|
normal just like you
|
|
|
normal just like you by Mare uneasyneighbour@gmail.com March 2002 **
In the middle of the night she wakes up with a start. She's in Justin hotel room. It's hot, and his arm is heavy, thrown over her chest. It feels like somebody is looking at her, but no, somebody most certainly isn't. Chris is sitting in an armchair staring at Justin. She can see his eyes gleaming in the dark, reflecting the red lights of the neon sign selling all-day breakfasts across the street. She sits up and says, "Chris? What are you doing here?" Her voice is sleepy and strained. He looks at her, and maybe smiles--she can see the thin white line of his teeth appear briefly, then his lips twitch and cover it. "I couldn't sleep," he says as if this is supposed to explain everything. Maybe it would to Justin. But Justin doesn't wake up and Chris pushes himself up off the chair handles, balancing on them for just a second, then lands silently on the floor. "Tell him I stopped by," he whispers and leaves the room. She falls asleep and dreams of somebody watching over her. *** looking for here Justin's room is never quite Justin's. Britney always feels strange there at first. But he'd called, said, "C'mon, Brit, I miss you. Can't you just...you know, come? " He knew her schedule well enough to ask only for possible dates, making it that much harder to find an excuse. She's never tried to give him one. After a while, she can feel at home anywhere. This visit, she walks in on JC and Bobbie fighting. She doesn't know what she's supposed to do. She could leave, but this is Justin's room, and he's sitting on the floor playing a video game with Chris. Bobbie is sitting on Justin's bed cross-legged, leaning back against the headboard. Britney can't really see her face, just the long curve of her neck, because it's obscured by smoke. Bobbie smokes a lot. JC is looking for something in what Britney thinks is Justin's bag. She wonders if there's anything at all that just belongs to Justin, something he doesn't share with the rest of them. She thinks it will take her some time to get used to being around the guys again. She always does but it's been a while since her last visit and their chaos, the way they all crowd together, is overwhelming. But it's Justin's room after all. She sits down on the floor by the tv, leans against Justin's back. He turns towards her, presses his lips to her temple and says, "Hi, baby. I missed you so much." "Me too, baby," Chris says, mimicking Justin's voice. He grins at her and she grins back, pushes his leg with her foot. He grabs her toes with one hand. "Hey, hands off my woman," Justin and Chris say at the same time and Britney laughs because it's funny how Chris always knows what Justin is going to say. Now she's a little sorry that she talked them out of meeting her at the airport. She sighs, bored with the game that Justin and Chris have both turned back to, and tries to decide if watching JC and Bobbie fight is more interesting than watching Justin play. Justin puts an arm around her waist and it's warm, his palm a little sweaty, splayed over her hipbone. He traces her skin with his fingers and she remembers that last time she left she cried in the airport and thought she was going to miss them all a lot more than she really did. "You can't smoke here, it's not my room," JC tells Bobbie. He seems annoyed; things keep falling out of his hands and he picks them up and throws them back in the bag, which makes his search for whatever it is he's trying to find pointless. He isn't even looking in the bag, not really. He's looking at Chris and Justin. "Justin doesn't mind. Do you...honey?" Bobbie's voice is low and harsh and full of sarcasm. Britney watches her pucker her lips in a small o and blow a stream of smoke in JC's direction. "I don't. Fuck, this game. No, I do mind. Jayce, do--? Fuck, Chris --stop doing that!" Chris is nudging Justin's shoulder, trying to get his attention or trying to get Justin to lose the game. It's strange that even over this noise Britney can hear Joey and Lance's voices in the hall, but she can. She can't quite tell who's saying what though. Joey and Lance sound almost the same and she remembers how at first she thought Joey lowered his voice when he talked to Lance and made it higher when he talked to Chris because he was used to harmonizing. But really, it's that all of them so in tune with each other that they automatically fill in or echo each other no matter what. She thinks that it's just one of the things that make everyone around them feel like a stranger. Joey and Lance walk into the room. Both of them are drunk, Lance leaning into Joey, Joey's arm wrapped around Lance's waist. "C, whatcha you looking for? Nothing but Justin's stinky socks in there," Joey says and puts his other arm around JC's shoulder. "Hey, guys," Britney says and gets up. Justin's hand slides down her leg and he wraps his fingers around her ankle, not letting her go. She smiles down at him but his eyes are still glued to the tv and she notices that Chris's hand is resting on Justin's thigh. "Hey, kiddo," Joey says. He still calls her that even though he stopped calling Justin 'kid' a long time ago. Lance doesn't say anything but he smiles, his head resting on Joey's shoulder. She smiles back at him. She realises that she was expecting them to want to hug her, was bracing herself to be pressed against sweaty bodies and breathed on with heavy smell of alcohol but instead JC and Joey and Lance seem to be intertwined, their limbs connected somehow, forming a strange structure that would fall apart if one of them lets go of the others. She feels a little disappointed. "Fine, I'll be in your room then." They all turn towards Bobbie. Britney realises that neither