Chapter 6- For the Girl who has Everything

            So, you would think that a girl as young as me in New York City would be spending her night partying with her friends. Nope. Not me. I'm stuck here in this fundraising event for families of soldiers and fallen heroes. I thought it would be tons of fun when I got the letter, but, instead I'm stuck here trying to sell some god ugly blankets that say stuff like "United we Stand" and stuff like that. Not that I mind helping out, it's just because:

• a) I don't feel like I belong here on the account that I didn't really love my husband who tragically died in the war, and I should be all crying and crap; but I don't feel a thing.
• b) I just want get out of this stand and dance. I feel so envious of all those girls dancing, living carefree, and hooking up with some hot soldiers, while I'm here in the stands trying to sell some hideous blankets.

And:

• c) I'm stuck here with Melody, who keeps going on and on about how gracious it is for me to be here, and helping those who need it the most, and that "Charlie is smiling down on you in heaven." Blech.

            The hall was beautiful; I had to give them that. Laughter filled the hall and it was full of life. Flowers were sprinkled around here and there, and candles made a dim light. Couples were happily chatting, and dancing.

            "Isn't it just beautiful, Brooke?" she breathed.

            "Yeah." I replied.

            "Oh if only Charlie could see it... its things like this that makes me so proud to be an American." I tried hard not to roll my eyes.

            The band burst out into the Star Spangled Banner, and it seemed like a hundred voices started singing at once.

            Oh Say Can You see

            By the Dawn's Early Light

            What so proudly we hailed...

            I heard Melody's high voice, and I turned to see her. She was standing, her hand clasped to her chest, her eyes closed, with tiny tears oozing out from the corners. She smiled at me, and told me that she was so happy. There was a deep, extreme glow in her eyes that for a second lit up her little heart shaped face, and made it beautiful.

            The same look was on all the faces of the women, tears of pride on cheeks, be it  young or old, there were smiles on lips, a deep fire in their eyes, and they turned to their boyfriend, lover, mother to son, wife to husband. They were all so beautiful, even the plainest woman radiated in beauty.

            They all believed in them, but most were oblivious to the fact that there were empty chairs and babies who would never see their father's faces.

            It bewildered me to see women who were so proud... when I didn't feel a thing.  I just couldn't see how they could be so proud of a war that kills so many people a year. I guess I could never love anything... or anyone as selflessly as they.

            My thoughts were interrupted as I took notice of a man standing across the room. He was dressed a black tuxedo, a tall man, towering over a lot of the soldiers. He was oddly skinny, and his feet were dressed in black dress shoes. He was freshly shaved, and seemed like he just got a hair cut. His hair was blonde and curly, his eyes an intense shade of blue. He looked, and was, a man of lusty and unashamed appetites. He had an air of utter confidence, and there was a twinkle of mischievousness in his bold eyes. I could feel his eyes look right at me, from the corner of my eye.

            The recognition bell in my head was supposed to ring, but for a moment I could not remember who he was. Shit, he was the first guy in months that had ever paid attention to me, since all I wear is black now. You know, to show my un-caringness, or something, and my mourning. But then I realized who he was, and my hand went up to my mouth in horror...

Justin Timberlake.

            "Hey Brooke..." he bent over and whispered in my ear. "Do you remember me?"

            I looked up at him with my face crimson, while his eyes seemed to be dancing mercilessly. I hope he didn't remember the last time he saw me. Shit. Of all the people who I could run into, I had to run in on the one person who had witnessed the scene with JC.  The man who was a jackass, and had no right eavesdropping on me.  

            At the sound of his voice, Melody turned, and the for the first time in my life, I was glad that I had a sister-in-law.

            "Justin!" Melody said, taking him in her embrace.

            "Ah...my future sister-in-law! How ya been?" He smiled and returned her hug.

            "I've been good, what about you?" she giggled.

            "Pretty busy... but what's new?" he laughed.

            "Haha.. That's true, JC's been pretty busy himself, so what brings you here Mr. JT?" she asked.

            "They invited me. I just donated-" he began.

            "You're the donater? The guy who donated a million dollars to this charity? No way! Why everyone has been wondering who would donate that much money! Justin you are such a sweet- Brooke? You okay? You don't look to good... here sit down."

            I sank down into the stool, my breath going so fast, I thought I was gonna have a heart attack. Shit... I really wasn't expecting to see him. Ever. He picked up a sheet of paper, folded it in half, and started fanning me with it. Really hard. Too hard. His face was serious but his eyes were still twinkling.

            "It is hot here." He said. "No wonder Miss O'Neil is hot. You want me to walk you outside?"

            "Um... let me think about it... NO." I said so rudely that Melody stared, and her face lightened up as she thought of what could make me so upset.

            "Oh.. Justin. She's not Miss O'Neil anymore. She is Mrs. Miller. We're sisters!" she said passing me a warm glance.  Justin made a face, and I wish I could've strangled him. Him and his boyish looks.

            "Well your husbands are the luckiest in the world." He smiled. For such a kind remark, but he seemed to have meant the opposite with the way he said it.

            "Is he here, Brooke? Your husband? I would love to meet him."

            "Oh..." Melody's voice broke. "Unfortunately Charles..."

            "He died." I said flatly. Would he just leave me the fuck alone? Melody looked at me, startled, and I mouthed "What?" and shrugged my shoulders.

