by Lena Skye
Is it Over? Justin and Jessica Call it Quits.
Ah, Jessica Kendrick. He was crazy for her for a few weeks. With that hot body and vibrant personality, who wouldn’t be? Then that lovely feeling of being in love dissipated quickly. It was always like that. But they did date for quite a while. A year and a half to be exact. It was an ugly breakup, one she still carried a grudge for and he didn’t blame her much, except that she had thought he would propose.
Silly girl. He dated another, and then another in quick succession. There was no shortage of women for him. Of course, Jessica would rear her beautiful head out once in a while to wreak havoc and stay in the news. That was the problem with beautiful, hot-headed women. They were as crazy as they were beautiful. It was proportional.
“Sir, we have a little bit of trouble,” his secretary rang.
Jesus, what the hell was this now? “What’s going on, Lori?” he asked.
“She’s here.” It was simply said, but Justin already knew what it was about. Just when he thought things had gone smoothly, she just had to be here on such a fine morning.
“Why does she know I’m here?” he said irritably.
“Her stalking skills have improved as of late,” his middle-aged secretary remarked.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
He didn’t have the time to face this, more importantly, he didn’t have the right attitude to face this. He wanted himself mentally prepared (also just a bit physically if she ever intended to slap him), for the onslaught of her feminine wiles, which drove him to the brink of gritting his teeth in frustration.
“Shall I let her in before she causes a scene?”
“And then let security escort her out?” Justin sighed. “Fine. Show her in.”
He only had to take three full breaths before she barged in and shut the door behind her with a bang.
“You know, that door is mahogany,” he remarked. “What can I help you with, Jessica?”
She was a pretty angry little thing and he suddenly wanted to comically draw over her face, maybe add some steam on top of her head and claws on her fingers.
“We’ve only broken up for six months and now you’re parading yourself on the news?” she huffed.
“Doing what? My job?”
“No! You’re dating a fellow model! Someone I personally know! What the hell is wrong with you? Have you no shame?”
“Wait, who the hell are we talking about?” he said with amusement.
“Caitlyn Collins!” she snapped, grabbing something from her designer bag. Justin heard keys jangling and other items being moved about inside her large bag.
She whipped out a tabloid and slammed it on his table. “There!” She pointed with a well-manicured finger. Her finger landed on one picture, one of three, where Justin and Caitlyn were strolling around the streets of New York while eating gelato in sugar cones.
Ah, Justin remembered, this was two weeks ago. It had been an all right date, but they ended their arrangements amicably, citing their busy schedules. Caitlyn was definitely nicer than Jessica, except sometimes it felt like her head was floating on the clouds, or maybe she was high on marijuana. Whatever it was, it didn’t work out and Justin quickly put it behind him.
“What’s it to you?” Justin said. “She’s a nice person.”
“But I’m not,” Jessica snapped.
“I think that’s why I broke up with you,” Justine said good-naturedly.
Her eyes widened and her jaw clenched. “No one breaks up with me—”
“I already did. Six months ago. Did you suffer from short term memory loss or something?”
She wanted to scream, he knew it. She wanted to be the diva that everyone knew she was. Jessica Kendrick had a vicious temper, but fashion houses still hired her, and events wanted her because she had a gorgeous face, that, unfortunately, he no longer found appealing.
To him, she was just another pretty face in the crowd and he could date just about anyone that had a pretty face. He was Justin Henderson, anyway. Not that he had an ego. He had a huge ego. His position did that to him.
Jessica’s face was red; she was thinking of something vicious to say. She had a sharp tongue, which was one of the reasons why he broke up with her. He had a few solid reasons. But the best one was that she was bat-shit crazy.
He smiled at her. “Shall I have a car bring you somewhere?”
“You think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, right?” Jessica began. “You think you’re the greatest person to walk the face of the earth?”
“You and I only dated because we both have huge egos and we thought we’d be suitable for each other,” Justin told her matter-of-factly. “Did you just come here to show photos of me dating your friend?”
“She is not my friend,” she seethed. “You’re doing this on purpose, dating people I know, and dating other models.”
“There is no law against that, last I heard.”
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Jessica insisted.
“So what if I am?” he responded. “I’m a single man enjoying his single life. I see no crime with making anyone feel bad just because I think they deserve it.”
“You think I deserve it?” she gasped.
He nodded, unfeeling. “Of course I do. You’re a little pocket of bitchiness and I didn’t want any more of it.”
“I loved you.”
“I did too, but things change. Like how I feel for you, which actually borders on derision.”
She was shaking her head, on the verge of tears, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that he had won. He was an asshole, she had known this the moment she dated him, but he was a fun asshole, and he was well oiled. She had gone three months without significant income a year ago and he didn’t question her independence. He provided her with everything she wanted and needed, even paid for her rent until the industry found something for her again.
She didn’t want to lose that source of assurance in her life. He really was generous and that was what she missed about their relationship. And the sex, my god the sex. He was tireless and she hadn’t found anyone that could match his libido, even if she did not lack in men who were interested in her and what was in between her thighs.
