8. I Love These Hoes
Over the rest of the summer, my Do Not Call list seemed to only get bigger and bigger. I don’t know what it was, but every woman I met, no matter how gorgeous or totally intriguing, seemed to have something wrong with her. Trace would always tell me that for every pretty woman there is out there, there’s a dude out there that’s sick of fuckin’ them for some reason. I was witnessing that firsthand throughout the month of August, and certainly not enjoying it.
And to make matters worse, in a bizarre twist of karma, I seemed to top the list of the one person I actually wanted to call. After CFTC, Devin disappeared on my ass. She stopped returning my calls, began ignoring my text messages and quick emails; all the stupid shit that I do to women after a hookup, she did to me. It’s not that I didn’t deserve it after the crap that I put Britney and Summer through, but I didn’t do anything to Devin except be there for her, so I couldn’t help but be a little baffled by it all.
But, I had an album to complete and then promote, so I really didn’t have the time or energy to go all psycho stalker on her. I would’ve if I could’ve, though. The last thing I wanted was to let the best sex of my life slip through my fingers. But my career came first, without a shadow of the doubt.
So Devin left me hangin’. So what? I was a resilient man. I had absolutely no problem adjusting to the simpler things in life. Hell, I was looking forward to hanging out with women who meant nothing to me.
Look baby, this is simple, you can’t see
You fuckin’ with me, you fuckin’ with a P-I-M-P
It all started at JC’s 26th birthday party. Me and Trace strolled into that shindig as if we owned all of Beverly Hills, which immediately put my pimp operation into place. While picking up my first drink at the open bar, I was met by the intimidating presence of a beautiful, towering woman that just had to be a model.
“Sexual Chocolate,” she requested of the bartender with a Caribbean accent drizzled over her words.
And she certainly was a dose of sexual chocolate... well, maybe more like caramel. She had this glistening brown skin that covered her tall, slender frame. If all went right, I’d be takin’ a big bite out of her before the night was over.
“Hello,” I casually greeted her once she received her elaborate drink order.
She turned fully, smiling at me with these lusciously full, pink lips and enigmatic dark brown eyes. “Hello.”
When she took a sip from her cup, I quickly and discreetly studied the rest of her body, covered by an mesh, black tank top and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. “Sexual chocolate, huh?”
“It’s my drink of choice,” she explained simply. “What’s your poison?”
“Oh, I’m a simple man. I can gladly get by with some Sex on the Beach,” I smiled.
“That’s the best sex there is,” she agreed, staring down at my crisp, white Nike Dunks. “Shakara,” she introduced herself, daintily extending her right hand to me.
“Justin,” I responded.
“I thought so.” Flattered that she’d heard of me, I smiled at her again. “Your hair is different “ I wasn’t sure.”
“Oh. Yeah, I did somethin’ to it that I still haven’t quite figured out yet,” I laughed, taking a sip from my cup.
“It’s cute.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want you to think of this as some lame pickup line, because I truly am curious. But where are you from? Your accent is gorgeous.”
“What accent? I don’t have an accent,” she countered. All traces of her native tongue, whatever it may have been, seemed to disappear.
Confused, I looked at her and then into my cup which was still half full, so I knew I couldn’t have been drunk yet. “What just happened?”
“I’m kidding,” she responded with the Caribbean back in her voice. “I was born and raised in the Bahamas.”
Gorgeous woman from a gorgeous place. I guess it was no surprise. “So, what in God’s name would bring you to a place like LA?”
“My job. Well actually, my career. Same thing that brought you here, I’d venture to guess.”
Oh God, not another struggling actress. I’d met enough of those on my last Los Angeles adventure. “If I’d venture to guess, I’d say you were a model?”
“You’d be correct.”
As the bar area began to get crowded, the two of us moved out of the vicinity and to a cozy corner of VIP at Lazaro’s Latin Lounge. “So, have you been in anything I’d recognize.”
“I don’t know. Do you read Sports Illustrated? Or,” she reconsidered, “do you ogle the pictures?”
“Why ogle pictures when I have someone like you sitting next to me?”
“Well, you asked.”
“So, wow “ Sports Illustrated? That’s pretty big.”
“Yes. I’ve been around for a couple of years. Did some stuff in Miami while I was in school before I became mainstream.”
“Dude. I know where I’ve seen you before,” I realized suddenly. “‘U Remind Me.’”
“Of what?” she smiled.
“You weren’t in Usher’s video?”
“Oh. Yes, yes, I was. I’m sorry,” she chuckled sexily. “The drinks are starting to take their effect.”