Lance nor Joey have even noticed her until now. JC looks guilty, mumbles something, but doesn't move to stop her. When Bobbie gets off the bed and passes by them on her way out, he reaches out and catches her wrist. "Don't. I'm...I'm just tired after the concert and all. Don't go," he says and tilts his head to rub his cheek on his shoulder. He ends up rubbing it on Joey's hand instead. Bobbie looks at him and sighs. "Fine," she says. "I'll just go to the fire escape or something. Hope you find what you're looking for." JC lets go of her wrist and smiles at her, his eyes shining. Bobbie doesn't seem to notice. "Brit, wanna come with?" she says and Britney jerks her head up, thrown by the sudden invitation, and by the fact that Bobbie called her Brit. Bobbie has always called her Britney before. "I don't smoke," she says quickly because she's used to lying about that. "I know," Bobbie says. "I just thought you might want a breath of fresh air," she shrugs, "or something. But whatever." Britney realises that she's standing in the middle of a room full of people and that she's alone. Justin is still on the floor, focused on his video game and Chris, and JC Lance and Joey are talking quietly, still leaning into each other. "I'll be right back," she says. No one says anything, but that's ok. It's not like she has anywhere else to be. *** somebody you like Even in very expensive hotels fire escapes are always kind of dingy and dirty. Britney knows this because she sneaks out sometimes for a smoke at night if she can find somebody to bum one off when she's on tour. The railings are always painted black and there are spots of rust that she feels under her fingers when her hand touches the metal. "You should've brought your jacket," Bobbie says and lights a cigarette. "I'm not cold," Britney says, and then notices that she's shivering. "So do you want one or would you rather just stare at mine?" "I don't smok--okay. Yeah. Thank you." Britney figures it's easier to have nothing to talk about when you smoke. She thinks that maybe she should've stayed in the room. Then she remembers Joey's hand on JC's shoulder, feels a little bit better, and says, "When did you get here?" "A few hours ago. Didn't want to go clubbing after their show, think I might've ruined their scheduled night of fun fun fun. But I have this job thing I need to get back to tomorrow and it's kind of early so I thought..." She shrugs again and doesn't finish her sentence. "Justin would've stayed to wait for me anyway. And Chris," Britney takes a drag of her cigarette and then adds, "would have stayed to keep him company." Even to her own ears it sounds like she's apologizing for Justin. "So, um....how's your...magazine, right? Do you like it?" Bobbie smiles at her, or so Britney thinks. It's really hard to tell. Bobbie's hair is falling over her face. Britney wonders if she's going to burn it with her cigarette. "Yep, love my job, shocking as it may sound to you," Bobbie says bitterly and Britney remembers how Chris, in one of his nasty moods, told JC that Bobbie only dated him so she could keep her job. Britney thinks that it's not like any of them haven't sacrificed things to get where they are, but she wouldn't say that to Bobbie. She can understand that, and it's comforting. Then she notices that Bobbie's hands are shaking. "I didn't mean to--" she says. "It's fine. Are you tired? I can do my bitch-girlfriend routine and get JC out of the room. Not sure if it'd work on the others, but it might." "I am tired, but Chris, he and Justin like to hang out and --never mind. I'm not that tired." Britney grins at Bobbie. "And in Justin's room my bitch-girlfriend routine would work better." "You don't have one. Besides, they like you," Bobbie says. It sounds like an accusation. "They've known me longer. And anyway, I think they like you a lot better now." She really doesn't mean it the way it comes out. But Bobbie still smiles at her, doesn't seem to be offended at all, and asks, "Do you like them?" "What? Of course. We've known each other for years." It occurs to her that once upon a time she really wanted them to like her, love her even, and now they do. She's one of them--family, Chris calls her, and pulls on her hair, almost like he used to pull on Justin's curls. "Sorry about dragging you out of there. I just wanted some space and thought you might--I don't think they know that they're separate people, you know?" "Yeah, I know," Britney says and thinks that it's kind of true, only that she doesn't mind, that it makes her feel like she belongs and that's nice. "You're not breaking up with JC, are you?" she asks because suddenly she realizes that this is nice too, to have someone of her own to get away from them with. Bobbie looks at Britney her eyes narrowed and maybe even angry, then says, "Right, breaking up with JC. Because it would be so much fun to be out there again, worrying about some prick scrutinizing zits on my ass." "Well, god, I'm sorry..." Britney says and feels herself blushing. "Fuck. I didn't mean to unload on you or anything, it's just that -- nothing is private with them," She laughs. "You wouldn't understand or maybe you do and--never mind. I'm just. Sorry, Brit." Britney shrugs. "It's okay. I'm used to it, really." "I bet," Bobbie says and reaches out, touches Britney's cheek with the tips of her fingers. Bobbie's hand is resting on Britney's face and it's cold at first, but then it gets warmer, absorbing the heat of Britney's still flushed skin. "Thanks for the smoke," Britney says quietly. "We should go back," Bobbie says suddenly, sharply. In the hallway, right by the door to Justin's room and underneath the no smoking sign Britney notices a cigarette butt with traces of lipstick on the filter lying on the floor. It's