Part Three
Not My Fault
Okay, now we’re done hearing the world according to Joshua Chasez, I will continue telling you about what really happened. Because he has a very biased viewpoint of it, let me tell you. For some reason, Joshie (he hates that nickname too, but I don’t let that stop me from using it) is very protective of little Justy Wusty. And as such, the way he tells the story, you’d think that everything that happened was my fault and I was just randomly walking around hating people like some bitch. I am not a bitch.
…
Okay, I am a bitch, but I am never a bitch without reason. I was a bitch to Justin that night at the party, I’ll admit it, but I definitely had a reason. You see, what JC fails to realize is that immediately after Justin Stupidhead Timberlake (stop looking at me like that, I never claimed to be mature) barreled into me and caused me to dump my drink all over myself, he had the audacity to tell me to “watch it.” Like it was my fault he was a drunken idiot. Unless there’s some sort of magnetic force that pulls people into me (which I’d like to say there is, but I highly doubt) it was not my fault. It was his fault. He ran into me and not only was I the one who got to have her favorite t-shirt stained by red wine, I was the one who got told to “watch it.” So I yelled and he yelled and I dumped a wine cooler on his head. Ha. Yeah. JC drinks wine coolers. Does anyone else find that funny? No? Okay.
So yes, my bitchiness that night was provoked, as it often was when I was around Justin. Despite JC’s account of that night, I didn’t just start yelling for the fun of it. Not that I wouldn’t do that, but this time I had a reason. Justin Timberlake was, and still is, an asshole.
The next month of my time with In Sink should have been really enjoyable. “Should have” being the operative phrase. I really liked most of the guys (no matter what anyone tells you, I do not “hate” everyone. I merely recognize that we all have faults) and I kind of had fun at the concerts, too. Oh, and traveling was beyond fun. I’d get out my maps and look to see where we were going next. For some reason, everyone would look at me weird when I did that, but you know what? I don’t care. I really don’t. Maps are the shit and if the rest of the world can’t recognize that, it isn’t my problem. So, as I said, I should have had a really good time. And for the most part I did. Provided Justin wasn’t around to dampen my spirits.
I knew that JC was getting irritated with our bickering, but I just couldn’t help it. The boy annoyed me so much that I can’t even put it into words. Which is surprising because I can always put things into words. Every time I saw him, I felt sick to my stomach. Okay, so that’s not really true. I am exaggerating that slightly. But only slightly. Once I really did feel sick to my stomach when I saw him, but as it turns out it was because I’d eaten a bad burrito. I’d still like to think it had something to do with Justin, though. How funny would it be if he really induced nausea? I am seriously laughing just thinking about it. I’m kind of lame, I know, but I’m okay with that.
JC was usually a pretty laid back and understanding kind of guy. It’s one of the things I loved about him. He was the opposite of my random, bizarre, easily pissed off nature and I guess you could say he balanced me out. But after a few weeks of what he liked to call “World War III” he started getting pretty pissy about it. I can remember one day in particular he kind of wanted to hurt me.
It was a few weeks into the tour and we were in Orlando for a day of radio interviews and then a show the next night. I spent most of radio interview day hanging around with Heather and not doing much of anything. She was their assistant, but that meant that while they were doing interviews, she just kind of sat off to the side and waited until they were done. Despite our differences, I actually got along quite well with Heather. You know, I don’t see how people can say that I’m disagreeable or anti-social or whatever else, because given the opportunity, I mesh very well with people. I just don’t usually like putting the effort into it that I have to, but if I choose I can do the meshing thing. God, I keep getting sidetracked again. How annoying am I?
Anyway, as I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, the day of the radio interviews in Orlando, we (and by “we” I mean Chris and Joey) decided it would be a good idea to stop by the Hard Rock for some dinner. Not that I was complaining because, hey, they were paying and I am not one to turn down free food. You know those girls who go to restaurants and just order a salad? Yeah, I’m not one of them. Just to let you know. If I get fat, so be it. I don’t really care. I’m being random again. Sorry. So, we were sitting and looking at our menus in peace when the waitress approached us.
“Are you ready to order?” she questioned. All of the guys nodded, but I shook my head fervently. I was not good at making decisions, and choosing what I wanted to eat was no different.
“I still need a few more minutes if that’s okay,” I told her with a smile and she nodded, retreating to the kitchen. The guys all groaned at me.
“Hallie, we’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes!” JC exclaimed.
“These things take time, Joshua,” I informed him.
“You’ve had time, Hals,” he groaned. He’d developed this new thing since I’d been on tour with him where he'd call me “Hals” every time I called him “Joshua.” I was not happy with it. The JC I liked wasn’t clever enough to annoy me back when I annoyed him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, JC. Please don’t make me.” I looked up from my menu momentarily to give him a good glare, then went back to my decision-making. I couldn’t decide if I wanted a burger or something else.
“Give her a break, Jace,” Justin cut in. “You know she has the mental capacity of a three-year-old. I’m sure she’s just having trouble reading the menu.”