Good news for me. “I knew those lips looked familiar.”
“I’m glad they were memorable for you.”
“So, could I ask you to do me a similar favor?”
“Involving my lips?”
“And the rest of you,” I winked. I removed myself from leaning on the table, wrapping my arm over her small waist while settling into the back of our seat. “Are you willing to do it?”
“You have to tell me what it is first.”
“I want you to be in my video,” I stated as if it were obvious. “I’ve been looking at hundreds of pictures, trying to find someone perfect. And now, here you are.”
“Uh huh.”
“I don’t know if you’re available or whatever, but we shoot in a couple of weeks.”
“I can clear my schedule...”
“Really?” I asked hopefully. “You’ll do it?”
“And what will you do for me?”
I don’t think I have to tell you where that went.
I don’t want to move too fast
But can’t resist your sexy ass
Just spread, spread for me
I can’t, I can’t wait to get you home
On one of many hot afternoons in August, in the midst of a break in rehearsals for ‘Like I Love You’, I was pleasantly surprised when I checked my cell phone to see that Devin had stopped ignoring me for thirty seconds to leave a voicemail. Barely even listening to what her message had to say, I anxiously called her back, hoping that she was in town and wanted to see me, or something to that effect.
“Hey!” she answered happily when she picked up her cell.
“Where the hell have you been?” I demanded. “I’ve called you like a hundred times.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry, man. I’ve been busy as hell.”
“Too busy for your boy?”
“Yeah, too busy for your ass,” she chuckled.
“That’s cold, Dev.”
“No, but listen. Can you do me a favor?”
“No.”
“Justin!”
“I ain’t doin’ shit for you after you just disappeared on me,” I told her, trying to invisibly slip out of the studio and into the connecting, empty hallway.
“Dude, I’m sorry! I’ve been tryin’ to get a damn job.”
“And you couldn’t call?”
“Justin,” she whined again. “Please do me this one little favor.”
“Tell me what you’ve been doin’ first and I’ll think about it.”
“I told you I’ve been workin’.”
“Did you get a job?”
“Hell yeah, I did. I’m with Christina Aguilera now,” she announced.
“Are you for real?”
“Yes, I’m for real! I auditioned for her video and got the part.”
Damn, I was kinda sorta counting on asking her to come and dance for me. No auditions necessary. “That’s great,” I said sadly.
“What? You ain’t happy for me?”
“Nah, that really is awesome, Dev. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I could hear her smile. “So, are you gonna do it or what?”
“Do what?”
“The favor I need from you.”
“I doubt it, but what is it?”
“I want you to call Summer.”
I sighed heavily into the phone, already perturbed by her request. “Devin, she’s insane. I’m not fuckin’ with her anymore.”
“Please, just call her. For me. I think she’d really appreciate it. And so would I.”
“Yo, Justin,” someone interrupted my call from the rehearsal studio. I turned to see my friend, Kevin “ yes, of Britney fame “ requesting my attention.
“Yeah?”
“We’re waitin’ on you,” he informed me before shooting back into the room.
“I gotta go,” I said to Devin.
“Are you gonna call her?”
“I’ll try to do it tonight.”
“Don’t try. Just do it,” she instructed. “By the way, I heard ‘Like I Love You’ on the radio today. You’re blowin’ up, man!”
“Wait. What? We don’t release it to radio for another two weeks.”
“Well, they’re playin’ it on KIIS like it’s the new joint of the day. I’ve heard it twice in the past two hours.”
“Devin, don’t play like that.”
“Turn on the radio, dude. Listen, I gotta run “ I have a meeting with a dance agency, but we should do lunch tomorrow or sometime this week.”
As I hung up my phone, my choreographer, Marty, was the next one to enter the hollow corridor. “Justin, we’re all on a schedule here.”
“I’m coming,” I assured, following him back inside. I was still somewhat confused, somewhat disappointed by what Devin had said, so I wasn’t in so much of a mood to dance anymore. But I went in there and put on my happy face.
One of my dancers, Jenna, who I didn’t remember I’d known until I saw her again at auditions, noticeably took her place beside me, smiling at my reflection in the mirror in front of us. “You look pissed. What’s wrong?”
I glanced across the room at the MTV cameras that were probably zoomed in on my facial expression and smiled as if she’d just told a moderately funny joke. “Yeah. I’m just tired and sore as hell.”
“Then after rehearsals, I’ll see what I can do to ease the pain,” she flirted.
