Click to subscribe to whiteroom
ACT I: THE MIDDLE
Scene 1: His Side - Wherein You See How Stupid Justin Really Is
"We're tragedians, you see. We follow directions-there is no choice involved. The bad end unhappily, the good unluckily. That is what tragedy means." -- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
21 hours.
1,260 minutes.
75,600 seconds.
That I'm able to compute that in my head so quickly-feeling as overwhelmed as I do-is worthy of note; proving that I really am some sort of Rainman as Laney Jane has always been fond of saying. I don't know what the point of calculating those numbers was, except that I've been single again for 21 hours and I already feel completely lost without Laney Jane (Sorry, it's Laney now. I've lost my rights to call her anything ever again). I can't think straight, unable to wrap my brain around the idea of not being with her anymore. It only takes twenty-one hours to shatter three years of love and trust between the two of us. Twenty-one hours has been the longest space of time in my life. Twenty-one hours and I'm all alone. I don't know if I should be impressed with my mad acting skills or pissed off with myself for doing it.
It had to be done, I remind myself.
I haven't moved from the stupid couch since Laney left me in the hall yesterday, except to grab another beer from the mini bar and to take the hotel phone off the hook. I'm in no mood for explaining my dire situation to friends, fielding any calls from Laney (though I doubt there are any-she looked so incredibly annihilated), or dealing with fans giggling in my ear impressed with themselves for calling me. What I want-what I deserve-is to rot in my self-inflicted misery.
I pray that Laney got home okay. If something happened to her, I would never be able to handle it. I'd be about as productive as a coma patient. I flip channels and every single show makes me think of her, though it's not much of a stretch considering I've thought of little else since she left yesterday. I stare at the soap opera on the screen. It's never a good sign when even the most lovelorn characters on television are having a better time of it than you. At least they appear to be okay whereas I smell like stale beer, my head is killing me, and my stomach is urging me to eat something. I've watched about ten episodes of Law & Order and every infomercial known to man, making me the proud owner of a set of steak knives that cuts through steel doors.
I should be sleeping, resting up for the madness that will be the next few days, but I know the Sandman isn't my friend at the moment. There's too much going on in my head to rest. My album launches in four days. I've got interviews and meetings and signings and everything under the sun coming up in the next few weeks. The good news is that it will keep me occupied and I'll be able to proclaim to the world that I'm single once again. The bad news is that I'm single once again.
God only knows what will come of my life after this press machine is complete. I could be an utter failure on my own, one of those warnings to other members of groups not to go solo. The album could be popular, but with no one getting it, or everyone thinking I'm the worst song writer in the world. And I guess there's the possibility it will do well. I mean, I'm not a talentless hack and I've got the built in market of Nsync to help me along. My album may hold its own. Laney's convinced it will. In a highly-unusual moment of adoration, she said, "You're too good at what you do, J, to fail. The album is all you and you're not completely unlovable." (A tremendous compliment from Laney.) But no matter how it goes-good, bad, or otherwise-I've lost Laney. I've got no one to come home to or a best friend to share the experience with. It feels wrong. Laney should be by my side for all of this. She's what got me through the creative process-just being there and listening to me bitch and moan about a bad day at the studio-and I couldn't have done this without her.
It's like all those romance writers lead you to believe. When you find the right person, the soulmate, the girl that gets you beyond appearance and all the fucking superficiality of life, everything becomes clearer. You see, I had faith in myself because Laney had faith in me. I realized my potential because I knew that there must be something good in me for a girl like Melanie Jane to love me. And that's what it's all about. That's what all great things are born out of. The right girl gives you substance, and she does it by reflecting who you are through her eyes.
Christ, what have I done?
There is a version of Justin Timberlake out there that I fear. He's this guy that lives in Tennessee and his great claim to fame is that he was "too cute" in high school. He's never accomplished much with his life. Never dared to dream or take a chance on anything. This Justin isn't particularly nice or happy. He's one of those people that simply is, too afraid of life to live it. I've never been that person and I don't intend to ever start…but at the moment, I think the other Justin has it easy. He doesn't know what it's like to let the perfect girl go. He won't ever experience the anguish radiating off her big brown eyes and know that it's because of you, something you said, something you didn't even fucking mean. This other Justin is lucky.
I know what you're all thinking-you think I'm crazy. You think I should call Laney and throw myself at her feet, pleading for her forgiveness and explaining the whole fucked-up mess. And I want to do that. I so, so, so want to do that, but it's not right. Chris told me once that "if you love something, you set it free, and if it comes back to you, it was meant to be." I'm holding out hope that he's right and one day Laney will be able to understand why I've done this. Maybe one day she'll know that this is all for her.
I doubt it though. I did a right good job of breaking things off.
She won't admit this to me. Laney has always been very stubborn and independent where it concerns her career. It's one of the things I love about her, the need to make it on her own. We're similar in that respect. We've never wanted nor will we ever take any hand-outs, sure that if we can't make it on our own steam than we don't deserve to make it at all. She and I agreed a long time ago that our professional goals are separate from us, but when a loved one is floundering, it's up to you to fix things. And sometimes the only thing to be done is to walk away, because even though Laney and I have fought hard to keep business and careers out of our relationship, others aren't so kind and it's always there. More so for her than me. I hinder her potential. It's not like the world of celebrity where no publicity is bad publicity. She's not afforded that luxury, especially while she's still in college, struggling to establish herself. Loving me is a liability. Loving me keeps her from the future she's been imagining for herself for as long as I have known her.
Like hell if I'm going to force her into a life she never wanted; a life where she is nothing more than the girlfriend of so-and-so. It would kill her-this is where Laney would normally interject that I'm too dramatic, but she hates my guts-and I'd be to blame for that. She'd end up hating me and I guess…it's better to have her hate me now than ten years from now when I'm really attached. (Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? Laney Jane is like an appendage to me-I don't know how to do anything without her.)
