I am the shit. And yeah, it sounds arrogant and cocky, but guess what? I don’t care because I am Justin. Fucking. Timberlake.
I just performed the opening show of what I know will be a kick ass tour. Everything tonight, from the lighting to the band to the crowd, was just right. Not exactly perfect, but I’m confident that I’ll have it all up to my perfectionist standard in no time.
But seriously, tonight was the shit. Maybe it’s because I haven’t performed in so long that the feeling was intensified to an all time high or maybe because it was the first show; but for whatever reason it was absolutely insane.
I really can’t take all the credit though. I’m not that much of a bastard. It was a combined effort, and it would be wrong of me to not acknowledge everyone who is a part of this tour and who played a part in putting the show together. And believe me, by the sight of all the alcohol in the club and all the laughter mingled in with the music booming out of the speakers, they’re all feeling pretty good about their efforts too.
Taking another casual sip of my beer, my eyes scan the room to the countless faces gathered into the intimate club, and I suddenly realize how huge this tour is. Not a spot in the club was left unattended by a body, and there wasn’t a face to be found without a smile. A surge of happiness pulsed through me knowing that I had a little something to do with that; and to be honest, this after-party really was the least I could do for everyone to show my appreciation.
I just wish I had someone to share this all with.
It sounds ridiculous now that I think about it because even though there are a shit ton of people congratulating me and celebrating this moment in my life with me, I still don’t feel like anyone really understands. Yeah, I know… boo hoo for me, right?
It’s been a couple days since I’ve talked to Cameron, and though I’m not absolutely devastated, I’m definitely still down and out about the whole situation. After four years of being in a steady relationship, I forgot how lonely being single was. Sometimes I even find myself talking to no one in particular, which isn’t necessarily a new development but it’s depressing nonetheless.
I really shouldn’t be thinking about that shit though. It’s not good for me, and it’s starting to bring down my buzz.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Ah, Trace. I can’t help but smile at the little fucker.
“Nothin’ man, just reveling in my success.” I hear him snort as he plops down next to me.
“Fuck you, I know you’re thinking about Cam. Jesus, I thought just for tonight you’d be out of your little funk or whatever you got goin’ on but here you are, sitting on your ass on your big opening night.”
“I just danced for two fucking hours, dude,” I try to reason.
“Whatever man,” he easily replies, seeing past my pathetic excuse. “Look, when you’re ready to actually celebrate and fucking party, I’ll be at the bar.”
Damn, I hate when he’s right. And he is… all the fucking time. I really don’t know how he does it. I don’t know how he knows me so damn well. If I didn’t know any better, I would think we actually share a brain or something.
“Great show,” a voice draws out, jolting me out of my thoughts.
“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you though,” I smile. She laughs at my lame compliment and takes a sip of her drink, still lingering in front of the booth.
“Trust me… if I was cut out of the picture, I’m sure it still would have been great.” I scratch my head and squint my eyes before smirking.
“Yeah, that’s probably true.” She raises her eyebrow before letting out a laugh and I suddenly feel myself relax at the sound. “You got a minute to talk to me or would I be keeping you from much more interesting and fun people?”
She smiles at my question and shrugs her shoulders before making her way to the side of the booth and sliding in next to me. “Anything for the man of the night.”
“You having fun?” Jesus, I really couldn’t think of anything better to say?
“Yeah,” she nods slowly, her eyes scanning the room before landing on mine. Even in the dark, her bright hazel eyes seem to illuminate. “Are you?”
I break my stare and chuckle, “It is my party, right?”
“Well yeah…” she nods before leaning in closer to me. She lowers her voice to make it still audible over the music thumping in the background, “But you look like you’re fucking miserable.”
My eyes pop open a little bit and I don’t know why I’ve never had a straight conversation with this girl. She’s obviously perceptive and ballsy. And I love people like that.
I clear my throat and lean forward, resting my arms on the table in front of me. “Am I that obvious?”
