| Chapter Sixteen |
| Grace was bored. She didn't think it was possible considering she was alone in a car with Justin Timberlake, but in a way, they weren't really alone. Not as long as his cell phone rang every ten seconds. "Oh man, I missed the game last night," Justin was saying to Trace; she knew it was Trace because Justin had a funny habit of saying the person on the phone's name repeatedly. Almost like he'd forget who it was if he didn't. He'd just gotten off the phone with Johnny Wright and before that a woman named Mrs. Jones. "We should do something tonight, Trace. Around eight? Yeah, that's fine. Hey Trace, have you talked to Rebecca lately? Yeah, the one with the big?" he paused and looked over at Grace, "you know." Well, at least he remembered she was there. "I'll see you later, Trace. Okay. Bye." Pressing a button, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. He never drove with two hands. His right hand was always messing with something. When it seemed like his phone wasn't going to ring again, she decided to start a conversation. "I used to have a cell phone." He turned down the radio even though it was already low. "Used to?" Grace realized a little too late that the story was embarrassing. "When I moved out here, I got one. More to be cool than anything else, but I realized it was a waste of money." He glanced her way again, obviously waiting for more explanation, "My roommate was the only person who called me, and that was when she needed to know how to program the VCR or something." She could tell he was trying not to laugh. "I wish I had that problem," he said, a small chuckle escaping as he did, "My phone never stops ringing. As if to illustrate the point, the sound of "In Da Club" filled the air; he'd told her earlier that Lynn had picked the ring tone. "Hello? Oh, hey mom. Yeah, she came by the house. She's right here. I'm giving her a ride. Yeah, hold on," he held out the phone to Grace, "It's my mom." Grace sat up straight and took it. "Hello?" "I'm so sorry about this morning," Lynn said without preamble, "I had some work to do here before my first interview, so I came in early. I'd thought I'd left you a note, but I just remembered that I was in such a rush that I forgot to. I was hoping Justin could tell you, but I guess he already did." "Yeah, he did. You should have called me this morning. I would have gone in early with you." "Oh no, I couldn't have done that. You were probably sleeping. Hold on second, honey," Lynn gave an order to somebody in the room, "I'm back. Could you put Justin back on?" Grace handed the phone back to Justin. "Yeah, we'll be there soon. I have to stop by my house first; George had the papers sent there. No, I don't know why either. You know George." For the first time, Grace realized that weren't surrounded by buildings. They were in a residential area. She was going to see his house. The one in all the magazine and on Punk'd. Justin ended the conversation with a very sweet "love you" and returned the phone to his pocket. "I hope you don't mind," he said to Grace. She was looking out of the window, trying to figure out which one it was, so she absentmindedly answered, "I don't mind at all." "You won't see it yet. It's the next street." "Oh. How'd you know what I was doing?" He shrugged. "I don't know. Lucky guess." "I'm just predictable," she said with a smile. Justin gave her an odd look again. "There goes that dimple again." Her smile froze. When he looked away, she ran her hand across her cheek. Everyone had always commented on her dimple, but when Justin did, it was different. It was wonderful. She quickly wiped the smile off her face and decided she wouldn't smile for the next few days, so he wouldn't think she was smiling for him, which knowing herself would probably be true. "We're here," he announced, pulling into the driveway. Grace was disappointed that she'd been distracted and hadn't been able to find it herself, but considering it was the only house with a massive gate, it probably wouldn't have been very difficult. Her disappointment faded into astonishment. "This place is huge!" Putting the car in park, Justin looked at his massive house through the windshield, "It's actually the smallest of all my houses." "You're just bragging now." She couldn't stop looking at it. Her whole family could live here. Cousins included. "What's the point of having a big house if you don't brag?" He got out the car and came around to her side. Opening the door, he gave her his hand to help her down. "Watch your step." "I could just wait in the car," she said after her feet were already on the ground. He shook his head. "I don't know how long I'll be." Since she wanted to see the inside, she didn't argue and followed behind as he led the way to the front door. "Wow," she gasped once inside. It was all she could say. She'd never seen a place so beautiful not even on Home and Garden Television, and this was just the foyer. "You can wait in the parlor. I'll be just a minute." He pointed to the first door on the left before rushing up the stairs. Grace waited until he disappeared before going into the parlor. It was funny to think of a single bachelor having a parlor room; especially one that looked like this. It was girly. Very girly. Pastel pink walls, white flowing curtains, flower arrangements everywhere. There was even a portrait of a woman and child above the fireplace. Taking a seat on the bright pink sofa, she wondered if Justin had ever been in here. The place was so big, he might have missed it. She couldn't imagine him wanting a pink room in his bachelor pad, but then again, she didn't know him all that well. She examined the tea set displayed on the coffee table; nobody could actually want a room like this. Could they? She'd resigned herself to ask him about it a few minutes later when he returned. "Found it," Justin said, stepping into the room. He held up a folder. He looked so out of place that she couldn't imagine him ever hanging out in here, sipping tea. "Nice room." He understood immediately that she was being sarcastic. "I know. It's hideous. I let a friend of mine design it. I still haven't figured out if she was pissed off at me or if she just has really bad taste." "Did you ask?" "Hell no. If it was bad taste, she would have started crying. I can't deal with crying women." He sounded so put off by the idea that she couldn't help but smile. So much for her decision to not smile around him. |