Someone is knocking at the door-not just a knock, but one of those idiotic tunes hammered out with a fist. I shout something, what I'm not sure, but the knocking persists, louder and louder. I'm in no mood for visitors. I want nothing more than to wallow in a pit of my own filth and ignore whoever is on the opposite side of the faux wood finish, but I know the drill by now. My problems are second to everything else. I stumble over to the door, mumbling a barely coherent "coming", and peek out the small peephole. I lean my head against the door and moan out, "Go away."
He knocks louder, causing my brain to bounce against my skull, and shouts, "I know you're there, Justin. We need to talk."
"Go away," I repeat in vain. I know he won't. He's like the Energizer Bunny-just keeps going and going and going.
"I'm here to stop you from making a huge mistake, you self-sacrificing asshole, so let me in!"
I groan, "I'm not in the mood for a visit, Chris."
"Fine," he repeats. There is silence and I know that it was too easy. Chris gets an idea in his head and there's nothing to do except go along with him. He brings his eye up to the peep hole and stares in. He says lowly, "You don't have to let me in. Instead, I'll go to Laney's and explain exactly what you're planning to do-"
I yank the door open and Chris topples in, knocking both of us to the ground. His hand is in a precarious position-the last thing I need is paparazzi to get wind of this, heaven help me. "Get off," I grunt, pushing him off me and standing up. I glance around to make sure no one heard his idiotic ranting and slam the door shut behind me. I glare down at him and snap, "You'll do no such thing. Instead you're going to pull an I Am Sam and act like your mentally-challenged self."
"Hey now, this is for your own good."
I kick him, "Forget it, Chris. Just forget it!"
"You need to be stopped. I worked too damn hard to get the two of you together-"
"It's too late."
"What do you mean?" Chris asks, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the floor.
I don't respond. I walk back over to my new home on the ugly brown and beige striped couch and fall back into my seat. My imprint is still there, allowing me to retake the exact same position from before-the true testament of my sheer wretchedness and study the television as if it's revealing some sort of code to me.
Chris stares at me and then mutters something under his breath before passing me and going for the blinds. I barely get out the word "don't" before sunlight streams in and blinds me. It's one of those weird New York City days where it's raining but the sun is streaming down. Chris snaps open every shade and blind in the immediate vicinity and once he's done, he smiles like he's proud of himself and says, "Much better. Now, answer my question. What do you mean by 'it's too late', Justin?"
I rub my hands over my eyes, blinking as my eyes adjust to the brightness, groaning and silently planning his murder at my hands. Really, would anyone be upset if we became Nync? I glance up and down, up and down, up and…well, you get the idea. Light patterns are dancing on the ceiling. The rain clings to the window panes and creates an almost-kaleidoscope effect on the ceiling of the room. I feel Chris' eyes on me, trying to make sense of my ridiculousness, but I can't look. I can't see disappointment etched on another person's face right now. I feel lousy enough without other people adding to my misery.
My eyes dart to the floor, sick of the weird beauty of light in a room, and focus on the floorboards. Hard wood floors with a waxy oak finish runs from one end of the main room to the other, partially covered by an oriental rug, and by the small kitchen alcove there is a knothole from years of wear and tear. I can't tear my eyes away from the knothole. It's beautiful. It's dull, depressing, and the most exquisite thing since I discovered Laney Jane's legs.
"What do you mean, Justin?" he repeats in an incredulous manner, pulling me out of my reverie with the floor. Chris is a guy of gestures when he's talking. I do it too-who do you think I got it from? His hands fly through the air and land on top of his head, "Ay Carumba! You did it already? Fuck. That quick? Fuck, J. Haven't I told you to ignore the part of your brain that tells you to make your own decisions? You're not qualified. You do stupid things, like end a relationship that is good for you."
"It had to be done," I say, surrendering to the truth of it.
"No, it didn't."
"Chris!" I shout in exasperation. If he doesn't leave I'm likely to hurt him. I love the guy, but at the moment, I would like nothing better than to rip something-someone-apart. I pick up one of the throw pillows and cover my face with it.
Chris pulls the pillow from me and sits down on coffee table in front of me. He chucks the pillow over his head and says, "Look at you. You're supposed to be a grown man."
"Shut up."
"There were other options to be considered, J, but no, you have to be Mr. Impulsive and demolish your personal life," he pauses, scratching his chin, and says, "I can't believe Laney bought it. What did you do? Pretend there was someone else?"
"God no!" I reply. I cover my face with my hands, resting my elbows on my thighs. I let out a loud, frustrated breath, and peek out at Chris before continuing, "You should've seen her, Chris. I hurt her. She was crying-I don't ever remember seeing Laney Jane cry-and it was because of me. I made her cry."
"What did you expect? A high five? One last lap dance in your honor? You ended a three-year relationship without any explanation, Justin. There were bound to be hurt feelings."
"I had no choice."
"Bullshit."
"I told you what Frankie said. She didn't get that internship because of me. She wanted to work at the White House and she didn't get that chance because of me. No politician wants their staff under more scrutiny than the guy they're trying to keep elected. She can't follow her dreams because her name is permanently attached to mine in tabloids and magazines and…" I kick the leg of the table and Chris slides off the edge. I would laugh, if, you know, I wasn't completely incapable of emoting anything but despair and anger. I say, "You think I like this?"
"I think it lets you off the hook, Justin."
I'm not in the mood for this. Chris always thinks he's so damn smart, Guru to the masses, but he's no different than me. He has trouble making relationships work; he doesn't always know what he's doing. Why do I listen to him? Why do I put myself through this shit? I sigh, "I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care to either."
