Minor Indiscretion

03.

      Justin

      The club was poppin’ and I, as well as the group of people Pharrell came with, received the royal treatment.  Necks were breaking to see who’d entered as we were ushered to the VIP section.  Beautiful women in barely there clothing were grinding against each other and while I was off the market, I couldn’t help but appreciate the view.  Drinks had been ordered and the guys were scheming when I noticed Pharrell’s eyes narrow before widening with surprise.

      “Jaxon?!” he called out causing a female to the far right of us to snap her head in our direction.

      “Rell?” she questioned as a huge smile brightened her face.  She made her way over to us and embraced him in a warm hug before saying, “When did you get back to LA?”

      “About a week ago.  What about you?  How long are you in town for?”  he asked.

      She shrugged her bare shoulders and said, “About another week.  A week and a half at most.  After that I’m flying to Italy for a few shows.”

      “Word?  We definitely need to hook up.  Maybe do lunch or something and catch up.  I haven’t seen you since that spread I did for GQ a while back-” Pharrell’s conversation was interrupted by one of his friends clearing their throats.  Jaxon looked between the guy and Pharrell as he made the introductions.  “…and you should already know Justin.”

      “It’s nice to formally meet you,” she spoke easily and nodded her head in my direction before excitement passed through her expressive green eyes.  Just as I was about to ask her what was wrong she spoke.  “This is my song!”  She turned to Pharrell and said, “Let me get at you later.  I need to find Raphael and hit the dance floor.”

      The throwback song, Diana King’s shy guy, rang through the club as Jaxon and her male friend crossed the velvet rope and headed towards the dance floor.  I watched her hips rock in time with the beat with her hands moving slowly in the air and couldn’t help my mind from going to the gutter.  She wasn’t grinding against her dance partner like quite a few of the other women in the club were, but her winding hips and the dress that kissed her shapely thighs did more for me than the dry humping in damn near every corner.

      Jaxon

      “Get it J!” Raphael hooted with a wide smile as the two of us danced.

      It was nice to be free for once.  I was singing along to the chorus when I felt someone press up against me.  I’d been friends with Raphi for a long while and, as such, I knew the meaning behind all of his expressions and the look he was giving me was an excited one that told me not to curse out the person taking liberties with my personal space.  Without missing a beat, I turned around to see who’d joined the party and had to stop the shocked expression that wanted to come out when I saw Justin dancing there as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

      To be honest, I was having mixed feelings.  The situation was innocent enough and had he been any other guy I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about just dancing and having a good time, but he wasn’t any other guy.  He was Justin freaking Timberlake and we were in LA, the home of over eager paparazzi.  The last thing I needed was for the wrong shot to get taken and for the two of us to end up in some trashy tabloid claiming I’m “stealing” him away from whichever girl he happened to be with at the moment.

      “You cool?” Justin leaned in and asked.  I guess I wasn’t so good at hiding my indecision.

      “Yeah,” I answered, deciding to just go with the flow and act my age for once.

      “Somebody had fun last night,” Raphael called in a sing-song manner as he barged into my room early the next morning.

      “Ugh,” I grunted and turned my head away from him.

      “No, no miss thing,” Raphael argued as he threw thew my covers off of me.  “Whenever you want to hear about my romantic interludes, I indulge in your curiosity and now you’re trying to act brand new now that you have some juicy tidbits to add to our ‘day after’ discussions?  Oh hell to the no.”

      “There’s nothing to dodge because I don’t have anything ‘juicy’ to share,” I mumbled as I reached to grab my sheets.

      “So the fact that you danced with and talked to Justin all night is nothing?” he asked in disbelief.

      “It was nothing serious,” I spoke, fighting off a blush.  Why the hell was I blushing anyway?  There’s NOTHING going on there.

      “Nothing serious?” he asked with his ‘I don’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth’ expression.

      “Raphael!” I yelled exasperatedly.

      “Well what does one speak about with a new acquaintance if nothing juicy popped in the conversation?” he asked.

      “Just a lot of nothing.  He asked me what I was in LA for because Pharell had asked how long I would be in town, and I told him I was a model.  He started asking me about different designers and models that he knew of before going off to abstract things like the different people peeping at us in the club and what sorts of movies and music we liked.  Just small talk.”

      “Sounds to me, like someone was trying to get to know you.”

      “Please don’t go there,” I pleaded.  Raphael was forever trying to hook me up with someone and I wasn’t even trying to get into that.  At this point in my career, I was so busy that I couldn’t really be in one place long enough to build a decent foundation for a relationship.  Lets not forget that most of the men who were interested in me enough to actually approach me were so old that they could be my father.  I was all for dating an older man, but I wasn’t trying to be anyone’s trophy wife.

      “If you insist,” he spoke with a put out sigh before slapping me hard on the butt and saying, “get up and get dressed.  I want to get some breakfast before you go in for your fitting.”

      Raphael

      “You brought me here for breakfast?” Jaxon asked as I pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

      “What?” I asked defensively.  “They have very good pastries here; they’re from the Cheesecake Factory.  You should get a danish…or maybe not,” I added when I saw the look on her face.

      Jaxon pouted and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her low cut jeans as she stared at the menu.  No doubt, in search for something fat free, carb free, and taste free.  I ordered an extra danish before taking a seat to wait for my drink to get mixed.  It was from my spot in the corner that I observed two things.  One, Jaxon ordered some boring ass plain oatmeal.  And two, Justin walked in with his personal assistant and guard in tow.

      Being the observant person I am, I caught the way Justin’s eye lit slightly with the recognition of Jaxon.  I also caught the way he checked her out.  Uh-huh.  Nothing there my ass.

      “Only you would pair a Berkin bag with the most drab outfit in history,” I complained as Jax looped a mint green belt around the waist of her skinny jeans.  

      “There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable,” she defended as she ran her fingers through her hair and twisted her hair back into a messy bun.

      “Hmm,” I mumbled as covered her belt with the hem of a flimsy mint green tee.  “So explain to me where you’re going again.”

      She rubbed her right hand over her face and I didn’t need her to tell me that there was a deviant sparkle in my eye.  She’d been insisting for weeks that nothing but the beginning stages of friendship was going on between her and Mr. Timberlake, but I wasn’t biting.  I’m sure that everything was so cut and dry in her little world, but that wasn’t the case with Justin.  I saw the way he looked at her and it went further beyond the fact that she was a great conversationalist.

      “Justin invited me to a studio session with him and Timberland-”

      “A studio session?” I asked rhetorically.  “I’m sure he just wants to make beautiful music with you.”

      “You ass!” she cursed and threw a throw pillow at me.

      “All I’m saying is don’t give me shit when I pop up and say I told you so when you and Justin hook up.”

      “There won’t be any hooking up,” she argued as she stuffed her laces inside of her sneakers.