She spun around, unable to say anything, the harshness of Justin Henderson had stung her again. She would not cry in front of him, she would not. So she took a deep breath, gave a smile that bordered on psychotic 1950s housewife and walked away.
“Do you need a car?” he asked her.
She paused and took another deep breath, her hand on the door. “No,” she replied refusing to look at him.
Justin said nothing more and watched her walk out again, the second time she had done that in the six months that they had broken up. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he would see her. He couldn’t even talk to his mother or sisters because Jessica would get jealous over the attention he gave them.
He would continue dating others, people she probably knew, and that would cause her to spiral out of control again and act like the woman that she was and always will be. Some sadistic part of him surfaced; he had wanted to see her cry. She had given him enough stress and he thought he deserved to make her cry, no matter how childish it seemed. She had never cried in front of him. He only loved a few women in his life and that included the women in his immediate family.
He shrugged to himself and went back to his desk, knowing the day was going to be much better.
Chapter2
“And I am on my way,” Lynne told her over the phone. “Sorry, I’m running a little bit late.”
“Weren’t you supposed to borrow my dress?” Mikaela asked, laughing. “You’ve got forty minutes before your event starts.”
“It isn’t my event, but I wish it was. Catch you later. Bye.”
The receiver clicked and Mikaela chuckled as she put her phone down. She had estimated that Lynne was going to be here in ten, dress in ten, and take selfies for another ten. That girl lov
ed her selfies.
She bolted up from her loveseat and walked for her closet. She flung it open and took out the dress Lynne was going to borrow. Now what she going to wear? She picked out a cobalt blue number, a figure-hugging dress with a hint of cleavage in the middle of it. She had the perfect shoes for it. Mikaela disliked stilettos and if she could, she preferred to be barefoot or in sneakers.
“You don’t wear sneakers or flip-flops if you want to move on top,” Lynne would tell her.
She would tell Lynne she had no plans of being in the corporate world or the fashion industry where stilettos were needed and Lynne would “tsk” at her and express to Mikaela she’d need some in the near future. “Who knows,” Lynne said, “you just might date someone who’s past six feet.”
She promised to herself she wouldn’t date anyone who was exceedingly tall, citing it would be difficult to get romantic kisses and hugs and it would look awkward in pictures. Her ex-boyfriends were five-foot-nine at most. She hadn’t dated in over a year, much to Lynne’s disappointment. She wondered if this was why Lynne wanted her to be her date for tonight’s event, so she could set her up with some corporate man.
Sure, set me up with a billionaire or something, she scoffed as she put her dress on, because everyone billionaire will have eyes for me, right? Lynne could get a millionaire if she wanted to, and she was sure Lynne could get a billionaire if millionaires weren’t available.
She had done her makeup earlier, hoping it still looked all right. The air was rather humid tonight and she didn’t want to look like a train wreck by the time she and Lynne got to the party. She was in good spirits when time Lynne rang on her doorbell, with thirty minutes to spare. Lynne quickly changed into the dress she fancied, admiring herself on Mikaela’s only full-length mirror.
“Could you scoot a little?” Lynne asked her so she could appreciate her outfit more.
Mikaela huffed then smiled. “Yeah, yeah, your curves are perfect in all the right places.”
Lynne stuck out her tongue. “I know, right?”
“Think that’s gonna snag a few men?”
“Boys, men, whatever, as long as they got what I want,” Lynne said with a laugh. “And I kind of want a lot, I tell you.”
Mikaela shook her head and chuckled. “Damn it, Lynne, you’d better be careful. Some of them might be married.”
“I know who is and who isn’t in the office, so I’m careful there. Tonight’s a different thing, that’s why I want to look like a million bucks, all glittery.”
“Is there even some dress code to this? For all we know it’ll call for those fancy shmancy full length dresses, or maybe ankle length skirts with shawls.”
Lynne scoffed. “All it said was cocktail. It’s like half a party and half a corporate event or something.”
Mikaela smiled. Lynne had a way for explaining things in a funny and vague manner, one that she still understood. There was a reason why they were friends.
“Oh damn it, I was so busy oohing and aahing over myself that I missed out on your look for the night. Give it a twirl?” Lynne asked her, focusing on Mikaela this time.
Mikaela gave an awkward twirl and Lynne laughed at it. “Oh, you’re looking fabulous all right in those bedroom slippers. I hope you still have those heels. Remember that impulse buy?”
“Oh those heels that you forced me to buy?” Mikaela’s face looked sour.
“Yes, those. Those were beautiful. I suggest you wear them!”
“You mean insist?”
“Whatever, they’re both the same. Come on, hurry up, there’s still like a fifteen-minute drive to the hotel.”
“I was waiting for you,” Mikaela said.
“Well come on!”
Mikaela drove a newer Honda, and she told Mikaela to replace her antique one, telling her it wasn’t fitting. Mikaela scoffed at the idea, it was impractical and expensive. Besides, she was on a barista’s wage. She rarely went shopping with Lynne and on those rare occasions, her buys were ridden with guilt or doubt, even the mere buying of shoes.