I should probably mention that me and Jenna hooked up after those aforementioned auditions. She thinks we’re onto somethin’ now. Think again, sweetheart. “I’m gonna have to take a raincheck, ma. I’m hangin’ out with my mom to decorate my house.”
“And I can’t join you?”
“I’d rather you not. It’s gonna be just me and my mama.” As I said that, in my typical bad luck with women, my next headache came walking through the door: Alyssa. Yes, I made the brainless blunder of calling her again. Yes, I said I wouldn’t, but after Devin left me high and dry, I got bored and I got lonely.
Before the music could start, she made her way up to me and placed a short kiss on the side of my chin. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by, but Trace said it would be all right.”
I made sure to send Trace a displeased glare and then winked at her. “It’s cool.”
“I was so excited to see what you’ve been up to in here.”
“We’re about to get started again, though, so you gotta sit down,” I said quietly.
“Should I just sit anywhere?” she asked, scanning the spacious room.
“Justin, we’re still waiting on you,” Jenna interrupted rudely.
“Wow. Rude much?” Alyssa said to her. “We’re having a conversation here.”
“Well, we’re having a rehearsal here,” she shot back.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the girlfriend takes precedence over rehearsal. And last time I checked, that was me.”
“Actually “,” I tried to interrupt.
“Oh, you’re definitely wrong,” Jenna argued. “I’m pretty sure I was the one with him all day yesterday.”
Again, I tried to break into the conversation. “Jenna, I“.”
Alyssa removed the pair of sunglasses that had been covering her eyes and stared at me with her hands propped on her small hips. “Justin, you told me you were with your mother.”
“No, that’s just his code for ‘Sorry, but I’m actually fucking someone new today,’” Jenna explained to her.
“Okay, stop!” I finally demanded. “First of all, turn the cameras off and get outta here,” I told the MTV crew. “Second of all, everybody else... get outta here.”
“Justin,” Marty inserted, “I told you, these people are on a schedule“.”
“I will fuckin’ make sure all of y’all get paid for your extra time. Just please, get the fuck out.” I waited as patiently as I could while the eleven backup dancers slowly exited the room and loudly entered the outside halls. “Okay,” I said to the two women in front of me, “y’all have to stop. You’re really fuckin’ me up right now.”
Play no games, say no names, ever since I broke up with what’s-her-face
I’m a different man
“That’s funny, because that’s exactly what you’re doing to me,” Alyssa quipped. “I thought we had something here?”
Kiss my ass
Kiss my lips? Bitch, why ask?
“Why “ Why did you think that? Who told you any shit like that?”
“Because. I mean, why would you call me back after our weekend in Orlando if you didn’t want to further our relationship?”
“Honestly? Because I was just tryin’ not to be an asshole. But you’re makin’ it really hard for me,” I replied, removing the blue beanie that covered my head to get some much needed air up there. The room had suddenly gotten ten degrees hotter in the past minute. “Can y’all just let this go until after rehearsal?”
“Justin,” Jenna began, “why can’t you just tell her that we’re doing our own thing now?”
“Because we’re not,” I matter-of-factually answered. “Can y’all really be that dense?” I had to wonder if this was a typical Los Angeles girl reaction or if I’d just been giving the female species a lot more credit than they deserved. ‘Cause I really thought women were the more intelligent among the human race.
Don’t get me wrong, I love these hoes
It’s no secret, everybody knows
Yeah we fucked, bitch so what?
That’s about as far as your buddy goes
“This isn’t denseness talking here,” Alyssa replied seriously. “I’m confused by being thrown a bunch of mixed signals. You want me, you don’t; you want me again, you don’t want me again. What am I supposed to think?”
How could it ever be just us two?
I’ll never love you enough to trust you
We just met and I just fucked you
“I apologize if I led you on. But nothing in any of my actions ever requested anything exclusive or even long-term.”
“So... what? Are you trying to tell me that this is it? We’re over?”
Damn, and they say country people are idiots. I guarantee you I’d never have this conversation with Devin. Hell, even Britney wasn’t this stupid. “We never even started, Alyssa,” I sighed. “Listen, y’all have both been great to me, really. But the last thing I need is a relationship right now. I just got rid of one person breathin’ down my back and I don’t wanna go there again.”
“But“.”
“I’m sorry,” I emphasized, making sure to cut off Jenna’s beginning sentence, “but no. Now, if you wanna hang out “ in a very unattached, uncommitted way “ then, that’s cool. If you don’t, that’s cool, too. But y’all have to stop this shit. Now.”