"If you did the smart thing and presented this information to Laney, you would have to confront those issues that have been growing between the two of you. You would have to allow her to make a decision and where would that leave you?"
"Uh…not having this conversation with you?"
"Au contraire, my friend, for we would simply be having a different conversation."
"About how the McDonalds Fry Guy diet doesn't appear to be working for you, tubby?"
"You're getting nasty-must've hit a nerve," Chris calls out over his shoulder. He walks away from me and goes into the kitchen. He looks through the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of Coke. He takes a swig, grabs two glasses, and sits down at the bar off to the side of the kitchen, where he proceeds to pour the soda into the glasses.
He thinks I'm going to follow him over there. He thinks he knows me. Well, ha. Laney Jane thought she knew me and look how that turned out for her. Like I told her…I'm a new, improved man. A single man with fly girls to keep him occupied twenty-four seven. A guy that doesn't get caught up in the patheticness of an imagined life without the girl of his dreams-this fucking guy doesn't have a girl of his dreams, but rather a girl for each arm and every day of the week. What guy wouldn't be happy about that?
Fucking Chris.
I move dejectedly over to the bar and plop down next to him. I pick up the soda and swirl it around and around, watching as the foam rises up and clings to the sides of the glass. I put it back down without taking a sip and push the stool back away from the bar and say, "Would you leave now?"
"No."
"Chris."
"You were scared shitless she wasn't going to choose you so you forced her hand."
"You're twisting this all around and that's why I didn't wait for you to approve of my plan."
"You'd be waiting for hell to freeze over, buddy, because it was a terrible plan," he replies. He chugs down his drink and lets out a loud belch.
I roll my eyes and say, "It was a great plan. It fucking worked, didn't it?" I follow his lead and gulp down the contents of my glass, slamming it down on the bar when I'm done, and add, "Terrible my ass."
"Kid, I don't know who you think you're kidding with this bravado bullshit, but it's grating on my last nerve."
"Stop talking to me like I'm a five-year-old!"
"Well, stop acting like one!"
I throw my glass against the opposite wall. I jump off my chair and chuck that too. I shut my eyes against the noise of it hitting the wall and breaking. Who is this guy? This isn't me. I don't react to things violently. I don't drink myself into oblivion. Is this what the rest of my life without Laney will be like? I notice Chris out of the corner of my eye. He's stricken.
I shut my eyes and cover my face with my hands as I moan out, "Go away, Chris. I'm not in-I can't do this with you right now. I-I lost the girl. My girl, the best girl I'll ever know."
"Self-sacrificing asshole," he replies. I hear him moving on broken glass and when I open my eyes he's picking up the shards of the cup. He shakes his head and said, "You've done a really good job of fucking this up, Justin. I don't know what to tell you. It's probably not too late to recant your moronic 'I need space' declarations."
"I won't do that."
"Because you're stubborn and twenty-one and sure that you know everything."
"Shut up, Chris. You're so damn condescending sometimes," I respond. I push him away from the mess and pick the rest of it up myself. I can see the water and light refracting against the shards of glass and I ball my hand up around it.
I don't feel the pain or even notice the blood. I think I'm numb to everything. It's only when I hear Chris shout, "Fuck Justin" and grab my arm, forcing me to let the long, narrow shard fall back to the ground that I realize what I did. He shakes his head again-sometimes he's so much like my mother, it scares me-and replies, "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but it's not working, J. Look at you. You've got an album coming out in four fucking days. You need to pull yourself together."
"I'm fine."
"Right."
"I said that I'm fine," I snap. I pull myself free of his grasp and rush over to the kitchen sink. I wince slightly as the water seeps into the small cut on the palm of my hand and watch the water turn a reddish tint and get sucked down the drain. It reminds me of that Lily Tomlin movie, Incredible Shrinking Woman, and how she ended up getting stuck in the garbage disposal at one point-right now that seems much more appealing than living my life the way it is at the moment. I know Chris is watching me carefully. On one hand it's reassuring, to know that there are still people out there that care about me and that I can count on, but mostly, I feel…stuck, like I need to escape who I am if I'm ever going to get over this losing Laney Jane thing.
I look around for a towel as one breezes past my head and lands on the counter next to me. I pat my skin dry and wrap the towel around my injured hand. I say, "It amazes me how littlest cuts bleed the most. I once had a papercut that I swear was worse than most gaping gun shot wounds to the head. Laney told me that I was--" I stop. There is something lodged in my throat. I cough a few times, but it's still there. Finally, I manage, "Little cuts are a bitch."
"Are we doing this now?"
"Huh?"
"Pretending Laney doesn't even exist. Will that help?"
"What would help is if you stop questioning my motives for everything! Do you think I like this, Chris? Do you really think I want to face the next couple of weeks alone? My life is upside down right now-professionally and now personally. I'm screwed and feel like enough of a fuck-up already without you adding your two cents."
"My time is worth much more than two cents," he replies dryly. He pats his stomach and says, "C'mon. We're getting lunch."
"I'm not hungry."
"Well, I am."
"So?"
"So, I came all this way to support my best friend with his solo efforts, giving up a primo tee-time at the golf club for Sunday morning, and the least said best friend can do is buy the malnourished guy a pizza."
I roll my eyes, "Whatever, man."
I begin to head toward the door, but Chris steps in front of me. "You need to change first. And shower. You smell like that horse I had to ride during the For the Girl video shoot," he pauses and eyes me over, "And in case you're too distraught to catch on, that's not an exaggeration. You stink."
