Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 28

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 32
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

The limo had picked Nick up first, and climbing into the car was not the big entrance I might have hoped for.

I settled next to him and realized the reason he hadn't said anything wasn't because he was overcome with my beauty and rendered speechless. Hardly. He was on the phone, listening intently to whoever was on the other end.

He gave me a quick smile, then held up a finger, looking out the window as we pulled away from the curb.

"Yeah, I know. Can we…"

I bit back a sigh. So much for wanting to spend the whole day together. We'd had breakfast, gone back to his hotel and had sex, then I left to get styled and to do some press. Now that we were together, he was on the phone.

I'd spent five hours to end up in jeans. So I looked like I normally did, only twenty times better. They'd tried to get me into a dress, but the guys were wearing jeans, so I wanted to wear jeans.

A dress seemed like so much bother. I'd be fussing with it all night, and uncomfortable. Better to just be myself.

Given that my boyfriend hadn't looked at me yet, I'd made the right decision. Why bother looking good?

Besides the fact that we were up for five awards tonight and everyone kept telling us we'd win at least one. Might be nice to look good on stage.

A year ago, I'd been jumping out of my skin about the VMAs and we were just presenting. This year we were nominated and I barely cared. I'd much rather watch it on TV, curled up with Nick.

I glanced over at him, but he was still talking, nodding at his reflection in the window.

He'd made an effort in his clothes. He was wearing a shirt with a collar. I was impressed. Since Backstreet had stopped touring, he'd been wearing the same stupid long shorts and t-shirts every day, it seemed. But he was wearing jeans and a nice striped shirt open over a t-shirt. It was sweet that he'd tried.

I stroked his arm, and smiled when he looked down at me. "Nice," I mouthed, and he shrugged, moving the phone away from his mouth quickly.

"Cynthia sent it over. Said I had to look good. Yeah, Ken, I know. Let's get them to…"

He rolled his eyes as Ken cut him off and looked out the window again, setting his jaw as he listened.

So, the outfit wasn't for me. Just for the pictures with me. If Cynthia allowed him to pose for anything with me. I fully expected her to whisk him away as soon as we stepped out of this car.

My phone rang, and I fished it out of my tiny purse. I might be wearing jeans, but they were too tight to fit my phone in the pocket.

Lola started talking before I even said 'hello'. "Why is your boyfriend's crazy publicist telling me that you can't talk to Justin fucking Timberlake? I do not like that woman."

I didn't like her either. But since she'd told me that Nick and I shouldn't be seen in public too often, I guess I had reason to.

"I don't know. Fuck her. If I see Justin, I'll talk to him."

Nick caught my shoulder, shaking his head, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "Nick seems to think I won't, but I'm not sure if he remembers who he's talking to."

"Ken, I'll talk to you later. Yeah. Yeah. Bye."

"Lola, tell Cynthia to fuck herself. It's bad enough that I'm not allowed to be seen with my boyfriend, but she can't tell me who to be friends with."

I hung up, giving Nick a challenging look. "Am I not allowed to talk to Justin now?"

"No, of course you can. But Ken and Cynthia think…"

"Ken and Cynthia think I'm a liability to your career, too. Do I really have to live my entire fucking life by what they tell you?"

"No, but I don't want to spend all fucking night being compared to him!" he said, frustrated. "Could you do this one thing for me?"

"Not talk to Justin?" I questioned, and he nodded.

"You can talk to him, if you see him. But… don't talk about him. You know he's the big story tonight. Everyone knows you're friends, so they'll ask about him."

"And what do I say then?"

"That you had no idea he had a solo album coming out, because you've been listening to mine all summer?" he asked hopefully, and I had to smile. That wasn't a big deal. I loved Nick's album.

"Yours is so much better," I said.

"You've heard his?"

"He was recording at our studio in LA. It's all dance pop crap. There is entirely too much beat-boxing."

Smiling, he put an arm around my shoulders. "You can tell that to the press."

We'd made it pretty far without talking about Justin. Sudden Silence had won one of the last awards of the night, so they were backstage while Justin closed the show, and I went to meet her there. I wasn't sure if Ken had made that happen or not, and I didn't really want to know. Sudden Silence deserved best pop video.

But now she was across the party from me, talking to him. He was making her laugh. I hadn't done that much lately. She was down tonight, even as they were winning awards. She looked beautiful, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Did I do that? But I was here. That was good, right?

Maybe it was Dad stuff. I knew winning things could be bittersweet to her, since she wanted to be able to share it with him. That was it. I'd ask her about it later, when we were alone.

Two girls jumped up on the table next to me and started dancing. I couldn't help but look at them. It would be rude to ignore them, wouldn't it?

They were both hot, blonde and skinny and pretty. Sisters, maybe. The one with short hair smiled down at me and I smiled back. She was wearing a very short skirt, and I was pretty sure she didn't have underwear on.

But I shouldn't think about that too hard. Rachel was right across the room.

Talking to Justin fucking Timberlake.

I smiled at my blond again. Her top just barely covered her breasts, so I could see her perfect stomach.

Rachel was wearing jeans and a flowy top thingie. Last year had been the year of the silver pants that looked like they were painted on her. All night, all I'd wanted to do was get her back to the room and fuck her brains out.

This year, I hadn't even had time to consider that. She was doing press. I was doing press. We were busy.