I do know one thing though
Bitches, they come, they go
Saturday through Sunday, Monday
Monday through Sunday, yo
Maybe I’ll love you one day
Maybe we’ll someday grow
‘Til then, just sit yo drunk ass on that fuckin’ runway ho
After that hellish confrontation with Alyssa and Jenna, I took it a step further and called Summer as Devin requested. I knew I shouldn’t have. All she wanted to do was bring me down and into her bullshit. But thankfully, I had a call-in to a radio station, not leaving much time to fuck with Summer and her idle conversations and admissions.
I actually think that she stressed me out to the point where I got sick just in time for my debut at the VMAs. But I got to it and I got through it, much like I always do. I’ve never had a problem persevering in my career. I don’t know why the hell it was so hard with women. Over Labor Day weekend, I decided to revisit an old friend and maybe find some clarity. She was the only lifesaver in the sea of confusing and crazy women I’d been swimming in.
Saturday, the last day of August, saw my bodyguard, Rob, and I roaming through the empty halls of The Hit Factory until we heard the uniquely buoyant voice of the one and only Beyonce Knowles resonating throughout the halls. “Okay, I’m good,” I told Rob, letting him know that he could leave me from here. “I’ll call y’all when I’m on my way back out.”
“Trace wanted to get something to eat, so try to take a few minutes if you can.”
“Okay.” He handed me my cell phone and a couple of backup condoms. “Thanks, man.”
Nervously, I watched him disappear back out of the entrance and onto 54th Street before I took the long corridor down to Studio M, where Beyonce informed me she would be for the afternoon. After waiting for her to finish whatever vocals she was amid, I cautiously walked into the room, making sure that there were no cameras to catch me off guard and no Jay-Z to kick my ass.
“What’s up,” I said to her diminutive entourage, which really just consisted of her bodyguard, Shorty, her cousin, Angie and one of her solo album’s producers, Rich Harrison.
“What’s up, J?” B asked from beyond the recording booth.
“I’m good,” I smiled. “I see you’re kickin’ ass as usual, mama.”
“I’m tryin’.”
“Have a seat,” Rich politely suggested. “We’re gonna take a break in a few.”
Being completely familiar with the harrowing process of doing ad-libs for a half-finished song, I gladly took a seat next to Rich and watched Beyonce do her thing. I know I had just spent the better part of my summer doing the exact same thing, but I find it very inspiring to watch an artist recording at the very beginning of a project. The fire and excitement in their eyes is just amazing. It’s the start of another dream coming true. And I don’t think that we, as artists, recognize the rush that comes along with a new record until we witness it for someone else.
Sooner than expected, though, B came stepping out of the recording booth, atypically dressed down in a baggy pair of sweatpants and a pink tank top. “I’m so glad you came by,” she grinned, greeting me in the control room.
“I am, too.” I stood up to give her a quick hug. “This sounds awesome already.”
“I’m still nervous,” she confided. “This is just the first song I’ve done.”
“That track is a sample, right? What’s the name of that song? ‘Strawberry...”
“Strawberry Letter 23,” she nodded. “We took it and sped it up a little.”
“B, I’m gonna take a lunch,” Rich interjected. “An hour good for you?”
“Yeah. And take all these extra people wit’ you,” she chuckled.
The two of us watched and waited for the five-person filled room to dwindle down to two before we took seats in the matching chairs that sat in front of the control panel. We both just sat there looking at one another for a few moments before I meekly smiled down at the hardwood floor.
“What’s up, Justin?”
“I dunno,” I shrugged. “I’m just glad to see your face again.”
“Well, you know how it is. We both got busy over the summer“ I mean, not busy like that, but you know...”
“I know.” I chuckled at the way her caramel eyes lit up in the semi-dark room. “You kicked ass in Austin Powers, by the way.”
“You saw it?” she happily exclaimed. “You really thought I did okay?”
“I really did. You surprised me.”
“Oh, you thought I was gonna be terrible?”
“Shut up,” I smiled. “I was just proud of you.”
“Oh, speakin’ of that, I saw you on Thursday! You did an incredible job.”
“No,” I smiled dismissively.
“Yes. That was incredible. I knew you could dance, but damn, J.”
“Well, I appreciate that. Thank you for saying that.”
“I ain’t just sayin’ it. I mean it. I cannot wait to see what you do with this album.”
I was pretty curious as to what the hell I was about to get myself into, too. “I’m nervous.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Not if the reviews are anything like they were in the papers yesterday.”
