3 months ago.
My date is okay. She'd be a lot better though, if she could chew gum and walk at the same time. Granted, she's hot. Really fucking hot. Hell, I'm sure I'll bang her tonight after we get drunk and shit, but that will be the end of it. My boys mean well. Really, they do. They know that my current breakup has been rough. She didn't take it well...made my life hell, took the sheets and all that. So they've been hooking me up with these airheads that don't give a shit about anything besides partying and having sex. It's been tolerable. I've been having more fun than I've had in at least five years, and that's good. I feel a little better about life in general.
I just wish I could meet somebody that I could hold a conversation with.
"I've never been to this club."
I eye Trace and he winks at me as the girl cuddles up to me and smiles. "Well you'll enjoy it, girl." I rub my hand across her ass a little and it's nice. It makes me feel up to having sex, and after I drink myself into oblivion...I will. Hopefully not in the car, since Trace seems to like his date and I'd hate to ruin his night.
It is his birthday after all.
Thank god we're in similar situations. He just dumped his fiance, for good reason of course. Caught that bitch cheating with one of his best friends. I never liked that guy...Sean. I always thought he seemed like a deceptive bastard, and I guess I was right. I've always been good at that too, reading people. It comes with my job description I guess. I always have to be on my toes in case somebody comes along that wants to fuck with me. Of course, I have my security to handle a lot of that. Lately though, I've been trying to get away from them. I want to be more independent, because I'm about to get back into the studio and once promotion time comes I won't be able to get four feet from Tiny or Eric before they chase after me like I'm some runaway animal. They were pissed that I banned them from this party too. They said that it had been made public on some websites, and I was taking a risk. I told them that the club security would be enough protection for me. It's Trace's birthday anyway. I don't want the whole night to be centered around me, and it will be if I have two three hundred pound bodyguards surrounding us the whole night.
My mom is still pissed that I'm going against their wishes.
But I'm a big boy.
My driver, Ronnie, slows the limo as we pull up to the club. I can see flashes going off, but thats normal. Paparazzi have seemed to become an essential part of my life. If I go to get gas, it's a huge deal. When I'd take my girl out to a fancy dinner, it was a huge deal too. My life is anything but normal, even though I try to maintain as much privacy as I can. I can't just go out for a walk, because somebody will always recognize me and ask me for an autograph, a picture, or just try to hold a conversation like they've known me for years. I try not to be a dick, but...sometimes I can be a moody fucking bastard. Ever since Shelly and I broke up though, I've been a little better. She never liked the photographers or the fans, always shooing them away and telling them off when they'd get too close. My publicist kept telling me she was giving me a bad image, that people were talking and saying that I was starting to become an arrogant prick.
I think everybody is happy that she's out of the picture now. My cousin Rachael wouldn't even speak to me for the last few months I was with Shelly, because she had such a bad attitude towards her. Now though, she acts like she's my best friend again. I'm really glad, because I love her, and it was weird being on such bad terms.
"Justin," Rachael cackles from across the limousine. "I swear to god, I'm showing you up tonight."
"Oh please," I say, eyeing her boyfriend with a mischievous grin. "Just because we're related doesn't mean you have to try so hard. Remember last party? How you fell on your ass in the middle of the dance floor?"
Trace laughs out loud and guzzles some more champagne. "A classic moment in time."
"Hey, I was trashed," she scowls. "Normally, I'm good with all that rhythm and junk."
"Oh yeah." Her boyfriend, Chris, laughs. "I can tell you guys all about that."
She swats at him. "You know better," she says playfully. "You do it, and you won't be getting any rhythm from me tonight."
"Harsh," I say, as Ronnie opens the car door for us. "You better behave tonight, man."
"Trace is the one we should be worried about," Chris points at him and laughs. "It's his birthday, so he's going to cause the most trouble."
"Hey I'm an innocent party," Trace smirks, grabbing his date by the hand and helping her to get off his lap so she can get out of the car. "I'm just here to drink and have fun. It's a bonus to watch y'all make fools out of yourselves."