            "Oh, damn Brooke, I'm sorry. But just know that it was so noble of your husband to die for one's country... he shall live in our hearts forever." He said, I could tell he was holding back a smirk.

            Melody smiled at him through sparkling tears, while I felt my hate toward Justin Timberlake rise in my body. He may of said something so sweet, but I knew he didn't mean a word he uttered. He was making fun of me. He knew I didn't love Charlie. And Melody was so blind not to see through him? Can't she see what a jackass he is? Wait... maybe it's best if she couldn't see through him. Would he tell her? With Justin there's no certainty.

            I looked up at him, and saw his mouth was pulled in mock sympathy, even while he was fanning me. Something in his look challenged my spirit, and my dislike rose. I snatched the fan from his hand.

            "God, it's not that hot in here. You're ruining my fucking hair!" I said tartly.

            "Brooke! Justin, forgive her. She isn't herself when she hears Charlie's name....and maybe we shouldn't talk about it anymore." Oh god, give me a break.

            "I understand." He nodded his head.

            "Well, as long as you're here, you want to buy something? These blankets are just beautiful aren't they?" Melody said, pushing a pile of blankets toward Justin.

            "Well they are pretty sexy... I'll take ten." He winked and gave her the money.

            "Justin! Thanks so much!" she said gleefully.

            After the sale, a crowd of people started buying the blankets. I guess they wanted to have whatever Justin Timberlake had. Why, I just didn't understand. I sat back down on the stool, not wanting to look up in his eyes.

            "Your husband been dead long?"

            "No... only a couple of months."

            "Must seem like forever, huh?" he smiled.

            There was a harassing quality to his voice, so I ignored him.

            He continued, "So...have you been married long? Hope I'm not asking you too many questions, because I haven't heard any of this yet."

            "Only three months," I said, unwillingly.

            "That's such a shame." He frowned, but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes.

            Fuck him. I thought. If he was any other guy in the world, I would tell him to go fuck off and leave me alone. But he knows about JC. He knows I didn't love Charlie. Fuck.       

            "So what's with the black? Because let me tell you, black is not your color." He laughed.

            "Because... well I don't know. I want to show my mourning for Charlie... or something." I shrugged.

            "Oh well that's a smart move." He said sarcastically.

            "What, you saying I'm stupid?" I asked angrily.

            "No, I'm saying that your whole "mourning thing" is stupid." He said matter-of-factly.

            "God you make it seem as if I hadn't lov-" I stopped.

            His eyes seemed to be hungry for my words, mocking amusement in them, and I stopped. He knew I never loved Charlie. He knew I married him for revenge. What a jackass... it felt like he was blackmailing me or something. He should be kind... you know, be more sympathetic toward the fact that my husband just died. It was like, one of those unwritten rules. But this man... bastard, didn't care for the rules and evidently enjoyed things that no one gave two shits about.

            "I'm waiting breathlessly."

            "Fuck you." I said, dropping my eyes to the floor.

            He leaned across the counter until I could feel his breath against my neck. "Don't worry Brooke... your secret is safe with me!" He chuckled.

            "God, how can you say those things?" I whispered.

            "Well, I wanted to ease your problems. I mean what did you want me to say, ‘Be mine, oh beautiful princess, or I will tell everyone your guilty secret?"

            I met his eyes reluctantly and his eyes were as teasing as a little boy. And then, for reasons I can't understand, I laughed. It was such a stupid situation if you think about it. He laughed, too, and so loudly that everyone else stared.

            After our laughter died down, he took my hand and looked me in my eyes. "You know, it's really nice of you to come here today to honor the soldiers."

            There was something in his words that made him seem like he didn't mean a word he said. I hated him. He knew I hated the war. But yet... there was something about him. Something warm, vital... and appealing. I looked up to the challenge of his blue eyes, and I decided, two can play at this game. I was going to bring this man of his cloud. His knowledge of my secret gives him an advantage.. but... as I was about to tell him off, I remembered something my mom told me. You keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I was going to kill him with kindness.

            "Thanks." I said sweetly, pretending I didn't catch his sarcasm. "A compliment coming from Justin Timberlake, is enough to make any girl blush."

            He laughed-yelped for that matter, and I felt my face go red.

            "Why don't you say what you really think?" he demanded, lowering his voice so that no one else was to hear. "Why don't you say that I'm a jackass, and that I should fuck off?"

            It was on the tip of my tongue to say that, but I controlled myself. "You?  A jackass? Never. As if nobody knew how famous you are... and how generous-"

            "I'm disappointed in you."

            "Disappointed?"

            "Got that right. I remember seeing you at JC's party and I thought to myself, ‘Now here's a girl with spunk. Somebody who was not only beautiful, but who had courage. And now I see that you're only beautiful." He frowned.

            "You saying I'm a coward?" I felt the anger rise in my body.

            "Yes I am. You lack the courage to say what you really think. When I first saw you, I thought: This is a girl in a million. She isn't like all those other idiots who like me because I'm Justin Timberlake-the pop star. No, she won't conceal her true feelings, just because I'm a celebrity. I thought you were a rare... uh spirit. Here's a girl who knows what she wants, and she doesn't mind speaking her mind-or throwing vases."

            "Really?" I felt my rage break through. "You want to know what I really think? Well, let me start off my saying you are a goddamn bastard, who has no class whatsoever! You know that I never wanted to see you again. But no, you're just a... a fucking-"