still burning a little and Bobbie steps on it, twists her high-heeled sandal. There are no sounds coming from Justin's room. Bobbie waves goodbye but doesn't actually say anything, walks off down the hallway. Britney looks down and there's an ugly hole in the carpet, burnt edges and a cigarette butt lying right in the middle. Inside Justin's room it's dark and quiet. "Hey you," Justin says. "Where's everybody?" "Gone somewhere else, Chris's room maybe." "Oh. Is it that late?" "Nah, I think-- who the fuck cares, come 'ere." She walks towards the bed, taking off her clothes as she does. Justin's body is gleaming silver and beautiful, and she knows hers is too. She slips underneath the covers and he rolls over, his weight heavy on top of her. They are face to face and he touches his nose to hers, making her giggle. He whispers into her mouth, says that he missed her. He says "baby" and slides down. She can't breathe, feels his words in her throat like he left them inside her. "Beautiful," he says, his mouth wet and eager closing around her nipple. She raises her arms, puts them behind her head and arches under him. He never expects her to touch him first, she thinks, and then harsh stubble on his face brushes over the skin of her thighs. She loves him, she thinks. *** have you ever seen yourself? It's nice to wake up in the afternoon, nice to know that it's too late to do anything and not really care. She vaguely remembers that hours ago somebody barged into the room, hollered for Justin to "fucking get up and get ready." She remembers that Justin pulled a blanket over her and whispered, "quiet" and "she's sleeping" but then forgot and she heard him laugh at a joke she doesn't care to remember. There's a cup of coffee on the nightstand beside the bed. She finds it by touch, spills some of it. She licks the few drops that fell on her fingers and as she does, somebody knocks on the door. She figures it's one of the security guards. It's probably time to actually get up. "What?" she says. "It's me," Bobbie says from behind the door, "You up yet? Um...I'm all out of cigarettes. I think Joey left his pack in there though." "Yeah, I'm up. Joey smokes? I didn't know." She hears Bobbie laugh and mutter, "Right. None of them do. I forgot." Britney wonders why Bobbie hasn't come in and realises that she's waiting to be invited. "Come in," she calls. "I'm just going to jump in the shower." "You sure? Because I could wait..." But Bobbie walks in as she says this, then says, "Hah! So that's what you really look like when you wake up in the morning?" "Yeah, well. Not--my make up. It was late when I came and then I..." Britney never takes her makeup off when she's with Justin. She likes to look beautiful, perfect, and she knows that he likes that too. She doesn't mind waking up with raccoon eyes. Normally no one is ever around when she wakes up. Bobbie shakes her head. " I meant you look annoyingly beautiful, which is not really fair, you know." In the bathroom Britney looks in the mirror, at the circles of mascara under her eyes, at lipstick smeared all over her face--there's even a little bit of it on her neck, and she wonders if maybe Justin didn't take off all his makeup after the concert. She doesn't think that she's beautiful, not really. Not like this. She unties her bathrobe and lets it slide off her shoulders, tilts her head back and shakes her hair, then looks in the mirror again. Maybe she is. She smiles at her reflection, wonders what Bobbie would think of the way she looks now. Usually when she visits Justin she takes long showers and spends hours getting ready before she goes out to meet them at the venue, but now she's rushing. She's not sure if Bobbie is going to stay and wait for her and she doesn't want Bobbie to leave. She comes out of the bathroom and Bobbie is still there. It feels like déjà vu the way she sits cross-legged, pushed back against the headboard with the heel of one hand pressed into the bed. She's holding a cigarette and flicking it with her forefinger non-stop into the glass ashtray, well before the column of ashes has a chance to form. Almost déjà vu, but not quite, because no one else is around and Bobbie is looking at Britney, smiling. "You don't mind, do you? Smoking and all." "Justin smokes. Sometimes," Britney says and then regrets, thinks that she probably shouldn't have said that at all. "Oh yeah? JC always says that Justin hates smoke. The little fucker." And then Bobbie laughs. Britney laughs too, and stops regretting. *** you can, if you like It's not a long walk from the limo to the doors of the stadium and they are early, but not as early as the fans. Some of them have blankets and huge bags. Shadows under their eyes tell that they've probably been waiting all night. They've been waiting to see the guys. "Look, look, look, it's Britney," she hears and that's almost familiar but not quite. These fans are not her fans, they are the guys' and she smiles a little bit wider. She knows that she has to win these fans over, make them like her, make them love her. She knows it won't be that hard. A girl--a pretty one, Britney notices --asks to take a picture. She puts an arm around the girl's shoulder and hands a camera to the bodyguard. They go inside after that and Britney feels a rush of excitement, a hot wave spreading through her body; she almost forgets that it's not her show. She waves at more fans and takes more pictures as they make their way backstage. She forgets about Bobbie and when she feels someone's hand touching her shoulder she turns and is startled, a little, to see Bobbie's unsmiling face. "You all right?" Britney asks Bobbie. "You could've taken picture with the fans. Don't you want them to like you?" She thinks that Bobbie really doesn't