I chuckle a little and shake my head as he makes his way out of the limo. I let my date go, whispering to her that she should wait for me once she gets out there. She seems to understand, but I hope Trace is paying attention because she's had a little too much champagne and she's so dumb she'll probably wander away if I'm not careful. I mean, I'd go out there right now but I don't want those assholes out there to put labels on me. Like, that I'm here with some mystery woman. I just broke up with Shelly and I'm not ready for all that BS back in my life yet. Besides, after tonight, I doubt I'll ever see what's her name again anyway.
Rachael and Chris get out next, and I wait for Ronnie to give me a signal that the coast is clear before I get out to join my friends. Once I do, the flashes start to get more rapid, and a few screams of my name ring out in the crowd. I start to get anxious, and I'm only able to let out a relieved sigh when I see a pair of security personnel make their way out of the club and over to us. We shake hands, they're overjoyed to be escorting us inside. One of them tells me their daughter loves my music and if I could give him an autograph at the end of the night, he'd appreciate it. I already know I'm going to be too drunk to sign my name by then, so I just smile, and tell him that I can give it to him now.
He pulls out a copy of Justified that he just so happens to have in his coat pocket.
Not that I'm shocked.
I sign it, make it out to Melissa. The guy is overjoyed. I've made another friend. He tells me we're welcome at the club anytime. That he can get the floor cleared for me and my friends if I want. I already knew that too, but I thank him anyway...tell him I appreciate what he's doing for us tonight, and that it's my best friends birthday. He says he'll show us the best table in the house, and again...I'm not shocked but act like I've never been given anything so great in my life.
This is my life.
Sometimes I feel like I'm in this big bubble. There's so much death, destruction, and heartache in this world...so many people that have much bigger problems than I've ever had to deal with in my life, but yet everyone caters to me. An autograph is like gold, a personal picture is like a million dollars. People literally bend over backwards to please me. Trace laughs. He thinks I'm a fucking idiot half the time, and tells me that if he could be honest with these people, he'd sell me out in a second.
But he knows that they'd never believe half the shit that he'd tell them anyway.
We're seated at a table close to the DJ booth, but not so close that we can't hear ourselves talk. It's nice, but then again, I've always liked this club. It's Trace's favorite too, and I know this evening is going to be fun as hell for a change. Four or five waitress immediately surround us, a burly looking manager type looming behind them, just to make sure we don't get upset. I wish I could go back to when I was fifteen, so I could have that same type of naive perception of all this ass kissing. I used to think people were just really nice, but then I grew up, and I learned. If I like it here, their PR can print it. If their PR prints it, random twenty something year old girls will come here, and pay top dollar to hang out. It's all about money and publicity in this business. Nobody cares about your talent most of the time. It's what you can do for them.
At times, it makes me sick.
Then I have a drink, talk to Trace, and he helps me to get over myself.
The birthday boy rambles off the bottles he wants, and within five minutes the liquor arrives and our drinks are poured. Two waitresses remain by our side, in case we need anything at all, and that one guy...the one who's CD I signed, remains nearby, guarding a velvet rope in front of our section. There's only one other table near us. It was empty before but now there are a couple of people sitting there, a girl and a guy. He seems uninterested in this entire thing, but she seems like she's ready to get up and dance. I find myself staring at her, completely ignoring the fact that my pretty blond date is trying to put her hands all over me right now.
She's fucking beautiful.
She has strawberry blond hair that falls in soft curls around her shoulders. Her skin is fair, and she's the type that barely has to apply any make up to make herself look good. I find myself getting curious about her. I want to know her name, where she's from...if that's her boring ass boyfriend sitting next to her, or just some guy she went on a date with tonight. I'd like to dance with her, push my body close to hers and feel her up while my favorite song plays. But if I did all that I think I might find myself lost in her tonight.
Hell, I might miss toasting to another year of my best friends life.
And he'd never let me live that down.
"Dude."
I look to my left, and Trace is smiling at me now. I take a long sip of my drink, because I realize I've been staring at that girl for a good ten minutes now, before answering him. "Hm?"
"They got some eye candy in here for you tonight, I guess," he laughs.
I shrug. "Not a big deal. She just caught my eye."
"Why don't you go talk to her?" he suggests.
"I'm here with somebody," I nod, looking over at my date again. She's twirling her hair, and looking at her cellphone, like she's in her own little world.