I nod. There's nothing left to say, at least nothing that we're going to agree on. Chris thinks that I'm being a coward, taking the easy route, and I think I'm doing the chivalrous thing. I'm being the bigger man here, walking away from an unwinable situation. I glance at Chris again and I think, I'm certain that he's right about everything. I'll never admit this to him or think it aloud, but it's stuck in my head now and I see the truth in what he's saying. I've always been so insecure where my relationship with Laney is concerned, so much so that maybe I ended our relationship before Laney had the chance to do it tomorrow or two years from now, when she realized that I wasn't good enough for her.
I close the door to the bathroom and start the shower. I allow hot water to mist around me, like a walk-in sauna before I disrobe and leave everything in a small pile. The water is a shock to my system, dancing across my skin, and I shut my eyes against the stream of water falling from the nozzle. I decide in that moment that everyone has the wrong idea about musicians and celebrities. It's not that fucking great a life. I mean, I get to do what I love and for that, well, I know I won some sort of cosmic lottery, but everything else is so much more complicated. It's like existing within a soap opera-there is no medium. Laney Jane always refers to me as dramatic, as if Shakespeare has possessed me and the only way I can react to anything is in extremes, but it's not something I chose so much as a side effect to stardom. It comes with the territory because I can't give an interview and say, "I'm having an average day." No one believes me. So things become "extraordinary" or "woe betide!"
Laney Jane was my medium for a long time. With her, I could still feel connected to who I was before things got crazy. I could look in her eyes and know that everything was going to be alright. I tried to hold onto her and my normalcy, but everything around me, around us, clamored to force us to one end of the spectrum or the other. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Frankie just made it an issue sooner.
I hated the smirk on his face when he told me what was going on, the stuff that Laney didn't want to bother me with. I hated that she could go to him with these things and not me. I hated that he was standing in front of me telling me what was best for my girlfriend. And I fucking hated him for being right. I couldn't destroy Laney's life.
I don't know what I would do if someone tried to stop me from doing my job or kept me from going after what I want, even if I did love them. Laney deserves a chance to make a name for herself. I know she can do it. She's too amazing to be one of those people who fall to life's wayside. Laney will conquer the world one day and I can't get in the way of that. I can't allow her to keep making all the sacrifices for me. I'm not worth it.
One day she'll realize that.
Hell, the way she threw herself into that elevator yesterday-I think she's already realized it.
I hear a knock on the bathroom door and Chris asks if I'm alright. I shout, "Be out in a minute" and wash away the last of the grime from my body. I don't want to get out of the shower. I feel safe here, like nothing can hurt me, not even my memories or feelings waiting to spring out of nowhere. I wonder if it's possible to promote an album from my shower. Surely, some rabid fans would like the idea, right?
I wrap a towel around my waist and open the door of the bathroom. I notice fresh clothes are laid out on the bed-again, Chris and my mother's likenesses freak me out-and I sit down next to them for a minute. All this moving around-it's starting to hit me, the severity of what I've done is sinking in.
It's been twenty-one hours and thirty-four minutes since I lost the best thing in my life.
I'm all alone now and I plan to keep it that way. I've had the perfect girl-how do you possibly go back out there when you've already achieved the pinnacle? I hate myself. I hate that things have to be this way. I wish I hadn't been so slow on the uptake and realized how perfect Laney was years ago. I wasted so much time with the wrong girls. I wouldn't have done that if I knew my time with Laney Jane was so damn limited.
I'm making it out like she's dead. Laney Jane's right about me. I'm so fucking dramatic. I fucking hate myself.
The new Justin will not be dramatic. He will play things close to the vest and only allow words like "that's cool, baby" to slip off his tongue. He will wear leather and curse and drink a lot. A lot. And under no circumstances will the new Justin fall in love.
"C'mon spastic. I'm dying of starvation out here."
I change quickly and emerge from the safety of the master bedroom. I have fond memories of hotel bedrooms. I'm not the type to kiss and tell (much), but many of my favorite evenings involve Laney Jane, myself, and a bedroom-of course, movies on the television were also involved. (We had a warped sense of foreplay-what can I say?). It wasn't all sexual….it was the connection, laughing, arguing, and sharing our dreams.
We planned our future together. Future…one intertwining existence. I jinxed myself because there were several times that I would wrap my arms around Laney in the middle of the night and bury my face into the side of her neck. Her skin was smooth and felt like home, if such a thing is even possible. I would lay there and think that nothing could ever tear us apart, that even our own machinations were nothing for the power of the two of us together.
I was wrong. I jinxed it and now I'll never get that back again. Those dreams, those plans to move to Maine or Montana or one of the states that begins with "M" where fame is based on who was the smartest neighbor to purchase a plow in time for the first blizzard of the season. We would live on a mountainside, off a winding road that went on for miles and miles, with our house and white picket fence backdropped by the blue sky. It would be a place where you felt like you were a part of the sky, where you felt everything more clearly, and firelight reflected on black windows, and on rainy afternoons we'd (me, Laney, and our seven kids) do jigsaw puzzles together.
Christ, there's nothing worse than seeing your future and imagining yourself going up a flight of stairs alone.
I wonder what it's like to have a normal relationship where the only problem is forgetting the other's birthday or hating an in-law. So many people talk about how there is no such thing as the "perfect relationship" and that it's impossible for people to fall in love for the long haul while maintaining a sliver of rationality and reality. It's like compatibility and faithfulness and desire cannot coexist anymore and if you manage to find that, you're the anomaly and must be burned at the proverbial stake. People have such a bleak view and I have to believe their wrong.
"Justin? Spacey, are you okay?" I narrow my gaze on him and he shrugs, "Okay, fine. Not okay, but I'll refrain from asking or bothering to point out that it's not too late to undo this."
"For the record, you're doing a bang-up job so far," I reply as I grab my jacket off the back off the couch. I pat my pockets to make sure I have my wallet and ask, "Where do you want to go?"