“To me,” she lets out. “But that fake ass smile you got on your face seems to be fooling everyone else, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
I slowly turn my head to face her. Usually I’d be offended by a comment like that, but for some reason I feel myself grinning instead. “Thanks, T.”
She just smiles back and takes another swig of her drink. And suddenly, like a fucking bat out of hell, I feel like maybe, just maybe, there is someone I can share all this with.
I had to say it because it was true. I knew that stupid smile on his face, which seemed to have everyone else in a trance, was everything but real. And I have to admit that I was a little taken back by how well he took it. I thought for sure that he would deny it, cuss me out or whatever. But he took it like it was, and that impressed me.
“So, Justin Timberlake. Aside from whatever it is that’s plaguing you, how does it feel to be on top of the world?” Miserable or not, I know that performance had to have given some kind of boost. Hell, it gave me one.
“Well Tanith Johnson, I have to say that it doesn’t feel all that bad,” he smiles, leaning back against the plush cushioning of the booth, beer in hand.
“I can only imagine,” I sarcastically reply, shaking my head.
“T!” I hear a voice screech out. My eyes shoot toward the dance floor and the approaching figure and I laugh at the sight.
“Hey Cay,” giving her a wave.
“Oh my God! I have been looking everywhere for you, girl!” she slurs out in a giggle, bracing her hands on the table.
“Here I am,” I shrug. I feel myself jump when she suddenly lurches her head toward Justin.
“Justin! HI!” she all but screams out as if it was her first time meeting him. It takes everything in me not to burst out in laughter as Justin’s eyes bug out as he jerks his head back a little. He chuckles lightly and brings a hand to pinch Caylee’s cheek.
“Hi Caylee,” he laughs out. “Have you been drinking?”
Caylee’s eyes grow wide in mock horror before she bursts out into a fit of giggles. She leans her elbows on the table, bringing both of her index fingers to her lips and nodding furiously. “SHHH!!”
Justin and I both start laughing along with her and before we know it, all off us are struggling for breath. Luckily, Trace’s new presence brings us back down.
“Now this is the kind of Justin Timberlake I like to fucking see!”
“Tracey!” Caylee coos, latching her arms around his and leaning her head down to rest on his arm. Trace laughs and nudges her a little.
“Damn Cay, how much did you have to drink?!” Caylee rolls her head and smiles up at him.
“Thass for me to know, and for you to buy me another drink!”
Justin and I laugh at her obvious nonsense and watch her drag Trace back towards the bar.
“You know, if it were anyone else, that would have been annoying,” Justin shakes his head with a smile and I nod my head in understanding.
“Gotta love Cay.”
A moment passes between us as the music suddenly fades into a familiar eccentric beat. I see Justin smile before lowering and shaking his head. The club quickly fills with joking taunting, urging him to get up as all eyes zoom into him.
I laugh along with everyone else as Justin tries to wave off the attention, but the crowd is relentless and the yelling only seems to grow louder. I look over to the dance floor to see that space is already cleared out for him and can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy.
But before I can give him a sympathetic smile, I feel my hand being tugged on and my body being pulled towards the end of the booth.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I ask incredulously, ungracefully sliding my butt across the booth before I was literally dragged across it. Justin lets go of my hand and hops out of the booth before extending his hand back towards me.
“C’mon,” Justin gestures. I look at his hand before bringing my eyes back up to his.
“C’mon what?!” He gives me that half smile of his and I feel a shiver shoot down my body.
“I’m not bringing sexy back by myself, T.”
I can hear people calling out my name now too, but everything sounds like a whisper compared to the look he’s giving me.
I slowly purse my lips into a smile, finally slipping my hand into his as I stand up from the booth. Justin smiles at me once more before we make our way to the middle of the dance floor. A microphone is magically tossed his way and his voice smoothly fills the intimate club with the lyrics of SexyBack.
And now, even with everyone taking part of our little encore show, I’m starting to feel a personal connection to Justin. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the music or the lights or the way his hand is gripping my waist; I’m not really sure. But whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t go away because at the moment?
It feels so damn good to be bringing sexy back.
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