Chpt 23b
I fucking hate hangovers. Moreover, I fucking hate hangovers that are prematurely interrupted with bullshit…like the annoying vibration of my phone coincidentally left on the wooden bedside table. Peeling the dampened sheet from my chest, I groaned angrily as I felt the slosh of all the liquor bellow in the pit of my stomach. I felt like a fucking twirl a wheel was on top of my fucking shoulders, spinning out of fucking control as I sat up to grab the damned device. The curtains to the wall length windows were pulled and it felt as if the damn sun rose and set directly in from of them. I’m going to fucking kill Trace, only his small ass would do some shit like this. Throwing my sheets back, I tried to ignore the aching throb of my member. Not shortly after Trace’s “pussy” fit sent him storming out the door, I followed pursuit. It was useless trying to figure out what it was about Victoria that couldn’t keep my focus…useless because I knew damn well what had my focus. I ended up sending her on her horny way, while I spent the remainder of the early morning riding around the city in the back of my sedan. I don’t even know how I ended up here, can’t even tell you which fucking hotel I’m in or even what time it is. All I know is that my phone has been ringing off the fucking hook, even now- vibrating towards the edge of the mahogany table it sat on. If I had enough patience, I would watch the damned thing fall and crash to the floor. Maybe then I could haul my ass back to sleep, and maybe- just for an hour- forget about the fact that I’m in New York while my career dangled in a fucking abyss back in L.A. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to dwell on the fucking chaos my life has spiraled into, and get a decent house hour of sleep. I watched the silver slim mobile inch towards the edge, but the damn thing wasn’t moving fast enough- and whoever was calling must have realized it was just about to fall or came to the conclusion that I just wasn’t going to answer. Silence. I knew better than to smile, I knew enough not to find myself too comfortable in its presence. I don’t think thirty seconds even went by before I heard the first round of frantic knocks on my door.
“ Justin open the door I know you’re in there.” It wasn’t Trace for damn sure. I looked at the digital clock, and was almost pissed that it was 12:00 pm and nowhere near an impossible hour for me to raise a fucking fit. I didn’t feel like dealing with anyone today, and whoever it was sounded like they were ready to talk about a whole bunch of shit.
“ Come back tomorrow.”
The lock on the door clicked open, and I watched Bill –with his no nonsense attitude- walk smoothly into the room. What the fuck was my lawyer doing here? How the hell did he know where I was? As much as I wished I was wasted enough to not remember something ridiculous happening last night- I wasn’t- so seeing my lawyer first thing the next morning gave me a motha fucking pause.
“What the fuck Bill?”
“ Get dressed.” What the fuck happened now, I thought grabbing the black shirt I had on yesterday which was crumpled on the floor beside the bed. I felt like shit, and I definitely didn’t want to deal with the shit that I know must have hit the fucking fan. I couldn’t even wrap my head around what it was that had Bill’s tightly wounded ass sitting across from me. I cursed under my breath thinking about the contracted vendors- hired out to help with tour preparation. I’ve been blowing off Johnny’s calls, I just hope I didn’t get us in some shit. Shit was something I really didn’t need more of. Just then my phone buzzed again, this time tipping off of the table and smacking right into the floor. It was no surprise that it stayed completely intact, even continued its damn vibrating, and from the fluorescent screen I could see it was my Mom trying to call me. What-the-fuck. She was in Cancun with Paul, her husband, and she left specific instructions not to bother her- she was on vacation from everyone until further notice. I know Paul and my mother were having some problems, so I respected her request. It hadn’t even been a week since she left, and she was calling. Fuck, something must have happened.
“ What’s going on Bill?”
“ Damage control.”
I don’t know if Bill watched way too many movies involving security breaching or what, but the man talked like a robotic form of himself. It was like he was always on fucking guard, straight to the fucking point, dodging no bullets, all the time. Like what the hell. I wonder what he looks like when he takes a shit.
“What the fuck do you mean damage control Bill?” As if on cue, the door to my room bursts open and in floods Trace- his face blistered with intensity. What the fuck is going on here? I stand up, instantly regretting the hasty movement as my head felt like a fucking twirl a wheel. Fuck I hate hangovers! “Trace what’s going on?” My eyes were still closed, as I waited for the ridiculous sensation to stop, missing all the worried glances I’m sure Trace was flashing towards Bill. I could just feel his hesitation surrounding me as I worked to focus, wishing I didn’t drink as much bourbon as I did. The longer it took for my head to settle, the more agitated I grew. I could hear my phone vibrating all over again, and it was beginning to dawn on me that I was the only clueless motherfucker about whatever shit surrounded me. What the fuck is going on?!!
“ Bryne James.” FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK! My stomach was doing fucking somersaults, my head was spinning out of control, and I’m trying to adjust to this new day that I can’t even start without Bryne topping it the fuck off. Shit. I couldn’t escape her and from the looks exchanging between Trace and Bill it didn’t look like my ass would be escaping this discussion of her. Of all mornings for Bill to strategize of damage control for Bryne, it had to be this fucked up morning.