"You choose."
"I'm not even hungry."
"Justin…"
"Stop fussing over me, Chris. It's annoying," I snap, hurrying out of the suite. I'm inundated with memories of yesterday. I feel like I'm giving a relationship doomsday tour or something-over here is where she told me I couldn't call her "Laney Jane" anymore and right over there to your left is where I ripped apart everything I valued about the love of my life.
It's not until we're in the lobby, with Toddy rushing to get a limo, half-aggravated by my spontaneity and part grateful that I've emerged from my self-imposed prison, the screams of a few girls coming from the lounge area, and the sight of Laney Jane rushing toward me that I see this for what it is. A set up. I'm stuck in a romantic comedy like American Sweethearts where the unsuspecting actor guy is going to dinner and the sister shows up (his true love, played wonderfully by the goddess, Julia Roberts), and it's foiled by everyone's plotting until the actress shows up (not the soulmate, more like the fantasy girl before the guy realizes that the soulmate is the fantasy). All I'm waiting for is the faux Spanish guy to come out of nowhere and hit me in the face with a silver tray.
And there he is. Strolling in, unencumbered with things like pain and misery, and whistling-fucking whistling. It's Laney's new shadow, Frankie. He stops when he catches my eye and falls back. He places his hand on Laney's arm, in a little too friendly of a manner for my liking, and whispers something in her ear before heading over to the lounge. I hope my fans rip him apart and serve him to Chris's dog for lunch!
No such luck. Cameras have been removed from bags and are concentrated on me and Laney. Frankie is able to slither into a seat in the corner of the room, pretending to look out at the busy street, but watching us carefully. He wants to make sure I'm still willing to prove how much I love my girlfriend.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I say, trying to hide the relief at seeing her. She looks so beautiful. Her hair is back off her face and her cheeks are flushed from the wind. I pretend not to notice that her eyes are puffy and red. It's best not to get sucked into what she's feeling at the moment, or my arms will be around her and I'll be taking everything back.
I can't do that.
I glare at Chris and he raises his hands up, "Don't look at me. I didn't know she was coming, J."
"Don't blame Chris for this. I've been waiting-we need to talk, Justin."
"No, we don't. I said everything I needed to last night, Melanie Jane," I reply. I shift uncomfortably. I know everyone's eyes are on us. This is hardly the way I wanted things to happen. Why can't there be some easy way to end things? Someone should write a book.
She crosses her arms. She's so fucking stubborn. God, I love her. The only thing that gives her calm, focused façade away is how her bottom lip is sporadically quivering. She replies, "Tough. You might've said everything you need to, but I have some questions and you'd better answer them."
"Or what?"
"Or…I haven't thought that far ahead."
I laugh. I can't help it. That's my Laney Jane. I cover it up with a roll of the eyes and force out, "The hotel staff is itching to prove themselves, Laney. Don't make me give them a reason."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you need to leave."
She glances at Chris with a helpless expression etched on her face. I step between them. The last thing I need is for Mr. Guru of Love to butt in where he doesn't belong and ruin everything. Chris doesn't know the whole story. Chris doesn't know what Laney's life will be like if I don't cut the strings now. I say, "Don't look to him for help. This is between you and me."
She shakes her head and I can see the start of tears glistening in her eyes. She bites down on her lip and I know that she'll keep the tears at bay with sheer will. She looks around and before I know what's happening, she tosses a teddy bear at me. Not any teddy bear, the one I got for her while I was away. The box. I forgot all about the stupid, fucking box. What the hell is wrong with me?
Chris shoots me a baffled look and I shrug. I force an edge of disdain to my voice as I smirk at Laney, "Trying to win me back with teddy bears, Laney Jane? I'd say it's too little, too late, honey."
"You know damn well what this is and what I'm trying to figure out is why."
"Why?"
"Stop with the coy routine, Justin. You suck at it. Why would you set up some elaborate surprise for me if you were planning to dump me? It doesn't make any sense. I want to know what's going on. Right now!"
"For the last time, there's nothing going on. I don't want to be with you anymore. It's that simple, Laney," I reply. I don't allow myself to look away, but it's nearly impossible when I see her wince as the words fall off my tongue. I hate this. I hate my life. I meet Chris' gaze. He's furious with me and I know what he's thinking. He thinks I should end this charade now and tell Laney the truth, let her make her own decision.
But I can't. I won't. I have my reasons-the top one being the idea of her choosing to walk off with Frankie of her own free will. At least this way I know that I pushed them together. I'll be getting what I wanted. I sigh, "Christ Laney, why are you making me do this?"
"How dare I demand some sort of reasoning from you!" she spits out at me. She looks upward for a moment and after what feels like a lifetime, she says, "I'm trying to understand this, Justin. I can't be-am I really that delusional to think that we had something real? To believe that I was different from all the other girls before me? I need to know what changed that. Wouldn't you want to know if the roles were reversed?"
I can't do this with her. I can't do this with her. I really, really can't do this with her. I'll cave. I'll throw myself at her feet, cry out that there's been a horrible mistake, and let her continue to give everything up for me. It hits me how alone I truly am. For all the people out there that love me, I'm alone in this decision and only I have to deal with the repercussions of this moment. What I say will alter my future, no matter which way I choose to go.
I put my hand on her shoulder. It's a condescending move. I know that. That's why I do it. I smile and say, "You're gonna be fine, Laney."
Laney pushes my hand away from her as if I've got the Bubonic Plague and says, "You're such a coward."
The words sting and get a rise out of me, despite my best efforts to remain calm. I counter, "If you knew the truth…it's real easy for you to attack me, Laney, when you haven't got a clue about anything."
