| The Great Outdoors by Destiny Justin Justin sat in Britney's LA home twirling a pen idilly in between his fingers. A nasly voice came through the speaker phone and Justin nodded every so often. Dispite his shorn curls, he'd reverted to wearing his trademark bandana. It gave him some kind of security he'd been lacking lately. Britney popped her head in and tapped at her watch. Justin held up his finger and smiled at her. She ducked out of the room, leaving him alone once more. "So what you're saying," Justin said, tossing the pen down on the marble topped desk and spinning in the Italian leather chair. "is that the next album I put out should be a solo effort?" "I believe it's your only choice at this point, Justin. I mean, this boy band shit can't keep going. You've turned into Fruit Snacks and Sneakers, man. Your credibility is being compromised. As your manager, I think it's time." "I see," Justin said with a sigh. "Fax the papers over and I'll check em out." "Done," the man said. Justin saw Britney standing in the doorway again tapping her foot with annoyance. "Listen, Jack, I gotta run. Talk to me later." He disconnected the line and stood up. "What?" "You have to do this shit while you're at my house?" she asked icily. "You have days and days without me around and now is when you need to make life altering decisions?" "Jesus, Brit. It's not like I debate leaving N Sync everyday." He tugged at his navy bandana and swept past her. "You're a brat," she hissed, following him to the bathroom. "You said we'd shop today. You said we'd spend the whole day alone without all the bull shit. You said...." The slap came quickly, suddenly without warning. His hand flew out and stuck the soft tender flesh of her cheek sending her reeling backwards. "Shut up!" he hollered, turning his back on her. Britney rubbed at the stinging flesh as her eyes glistened with tears. "You need help, you psychotic asshole!" Justin sighed as he splashed cold water over his face. His eyes were strange, lost and distant when he looked in the mirror. That would make the thrid time in a month he'd stuck Britney. Christ, maybe he did need some help. Her face wouldn't take much more. She bruised easily. Funniest thing, he never felt sorry, no regrets. The slaps were well worth it, deserved even. And she never fought back, choosing instead to call him names and stick with him. "I'm ready," he said flatly, drying his face on the towel. He brushed past the shaking figure of his girlfriend and headed out the front door. "Are you coming?" he called out as he grabbed his keys. The idea of a solo record weighed heavily on his mind and he felt his emotions swirling dangerously out of control. |