so, and cranked it up as she continued to yell from outside.
“You better not fucking leave me!” she was shouting at a tinted window. “You bitch motherfucker!”
But he didn’t care. She dared him to leave her, so he did. He didn’t even care that she spit on his Range as he drove off.
“Yeah, I don’t know how the fuck we stayed together so long,” he chuckled sadly as his memory of that night fizzled away. “I loved her, I swear. But man…”
“You hated her sometimes, too, huh?” Nadia recognized.
He nodded. “And let me tell you, when you hate your best friend, nothing else in the world really makes sense.”
“I guess it sucks to be you right now.”
“So… perhaps you can understand why I was a little distracted the night we met.”
“Fair enough, Timberlake. For the time being, I will stop completely hating you.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. I get it, I caught you at a bad time. I’m not a total bitch either.”
“Well cool then.”
“Plus you got good dick, so bonus points for you.”
He only smiled in response. “You’re silly.”
“I’m serious. You put in work.”
“You’re so crass,” he was still grinning. “I like that.”
“Part of my charm,” she shrugged offhandedly, watching his face turn from pink back to its natural shade. “By the way, just so you know… I’m not really looking… for… anything.”
“O…kay,” he mocked her slow speech pattern. “What does that mean?”
“You said you could be whatever guy I was looking for. I’m not looking.”
“Oh.”
“Not that I don’t like, you know… this. But I have a situation I have to handle before I can even think about… looking.”
“You have a boyfriend,” he guessed, disheartened by the notion.
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I told you that the night we met,” she reminded him coolly, knowing he’d feel bad for not remembering. “I have a situation.”
“A situation.”
She nodded. “And I don’t really feel like going into the details of it, because unlike you, I do not have the capacity to be an open book. But let’s just say… I might be more than you bargained for.”
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