“ Not now Bill…”
“ Justin..” I turn to Trace, picking up on the warning in his voice. Something about the moment seemed foreboding. I swallowed hard, my throat dry as shit, as I look down at the tabloid folded harshly in Trace’s hand. Shit. We must be on the front page again. What was the big fucking deal, I wanted to ask looking from the paper to Trace- but something in his expression told me that this was some new shit. I don’t realize when I started sweating, but I felt the trickle roll past my brow.
“ We need to talk about Bryne.” What we needed was to talk about what the fuck was going on I wanted to say, but I knew Bill was the epitome of robotic function and that it was better I swallow my fucking irritation and listen to what he has to say. I watch Trace lower his head, as he leans against the dresser , his hands tightening around the glossy pages in his hand. I hated tabloids before, but now I was learning to fucking despise them. What the hell did this one say that has my best friend and my lawyer anxiously skirting around the fucking issue?
“ Give me the magazine.” I was looking at Bill now, though my demand was directed at Trace. For the first time, in what may have been forever, I watched Bill’s expression change to desperation and I knew whatever was on that tabloid was something that would go far beyond damage control. My mind went crazy thinking about what was in it. Was it another picture of the woman Bryne has lived with- still lives with- for the past three years? Was it a picture of me…maybe me and Victoria from last night? Shit. What if it was? Damn. I felt the sweat reach my palms. How the hell would I explain that to Bryne? Fuck. What the fuck had I done? Nothing, but that shit wouldn’t fly with Bryne, not if there was a picture of me and Victoria splattered all over the country. FUCK.
“ Justin before…” I didn’t have time to wait for Bill’s analytical reasoning. I didn’t need the cushion for the blow I was about be handed. I just needed to see what the hell type of fucked up I was facing with the possibility of Victoria and I across that cover. I barely caught the look that covered Trace’s face as he lifted the glossy pages to me. I wasn’t focused, I wasn’t even breathing, as I thought about what Bryne must be thinking right now. I prepared myself for the worst, wanting to believe that whatever it was I could explain it- she would believe me, and we would move past it. I tried to build courage in those few seconds the magazine passed from Trace’s hands to mind, but nothing…nothing readied me for what I looked down to see.
A HOLLYWOOD TRYST. JUSTIN’S LESBO AND EXBANDMATE…IS IT LOVE?
Silence filled the room. I couldn’t even open the pages. I didn’t have to. Nothing within them would have lessened the blow, nothing would have done more to me than the image in front of me. Bryne seated at a table, wearing the same fucking tee I had just lifted off of her not even yesterday, with JC kneeling in front of her holding her face. It was such an intimate gesture, that even if the camera wasn’t angled enough to capture the kiss they shared, I would have known it. My heart pounded against my chest, feeling like it was begging me to just rip it out…tear it out so that the pain swelling inside of it would just stop. But it didn’t. Just like this picture didn’t change, and all I could do was ..nothing. I backed up to the bed, my head shaking, wanting to erase this picture as much as I wanted to erase the fear of hurt surfacing from deep inside of me. Fuck. If I was alone, if I was just sitting here with just me to hear me, I would let the tears that I felt choking me fall. But I was a man, a fucking man known world wide for his promiscuous and unforgiving ways- not a man that could show tears. I could hear my phone vibrating on the floor beside me, and I wondered for a moment which one of the millions of people who knew me were calling to question. Did everyone think I deserved this? Did I?....Did I really deserve this? I didn’t know..because up until now, I didn’t think I deserved her. I didn’t think I was worthy of Bryne, even after finding out about Miranda, I still didn’t think I deserved the kind of love that I felt when I was with her. But now…now I just don’t know.
“ We have to do something about this Justin.” I didn’t even look up as Bill began, and I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with my silence. He cleared his throat several times before he began again, my head still bowed to the floor, my phone still vibrating. “ It appears that Bryne James has…yet another lover…” I winced at the words, not wanting to hear them, but knew they would be said nonetheless. Another lover, making me just another motherfucking notch on her belt. My eyes burned, my jaw tensed, it was all I could do not break. Everything I could do not surrender to this feeling, to this person I did not want to become. “ If we act fast, we can correct this. It would be like this thing with you and her had never happened.” He paused sensing my anger, what Bryne and I had was more than just a “thing”. It was more than I ever known, and now… “ Justin, you have a responsibility to your fans, to your career and to your future. We need to act fast on this, I can settle this, but it will take desperate measures. Are you willing?” It was never a question, no one ever asked you in this business if you were willing to sacrifice yourself for the greater good of your own success- and really cared for your answer. I know things would be set into motion with or without my consent. This was just a formal way of letting me know. I would have laughed, if I could, but nothing about this was funny. Bill waited a moment before excusing himself to facilitate whatever it was that he would conjure up to settle this problem, while Trace- he waited around almost an hour later- standing in the silence with me. Finally he left, because he knew I couldn’t do it any longer. I couldn’t hold it any fucking longer. When the door closed, I let the first tear fall