Her face softens and I know this can all be over. I see it in her eyes and the way a small breath escapes from her mouth. She replies, "Then explain it to me, Justin. What's going on?"
I feel it about to pour out of me. I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself once I start and I look around frantically for heavenly intervention, some sort of space/time continuum device that will enable me to freeze time and escape without uttering another syllable.
And there she is. She's saying something to Toddy, laughing at one of his lame-ass jokes that aren't funny because she's never liked it when people feel bad around her, and then she catches me staring at her. She mouths something to me, most likely inquiring to why I'm acting like a mad man, and waves over at us.
Chris notices Toddy by the door and then his eyes fall on her. He gulps and shoots me a look. I know that look-he's pretty much silently screaming not to do what he knows I'm about to do. He smiles sympathetically at Laney and says, "You know what? This doesn't involve me. You and Laney need to work this out…alone. No one else."
"Don't be silly, Chris. Laney knows all there is to know."
"Like hell I do, Justin," Laney says. Her eyes are wild and uncompromising. It's impossible to get out of arguments with her if you leave it to logic. That's why I can't this time. Have I mentioned how much I love her? It's taking all my willpower not to kiss her.
"No really, J. Alone is good. I'll go wait with Todd while the two of you work this out," Chris says slowly.
I grab him and respond, "You don't need to leave."
He motions with his eyes to Laney and says, "Yeah, I really do."
"No."
"Emotional outpourings make me slightly uncomfortable, especially when they're not my own. Though those aren't particularly happy moments for me either-usually involving me crying like a little girl while the other party laughs in my face," he pauses and laughs uncomfortably, "Like now."
"Chris, buddy," I pause and let go of my grip on him, patting him on the shoulders. She's coming our way and I grit out, "Play along."
"Don't make me do this."
I say loudly, "There's no reason for you to hurry off. Laney wants to know the truth." Chris groans. I think this will be one of those double doozie situations where I manage to lose two best friends in one sitting. Go me! I turn us both around so we're facing Laney and say, "I was hoping to spare you, Laney, but if this is what it takes to-"
"What?" she crosses her arms and asks, "Are you and Chris running off together? Your fans will be so happy. There are Internet sites dedicated to this sort of thing."
"Funny."
"There are?" Chris pipes up.
I hit him and mutter, "Not important."
"I can't see it really. You and me? Maybe Lance, but-" he stops when he catches both me and Laney staring at him and he adds quickly, "I like girls, LJ. I'm not responsible for breaking up the happy couple."
"I wasn't serious, Chris."
"Oh…right. Again with the highly uncomfortable."
"Chris kept pressuring me to tell you the truth, Laney, so maybe I should. Maybe you should know everything."
"It's about bloody time, J," she says and there's something in her eyes-relief-as if she believes that whatever I say will make everything better. I wish to God it would.
"Hey guys!" a voice says. We all glance in the direction of the voice. It's Britney. She said she'd try to come into town for the launch of the album-she is my God send.
Laney spins around and waves tentatively while Chris tries to grab her and lead her away, but I stop him. I drape my arm over Britney's shoulder and kiss her on the lips. It's a weird thing to be doing. It's different than I remember it-either she or I or maybe both of us kiss differently now-and I can hear all the air deflating from Laney while Britney struggles against my chest.
I pull back first and before she can say anything, I say, "Sweetie, she knows. I told her last night."
Britney stares at me like I've grown a second head. Her eyes dart over the three of us-from me to Chris to Laney to me back to Laney again-before she nods and thankfully goes along with me, "Oh. Okay. Good, I guess."
I refuse to look at Laney's face. I don't want to see the hurt or betrayal that I know is there. I know her too well and the uncomfortable silence in the air won't last long. We're all dead. I reply, "I'm afraid I was a bit of a…what was the word you used, Laney?"
"Coward," she says. It's barely audible, more like a hiss.
"Right. Coward. I was and didn't want to-" I pause and force myself to look at Laney. At least I can do guilt without much effort. I hate lying to Laney or allowing her to believe that this, me and Britney, is what's caused all of our troubles. I've never been a cheater in my life. All the girls before Laney and I imagine all the girls after-never once have I strayed and now that's what I'm going to be labeled by the only person whose opinion ever really mattered. She's on the verge of tears and I'm not sure how much more of this either of us can take. I say, "Maybe it's best if you leave now, Laney."
She nods. No words, just a nod.
Chris glares at me and asks her, "Do you need me to take you home?"
"No, I'm…Frankie's here."
The sound of his name on her lips makes me crazy, makes me meaner than I ever intended to be toward Laney, and I say, "Maybe Frankie's better equipped at dealing with your insecure nature."
"Justin," Britney says.
I shrug, "What? I mean, I have to thank you, Laney. It was great while it lasted. I care about you, but we're from two different worlds-you never could handle that…and you made me realize that no regular girl could." My arm goes back around Britney and I say, "It's best not to wander out of our own realities, you know."
"You're a bastard," she whispers. I doubt she's suddenly overcome with discretion or worry about how I'm thought of and I'm scared to death of what I've done to her. Laney was cynical enough regarding love prior to all of this-the idea of her becoming the old woman with all the cats because of me? Well, that's not allowed to happen.
I purposely try to egg her on and raise my hand to my ear, "What was that?"
"Shut up, Justin," Chris responds for her. He looks at me with absolute revulsion radiating off his face. I figure I might as well go all the way with it at this point.
"What? If Laney wants to get this off her chest, I'm willing to take it. I guess it's the least I can do for her."
