I can’t really see out of my left eye and my right keeps twitching. I have cotton mouth and my lower back hurts. My girlfriend is sitting beside me in a dress that Justin said makes her look like a hooker. Chris is on my left, loaded with enough morphine to kill a horse. JC is sitting beside Justin, who brought Britney who brought Wade. Lance is… Lance is taking a shit, I think.nextWe’re at the Billboards watching Jennifer Lopez do her thang. I don’t like her. She annoys me. Everything she does just pisses me off. But if I were to get her alone in a room, I could take care of that.
My neck is killing me and I can’t seem to remember what happened last night. I just remember going out to a club and taking at least three girls back to my room. My girlfriend had a field day fucking everyone one of them, but when I woke up I found myself lying in the bathtub holding a lock of blonde hair, scalp attached. Lance and my girl were the bed. The three chicks… missing. I would have gone to JC’s room to question him but I knew he was with Justin.
You know, for someone who hates him as much as he does, he sure does fuck him a lot.
I lean in towards Chris, “Have we won anything yet?”
He looks over at me and mumbles something I can’t quite understand. His eyes leave mine and search around the room. Jesus, he’s so fucked. Makes me wonder whatever happen between him and… oh what’s her face. She left him for a Backstreet Boy. Dated the ugly one to cover up the fact he was gay… damnit! “Hey, Chris. What was your girl’s name again? The one that left you.”
His head turned towards me and instantly, he sobered up. His mouth opens to say something, but Pink says our name, which means we have to put on our happy faces. We carefully walk up to the stage and Justin is the first to grab the award.
Oh, there’s Lance.
Justin thanks everyone he normally does whenever we win. JC steps up and just thanks the fans. Lance thanks someone I’ve never heard of. Chris smiles and jumps around. Guess I have to say something, but I don’t want to. I just start walking off stage not caring if everyone is done talking. I just need to get away from all the stares and flashes from the cameras. I just off the stage.
JC quickly runs after me, pulling my shoulder so hard I end up spinning in a circle to face him. He’s pissed for some reason, but doesn’t say anything until the rest of the guys walk past as well as the stagehands. The frown goes away, “Twelfth row. Brunette, glasses, black dress.”
“What about her?” I want to see this girl.
“Just…” This is some deep shit right here. He never freezes up. He never stutters. He never pauses. What was so special about this girl that JC couldn’t even speak. He takes in a deep breath, “Melanie.”
I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t blink. Holy shit…
Where’s a gun when you need one?