“They weren’t bad,” she tried to comfort me. “The LA papers had a lot of good stuff to say.”
“You read my reviews?” I asked in surprise.
“Of course I did. I’m more interested than you think.” She offered me a toothy grin and spun around in her chair to glance at the digital clock by the door. “So, is that what you’re so down about?”
“I’m not down about anything.”
“Yes you are.”
“No, I’m not,” I maintained. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie...”
“Nah, I’m just... tired, I guess. I’m stressed out.”
“J, I told you don’t worry about that album. If I know you, it’s gon’ speak for itself.”
“No, I know“.”
“And I’m gonna need you to gimme this same pep talk when my album drops.”
“It’s not even so much about the album,” I confessed, “‘cause you’re right. It will speak for itself. I just “ I dunno...”
“Boy, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“It’s not really that anything is wrong. I’m just “ you ever feel trapped in somethin’ you know you shouldn’t be in?”
“What you get yourself into?”
“What else but girl trouble,” I chuckled. “It just feels like every woman I’ve met in the past four months is out of her damn mind.”
“Dating is rough,” she agreed. “It’s like a job interview that’s goin’ terribly wrong.”
“B, that doesn’t even make sense,” I laughed.
“No, think about it,” she animatedly replied, stretching her legs across my lap. “When you meet a person, they put on a face. It’s the interview face. You know, when you go into an interview, you clean yourself up and your present yourself so that you look good, right?”
“Right.”
“So, you go in, meet the secretary and she, or he, makes you feel calm about everything. Then, you meet the boss and it’s all downhill. The questions start, you get to sweatin’ and lying about all kinds of things that you don’t even need to lie about. You realize that you in some deep shit,” she chuckled. “But if it goes according to plan, all the craziness goes away and you got yourself a new job. And if it’s too insane, you should know to get your ass outta there,” she finished explicating.
“Yeah, I think I totally skipped over the interview process and just gave them the highlights of the job.”
“See, that’s the problem. It ain’t them, baby. It’s you.”
“I resent that.”
“Obviously, it’s true. Didn’t I tell you to stop messin’ with them crazy white girls.”
“You did,” I recalled, chuckling heartily. “But I found out last week that crazy sees no color.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Yeah...” I trailed off, becoming restless with all this insightful conversation. When me and B got together, it was usually for a number of purposes and this was no different. I was ready to move on to part two of this rendezvous. “Anyway...”
“Damn, you ready to go already?”
“Well, you know. I got thangs to do,” I joked. “Shit, I still have an album to finish myself.”
Don’t want to come on too strong
But I’ll play in you all day long
“Yeah, we only got half a hour before Rich and them get back anyway.”
“So...”
She hopped up from her seat and dropped the keys to her Beemer into my lap. “I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room and then I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes. You know how to get back to your hotel, right?”
“Or, we could just do it in the car,” I smirked.
She bit her bottom lip as her eyes darted around the small room. “I’ll meet you in two minutes.”
Just spread
Spread for me
I can’t, I can’t wait to get you home
And then there was Janet. Janet Jackson. You had to know that shit was coming. But, just to set the record straight, we did not hook up over the summer. Well, not when y’all heard about it. I wasn’t even at the alleged party in Miami that’s made me so famous. It really makes me wonder how the hell certain rumors get started, ‘cause half of them don’t even make sense.
But Janet became true. Because the fact of the matter was that we were good friends. So, when I asked her to do something for my album, she gladly obliged. Originally, she was supposed to work with me and Pharrell on ‘Let’s Take A Ride’, but as things turned out, she didn’t have time for me until September and Pharrell was already on his next project.
So instead, we worked it out with Tim and while I was in New York, doing ‘Cry Me A River’, she came in and did some background for ‘Take Me Now’. Not the best song, I agree; and it wouldn’t have gone on the album had she not been added to the equation, but come on. Like I said “ it was Janet Jackson.
“Justin?” When Janet’s feathery soft voice tickled my ear from where I stood on the opposite side of the studio on the phone, I stopped in my tracks to listen to what she had to say. “Can you come in here for a minute?”
I, of course, was a 21-year old punk, tryin’ harder than necessary to play it cool. “Two seconds,” I told her, ready to end my phone call with whoever-the-hell-it-was.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her remove her headphones and replace the black fedora she’d been wearing that day, making her look like the pimp she was bound to turn into when she laid my ass out on the studio floor. Of course, at that point in the day, that was merely an abstract dream.
I dropped my phone on a random cabinet behind me where Trace stood, still recording everything with that damn camera of his. I continued into the recording side of the studio, smiling awkardly and ignorantly at absolutely nothing. “What’s up?” I asked her.