"Oh yeah." Trace rolls his eyes at me. "Looks like you guys are hitting it off great."
"Easy fuck." I whisper.
"Yeah, but is that what you want? Or is that what you're settling for because you're still stuck on Shelly?"
I glare at him. "I'm not still stuck on Shelly."
"Then go talk to her."
"In case you haven't noticed, she's with somebody too," I inform him, as I get up from the comfortable couch. "I have to piss. All that champagne in the car filled my fucking bladder up."
"Yeah," he says, skeptically. "I'm sure you do. I'll see you when you get back. You know...after you talk to her."
I flip him off but he just laughs and smiles. I quickly excuse myself from the rest of my party, and hightail it to the mens room. Once inside, I'm a little grateful for the silence, and really glad that I have the place to myself for the moment. I piss, and wash my hands, taking a good look at myself in the mirror. God, I look fucking drunk already.
This can't be good.
I splash some water on my face and turn to leave, nearly banging into somebody on my way to the door. I immediately recognize him from the table. He's that girls date, and he looks fucking miserable.
"Sorry man," he says, his tone serious.
"It's cool." I force a smile for him. I'm tempted to ask him why he's so miserable when his date looks as amazing as she does, but I know that would be weird. I know if somebody asked me that, I'd probably punch them in the face, and so...I decide to make my way back out to the party. The music is blasting, and I get slightly disoriented for a minute or two, not remembering the exact way back to the table. I pause for a minute, and glance around in confusion.
"Are you lost?"
Her voice is soft, but playful, and when my gaze lands on her, I'm left literally breathless. It's the girl from the table, and the tiniest part of me thinks that Trace noticed her date was gone and told her to go find me because I'd been staring at her all night. "Well, I was." I say, smiling a little. "But now, I think I'm right where I want to be."
She laughs a little and sucks in her bottom lip. "Good one."
"I'm Justin." I say a little loudly so she can hear me over the music.
She meets my gaze, a little nervously. "Hi Justin."
"My um, table is across from yours. I know you have a date," I say, a little sheepishly. "But you know, he didn't look all that interested in you."
"Hm, so you're a stalker?" Her eyes light up playfully. They're beautiful too. A deep chocolate brown, that accents her other features nicely.
"Nah," I chuckle. "I just want to dance with you."
She raises an eyebrow. "You do this a lot don't you?"
"Do what?"
"Get your way."
I smile. "Not always, but...most of the time." I reach out and touch her face a little, and when she lets me...when she smiles afterward, I know this is starting to work out. I silently thank Trace now, because I know if I don't, and he's responsible for this, I won't have time to later on because I'll be fucking her. "Come on." I pull on her hand. "Lets go dance.
"Wait," she coos. "Let's get a drink first."
"Why?" I laugh. "We have drinks back at the table."
"I-I know," she says, a little nervously. "But my date is probably over there and if he sees me with another guy, he might get pissed..." she trails off for a minute, and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a cellphone a moment later. "Yep, that's him," she sighs. "He wants to know where I am, so lets get our drinks now. He won't be able to find us."
"I like this whole espionage theme," I laugh.
She just shakes her head and smiles.
We go to the bar, and the bartender of course, clears off two stools so we can sit. The girl just smiles, like she expected it but doesn't care at the same time. I like her already. She's normal. She knows who I am, I can see that in her eyes, but I can also tell that she doesn't care. She's attracted to me, and is content with what we're doing. Hell, she ditched her date for me too. So I guess this night is working out a lot better than I thought it would. We order a couple of beers, and the bartender slides them over to us with a smile, telling me that it's on the house. Naturally, I expected that but I thank him anyway.
"Everybody just loves you," she smirks, and picks up both beers before sliding off the stool. "Must be nice."
I roll my eyes. "I don't tell them to do that shit."
But she's already walking away. Without thinking, I slide off the stool and rush after her. I catch up after a minute, in the middle of the dance floor, and turn her around to face me. She laughs, and tells me that she was testing me, that most guys can't keep up with her. I take the beer that she hands to me and guzzle some of it, before pulling her towards me, and planting a soft kiss on her lips. "I'm not like most guys," I tell her.
She chuckles. "We'll see."