I caught her eye across the room and she smiled, glancing over at my blondes. I shrugged, making her giggle. It's not like I asked them to dance here. They just did.

Rachel had never danced on a table. I'd never even seen her dance with another woman. I liked it when girls danced together. It made me think of…

"Who are your friends, bunny?" Rachel asked, sitting next to me and smiling sweetly up at the girl who kept looking at me.

"No idea," I told her.

The girl gave me one long lingering look and then got off the table, taking her friend with her.

"Were they the Hilton sisters?" Rache asked as they walked away.

"Like the hotel?"

"Yeah. They go to every party they can."

"Maybe. They were hot. Why don't you have any girlfriends, Rache?"

She considered me for a moment. "I have girlfriends. Em."

"She's in London! You can't dance with her when she's across the ocean."

Rachel smiled. "My sisters-in-law."

"You definitely can't dance with them, or your brothers will kill me!"

Now she laughed. "Do you like it when girls dance together, bunny?"

"It's hot," I admitted.

"I'm not enough for you?"

I kissed her. "You are more than enough. But that was hot. Can we go home now?"

"No!" Lola said, and we looked up at her. "One more thing, Rachel."

Rachel sighed and patted my knee. "Hold that thought. I'll be right back."

Half an hour later, I found him at the same table, but he was talking to the trashy blond who had been dancing for him earlier.

I hated her. I didn't know who she was, but I hated all women who would hit on another girl's guy. She knew he was taken. I'd made sure of that.

I made my way over to them, sitting on Nick's lap. There wasn't another chair. Trashy girl had made sure of that.

"I'm free, baby," I said, ignoring her. "We can go now."

"We're going to another party," she said. "It's supposed to be really hot."

She had an incredibly annoying voice, like she wanted to sound like she was twelve.

Hated her. A lot.

"Yeah, Rache, Paris was just telling me…"

I stopped listening. Paris? He was sitting here talking to a woman named Paris?

I stroked the back of his neck. "I'm really tired, bunny. I'd like to go home."

"I can give Nick a ride," Paris offered. "You can take your car back home. Looks like you could use some sleep."

I twisted my fingers in Nick's hair, warning him. "I could…" he started to say, and I yanked. Hard. Was he fucking serious?

"Yeah, let's go home," he said, and I stood up. Paris followed as Nick stood up from the table.

"Too bad," she said. "Give me a call the next time you're in LA, Nick. Or I'll call you." She wiggled her fingers at him in a wave and walked away, tucking her cell phone into her tiny purse. Did he give her his number?

Nick couldn't take his eyes off of her, and I whacked him.

"What?" he whined, rubbing his arm.

"Did you… I…." I caught my breath. She was probably watching us and laughing that she had made me this angry.

If I trusted him, I wouldn't be this angry.

"We're leaving," I said.

"I know. I said that already."

I glared at him, leading him through the club and outside to our car. I waited until we were alone to whack him again.

"You gave her your number?"

He was completely clueless. Why did I date such stupid men? At least Jeremy realized it when he was making me insane with jealousy.

"Yeah. Whatever. It didn't mean anything, Rache. We hit it off. Next time I'm in LA, maybe we'll go out."

"You'll go out. With her?"

"Just as friends! Nothing is going to happen. Chill out, Rache."

I let out a growl of frustration. "How stupid are you? Couldn't you see what she was doing?"

"She was talking to me?" I wasn't stupid. I knew she was hitting on me. It was nice to have a pretty girl flirt with me. It didn't mean anything would happen.

"And dancing for you, and getting your number, and offering to take you places tonight because evidently I need my fucking beauty sleep!"

"You do look a little tired."

Shit. That was so the wrong thing to say. Rachel glared at me, and then turned to look out the window.

"Fuck you," she muttered.

"That's not what I meant, buttercup. Really. I know it's been a long day for you, and you've been weird all day."

"How do you know? You haven't seen me for more than few minutes."

That was not entirely my fault! "You were the one that had to get styled."

"You said you wanted to come with me, but then you spent all afternoon talking to your stupid publicist."

"It was better than hanging out with you and your band who hates me."

"They don't hate you."

"James does."

"Because every time you hurt me, I end up telling James. Do you blame him for hating you?"

"Do you have to tell him everything?"

"Sometimes, Nick, it helps to talk about it," she said bitterly. "Not that you would know that, because you're never fucking around!"

"I'm here now!" Jesus! I'd flown all night to get to her and be here for her big day at the VMAs. What more did I need to do?

"And as soon as I turn my back, you're flirting with stupid blondes named Paris." She finally looked at me, glaring.

"At least she was paying attention to me tonight!"

"I was working!"

"I was working this afternoon!"

"I wasn't flirting with anyone this afternoon!"

"Big fucking deal. I flirted a little. I didn't start it. She came over to me."

"And that makes it all better?"

"What was I supposed to do? Tell her to go away, because I'm not allowed to talk to pretty girls while my girlfriend is working? I'm just supposed to sit there by myself until you have time for me?"

"Sounds like my fucking summer."

"Not my fault, Rachel. You knew I was working. I never told you to sit around and wait for me."

"What, you want me to go out and find some random vapid guy to amuse me while you're busy? Because that seems to be your plan."

"Random vapid girls are a fuck of a lot easier than this bullshit!"

The driver's voice came over the intercom, telling us we were at the hotel, and we both jumped.

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