“Fuck you, Timberlake,” I countered without even looking up from my menu. That phrase was such an integral part of my vocabulary now I didn’t even have to think before I said it.
“You wish,” he replied with a smirk. I wish? Oh, please. I snorted derisively.
“Justin, has it ever occurred to you that not every woman in the world is so blinded by your arguably good looks that she doesn’t realize you’re a complete asshole?”
“No, but it has occurred to me that some women, namely one Miss Hallie Evans, might like to pretend I’m an asshole so she can get over the fact that I would never want her.” Okay, do you see? Do you see what I’m talking about? He was disgusting and full of himself and I hated him.
“Oh, yeah. That’s so what’s going on right now. I’m in the depths of despair because I’ll never get in Justin Timberlake’s pants. Someone please kill me now.” No, seriously. Please. Kill me now. The waitress returned.
“Ready yet?” she asked cheerfully. I shook my head again and was met once more with a chorus of groans from the five men who sat with me.
“Nope, sorry. Just one more minute.” The waitress laughed, obviously amused by my indecisiveness and the pain it caused my dining partners.
“Sure thing.” And off she went again.
“You know, Hals,” Justin continued. He almost always called me that, because he knew I hated it. It’s like he wanted me to dislike him. “I could read the menu to you if you want. Are you getting hung up on the big words like ‘cheese’ and ‘beverage’?” By this time, the other guys had started talking amongst themselves, too used to Justin and I insulting each other to care what we were saying. I set down my menu and looked at him, giving him a smile that said, "I am completely unfazed by you and your stupidity." Because I was completely unfazed by him and his stupidity.
“Justin, my dearest, I can’t tell you how much I enjoy your horribly misguided egotism or your pathetic attempts to make me feel bad about myself, but why don’t we make a deal?”
“A deal?” he repeated suspiciously, folding his arms and sitting back in his chair. I nodded.
“If you promise to shut up and let me choose my food in peace, I promise not to tell anyone about that handy little stash of Viagra you keep in the dressing room ‘just in case.’” I smiled smugly as his mouth dropped open and the other guys started laughing and saying things like, “Ooh, burn!”
“Fuck you, Hallie,” Justin muttered.
“Oh, I don’t think you could,” I replied, reaching across the table and giving him a condescending pat on the arm. He, of course, pulled away from me immediately and I couldn’t have been more satisfied.
The rest of the dinner went much like that, since Justin never stopped. Again, most of these incidents weren’t my fault. Well, I guess they were partly my fault, since I participated, but he always started them. Always. By the end of the dinner, JC was getting pretty annoyed with both of us. He’s like a mother that way. And in many other ways also.
Finally, the other guys had already headed back out to the bus and Justin and I were still standing by the table arguing about something (yes, we did it so much that I don’t even remember what we were arguing about) and JC finally put his foot down.
“Okay, stop it already!” he exclaimed and Justin and I both stared at him, a bit taken aback. JC didn’t raise his voice much. “I am really sick and tired of you two arguing all the time. You are two of my best friends and I want you to get along. Is that so much to ask?”
“Yes,” Justin and I replied in unison. Ooh, look! Something we agreed on! Write it on the calendar!
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I want you both to sit down.” We did as we were told. The man had us whipped. “And I want you to each say something you like about the other person. Justin, you go first.” Justin pulled a face.
“I’m not going first,” he insisted. God, what a 5-year-old.
“Fine,” JC replied, rolling his eyes. “Hallie, you go first.”
“Um…well…Justin’s hair is a really great place for robins and other forest animals to make their homes,” I offered up. I knew it was crap, but it was the best I could come up with. Haven’t I already told you I seriously hated the guy? Justin rolled his eyes.
“Screw this,” he muttered under his breath before standing up and walking away. I actually felt sort of bad about that, which isn’t something I do often. But he sounded kind of…hurt, was it? Maybe the moron did have feelings after all. It wasn’t like I didn’t like anything about him. I mean, I’m sure he had some good qualities somewhere down inside. But I wasn’t about to admit that to his face and give him the smug satisfaction of knowing I thought that way. I had a distance to maintain, a hatred to cultivate. It was imperative to my existence. JC didn’t appear to be very happy with me.
“Hallie, how old are you?” he asked me, his hands on his hips. Wow, he really did look like my mother.
“Twenty, last I checked,” I replied.
“Act like it.” And with that, JC left as well. That sort of made me feel bad, too, but at the same time it also pissed me off. How was it that I always got blamed for the arguments and the immature insults? Why did everyone seem to forget that there were two people involved and that I wasn’t the only one who was to blame? Hell, if anything I was less to blame. Like I said before, I never started anything. It was always Justin. Always. It wasn’t my fault that he had his head stuck so far up his ass that he couldn’t get past whatever it was he didn’t like about me. It wasn’t my fault that he worshipped himself. It wasn’t my fault he was jerk. It wasn’t my fault. Maybe if I say it enough times, someone will finally believe me.
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