Justin stared at his reflection in the dark amber liquid of his crystal tumbler and tried to concentrate on how many he’d had.

Was it his fifth – no, seventh? Maybe eighth? Whatever, fuck it….

 Even in his private room located above the gyrating masses, the pulsing bass of the music in the club still practically rattled the teeth out of his head, but he didn’t care as it helped keep his thoughts at bay.

As he closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto the leather couch, his mind involuntarily flashing back to the sound Jessica’s voice, pleading with him to understand.

 ‘Justin, baby, you have to understand. We weren’t ready yet, I did this for us. Please - ’

Haunted, he opened his eyes and silenced the memory by downing the rest of his glass, the fiery whiskey burning its way straight down to the pit of his stomach. Stumbling over to the dark window, he stood and watched the people below, wishing he could be one of them. As he turned to go back to the couch, he froze as he saw her out of the corner of his eye.

Arms above her head in wild abandon, her bare skin flashed lavender then green in the glow of florescent strobe lights. Her head was thrown back allowing her wavy hair to brush her lower back. Her eyes were closed as she smiled, managing to dance in the crowd without becoming a part of it, a skill he’d rarely seen even amongst professional dancers.

Justin unconsciously licked his lips.  She looked like poetry in motion. Every bend of her arm, every roll of her hip had an unnatural grace that Justin wanted – no craved. She was stunning, she was sensual, she was…free. She danced with no inhibition, no fear of what people might think or say, she was just free, something Justin had never truly experienced.

As the song ended and slid seamlessly into the next, she exotically weaved her way towards the bar while never managing to lose the beat.

Never taking his eyes off the girl, Justin backed up and pressed the button on the wall next to the couch, immediately summoning his room attendant.

The skimpily clad brunette immediately pranced in, her stilettos making her hips sway to the music.

‘Yes sir? What can I do for you?’

As drunk as he was, Justin knew that tone of voice. He’d heard it since he was sixteen, that sexy purr with just a hint of question that said the owner of the voice was ready and willing to do anything he asked. If she had asked ten minutes before, Justin would have taken her up on the offer and damned the consequences, but he his eyes stayed fastened on the dancing girl as he slurred,

 ‘Yeah…I want – I want her.’

The attendant came to stand next to him at the window, making sure to rub herself against his hand.

‘What do you mean?’

Justin continued to ignore her, ‘I want her. That girl dancing next to the bar.’

She brushed up against him again, purring, ‘Are you sure? I like to dance too. And I do more…tricks than they do.’

Justin finally turned to look Brandy (or was it Christy? Amber maybe?) in the face, the motion making the room spin for a second. He frowned, puzzled, ‘What?’

‘The cage girls on top of the bar. I’m better than them. They do ok in the cage and all, but I’m great on a pole.’

Justin dragged his eyes off the dancing girl and looked up to see four women in skimpy neon leotards gyrating in cages on top of the bar.

He shook his head, ‘No, not them…or you. I want her. The one at the end of the bar, you see her?’

The brunette quickly curled her lip in disgust before quickly morphing it to what was supposed to be a sexy pout, but really looked a hooked fish.

‘Well, we don’t normally do that, sir. Go…fetch… regular people.’

Justin smiled and reached into his wallet, ‘Really? Cause my friends Ben and Ben told me y’all did’

The busty attendant folded up the bills and slowly squeezed them between her generous cleavage while watching him in hopes that he would change his request. Getting a blank stare in response, she dropped her wannabe-Playboy bunny façade and rolled her eyes with an ‘Ok’.

Justin watched as the attendant miraculously found the girl and yelled a few words in her ear, pointing up to the booth. The girl followed the brunette’s gesture before exchanging words and weaving her way back through the throngs of people onto the smoky dance floor. A few minutes later, the attendant reappeared sans the girl.

Justin’s bleary eyes glared at his attendant, ‘The fuck?’

She gave an evil smile and replied, ‘She said she something about not wanting to be some booty call for the Banker.’

Justin blinked at him for a few seconds.’ What?’

The attendant shrugged, ‘I think she’s talking about that Deal or No Deal show. ’

‘Yeah, I’ve watched the fucking show before.’

Seeing another shot at her fifteen minutes of fame, the attendant slid her way back over to Justin, sitting brazenly on his lap before whispering in his ear, ‘Well, I think you’re a big deal.’

She giggled before grinding on his lap to the music. Justin rolled his eyes and let her continue while he watched the girl on the floor, imagining it was her grinding on him instead.

Justin looked up twenty minutes later as the hand that had eventually snaked down to rub his crotch suddenly stopped moving. A pair of expectant blue eyes looked back at him.

‘What?’

The brunette repeated, ‘I said, do you want to take this back to your place?’

