“He never told me though, daddy. He never told me he was staying in the city!”
“Felicity, you can’t do this to him. You can’t constantly have him on trial. He knows his faults, and he’s trying his best to make it up to you. I know you’re stubborn, baby, but you have to give him a chance. It’s only fair. I promised your mother I’d give it a month before anything would change. I have to stick to that.”
It’s so unlike him not to give into me. When I was seven, I wanted a dirt bike, because I liked to play with boys, and the ones down the street from us rode them all over the neighborhood. My mother, naturally, was against it from the start, but after a few weeks of relentless pushing, Gary got his way. He took me down to the place that sold them, I picked one that was green and blue with a helmet to match. I got on that bike for the first time the next day, taking in the sweet summer air, determined to race like the other boys.
By the end of the week, I would be in the ER, my arm in a cast, my mother narrowing her eyes at my Daddy, telling him that she told him so.
I never rode that thing again, I dove headfirst into my knack for piano and music instead. They sold it the following year, to those same boys down the street who wouldn’t play with me anymore. I remember Justin calling me on my birthday a few weeks after I’d fallen off of it. He asked me how I was doing, that he heard I had broken my arm. I barely responded. I was embarrassed as it was, and as far as I was concerned, he couldn’t have cared less. He was in Europe after all, singing and dancing on some tour that I would never see.
My mother would leave me the new albums on my bed whenever they came out. My friends and I were too little to droll over NSYNC, in their glory days, but we were eight when Justin released his first solo album. We were still considered little kids then of course, but we knew more about sex than our parents would have liked. It was thanks in part to the school system for their education on the subject, but mostly, when we turned on MTV after school, it was all that was talked about, all we saw.
“Justin Timberlake is my favorite,” Grace Ella, my best friend, told me one afternoon as we watched the latest video countdown. “Don’t you think he’s sexy, Fel? If I was old enough...I swear, I’d go chasing after him.”
My friends didn’t know. They couldn’t know. My mother made me promise never to tell, because she promised him long ago she wouldn’t divulge who my real father was to anybody besides Gary and her parents. She received his checks because of that promise and it always bothered me.
Daddy said it was better I just listened to her though.
I had to swallow back lunch when Grace asked me that day, hold my head high and say, “I guess JC is better.”
She scrunched up her nose and shook her head.
That was how life had to be, crazy as it was. I tried to turn our attention on the Backstreet Boys, but to no avail. They ‘sucked’ according to my close friends.
Maybe it’s why I’m so warped. So bitter, so angry at him. He was an icon, a sexual entity to most girls my age and on up from there.
And he was my father, too. My real father. He was never there either. Ever. My Nana always played his part, and while I love her, she can’t justify the reason her son never wanted anything to do with me. When Daddy wanted to adopt me so I could take his name, Justin didn’t step in and tell everyone that he was my father, that he wanted me to have his name, if nothing else.
He just let it go. Just like he let telling me about living in New York go.
I have no reason to be here. I just want to go home, not shopping with that asshole all day as he attempts to make up for the seventeen years of my life he voluntarily missed out on.
“Daddy how can you just expect me to do this? Stay here with him?” I whimper and sob, and Brennan, my new found friend, whines and puts her head on my leg. “I don’t know him. I don’t like him.”
“You need to try, honey,” Daddy sighs. “That’s all I can tell you. You better go, okay? Try to have a nice time, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll put your mother on then too. I love you, kid.”
“Yeah.”
“Come on.”
“I love you too, Daddy. I do.”
“That’s my girl.”
I hear him smile and then his end clicks off in my ear.
I’m really stuck here. Completely.
I glance around the room, at the white walls, plain furniture, plain bedding, all accented with subtle touches of...what? Of chic California living, guest bedroom style, because he certainly didn’t plan this room out just for me, even though he tried to act like he did. A decorator did this a long time ago, put the furniture here, the bed linens too. Fuck, he probably doesn’t even pick out his own wardrobe. Somebody probably does that too. Does the grocery shopping, cleans the house. I haven’t seen hired help yet, but I’m sure they come a few times a week. The house is too fuckin’ clean for him to be doing it all himself.
