It’s been a week since the pig said what he said to me. I can barely stand to be in a room with him let alone pretend to be the love of his life. The good news is he hasn’t asked for sex. I’m not proud of what I have done or what I am doing, but I had no choice. I have to survive.
We arrived in New York and Justin is doing his last show here tonight. He’s somewhere out parting with some other A list celebrities and I’m here in the hotel, amusing myself with a game of solitaire. It gets addicting after the first thirty seven games you play. Justin and I haven’t spoken to each other, not that we ever have, but its nonexistent now. He doesn’t even look my way except when we leave the bus and he holds my hand. I haven’t spoken to anyone in over a week. I tried to consult with the goldfish in the room, but he isn’t the chatty type.
Sadly, the tour is taking a few days off for Thanksgiving which means I have no where to go or see. I have to stay in the hotel while everybody goes home to there families. I go to get some tea of the stove, but my hand lips and I burn my hand. I hear the door open and Justin comes in carrying a box of pizza. He puts it down and comes over to me, “It looks bad.”
No kidding Sherlock. “It’s fine, I can handle it.”
I say, sucking on the finger. Justin takes my finger and grabs a couple pieces of paper towels, wrapping ice in them and wraps it around my finger. “Do you think you need to have it looked at?”
I shake my head no, “I think it’ll be fine. It’s not that bad of a burn.”
“I’m going to call room service for a bandage.” He says, still holding my finger which I wish he would let go off. Being this close to him makes me sick.
“Don’t trouble yourself. I probably won’t be able to read the instruction on it anyway.”
He looks sheepish but goes for the phone anyway. Within two minutes the bandage arrives and I go for it, but he gets there first, opening it up and putting it on my finger.
I sit on the couch and Justin put the pizza box in front of me before going to the mini fridge retrieving two bottles of water. I look at him but don’t say anything. He opens the box and folds the top underneath the bottom revealing half cheese and half pepperoni. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I assumed everyone eats cheese and pepperoni is the number one favorite topping of the average person.”
I raise my eyebrows, “The guy at the pizza place apparently told my assistant that when she ordered it.” I just look at the pizza. The smell alone makes me want dig in, but then I would have to give Princy the satisfaction of knowing he did something right. “Look, what I said at the bookstore… I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I said that. I was raised better.”
He looks sincere and I know from the way the apology came out, it was really hard for him. “It’s fine. Trust me, I’ve been called worse.”
I say, taking a piece of cheese pizza and taking a bite of it, savoring the taste in my mouth. “Is cheese your favorite?” he asks, taking a piece of pepperoni for himself.
“Yeah. I love brick oven style pizza. Especially from New York.”
“So, you’ve been here before?” he looks at me, tilting his head to the side.
I swallow the food in my mouth and exhale before answering, “I was born here. I lived in Brooklyn with my mom until she died from uterine cancer when I was fifteen.”
Justin stops eating and puts the piece of pizza down on the plate, “I’m so sorry.”
I shrug, “She was a drug addict. She got married when she was eighteen and had me the next year. My dad was shot by a stray bullet coming through Harlem one night, so I didn’t know him. Mom went nuts without him, getting a high since I can remember. When she died from a mixture of substances and cancer, I went into foster care but I ran away, landing a bus ticket to LA. And here I am.”
Justin looks like he feels sympathy for me, something I didn’t know he was capable of, “So out of all the things you could have done in LA, why become a hooker?”
I close my eyes, “No one would hire me. I’m technically a high school drop out. I couldn’t even get a job washing dishes. I have low blood sugar and my thyroid doesn’t work right, which in English means I have to eat three meals a day in order to keep my body going. It also means that I’m almost always cold, that’s why I went to California. When I couldn’t afford to eat, I’d black out. So, one day I was walking the streets, some guy offered me a hundred dollars for a couple of hours and I took it.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine being left by myself at that age. Don’t you have family?”
I shake my head, “Not that I know of. My mom told me her parents were dead and my dad’s wanted nothing to do with her or me.”
Justin takes a sip of his water before placing it back on the coffee table. He looks like he’s measuring me up and runs his hands over his face.