fit in the smiling glitter of pre-show euphoria, that she, most likely, doesn't even enjoy it. Britney doesn't understand that at all. "Oh like they even care about me. I'm not the superstar girlfriend, Brit, I'm the bitch one. Most of them hate me. Besides, I much rather put all that work into making people I actually like like me." "Like me?" Britney blurts out, almost meaning it as a joke. Almost. "Like you," Bobbie says and her voice is serious but then she smirks and brushes a strand of hair off her face and the expression that was there, something fleeting and intense, is gone. It's strange to Britney, strange and also thrilling somehow, that Bobbie is more interested in Britney than in the fans. It's even a little weird but then Bobbie adds, "I need all the allies I can get in the family, you know," and it's not so weird anymore. Bobbie leaves before the show is over, rushing to catch her flight. She nods at the bodyguard who is following her and smiles at Britney, says, "I'll feel like a real popstar all the way to the airport." She starts to walk off but then pauses, turns back to Britney and digs a card out her purse. She says, "Call me sometime. If you want." Britney puts the card in her pocket. She tries to find it about a week later but she can't remember what she was wearing that day. *** sometime Britney likes calling Justin because normal hours don't apply to either of their lives. It's okay to call him at 5am because they all rehearse early in the morning, or she can call at 2am because he'll still be unwinding after a show. Justin is hardly ever alone and she is used to him shouting and laughing in the middle of their conversations; used to Chris saying something that Justin finds funny or tickling him. She is used to one of the guys grabbing the phone--Joey pretending that he is Justin and moan into the receiver asking for phone sex with her, Lance telling her about his newest project because the others are already sick of hearing about it. Sometimes they can't even talk because there's so much going on but it's still strangely comfortable to listen to the background noises of him talking to the other guys instead of her. Sometimes there are no noises at all, and those are the times she asks who is there. The answer is always almost the same. "Nobody--" a pause, and then comes the variation, "Just...--" and it could be any of their names. She calls Justin and the quiet on his end of the line tells her that it's one of those times. She asks him who he's with. "Nobody--. Just JC." "Oh, that's great," she says and remembers that she wanted to talk to JC anyway. "Can I talk to him for a second?" She can almost see Justin turning his head, a silent question in his raised eyebrows. It doesn't take JC more than a second to pick up the receiver. "Hey," JC says. He sounds just a little bit breathless. "Hey, listen, I've been meaning to call you. Can you give me Bobbie's phone number?" "Sure," JC says and then doesn't say anything else. It take Britney a minute to figure out it's JC's way of asking for some sort of explanation. "She gave me her card, but I think I've lost it or something, and I'm going to be in LA soon, so." "She...um. Gave you her card?" Britney rolls her eyes, because this is classic JC, repeating a part of her question instead of asking his own. She remembers an argument that JC and Justin had once, JC's not-responses making Justin mutter and pace and say things like "C, for fuck's sakes." JC had smiled and said, "For fuck's sakes what, J?" and Chris had leaned in and whispered "Wanna bet C'll get his way?" in her ear. JC did, in the end, and she spent all night agreeing with Justin that JC was "so damn slow sometimes." "Yeah, I thought we could hang out," she says, then thinks about the question that JC didn't and isn't going to ask, and adds, "I like her and I thought you'd be glad--" "Right. Um. Sure. It's just she can be, you know, difficult, but she's. I just didn't know that you, you know, and her. She's not that easy to get along with and--"
"JC, she asked me to call her." "oh. Then, that's great." He gives her the phone number. "Brit," he says when she's just about to ask him to pass the phone to Justin, because he's JC and might forget and just hang up. "Yeah?" "We're kind of not dating right now. So could you maybe... Justin says you are coming to see him soon. So would you mind? Maybe she'd want to come with you." "Sure. If she wants to." "I think she would. If you asked. If you'd call her now." "It's one a.m., JC." "She's not sleeping." "How do you-- oh." "Yeah. She has this weird thing about wasting time on sleep and besides we were just--talking. So, you're gonna call, right?" Britney doesn't know what to say and doesn't want to promise anything, but JC says, "Thanks, Brit," and she guesses that it's too late for that. She didn't mean for this to become all about JC and she wasn't even sure that she was going to call Bobbie at all, just wanted the phone number, but by the time she realises that JC did hang up on her she really doesn't want to call Justin again. She calls Bobbie instead and regrets doing it, a little, when Bobbie answers the phone saying, "Go fuck with somebody else's head, JC. I'm sleeping." "It's not. It's Britney. Hi." "Oh. Brit. Hey." "Sorry I woke you up." "You didn't, I was just....I didn't want to talk to him," she says and Britney almost tells her that she knows but then doesn't. She doesn't want to explain that JC was in Justin's room when she called. "Well see," she says instead, "I was going to see Justin in a week or so and I thought -- I didn't know that you guys are fighting." "Right, because that's something new. He'll probably forget that we are anyway and call me tomorrow." Britney can picture Bobbie's face, bitter and angry, and wants to tell her something soothing, something comforting, but she doesn't really know what to say. In all honesty, she doesn't have much to offer other than, "It's going to be okay. I'm sure he wants you to come and I -- I do too. We could always hang out. If you want." Bobbie doesn't say anything and Britney adds, "You love JC and I'm -- we're friends, right? So, I'll be there for you." "You want to be my friend," Bobbie says and she doesn't sound angry, just kind of thoughtful. "So maybe I'll see you then?" "Maybe," Bobbie says but it means you will and they both know it. *** somebody like you