I down the rest of my beer as the song changes, and we dance hard and heavy for about fifteen minutes. My head swims, like I'm in a dream, and I find myself completely entranced in her. She's all over me, touching me in places she be shouldn't in public, and I fucking love that.
Or at least I try to.
I don't know how much longer it's been, but I'm starting to feel weird. Like...when I'm about to get the flu, this is how I feel. Sound is starting to get muffled, and my body feels like it's being weighed down with something. I stop her from dancing, and hold onto her for support. "I..."r32;
"Justin?"
"I um..." I try to remember her name, but I can't. I barely have time to think though, because my vision is so blurred right now, that I have to put all my focus on not falling over and passing out. "I don't feel so hot," I manage to tell her.
"Hang on to me," she commands, and drapes my arm over her shoulder. By the time we've made our way out of the crowd, I'm hanging onto her for dear life, my feet literally dragging themselves across the floor like they're made of solid bricks. Everything is starting to move in slow motion, voices that would normally sound full of life and drunken happiness, sound like deep, masculine versions of themselves. Wah wah wah, that's all I hear...
"I feel sick," I mumble, completely out of it. My head tilts lazily to one side and my eyes start to droop. I try desperately to keep my head above ground, so I can figure out what's causing me to feel this way. Was it dinner? Drinks on the way here? No...that can't be it. I would have been sick in the car. So what happened?
The beer.
Someone put something in my beer. I start to panic, but I can't get the words out. All I can do is lean on this girl, and hope I can go someplace to sit down really soon.
"Just hang on, I'm going to get you to the bathroom."
I hear her voice echoing in my head, but my brain is telling me to get away, that this isn't right. I try to pull away, so I can run back to Trace and tell him all about my adventure. But I can't. The moment I try to take a step in the opposite direction, I end up stumbling over my own too feet. She's laughing at me, but I can't defend myself because I..I can't think. I can't make sense of two plus two right now, even though I'm trying as hard as I can to do it. "Um I ...need...my ...my friends are..."
"Shh," she says calmly, as she opens a door someplace in front of us. "Just calm down, you'll be okay."
A cold burst of air hits my face. Then the music starts to get fainter and fainter. My feet hit pavement, not dance floor and I'm even more confused. "Trace." I try to call out for him, knowing he'd have the solution to all of this. But my voice is so weak, I can barely speak at this point. My lips and jaw are numb, and the harder I fight, the harder my mind works against me. "I need...I need Trace," I rasp.
"Hurry the fuck up, Sam." A man's voice comes quickly, rushed and soft. I try to see him, but it's a blur.
"I'm coming. He weighs a ton, you know."
I don't know what's going on. Now my eyes are completely closed. I think I might be asleep, but I know I'm still standing up. "Wait," I croak out. "Wait a sec..."
I'm pushed roughly from behind, and I groan as my body collides with a hard metal surface. My head begins to pound, and I have no idea what the hell is happening to me anymore. I try to sit up, but now the numbness has traveled down my body, making it nearly impossible to move around. I don't get it, I think I might be dying, but then I feel her hands touching my face. They're soft and warm, like my momma's are. I struggle, and force my eyes open. Everything is blurry...fuzzy...spinning around and around. I feel sicker. I want to throw up, but I don't even have the energy to try. "What're you doin to me..."
"You're okay." Her voice is still warm, and reassuring.
I see her hold something up, but my vision is too blurry to be able to tell what it is. It makes a ripping sound when she starts to unravel it. Then she presses whatever it is over my mouth and wraps it around my head. Tape, my brain figures out for me. I know I can't ask her anymore questions now. Then I hear a door slam. A car engine roars to life beneath me, and I can feel my heart start to beat faster. I groan again. My hands are being yanked behind me, there's more ripping sounds. After awhile it's impossible to move my hands and feet around. Then the darkness comes. The scratchy fabric is yanked over my head and it's hard to breath. The darkness helps whatever it is I was slipped to work harder against me. I feel heavier than I have all night. My eyes are forced shut again, and I know I'm done. I'm shit out of luck.
Shoulda let Eric come.
It's the last thought I have before I completely lose consciousness.
Story Tags: love celebrityj breakupj justin