He looks up at me and says, “Look, since you don’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, Craig thought it would be a good idea if you came with me back to Memphis at my house there. The press will eat it up and you can have a home cooked meal.”
“When do we leave?” I say, putting my head against the back of chair I’m sitting in.
“We fly out tomorrow morning at six. Speaking of which, we should probably get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
I go over to the couch and fluff the pillows, pulling my blanket out from underneath the piece of furniture. I lay my head back and flip off the light as Justin retires to his room. Five minutes later as I have just gotten comfortable, Justin shakes my shoulder. I so don’t feel like having sex, but I get up and start taking my shirt off.
"No, come to bed," he states.
Did someone hit him in his head? "Are you sure?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yeah, I don’t like the thought of anyone sleeping on the couch unless their crashing the house for a couple of days.”
Oh yeah, than what have I been doing the last two weeks? He picks up my stuff and goes into the bedroom. I follow him and he puts my stuff on the left side of the bed. He has always favored the right. I curl up under the covers and watch him in confusion. What the hell happened? Whatever it is, I’m sleeping on a mattress again and I’m thankful. He flips off the light and gets into bed. I drift off to sleep ten minutes later. ________________________________________________________________________
Both Justin and I got dressed and got on the private jet. It’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever traveled in. Make that THE nicest thing I’ve traveled. It seats eight people with comfort being the main ingredient. I have Lucky jeans on with a babydoll shirt on. I always did favor the more flowy, romantic side.
He looks at me and shrugs his shoulder, “I date around a lot.”
“You mean you sleep around a lot.” I say, a smile playing on my lips.
“Maybe I’m looking for something.”
I look him strait in the eye, “I’ve have had sex a lot more than you have and trust me, you won’t find it unless your in love with the person. And it’s not the sex that’s the your looking for, it’s the person.”
"No, not yet, but maybe someday. I think it’s what makes sex worth while. What about you?”
He looks at me seriously, "I think you're right."
________________________________________________________________________
The plane lands and we arrive at Justin’s mansion. I walk through the threshold and am greeted by luxury. Staying here for three days was going to be nice. Justin walks in and Rob puts our bags on the floor. “Later man. See you Summer.”
“Bye Rob, have a nice Thanksgiving.”
Rob closes the door and Justin and I are left alone. He looks over the house like he’s trying to remember if everything’s in place. It’s obvious he doesn’t spend much time in the house. The doorbell rings and I look to Justin. “It’s probably my mom. She’s got a whole feast ready for us and is brining it over.”
Justin opens the door and greets a woman who is definitely related to him. Besides the obvious blonde hair, the facial features are similar. She hugs Justin hard, “Hey honey, I haven’t seen you in so long.”
I shake her hand cautiously, “Really nice to meet you.”
“You too. Now let’s go get the food out of my car.” Lynn says, holding Justin next to her as she fawns over him the way mothers do when they haven’t seen their children in a while.
We all sit down to eat once the food is on the table and begin some small talk before Lynn clears her throat, "So how did the two of you meet?"
Fuck. “We met…”
Justin steps in to help, “Craig actually met her first in LA and introduced us. The rest is history.”
“Well you seem nice enough. I actually haven’t met many of Justin’s girlfriends, even if they aren’t really dating my son.”
If she only knew how he treated women, she’d understand why he hasn’t found the one. But I guess all mothers want to think of their children as good people who treat others with respect. The two of them talk about her life and I drink the rest of my wine.
__________________________________________________________
After dinner we sit on the couch as I plays with the dogs. Summer's so tired and I can see her eyes slipping closed as the minutes tick away. Before I know it, she's passed out on the couch.
"She seems nice."
I turn to see my mother standing in the doorway.
"She is."
"You take care of her," my mother says, pointing a finger at me while holding her wine glass.
"Yes mom," I mock.
"Get to bed, I'll see you tommorow."
"Night mom," I whisper as I watch her head up the stairs before making the move upstairs myself.
_______________________________________________________
The next thing I know I’m in Justin’s bed with him sleeping next to me. He must have carried me up, because I certainly didn’t walk up the stairs. Maybe he’s a good guy after all, just rough around the edges. Really rough.