Next time Britney flies down the guys want to go clubbing after the show. They're still high on adrenaline and Britney knows what that feels like. She misses that feeling, wishes she was the one on tour. She feels guilty that she's jealous of them and agrees to go even though she's jet-lagged and would rather be somewhere quiet for a while. Bobbie is there, visiting JC, and she says, "Fine, I'll go." Joey picks Bobbie up and says, "That's my girl." He's wearing his 'Spear Britney' t-shirt and Britney wants to say something funny about it but can't think of anything to say because Chris is tickling her. She giggles and tries to answer JC's questions about her new video at the same time. The limo is huge, but there's almost not enough room for all seven of them when they pile inside. Justin's head is resting on her shoulder, Bobbie's hair is brushing against her face. Lance's voice is rising over the noise; he's trying to talk to someone on his cell-phone, says words like 'meeting' and 'promptly' and 'very important' until Chris grabs the phone away from him and yells "Lance is dead!" into the receiver. They go straight to the dance floor when they hit the club. There's a glittering mass of bodies around her and she can't see which one of the guys is behind her, pressed against her back. Her face is resting in the hollow above Justin's collarbone, his chin brushing the top of her head. She can taste the bitter mix of his cologne and sweat. We are close so close, she thinks. She doesn't want to think that it's at least in part because somebody else is pushing her towards Justin's body, someone else's arms reaching around her, someone else's hands resting on Justin's shoulders. "Ah, children, all grown up. I feel fucking old just looking at you," Chris shouts into her ear and she knows that it's him behind her. She looks up to meet Justin's eyes. Justin is looking over her shoulder smiling at Chris, and his hands on her hips clench in even tighter grip, his fingers digging into her skin. Britney keeps thinking that she shouldn't be tired; she's slept a million hours more than she usually does but it feels like she hasn't slept at all, or maybe a little like she's still sleeping. Her limbs feel soft and stretched out somehow and there's a slight trembling in her hands when she goes back to the table the guys have grabbed in the VIP area and is handed a glass with something cold and presumably containing alcohol to drink. "Tired?" Bobbie asks as Britney sits down. Britney nods. It's always like that. She's always tired. She dreams about long days of doing nothing while she is on tour, but once she actually gets some time off, the days seem to shrink. The hours are usually filled with rehearsing, every minute accounted for. She wants to go back to the hotel, but that would be almost too much effort, especially with Justin, Chris and JC still lost somewhere on the dance floor. She could leave by herself, she supposes, but she really doesn't want to be alone. Then she realises that she isn't, that Bobbie is there. She leans in a little, so that her shoulder touches Bobbie's. She watches a couple of girls pass by their table, their faces flushed with excitement, squeezing each other's hands in a failing attempt to seem nonchalant. The fifth time they walk by their faces are starting to look familiar and Britney waves at them, smiles when they start giggling. "Don't you ever stop?" Bobbie says. "Stop what?" "Working the crowd." "I'm just being nice." "Right. So don't you ever stop?" "What, being nice?" "Yeah." Britney remembers how she asked Justin what the guys thought of her when they first started going out. He'd beamed at her, his smile making his eyes sparkle, and said, "They love you Brit. All of them do, even Chris," and kissed her cheek. "I am nice," she says and tries not to sound angry. "Sure. A normal girl, sweet and kind---I've seen your interviews." "Would you rather I be a bitch?" Britney asks. She doesn't add "like you" and feels pretty proud of herself. Bobbie laughs then, a long harsh sound, but when she stops and looks at Britney there are tears in the corners of her eyes and her face doesn't look like the face of a person who's just heard something funny. "Maybe," she says, "I would." Britney notices that anger makes Bobbie's eyes sparkle and that her naked arm is so thin, so white and slender against the black of her short-sleeved dress. Bobbie's lipstick is a little smudged and it looks kind of pretty--her mouth isn't perfectly shaped and her bottom lip is a little swollen, like she's been biting it. Britney reaches out with one finger and slides it over the skin under Bobbie's lip, rubs a little to take the smudged lipstick off. Bobbie catches her wrist and pushes her hand down onto the table. "Don't," she says, but she doesn't let go of Britney's hand. Britney turns her hand palm up and touches the skin on Bobbie's wrist, lets her index finger slide up and over the side of Bobbie's hand. Bobbie curls her hand into a fist, her fingers pressed together, knuckles sharp and white. Britney squeezes Bobbie's hand gently. "Your lipstick was just--it doesn't matter. You're