"You really are a coward, Justin," she states simply. Those words are like small daggers poking my skin over and over and over again. The type of wounds that take days to kill a man. She kicks the teddy bear, the last gift that I'll ever buy for her, I'm sure, across the lobby floor, and starts to stalk off. Something stops her though and she comes back over to me. She's right in my face. We've been this close many times, but it's so very different now. I'm honestly worried she might try to kill me. She doesn't though. She shrugs and beyond all the hurt and anger on her face, there's something else. Disappointment. And that's the worst moment of my life. I can deal with everything else, but that fucking look might do me in.
"Can I help you with something, Laney?" I question with bravado that I didn't know I possess, considering I wish that I could curl up in her arms and make the rest of the world disappear. I wish I understood the human condition and why this had to happen.
Laney smiles-not that amazing knocks-you-over smile, but her placating turn of the lips that she usually reserves for crazy guys at bars-and says, "Frankie was right about you and I never even saw it. I actually managed to convince myself that I was different."
"I'm sorry?" I reply, caught on the words "Frankie" and "right". I know this is what he's been waiting for, an opportunity to worm himself further into Laney's life than he already has.
"You heard me."
"Whatever, Laney," I reply. It's the only thing I can manage to say without calling this whole big ordeal off. I had hoped that she and I could at least maintain a friendship after things settled down, but I know now that was nothing but a far-fetched dream on my part. I'll be lucky if I make it out of this alive. I take a hold of Britney's hand, not really for effect, more to hold me upright, and start to walk toward the doors. If I can make it to the front doors and breathe in fresh air, things will be okay, I tell myself.
Laney won't let me off that easy. Chris reaches out for her and I'm thankful for that. I trust Chris a helluva lot more than Frankie and I know I can count on him to get Laney Jane home and keep her from doing something crazy to get back at me. Chris will protect Laney since I can't. Laney pulls away from Chris though and blocks my path. I growl, "Move."
"No."
"Is this making you happy, Laney? What do you want? What will get it through you fucking head that I'm through with you? Britney makes me happy. Britney," I pause and draw Britney closer. She's limp to my touch and simply moves with me. I motion with my free hand at the two of us and say, "Britney is what I want. Not you."
Mission Accomplished. Laney equals completely destroyed. The tears start to fall and she barely manages to hold it together. There's no going back now. She hates me. She'll never know the truth and that's the way it has to be. She takes a moment to gather her composure and as I start to walk off again, she calls out, "Do you want to know what my gut instinct was when you declared your love for me in the beginning?"
I stop. I don't know why, but I do. I let out a loud, frustrated sigh and reply in a defeated tone, "I remember, Laney. We were too different."
"No, it was that you never knew what love was. You liked the sound of it, even wanted it, but it was never enough for you. And here I am three years later-another one of many and doubtfully the last. I should've known better. That's what keeps bothering me. Not you, not even that you've moved on." She laughs bitterly and waves her hands around the immediate area. I know she's hurting. Even if I couldn't read her, Laney Jane would never want to draw attention to herself. She's not thinking straight and I'm right there with her. Thought has left the building. She rubs the tears away from her face and adds, "It's that I should've known you weren't capable of the real thing, Justin."
There are a million things I could say-the truth, an apology, something in anger, the truth-but I walk away. I lead Britney back to the door she just came from and call out to Chris without even glancing back, "Are you coming, Chris?" He doesn't say anything, so I respond, "Fine. We're outta here."
With that, I'm where I want to be, in the open, wind blowing and a drizzle of rain hitting my head. New York City is moving around me, noise swirling in the air and people hurrying past on the street. I jump in the car that's been brought around for me and once Britney's in, I shout at the driver, "Get me out of here. I don't care where."
It's a few minutes before Britney actually says something. I'm grateful for a break in the monotony of silence. All I can do when it's quiet is think and replay the look on Laney's face. It hits me that the look on her face will be the last thing I ever see of Laney and I wonder if that's what I'll see on my deathbed someday, the devastation I caused her in the name of fucking love.
My life is over. Twenty one years old and I'm better off fucking dead. It's pathetic.
"I guess I should call my mother and let her know I won't be making dinner," Britney says. Her fingers trace over the rear window, scribbling patterns and small hearts. She glances at me and adds, "Oh, and that we're apparently back together. Who knew?"
I turn to face her, "Listen Brit, I'm sorry-"
She raises her hand and says, "I don't want to know, Justin." She turns back around so that she's sitting in her seat properly and sighs, "I thought we were past the Laney-Justin-Britney triangle is all."
"Things got complicated."
"Obviously."
"Laney is too damn stubborn. I tried to end things with her in a civil manner, but she didn't believe me. She insisted that there was something going on."
"Between us? Riiiight." Britney scoffs. In a better mood, I'd be offended by this. I'm a great catch when I'm not clinically depressed.
"She never could let things go."
"Gee, I wonder who that reminds me of."
"Thanks."
"All I'm saying, Justin, is that whatever drove you to this point-don't you think you should be talking about it with Laney rather than dragging innocent bystanders into it? Did you even think what this would mean for me?"
"I thought we moved past how we ended and realized that we could still care about each other as friends."
"Yes doofus, as friends, not boyfriend/girlfriend, and definitely not like what happened back at that hotel. Once the paparazzi get a whiff of this, you and I will never escape it, J."
I take her hand and say, "I'm sorry, Brit. In a few days, I'll make sure everyone knows that we're broken up."
"Great. There's something I never wanted to go through again," she responds. She catches me looking at her blankly and pries free of my grasp. She shakes her fist at me and says, "For a smart guy, you really are stupid, J."
"That's the consensus."
"You employ these crazy schemes and then act surprised when everything gets messy. It's like you live for messy."
"This wasn't my choice."
"Oh no?"
"I had to do it, Brit," I snap. I watch the people walking across the street while we're stopped at a light and briefly entertain the idea of hopping out of the car, blending in with the gaggle of people, and disappearing for awhile. Except I can't. Responsibilities are a bitch.