The place is massive. I’ve been so pissed off I haven’t bothered to look around yet. Maybe I should. Maybe I should just...use him, for what he’s worth. Use him for those material possessions I could never have with anybody else. Thousand dollar purses, hundred dollar jeans and tops. A fancy car that my daddy always wanted to give me but never could.
I smirk.
Maybe I could have some fun emptying Justin’s pockets this summer. It’s about all he’s good for, anyway.
I roll off the comfortable bed, and Brennan springs to her feet, panting, awaiting what’s coming next. She’s a gorgeous mahogany brown Boxer with a white belly and soft brown eyes, obviously bred by somebody expensive. She’s a good thing though. I scratch her head and smile. It’s nice having a dog, a pet...because I’ve never had one. Not even a fish. My mom always told me it was too much work, and anything with fur was out anyway because of Daddy’s allergies. He’s always felt bad about that too.
He’d like to give me the world, but I’ve been content with what he’s been able to do for me...be my father, be by my side when I felt so lonely, so frustrated and full of teenage angst regarding my mother and her rules. He co-owns a small sports bar-slash-restaurant with his best friend, and we live a nice little life out in the suburbs of Philly, but that life is nothing compared to the one Justin lives. In the lap of fucking luxury. I know he must pump a crazy amount of money into the checks he sends my mother too, but it’s locked up tight in a trust for me. I’ll be able to use some for school, but the rest of it, so I’m told, I won’t be touching until I’m thirty and ‘responsible’, as my mother says.
She just doesn’t want me driving a fancier car than hers. I’m convinced, even though Daddy says I’m crazy.
It takes me a minute to fix my hair, pull on some fresh clothes, and open the bedroom door. I creep out of the room silently, hear the pad pad pad of Brennans paws on the rug, and the click clicking of her nails when we step onto the hardwood flooring. As I draw closer to the stairs I can hear the familiar sounds of a TV blaring, laughter and conversation down below. Obviously, there’s company downstairs, Justin’s friends. I cringe, loathing the idea of being in the presence of more selfish, greedy, fake people like him, but I think I’ll start to go stir crazy if I coop myself up in my designated guest bedroom any longer.
I take the risk, walk down the stairs, and Brennan surges ahead of me, leaping and bounding over to her better half, Buckley, as I reach the ground floor. They race off to some other part of the house together, and I’m left alone, glancing into the next room, the living room, where they’re all sitting, gathered together, watching TV and drinking beers. I draw closer, stand in the entranceway, surveying the scene. There must be a dozen people littering the oversized leather sofa, love seats, and recliners. The decor is the same as upstairs, simple, with a chic flare to it. I spot Justin on a love seat next to the giant Plasma TV on the wall, cuddled up with some petite brunette that just can’t seem to stop smiling.
The girlfriend.
God, and I thought things couldn’t get any worse.
“Fel?”
He’s noticed me, seems to be the only one who has, but as soon as he says my name, everybody else in the room glances over at me, their eyes full of questions, but seeming to know who I am at the same time. I see that guy that was at the airport...Trace, on the sofa next to some girl who looks oddly similar to Justin’s own girlfriend. She’s very pretty, petite with chestnut hair and a perfect smile. She’s holding an adorable little baby on her lap. A girl, wearing a pink ruffled dress with a matching headband. The baby is giggling and cooing as she looks all around the room. Her mother kisses and smiles at her, and Trace does the same thing.
She’ll always have her real parents by her side. There’s no secrets with them. Trace isn’t ashamed to raise his daughter like Justin was ashamed to raise me. She’s lucky, and hell, this girl has probably already seen more of Justin than I ever have.
“Hi.”
His girlfriend smiles at me, uneasily, and shifts over slightly as Justin rises up from the sofa. “You um...we’re watching the game, Felicity. You want to join us?”
I stare at him, and everybody stares back at me, like I’m some oddity that they’ll never understand. “No I’m okay.”
I turn and walk away, down a hall, back into the kitchen, and through the patio door. The pool is there, surrounded by a beautifully stained wood deck, adorned with a few tables and a bunch of lounge chairs, a grill and granite topped bar. I go stand at the railing, look out into a majestic view of the Hollywood hills, completely unsure how somebody like him can be my father. Maybe it’s a lie. It has to be a lie. I’m not like him.
