The music is loud. Too loud. It's so loud that I can barely hear the beverage requests that are being thrown at me. I finish pouring a shot of Jack and slide it across the counter to it's owner. He's cute. I'm amazed that I think he's cute, because he's black. I don't usually go for black guys. He gulps down the shot and winks at me. I look at him more closely, and could slap myself. Now I know why I have found him attractive...
Because he's Usher.
"Thanks boo."
"Oh..." I begin, but my voice catches in my throat before I can get a more human sounding response out. It's too late now. His date is back and is all over him. I won't be talking to him again tonight. But still, I smile, amazed at what has just happened. I've always liked him.
"So you stayed."
I look to my left. Coffee...I mean Trace is there now. I don't really know what to think, accept that I don't know if I can really trust him. I haven't seen him since that night at Babes, and even then he didn't seem like a very honest person...to me anyway.
"I thought Justin was full of it when he told me," he laughs coming closer to me. Obviously, he knows all about the contract. "But here you are. Hey, who says money can't buy love right?" His speech is a little slurred. Most people wouldn't know that he is tipsy, but I know right away. I know because I've seen every type of intoxicated person there is, from the really bad vomiting ones to the "This is my second drink" ones. Trace is probably on his fourth drink, and he probably won't be totally smashed until his eleventh, depending on what he is drinking. I can see that he is the type that can hold his liquor really well. "Give me a Miller," he orders. He is so much like Justin personality wise that it's starting to scare me.
I plop a beer mug on the counter top and pour his drink. By the time the foam has spilled over the top of the rim there are two girls hanging on him. I roll my eyes. These girls are beautiful and could do so much better than him. Trace is cute...but definitely not worthy of the two model like women hanging off of him. They find him attractive because he is friends with Justin, and that's the only reason. He'll probably manage to get one of them into bed with him tonight, promising her the world, that he can get her whatever she wants. In the morning though, things will be different. He'll act like he barely knows who she is...that he was too drunk to realize what he was doing. She'll go back to her life...hopefully a little bit wiser.
I would never sleep with Trace. Not even if he paid me to.
After Trace picks the woman of his choosing, he leaves to go dance. I have come to the conclusion that Trace is hanging onto Justin for his fame. I mean, really, why else would he constantly be hanging around the guy? I don't really have an answer...maybe I'm wrong...who knows? It's not like I really know what goes on in Justin's life. It's not like he actually tells me what's happening to him, or what he's thinking about...
I experience a few rushes of drunk partygoers that want refills, who all know Justin one way or the other. Some are celebrities, and some of them are just normal people. None of them seem to care who I am. I'm just hired help to them. They don't know why I'm really here...what I do when they're not around.
Finally, there's a lull. I pour myself a drink, and lean against the bar, scanning the room for something interesting to gaze at. My eyes are immediately attracted to Justin, who is sitting at a sofa at the far end of the room. Many people are surrounding him, but his gaze is only focused on one person...the pretty brunette seated beside him. He's totally into her. Why am I jealous? I shouldn't be...I'm not supposed to have feelings for him. My job is to sleep with him and clean his house. Did he...yes. Oh God, he just kissed her. She's smiling. No, he won't be in need of my services tonight.
They get off the couch. His hands are on her waist, guiding her through the room. He wouldn't dare come over and get her a drink...no...he...
"Gin and tonic...make it two." He doesn't look at me as he puts in his request. Now he's kissing the back of her neck.
"Justin..." the girl coos. "Stop."
She says "stop", but what she's really saying is "stop before I rip off my clothes right here".
I want to throw the gin in his face. Jerk. Wait, what am I saying? He's not my boyfriend! He's my...lord, he's my boss. I'm sleeping with my boss!! Wait...ugh...
"Deja...hurry up." Justin seethes, snapping me out of my anger filled daze.
I pour the drinks, and slide them over to the couple. I don't look at him, and he doesn't care. Justin leads his date away from the bar and back to where they had been sitting. I pour myself another drink, the strongest I can find, and guzzle it down in one gulp. My throat is burning now, and my stomach hurts a little. Now I know why he made me sign that stupid contract.
So I can't run away from him when he pulls shit like this.
"How about a drink beautiful?"
I look toward the owner of the voice. I want to crawl into a hole and die. It's Jason. We dated about a month ago. I dumped him because he was always stoned. How did he get in here? I smile, thinking he must smoke up with Trace once in awhile. That's the only thing that would get a scum bag like him in here.
"What'll it be?" I ask him quickly. The sooner he gets served and is out of my face the better.
"How about you?" He smiles.