"Well, you didn't have to drag me into it. I came here this weekend to support my friend with his solo album and my friend proceeds to drag me into something out of a bad romantic comedy."
"Now you sound like Laney Jane. There is no such thing as a bad romantic comedy, unless you count The Wedding Planner, but I maintain that wasn't actually a romantic movie, just creepy."
Britney lets out a small scream and grabs me by my jacket collar. Her nails dig into my skin and as I'm about to make a comment about talking to her manicurist about the knives she calls nails, she shakes her head and says, "My God, Justin! When are you going to learn? Do I give a shit about your fascination with movies? That's never been me. That was always Laney. You and Laney. Laney and you…and I watched you ruin your relationship with a girl that was perfect for you, and like the dumbass that you are, you're sitting here going on about some fucking stupid JLO movie! I could kill you." She lets go of me and pushes herself over to the other side of the seat, resting her head against the window. Her eyes shut and she adds in a whisper, "I thought we were done with this."
"Yeah, so did I, but we have a jerk named Frankie to thank for changing everything."
"What?"
"Frankie McCauley, aka Laney's new best friend, came to visit me yesterday afternoon. I've never liked the guy mind you and yesterday-well, he shared some things with me that I couldn't ignore, Brit. I wish to God I could," I reply. There is something about letting someone other than Laney see me at an emotional loss. I never did let Britney in that close before so she's probably confused. God knows I am. Again, the urge to make a run for it runs through my head, but I'm too tired. I cover my face with my hands and moan, "I did the right thing." My hands are shaking and I feel my body giving into the urge to simply give up and let this horrible feeling overtake me. I don't care about my album or all the crap coming up tonight and tomorrow and the next day. I don't care about looking weak in front of Britney or Todd. It doesn't matter.
I keep my face covered with my hands and raise my legs to my chest. I say, "I'm sorry, Brit. I'm really sorry about this. I wish it could be avoided-" my voice cracks and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now.
I hear the leather squeak next to me and then Britney's arms are around me, pulling me to her. I keep my eyes closed and for a nanosecond I convince myself that it's Laney, but then my senses return and the smell is different and I can't do it. I pull back and say, "Sorry."
"It's okay," she says. She runs her hands over my head and pats my cheek. "It's okay to be upset, J. Most people are after a break-up and let me tell ya, most break-ups aren't quite as horrible as that scene back there was."
"I've never felt like this before," I reply. I see Britney wince and realize I walked right into that. It's the truth and she knows it too, but we've never admitted that. We never talked about how she was never as important to me as I was to her…and I suddenly realize what a fucking prick I am for dragging her into this. I take her hand again and say, "God, Brit. I'm sorry."
"I've made my peace with things, J," she says. She rolls her eyes and glances off into the world occurring outside our car. She laughs lightly and adds, "You're a bastard."
"I know."
"Good."
"I really am sorry."
She smiles at me, "I know." She reaches past me and whispers something into Todd's ear in the front seat. He nods and she says, "I'm in the mood for chocolate."
I laugh, "When aren't you?"
"I say calories be damned tonight. You, me, and lots of ice cream."
"I like your thinking."
"And you can explain exactly what you've gotten me into."
"I don't-" I stop when I see that the look on Britney's face tells me there is no getting out of this conversation. It's the last time I will have it. From here on out, Melanie Jane Stanton and Justin Timberlake split because of his lingering feelings for former love Britney Spears-with Brit's permission, I'm going to make sure my publicist leaks that story to anyone important.
I take a deep breath and start spilling out the gory details. I tell Britney how Frankie showed up at my doorstep and blamed me for hindering Laney's potential, how he kept glaring at me and saying "she could have a future if it weren't for you, Justin" and how with a few phone calls to Steph and her roommates, everything was confirmed and a decision had to be made. Since Laney couldn't (or wouldn't) do it, I took it upon myself. I shared with her every horrible moment from the night before and brought her up-to-date until she walked in.
And when I'm done, she sits there for a minute, and then replies, "You and your fucking martyr complex."
"No."
She nods, "Yes. This isn't some movie, Justin. Some random stranger isn't going to show up at Laney's apartment and explain your altruistic motives. Laney's going to hate you forever. You're not even going to have good memories to look back on one day-because all that's going to be left is that moment in the hotel where you annihilated her. Are you ready to live with that?"
I think about it for a second. There is a slight possibility that if I hunt Laney down and grovel at her feet, she would still forgive me. If she knows that I never betrayed her, that I never stopped loving her, we might be able to get back to us. We were great when it was us. "I have to be."
The car stops and I pull my coat over my head to keep both Britney and me from getting wet in the rain and we make a run for the door. People immediately look at us and whisper while a few tourists reach for their cameras and start flashing away, without a thought to the rudeness of it all. I take her hand, more out of habit and enjoying the idea of having someone to reach for, and we make our way to the counter. Todd takes it upon himself to clear a section off for us and I realize that this is what my life is and what it will always be: slightly off to the side of the real world, in my own little corner.
Laney isn't made for this and, with the solo album, it would've gotten harder for both of us to pretend she is.
I did the right thing.
I really did the right thing…and hopefully one day I'll be able to believe that.
{/fin}
Author's Notes: Thanks again to my betas, especially my evil sister. It's always fun to write overly-dramatic and distraught Justin. I worry I enjoy it a little too much. And don't worry, y'all. More about Frankie's motives will be revealed as we go. Mwahahahaha. Part three is about halfway done, so hopefully I will have it to my betas by tomorrow night (or Monday night) to try and catch me up.
I've created a new update list: you can join by sending an email here or clicking the following button.