pretty, god, beautiful even. Really, I mean it," she says. And she does, especially now when Bobbie's eyes are downcast and the shadows are making her eyelashes look impossibly long. Britney likes beautiful people. She thinks that maybe Bobbie is just feeling insecure or self-conscious around her. Most people do. She has to deal with it a lot. "It's not you," Bobbie says sharply, and Britney should feel relieved but somehow she doesn't. It seems that everything Bobbie says has some meaning that she doesn't quite get. "This," Bobbie says then, "is just--. " She looks over at Lance and Joey. Britney realises that she's forgotten all about them, all of them, even Justin. She follows Bobbie's gaze. Joey is sitting on the edge of his chair, his back half-turned to Lance. There's a girl in front of him, standing between his spread knees. She is smiling down at him and his fingers trace small circles on her thigh, and then larger ones, so that half of his hand disappears under the hem of her skirt. Every time he does that the girl runs her tongue over her lips. Britney thinks it doesn't look as sexy as the girl might think it does. She looks at Lance again and then at Joey, and sees that Lance's fingers are disappearing and reappearing under the sleeve of Joey's t-shirt, drawing small circles on the skin above his elbow. Then she realises that she is tracing the same pattern on Bobbie's hand. She turns to face Bobbie again, and Bobbie is looking right at her, eyes narrow and mocking. Then she leans and whispers, low and mean, "You really are one of them, aren't you?" "It's not. I--I don't know what you mean." Britney pulls her hand away from Bobbie's and looks down at the table. "Right. You don't know." Britney knows that Bobbie is looking at her and doesn't look up, watches the small pieces of ice in her glass tremble to the beat of the music, melting away in front of her eyes. She wants to tell Bobbie that touching is familiar, makes everything safe. She loves that and she thinks if Bobbie knew, understood-- "I'd like a cigarette, I think," she says instead, because everything else seems too complicated for words. "What if somebody sees you and takes a picture? Think I want "bad influence on perfect little Britney" added to my "sins of the evil bitch" list?" "We could go somewhere." "We could," Bobbie says. *** do you like it like this? A bodyguard clears out the bathroom and says he'll be right outside. Britney and Bobbie stand in front of the mirror, looking at each other, and Britney thinks that maybe she should turn to Bobbie and say something. She doesn't though. It's much easier to look in the mirror instead. She really wants a cigarette but can't bring herself to ask for one. "You're just like JC," Bobbie finally says. She sighs and starts getting a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. "You could just ask, and not wait till things you want start falling into your lap." She ducks her head to look inside her purse and a strand of her hair falls over her face. She starts to push it away and her elbow brushes over Britney's breast. Bobbie looks up quickly and mumbles, "Sorry." Britney is still looking in the mirror. She notices that Bobbie's face is flushed and feels her own skin prickle with goosbumps and-- Oh, she thinks. "I'm not like JC," she says. "I ask." She touches Bobbie's face with the side of one hand, lets it linger there for a second and then tucks the strand of hair behind her ear. Bobbie parts her lips for a second as if to say something but inhales sharply instead and closes her eyes. Britney watches her place her purse carefully on the counter. A kiss. It just happens. Doesn't it always? What really happens is that the space between them becomes smaller and smaller and then it closes. Britney runs her tongue over Bobbie's mouth, tastes her lipstick and her own, feels Bobbie's lips. They kiss until there's just skin, the taste of each other. Bobbie's lips are chapped. "I bite my nails sometimes," Britney says, pulling away and touching Bobbie's lips. She lets her fingers trace a line along Bobbie's chin, down her neck to rest in the hollow of her throat. "I know you do. You say that in your interviews too." Bobbie takes one of Britney's hands in hers and runs her fingers over the perfectly manicured nails. "Acrylics," Britney says. "They aren't real." "Nothing really is." "I am," Britney says and then pauses, adds, "that stuff about surgery, it's not--" "You don't know what real means," Bobbie says and then kisses her again. Britney doesn't want to hear anything else. She thinks, briefly, that she never really has a chance to want anything anymore. She gets everything she wants before she even knows she wants it. *** lie to me "You said you're weren't tired, but I go away for half an hour and you're already asleep. " Britney plops on the bed next to Bobbie. "You are so full of shit." Bobbie opens her eyes and says, "Nice. Seriously Brit, you and Justin are a match made in heaven. You even sound alike. " Even though her eyes are heavy-lidded and there are dark circles underneath, her voice is steady. If Britney hadn't seen it, she would have never known that Bobbie just woke up. It's the second time Bobbie has come to see her on tour, and she falls asleep everywhere. Backstage, in limos, curled up on hotel beds with her head in Britney's lap. If her nightly conversation with Justin takes longer than Bobbie's cigarette, Bobbie always falls asleep. If it doesn't, Bobbie makes fun of Justin while she smokes, whispers mean things into Britney's ear. Britney wants to feel bad about the things Bobbie says but mostly she tries not to giggle. Tonight she has to put a hand over the phone so he won't hear anything. When he asks "Who's there?" she says "nobody" and that she