He gave her an incredulous look, ‘What?’

‘I’d love to get out of here.’ She leaned forward, exposing her cleavage further until her top practically fell off.

‘I mean, I know you’re married and stuff, but I like to….experiment a little.’

She giggled and tossed her hair before giving him what was supposed to be a sexy look, but instead reminded Justin of his dog Brenner when he had eaten something bad.

Justin stood, almost knocking the empty bottle laden table over, ‘No, I don’t think so. Bye’

Justin stumbled towards the exit, rolling his eyes at the audacity of the girl. He never understood why groupies thought he couldn’t read a magazine or turn on a TV and see stories of his fellow celebrities who’d fucked up their career over some golddigger who wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. He had worked too hard for too long to ruin everything for that shit.

Justin stumbled out the special VIP back door, his ball cap askew and sunglasses crooked, and leaned against the brick façade of the side of the building, silently willing contents of his stomach to quit sloshing around. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he hit three and pushed send, his speed dial calling Trace.

On the fourth ring, Trace picked up the phone, mumbling, ‘Hellerrrmmm’

‘Yo bitch, a need a ride. Come pick me up.’

‘Whaaaa?’

‘Dude, I’m at Dusk and I’m too drunk to drive home, come pick me up…please.’

‘Justin, I’m in New York man. It’s 7 am.’

Justin paused, ‘How long is the flight here?’

‘Dude, you’re fucking drunk. Just call a – WEEE BOOOOP’

Justin stared at his phone in surprise as the beep and subsequent chimes signaled the death of his cell battery.

‘What – awwww fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. DAMMIT’

He shoved the phone back in his pocket before stumbling towards the curb to hail a cab. He reached for his wallet to see how much money he had left and was surprised to find an empty slot where his money should have been.

‘Aww fuck,’ he said, remembering he’d thrown the last of his cash at the brunette attendant for his drinks and her services.

He sneered as he started down the street, determined to find an ATM to solve his problem. Justin had gone half a block before he stopped at the sight of the girl from the club, her arm high in the air as she screamed, ‘TAXI!!!!’

‘Damn baby, I can’t put a price on that body.’

She didn’t respond and continued to watch for an unoccupied taxi.

‘Hey! The Banker is finally revealing himself! Hellllooo?’

She continued to watch the street, ‘Sir, I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you leave before I scream for the cops.’

Hearing the slur of her words, Justin continued, thinking he had a chance.

‘Whoa whoa. Easy, mamacita. I spent a Benjamin on your fine self already, so you could at least try to talk to me.’

The girl finally turned around to give him an angry look, ‘Go away, perv’

‘Don’t act like you don’t recognize me. I tried to get you up to my VIP section, girl.’

She ignored him and walked further into the street, amazed that the one time she needed to catch a cab, she couldn’t find one. That’s LA for you…

Justin turned to drunkenly scan for any hiding paparazzis before taking of his shades and cap, ‘I’m Justin Timberlake, baby. I know you know me.’

She stared at him for a long minute, her expression changing from disbelief to shock to confusion to wariness.

At length, she shook her head and replied, ‘No, you’re not a Noah.’ before turning back to the street.

Justin frowned, ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

Sick of waiting, the girl begin to stalk down the street, away from the club and Justin.

Justin watched her go.  ‘Fine, you ain’t nothing, anyways.’

He began to stalk back towards the club, but froze as he heard, ‘No! Stop! HELP!’

He turned to see a hooded man running in the opposite direction of the girl who had been pushed onto the sidewalk.

Without thinking, he ran back towards the girl, ‘Are you ok?’

She nodded, ‘He took my purse! Get my purse!’

Justin pulled her onto her feet before taking off after the thief. Four blocks later, Justin knew he would never catch up to the Usain Bolt wannabe, so he chucked his cellphone at the back of the thief’s head out of sheer desperation. Justin watched in shock at it connected, making the thief stumble and fall into bank of trash bins, allowing Justin to tackle him from behind. A short scuffle later, Justin was the proud new owner of an enormous migraine and a slightly dirty, silver purse. He slowly stood, using the trash cans for balance, just in time to hear the rapid clack-clack-clack of heels hitting the pavement.

The girl, hair askew, flew around the corner, her eyes searching the area.

‘Where did he go?’

‘He got away.’

‘Shit.’

‘But I got your purse.’

She gasped and grabbed the purse from his hand before throwing her arms around his neck.

‘Oh my goodness, thank you, thank you, thank you!’

He smiled, feeling all the hero, ‘You can take the gentlemen out of the south, but you can’t the south out of the gentlemen.’

She smiled up at him, before suddenly frowning, ‘Oh my God, is that blood?’