“I had a question about a couple of these lines.”
“Can you understand my handwriting? Sorry, I know it looks like shit squared sometimes.”
“Yeah, I was gonna say that,” she smiled her amazingly gorgeous smile. “What does this say?”
“Trace, can you get me a pen?” I requested, pressing the button on the stand in front of us to talk into the adjacent room.
“And some water?” Janet added sweetly.
“Okay, first line goes“.”
“I got the first line,” she interrupted, pointing to the tablet in front of us with my handwriting scribbled in blue ink across it. “I just need the last couple. Is that dance or chance?”
“That’s ‘dance.’”
“So, it goes, ‘J, you make me feel like I gotta dance.’”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Is that the tone? Should it be breathier?”
“No, that’s perfect.” I wouldn’t be able to listen to that song in a proper manner if she made it any hotter.
“And the line before that is ‘Hot’ what?”
“‘Hot just like an oven,’” I smiled, suddenly feeling very productive. “Sorry about that.”
“No, no, stop apologizing.” Just then, Trace entered the small room, throwing me a pen and politely handing Janet a bottle of Dasani. “Thank you, Trace.”
“You’re welcome,” he goofily smiled back, slowly retreating backwards from the room with his camera zoomed in on the two of us.
“Get outta here,” I instructed. “Your work is done.”
While waiting for Timbaland to resurface so that we could complete the song, Janet and I stood within the stuffy confines of the minuscule recording booth, me avoiding her stare at almost all costs. Instead, I was forced to inconspicuously try not to stare down the low-cut shirt she wore that revealed a mountain of cleavage that my tongue was screaming to get in between.
“Justin, what’s wrong? You seem nervous.”
“Nah,” I negated, attempting to belittle my increasing jitteriness. “It’s just “ it’s not hot in here to you?”
“Not yet,” she giggled.
Her sinfully feminine chuckle forced me to remove my Pony cap, as well as the matching blue and white jacket that I’d been wearing. I would’ve sworn that I was gonna turn into a puddle of sweat at any moment. I didn’t know what suddenly changed so drastically, but between the blinding little light in front of us, the lack of air conditioning in the room and the picture perfect woman standing beside me, it was becoming unbearable.
“Yo, Trace,” I said into the thick air. “Can you hear me?” He nodded from the other side of the room before I continued. “You know where Tim went?”
Lazily, he only turned his head to the closed door of the studio and then back to me. “Nah, man.”
“You think you could go find him?”
“Why don’t you call him?”
“‘Cause ain’t that his phone sitting in the chair,” I pointed. “Just go see if you see him in the lobby or somethin’.”
“If y’all wanted to be alone, you could’ve just said it,” he grinned, winking at me.
I made a mental note to kick his ass at the first opportune moment. “Sorry about all this,” I said to Janet.
“Boy, didn’t I tell you to stop apologizing,” she laughed again. “It’s no problem at all.”
“Okay, sorry.” I winced when I realized I’d done it again. “Sorr“ Shit.” Smiling awkwardly, I backed myself toward the padded wall behind us. “I’m okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I just “ Actually, I think I am a little nervous.”
“No shit.” She seemed to enjoy watching me squirm. “Do me a favor? Go out there and sit in that chair by the door. I’ll be out there in a second.”
Happily obliging, with no clue of what the hell she was planning, I made my way back into the control room of the studio, reminiscing with my recent, fond memories of hanging out with Beyonce about twenty blocks over, just a few days prior.
“Are you scared?” she intimidatingly questioned when she came strutting towards me.
I chuckled, assuming that she was kidding. “Should I be?”
“Probably.” Okay, so it wasn’t a joke.
I turned in my swivel chair to watch her lock the door to Studio 7 and coolly face me with a smile that only Janet could melt me with. I’d call her Miss Jackson, but she was definitely the nasty one in this equation. She straddled me in that same chair and it was then that I realized that if I played my cards right, abstract dreaming could quickly turn to abstract planning.
Nature knows that I want you
But not unless you want me too
So spread, spread for me
I couldn’t wait to test that theory.
I can’t, I can’t wait to get you home
Lyrics:
“P.I.M.P.” - 50 Cent (Get Rich or Die Tryin’)
“Spread” - Outkast (Speakerboxxx/The Love Below)
“Superman” - Eminem (The Eminem Show)
Story Tags: daddyj friendsturnedlovers interracial boyfriendj love angryj tourj