thinks maybe she's coming down with something. Bobbie says, "You sure are," and puts down her cigarette. Britney has to cut her conversation short then. She doesn't mind at all. "So are you gonna come with me to see them this time?" she asks later. "No. But you're coming to LA, right? I'll see you then." "But I'm going and--" "Yeah, well, I can only take so much time off work." "There's this awards show. We're all going. So maybe--." "Maybe." Britney goes to see the guys alone and misses Bobbie a little, tells JC that she wishes Bobbie was there. He says, "Oh, I know. Me too," and then hugs her tight. She feels his heart beating against her own, thinks that it's good to always have somebody to talk to. She almost forgets that this is JC she's talking to and that maybe she should feel guilty. She doesn't. It doesn't feel like she's taking anything away from him at all. When it's time to go back, they all go to the airport. Lance and Joey are catching a flight to Toronto an hour before her. They leave and it gets so quiet. Chris is sleeping, his head on Justin's shoulder, one of Justin's arms thrown around him and the other one resting on Britney's back. JC stands in front of them, says that he wants to call Bobbie and invite her to come with him to the awards show. Justin shakes his head, his palm sliding up and down Britney's shoulder, and says, "Oh man, you're just asking for it. She's going to chew you out. And this once, I wouldn't even blame her. It's like 4 a.m. in Cali, Jayce." "No, but see, she's not sleeping. She doesn't sleep much. And also, I want her to come to the show. She'd like it. And--" "Yeah, yeah. Don't you come crying to me when she tells you off." Justin smiles at JC, his eyes warm and inviting, and touches JC's hand with the tips of his fingers. JC smiles back at him and gets his cell out of his pocket. Britney thinks of Bobbie curled up in bed with her face next to Britney's, their cellphones lying on a nightstand right within reach. She doesn't say anything, just smiles and looks at her hands. *** you made your bed It's during another awards show that Bobbie doesn't attend that Britney notices that JC is not talking to her. She tries to figure out when that started but can't. She thinks it's probably been a few months. It was easy to miss, she thinks, because he still wrapped his arms around her and smiled and talked a lot about Justin being lucky to interviewers. When she thinks back, she realises that the last time Bobbie came to see her on tour she didn't want to have any conversations about them, about JC, would ask her about something else and change the subject. Bobbie always asks her questions and sometimes Britney doesn't want to answer them, but ends up to, anyway. She realises that she forgets at times that Bobbie is a journalist and asking questions is her job. When Britney thinks about it, it occurs to her that it probably means that Bobbie is good at what she does. JC sits beside her during the awards show and sometimes leans in and makes comments about other people, but he doesn't say her name and the comments he makes sound like something he would say to anyone. They run into Tony, a guy she remembers from MMC, during a break but when JC invites him to sit with them he makes sure that he's nowhere near Britney. She doesn't think anybody notices until she catches Chris looking at JC and then at her and then sighing and muttering something to himself. She keeps looking at Chris, not knowing if she should say something, but when Chris looks up and meets her eyes, he smiles at her and Britney feels ok. She leaves Justin with Lance and Joey at the after party and goes back to the hotel, says that she has a headache and an early flight tomorrow. She wants to talk to JC, ask him why he isn't talking to her. She tries to think what she's going to tell him, what she's going to say and what she isn't. By the time she gets to his room, she has it all planned out; her questions, his possible answers, and it's easy enough. It's almost like preparing for an interview. She stands by his door, one hand raised to knock, and realizes she can hear JC and Chris talking inside. "Go away, Chris. Let me wallow for a while. Isn't that what you told me when Dani left?" "Oh for fuck sakes, C! Bobbie is nothing like Dani. Nothing." She can hear Chris pacing around the room. She can picture JC standing there, not moving at all. "She -- she wasn't, but it ended the same. It always does, doesn't it? For all of us." "Yeah, well maybe Justin is right. Brit is the only one who understands. She's like us--" "Don't even mention --. Just don't. And by the way don't forget to tell Lance. I bet he thinks that it's going to be different. I bet he thinks that what's her face, Laura, is different. I bet Britney will--" "What? Jayce, c'mon, come 'ere. You know it's not her fault." "Oh no, of course not. They're just -- Bobbie and Britney-- they're friends and--" JC laughs and the sound of it makes Britney's eyes sting and her skin flush. Chris and JC are still talking but quieter now and eventually there's nothing to hear but soft sounds that aren't words at all. She walks off and her footsteps echo the soft rhythmic thuds of something hitting the wall over and over and over again. She goes back to Justin's room and calls Bobbie. "You broke up with JC." "I---yeah. A while ago." "But why? It doesn't matter if---you could still. You could still be with me. All of us we could still--" She doesn't realise that Bobbie is laughing. When she does it startles her, and somehow frightens her too. "I--" she says, but Bobbie cuts her off, saying, "Of course we could, Britney," and that everything is fine and she's just kind of tired. I should feel like I won something, Britney thinks. But she doesn't.