I’m not.
“Felicity?”
It’s a woman's voice, and I know who it is even before she arrives at my side. Justin’s girlfriend, and when I glance at her, I realize that I recognize her from TV. Seventh Heaven, Grace Ella’s favorite show years back. Jessica Biel, that’s who she is. A nobody of Hollywood that somehow dazzled her way into Justin’s world.
I never liked her. Her character was annoying, and I always associated her facial features with those of a horse. I’d like to say I don’t know what Justin sees in her, but I do. I’m sure their personalities match dead on. They’re both fake and fucking annoying as hell. “What?”
“Look I...I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“I know who you are.”
She’s silent for a few moments, looking off into the distance like she’s trying to find the right words. Like this is some damn after school special. “I know it’s awkward, but Justin and I...we’ve both been looking forward to having you here for the summer. I’m hoping you can give us a chance, and that you and I can be friends.”
I snort. “You can drop the whole stepmother act. I’m not a kid, and I have a family back home. There’s no reason for you to get on my good side.”
“Maybe not, but I think you should start being a little nicer to your father. He’s trying his best.”
“He’s not my father, and he’s only trying because he has nothing better to do right now. He’s just some guy who knocked my mom up when she was a teenager. That’s all he’ll ever be.”
She turns, stares at me for a good long time with a twinkle in her eye and a smirk that tells me she’s not putting up with it. That she loves Justin, and this...me being here, she’s only putting up with it for him. If she has to, she’ll send me away so her poor little snook snook won’t have to have his feelings hurt.
But that’s fine. I’ll take the plane ticket right now.
The diamond on her finger catches my eye. It’s simple but chic, just like this house, just like him. They’ll be married soon. Maybe she’ll pop out a kid that he won’t make time for, then she’ll see things my way, I’m sure.
Until then, I’ll walk away from her, because I’m not interested in being her friend.
Back in the house again, Justin is in the kitchen. It was his intent to eavesdrop on my conversation with his girlfriend. It’s sickening. He knows I don’t want to talk to him so he sends her out there? I’m just so...done. This wasn’t my choice, coming here, and it’s not fair.
It’s not fucking fair at all.
“Guess you don’t like her either,” Justin speaks up. “You know, she just wants to get to know you...so do I.”
I was walking past him, pretending he wasn’t even there, but now I stop, groan, and turn back to him. “Why should I get to know her, or you? I don’t owe you anything.”
He shrugs, and drinks his beer. “You know,everyone told me what a great kid you are. My mom can’t say enough good things about you. I’ve seen so many recitals, and productions that you’ve been in, I can’t even remember them all. Now you’re here, and it’s like...I don’t know. You wont’ give me a damn chance here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“You were supposed to be there,” I whisper. “For me.”
He slowly puts his bottle down on the white granite topped counter and drops his arms at his sides. “I was there for you in other ways.”
“Money,” I scoff. “My mom could be paid off but I can’t.”
“I can’t change the past,” he mutters. “I’m not a miracle worker, Felicity. I was a young, stupid kid, and I’ve paid for my mistakes as much as I could. I wasn’t ready for a baby, a commitment, and I’m sorry...but you’ve had a good life. I know you have.”
“You’re right. I do have a good life, one that you don’t fit into. I already told you that it’s too late. What the hell don’t you understand about that? You all think I’m going to just...miraculously bond with you because our DNA matches. Well I’m not! I’ll put up with being here but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Maybe I should just put you on a flight tomorrow morning then.”
I try so hard not to smile. “Maybe you should. It’s what you do best right? Brush me under the rug like I’m your dirty little secret?”
He stares at me for a brief moment, licks his lips, nods, and then walks away.
I snort, pleased with myself, but my gaze lingers on the doorway he just walked through and I can’t seem to tear it away.
A tiny piece of me, a piece of me so tiny that it’s barely significant, dies a little bit, knowing I’ve pushed him into giving up on me again.
I don’t get it, either.
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