He's such a cocky asshole. I glance at Justin again. He's practically having sex with that girl on the couch. Wouldn't it be wonderful to get back at him? No...I can't...he'll take civil action. I'm not allowed to talk to guys. Civil action...I'm trying not to laugh. "Sorry, I can't help you there. I can get you a beer though."
He doesn't like my answer. "You're still the little bitch you always were Dej'. I still can't win can I?
I shake my head. If I try to talk, I'll blow up in his face
"Just give me a fuckin' beer."
The night has been long, and irritating, and Jason is the icing on the cake. He stands there for several minutes, drinking the beer he asked for. He's expecting me to say something to him...but I won't. I won't even look at him. He gets bored, and eventually, leaves. I'm thankful.
More time passes. It's almost three in the morning. Most of the people have left by now. The only people that have stuck around are the ones that are too drunk to go anywhere, and a few couples who are groping each other throughout the house. I'm cleaning up the bar, figuring if anyone wants a drink now they're shit out of luck. They've had enough to drink tonight.
Justin appears out of nowhere. "Get this place cleaned up," he mumbles, half drunk. He is wearing a wife beater and a pair of sweat pants that are halfway on. The girl is nowhere to be found. "I'm kickin’ the rest of 'em out for you."
Isn't he nice? "Gee," I smirk. "Thanks."
"Just the garbage and crap needs to be done...the rest you can worry about tomorrow," he tells me. "Come to my room when you're done."
He stumbles away.
I stare after him. Didn't he just have sex with that girl a little while ago? I guess it doesn't really matter one way or the other. It's not my place to tell him how many girls he can screw in an evening.
The last partygoer has left, and I'm left to clean up the mess everybody left behind. I pull a garbage bag out from under the bar and begin to make my way through the house, picking up all the empty cups, cans, bottles, and plates that are scattered about. I let out a tired sigh. I'm not in the mood to work an extra shift in Justin's bed tonight...but I'm going to have to.
The bastard better let me sleep late tomorrow.
****************
Its barely ten in the morning and I'm already cleaning. Lord Timberlake kicked me out of his room this morning, mumbling something to me about making sure the house was clean. Last night wasn't anything to write home about either. After he was finished getting off on me I stared at the ceiling for a good hour, silently letting myself cry. I thought about what I was doing to myself. I never imagined myself becoming someone’s personal sex slave. I always imagined myself being a model. That was always my dream. I wondered...how long would things go on this way? Would he ever lighten up? The answer was probably a negative one. He doesn't need to lighten up. He's the boss, and the boss can do whatever he wants.
I remember as a kid, when Mom had been alive, I had always loved to be in front of the camera. We had the perfect family, so people thought. I was the good girl, the perfect student...the one everybody wanted to be around...I had the perfect life.
And then the accident happened. It was surreal. Horrible things like that just didn't happen to people like me.
Not long after Mom died, my perfect life became…not so perfect. I remember...he started to drink all the time. He never drank before mom died. Then the late nights started... the late nights he'd come into my room and...touch me…even when I said no. I used to scream to his in his face...to stop... and yet he kept going. My tears went unseen by him and I never understood why.
Why would a father do that to his daughter?
Last night Justin reminded me of him, because of the way he acted when we had sex. It wasn't the same as all the other times. It was rough. I got no pleasure out of it. It was all about him…and the thought that some other girl had been riding his shit a few hours before had grossed me out. It had made me angry too... if he was doing this with other women why did he need me? I wonder if he even knows where that other girl came from. God knows what kind of trash she sleeps with...what kind of diseases she has. He better watch it. I don't need crabs.
Somebody puked on Justin's carpet last night. It smells really bad, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to get the stain out. He's going to be pissed. I hear footsteps behind me and start to scrub the stained carpet again. The last thing I need is him hollering at me for not doing my job.
"What's taking you so long to clean just one room Deja?" he snaps.
I look over my shoulder. He is looming over me, hands on his hips...he looks tired, withdrawn. A moment later I see Trace making his way down the stairs, a girl right behind him. I watch as she passes him on the stairs, she's crying. I feel bad for the girl, Trace is an ass.
I looked back at my employer and rolled my eyes, "It's taking me so long because I'm the only one doing it."
He doesn't seem to hear me, because if he had I definitely would have been getting reamed out for being so cocky. No, I bet he is too busy focusing on the short shirt and pair of shorts I have on. His eyes once again roam my body. Geez, is the guy always horny? I'm not in the mood for this right now.
"I'm outta here J, give me a call," Trace says. The girl has left already. Trace doesn't seem to care. They do their "home boy" shake. At least that's what it looks like, although they probably have some stupid name for it. He leaves.