*** not that different then Her tour is over and she stays in LA, calls Bobbie a couple of times from Justin's house when he's not there. Bobbie never returns her calls. Britney thinks that maybe Bobbie is just busy and doesn't let herself think anything past that. She does a lot of appearances with the guys and JC is talking to her again, is nice to her almost always. Justin takes her away for her birthday and scatters rose petals all over the room, make her think of every romantic movie she's ever seen. When they come back all of the guys meet them in the airport. Justin holds her hand, kisses her temple, and smiles a bright and proud smile JC hugs them both and says, "Aww, you guys. It's just so great, so great. I'm happy for you. Everybody is so happy for you," and it sounds familiar, like something that JC always says until he adds, "And it's so fortunate that you're also every PR agent's wet dream." That sounds like something Bobbie would say and she can't remember when JC got to be so cruel. She looks at him and his smile is the JC's smile, his eyes warm and crinkled. Still it's not easy for her to meet his eyes with a smile of her own. One day Bobbie leaves a message on Justin's answering machine, wishes him a happy birthday at the end of the message sighs and says "Say hi to Britney for me." Britney listens to the message over and over again and then calls Bobbie. She forgets to look at the clock before she dials the number and only remembers about it when Bobbie doesn't pick up the phone after two rings. She thinks briefly about hanging up, but doesn't and then there's Bobbie's voice saying, "Hello." "It's me. Brit." "I know. No one else calls at this hour." "I called you before, but--" "I've been busy." "You're so full of shit." "Funny. I'm tired, Britney, and I don't think we should -- not now." "When, then?" "Some other time, maybe." "Maybe," she says but they both know that it means never. "Brit, is something wrong? Who were you talking to? Your mom?" Justin says as he and Chris walk into the room. There's concern on his face, but it only makes her angry. "No. Nothing is wrong. It's just. I was talking to Bobbie. She broke up with -- with JC." Justin looks at Chris briefly, then back at her. He sits down and puts an arm around her. "Yeah, I know. That bitch. JC is still moping. But it's for the best. She didn't understand. Never did, " he says. She watches Chris lean against the wall and look at them. "How come you never told me? How come you knew and never said anything?" she asks. "Brit--" Justin says. "You two are friends. I thought you knew." "Friends," she repeats and thinks of JC, of Bobbie and her brittle smile and sleepy eyes. She pulls herself together and puts a smile on her face, but says, "No, I can't," when Justin asks her to go to JC's with them. *** getting it Justin's house is white and quiet and she feels more at home here than she wants to, maybe because she owns half of it. She sits in the dark and looks at the phone for what seems like forever. She doesn't feel any pain; she doesn't feel anything at all. She goes to bed and falls asleep, tired of thinking that she should feel something. When she wakes up someone is watching over her. Chris is sitting at the end of the bed and she thinks that he looks old, maybe even older than he is. But what do you know about age, anyway, she remembers Bobbie asking her once. "Where's Justin?" she asks. "I thought you both went out." "He's still at JC's. Justin asked me to see if you're okay." "Oh. Because you're so great at dealing with your own shit that you can fix mine?" "Didn't know your shit needed fixing. Want me to go?" She shrugs. "C'll get over it. He doesn't think it's your fault. You had nothing to do with it, really. Nobody blames you. He likes you still, we all do. Hell, even Bobbie the bitch liked you, didn't she?" He chuckles. It's not a happy sound. "You really are one of us. Family." "That's just perfect. Because that's what I've always wanted to be. Just. like. you." "Well then what did you always want to be?" "I. I don't know. But. God, I'm just so sick of you. All of you. Sometimes I think if I left--" "Brit." "What? I just -- just this once. For once I just wanted something. Normal. Mine. Just mine." "Brit," he says again and his voice cracks into almost a whisper, "How can you? How can you want something that you know nothing about?" It sounds like something Bobbie would say and that's the last thing she wants to hear. "Oh, because you know me so well. Is that it?" Chris looks at her for a second and then tilts his head to one side. "Oh," he says, "oh. So that's why JC -- he was right then." "She wasn't a bitch. She was mine...my--" She starts shaking a little, puts her arms around her ankles, digs her chin into her knee. "Brit. Don't. Justin--he loves you. And she was just a selfish bitch, she only was around because--" "What? How do you know anyway? What did JC say? Does Justin know?" Chris just looks at her, doesn't say anything. "You knew," she hisses, realisation dawning. "You all fucking knew, and didn't say anything. Even Justin. Why would he? What you and JC-- God! You and Justin... all of you. You bastards. You fucking bastards." "Britney. Don't be a bitch. It's not like you didn't know." "I didn't...didn't think that...you. All of you-- and it's always fucking been like that--" She realises that she is crying when she tastes salt on her lips. "Shhhhhh, baby, shhhh" Chris says, and his voice whispery and kind. He sits next to her. "You'll get over it. You'll get over her. You don't have to say anything. If we never talk about it, it wouldn't matter. It's better when you have people who know you." He puts an arm around her. She doesn't move, doesn't do anything, watches his hand slide up and down her arm, tracing circles. It feels familiar. After a while he leans in and she opens her mouth. She thinks that Chris's skin doesn't taste like Bobbie's at all. end |