The ride was smooth, until they got to the hotel. Valet parking had a line and suddenly, Mikaela was glad that she was riding in Lynne’s car and not her own. She saw the cars ahead of them, all branded cars, cars whose names she couldn’t pronounce. Unexpectedly, she felt nervous. She realized she hadn’t been to any formal events in years, the last one was prom, in the school gym and a good friend had lent her a dress to wear. It was a night filled with awkward and forgettable events, she had had her first sloppy kiss there, too.
She and Lynne got out of the car and walked up to the hotel, with Lynne morphing into a social butterfly. So many “hellos” and “this is my friend Mikaela.” She had lost track of the names and faces that had been introduced to her, some even looked like her customers at the coffee shop. Or were they?
“Let me just talk to this person over there,” Lynne whispered to Mikaela, referring to a middle-aged couple a few feet away from them.
“Why? Who are they?”
“It’s who is he. That old geezer is a horny bastard and he’s been sending signals. Don’t worry, I won’t sleep with him,” Lynne joked. “I just need him to invest. Then, hello promotion and suite with a window and a couch.”
Mikaela watched as Lynne sauntered her way through the crowd, enjoying the stares by the men and the room, and the stares of envious or annoyed women. She smiled to herself, wondering if she would ever be that confident. Lynne knew how to entice and Mikaela thought that on the other hand that she had the charm of a potato, maybe fries at least. She couldn’t resist fries anyway…
***
He was bored. Well, slightly bored. There were numerous attractive women and women who weren’t so attractive, but they had assets that would make any superficial man happy. Women were so easy to read. He looked at each one as if he were studying flora. Every woman had the same likes and dislikes, they wanted to be assured of many things, their insecurities warped from time to time, and they had a compulsion for material things.
He could think of so many negatives and few positives while he sipped red wine, trying to pay attention to the lovely woman wearing a revealing little black dress, who, unfortunately was the wife of one of the bank’s managers. She saw him and gave him that look and he sent one of disinterest. He had no intention of ruining his reputation as an upstanding businessman. Models and celebrities or women who weren’t of this circle were an exemption. Those he could enjoy freely, without guilt or thought of business concerns.
He didn’t want to attend this little cocktail party that consisted of three hundred people, preferring to be in his house to catch up on a series he had been enjoying as of late. His good friend, Michael, had other plans. Michael Smith was one of his master’s degree buddies, who also had a good eye for women. The man was almost never alone, just like he was. In fact, it was Michael who introduced Jessica to him. It was a slight miscalculation on his friend’s part, but that was how the dating worked. No one would fit the mold perfectly.
He wasn’t here on the prowl, though. He was here to meet up with other collegiate buddies who happened to be in Malibu. It was just an excellent opportunity to meet up with Malibu society as well. The bank was an international one, and it started in Malibu. The event was small, but it was well-meaning; a reunion of sorts for very important clients and upcoming big accounts. He had a few million stashed in a two key accounts, for which the bank was grateful for. Justin still preferred the Swiss Bank, though.
He didn’t quite like the canapes they served, so he enjoyed the mediocre wine instead. He was a man of fine taste, and his sisters teased him for being such a stuck-up businessman, from food to wine to women, it was complaint or disfavor. “You’ll never find a wife,” they would tease him.
He wasn’t after a wife. He was after pleasure. California was full of it. He would move away from Malibu soon, maybe to Los Angeles, to be closer to one office. Then he would move again in a few months’ time, this time in New York. He
never stayed put for long and he had gotten used to the luxurious nomadic life that he had put himself in.
Justin suddenly wanted to leave the party. It was rather boring, and it was too early to have a nightcap in the hotel bar. He found himself casually leaning against a wall, quietly looking around while still pretending that he was listening to this pretty but dull woman’s stories about her travels and her favorite Michelin-rated restaurants across Europe. He had tried them all, he had wanted to say, but he kept quiet, seeing someone else across him, standing alone, diddling on her phone, and obviously pretending that she didn’t quite care that she was alone.
He excused himself, saying he had to see a good friend, leaving the woman’s mouth agape, and she couldn’t refuse. Who could say anything to stop Justin Henderson? No one. So he walked through the crowd, the women eyeing him once more and he smiled at some of them, just for kicks.
Justin had one goal in mind at that was to get to the woman who wore a cobalt blue dress. From afar, she looked pleasant to the eyes. The color of her dress accentuated her dark skin and her curls, and her heels complimented her legs, making her seem taller than she was supposed to be. He estimated her to be around five-foot-three and thought she was barely twenty-five years old. He liked making assumptions and delighted in them when he found these correct.
He approached her calmly, like he did to any woman. “Hello,” he began simply, watching her scroll on her Facebook feed.
She was startled by him, her eyes widening as she looked up from her phone. She almost jumped. He smiled at her.
“Uh, hi?” she looked around, unsure if he was talking to her. “Are you talkin’ to me?”
He almost scoffed at her. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Robert de Niro.”
Her expression looked blank. He had wanted her to smile, but apparently she wasn’t that well educated with pop culture. Well, that was a sad thought.
“Just a line from one of my favorite movies,” he told her, “and yes, I’m talking to you.”
“W-well, I don’t work here,” she said.