Justin, of course, waits until Trace is halfway down the driveway before bending down to help me clean the disgustin mess. God forbid Trace saw him helping me clean his damn house. What-an- ass.
"Why are you crying?" he asks. Why does he care?
Crying? I rub my eye. I am. Now I'm mad at myself. I promised myself I wouldn't let him see me cry. "None of your business," I mumble.
"I think it is my business," his tone is serious. "Now tell me why you're crying."
I stand up and throw the wet rag on the floor. I don't care if the rag gets his pretty white carpet filthier than it is. I don't care about anything, I'm tired of his s hit...but I shouldn't be. I haven't been here long enough to be tired yet. This is harder than I thought it was going to be.
"You wanna know? You treat me like you own me...I feel like garbage. I can't talk to you...I can't talk to my best friend...I can't talk to anybody! It's only been a few days and already I'm miserable."
I stare at him, hoping that somewhere in his screwed up mind there is a little compassion. His expression doesn't change, though. He sends me a blank stare. Everything I have just said, went right through him. He doesn't care.
"What do you want from me? I give you a huge house to live in.... I give you an obscene amount of money, so you can stop working in that fucking slut joint... and all you can do is complain!" he hollers. "You signed the fucking paper." He gets up from the floor. "If you're miserable...it's your problem."
A slut joint? Thanks Justin. "It's not a slut joint," I mumble.
He turns toward the stair case. "You're not going to get me to believe that crock of s hit. It's a slut joint...and it will always be a slut joint." he pauses, then smiles. "And you're a slut from the slut joint."
"You don't know anything about my life...or my work...so just shut the hell up!" I holler, not taking the time to hear myself. "You're an asshole!"
I guess he doesn't like what I just said, because a moment later I find myself being slammed against the wall. His hands are on gripping me by the shoulders and his eyes are boring into mine. I physically shudder, afraid he’s going to hit me. I know he’s capable.
"You don't know me either," he growls. "So don't act like you do."
I know I'm crying. I know its probably making him angrier but I don't care. "I'm sorry," I whisper, hoping that he lets me go.
And he does.
He takes a step back and looks around. He looks scared.
"Look what you made me do," he seethes. "Stupid...you're so fuckin' stupid." He grabs his keys off the coffee table and jogs outside. I hear the tires screech and then fade away.
I don't want to cry...and I don't want to just stand there. So, I start to clean. Again.
***************
I drive around for awhile, and then...knowing there is nowhere else to go, I find myself at Trace's house. A few friends of ours came down from Memphis, some of them I haven't seen in years. It's nice. There's a bunch of girls here too. They're winking at me, and smiling. They want me, but I'm too angry to care. I don't remember when I became such a cold hearted guy. I wasn't raised to treat women this way. I was raised to respect them. That said, I don't know why I hired Deja in the first place. I think it's all about control…well that…and that she'll give me sex whenever I want it. It's also nice to have somebody in the house.
I hate being alone.
I almost feel bad about before...about Deja. There was no reason for me to slam her against the wall, and I was a major asshole for doing it. It's just that...sometimes, when I get pissed off I can't control myself...it's like some sort of horrific force takes over my body and I don't know what I'm doing until its too late. It wasn't totally Deja's fault that I got so angry though. This morning Britney called me to tell me that she still loves me. She told me that she was sorry and that she wants to try again. I seriously thought about it for a good minute until I saw images of her and him flash through my mind. Needless to say it set me off. We got into an argument and I hung up on her. I was so angry that she had called me...that she had the nerve to act like after all she put me through that I would just crawl back to her like that. Deja was the first person I saw that morning. I wanted to take my anger out on somebody...and who better to take it out on than a stupid woman like her. Women didn't know how to treat a good man. Women just use you, and suck all the heart out of you, until there's nothing left but a cold heartless bastard...
Now that I think about it, it felt kinda good to slam her up against the wall. I'll probably end up doing it again...the rush is amazing.
And she can't even do anything about it...she's mine.
Trace passes me the joint and I take a hit. The smoke sits in my throat before I cough it out. I feel my body begin to relax, and I begin to laugh for no reason at all. Trace joins in. I love this feeling. I don't have to feel or think or do anything. I begin think about Deja of all people. Why? I shouldn't be thinking about her. She is nothing...just a hoe. She's probably on her hands and knees, scrubbing the crap off of my kitchen floor from last night.
That's kinda shitty.
Oh well. I look back at Trace and he hands me the joint again. I keep it this time and lean back onto the couch. I feel my eyelids start to droop…its getting darker and darker..
I fall asleep.
Story Tags: stripper celebrityj
