“Marisa.” He looks at me and nods towards the bimbo. “Marisa, this is Tori.”
Oh, I know it’s “can’t wait to see you again” Tori-fucking-Davis.She turns, looks at me, and holds her hand out like she wants to shake mine. “Nice to meet you,” she says. But she doesn’t smile, she doesn’t blink. She cocks her hip to the side, sizing me up as we shake. “Justin’s a great guy.”
“I’m sure he is,” I say, so subtly lifting a single brow as I think about how easily I could take this little runt into the bathroom and drown her in the fucking toilet.
“Are you going to be going to anymore of his signingswithhim?” Her eye twitches. Her nostrils flare.
“I don’t know…” I smile so sweetly, batting my lashes like an innocent little thing.
“Hey, hey,” Justin snaps his fingers and she turns to face him. “Is uh, is that blogger, what’s her fucking name, Samantha—Samantha’s Book Obsession or some shit like that, is she here?”
“Somewhere.”
Justin grabs a pen and book, opens to the first page and scribbles something over it before he hands it to Tori. “Give this to her for me, would you?”
“Kay.” She taps her fingers over the shiny cover. “I’ll see you at the party then. You staying at the hotel?”
“Nah, my place is too close for all that bullshit. I’ll just stumble on the subway drunk…with her.” He swats at my hair and laughs. Tori pouts, and I want to slam her face into the stack of books over and over until her fucking skull splits, but instead, I smile.
“Well, you better set aside some time specifically for me at the after party.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing.” He flips the Sharpie in the air and catches it.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, of course, I don’t mean it. And, of course, she wants to kill me, but really, how pathetic can you be? He just said he was going home with me and this girl is pouting. It’s disgusting really. She doesn’t respond to me. I don’t expect her to. She flips her hair over her should, turns, and walks off, attemptingto put a sexy sway in her lack of hips. Doesn’t she know you need curves, hips to land a guy like Justin? “Wow,” I mutter under my breath.
“Yeah, Tori’s a bitch. Don’t mind her.”
“A bitch? And you are nice to bitches because…”
Justin shrugs, flashing a smile at me. “Gotta be in this business, babe. Gotta be.”
Babe. Already, Justin? Already…
I watch Tori take a seat at a table, and then a guy in muscle shirt struts buy. “Oh god,” Justin groans. “I can’t fucking stand him.”
“Who is he?” I ask.
“Chris Talon. He’s a dick. Arrogant and annoying. Total bro guy.”
I cock a brow at Justin. “So, like looking in a mirror, is it?”
He glares at me. “Too low, Marisa. Too low.”
And so, the day goes on. Justin sells out of over two hundred books in the first two hours. And yet, even after every book is gone from his table, he still keeps a line.
“I just loved your story.”
“You are a genius.”
“I love you.”
Over and over, that’s what I’m forced to listen to. To all these women groveling at his feet. Every one of them wishes they could have a crack at him. They all want to see him naked…feel his warm cock slip between their lips. And, not to discredit his talent as an author. He is gifted, but I bet you Stephen King doesn’t have women fawning over him likethis. No, people grovel over the King solely because of his words.Justin, you could have that, but your curse is that you are pretty, and pretty things are never taken as seriously as they should be.By the time all the other authors are packing their things up, all that’s left at his table are me and him and his Sharpie. He reaches underneath the table, placing his warm hand on my thigh and squeezing. “Ready to party?”
“If it’s as enthralling as this part of it all has been,” I say, “I can’t wait.”
* * *
It’san hour into the after party and I'm leaned against the wall, staring down into my drink and watching the hoard of women gathered around Justin. After the first fifteen minutes of them squabbling over him, I had to excuse myself. The attention almost seems to energize him, although, it's obvious to anyone who understands a man to some degree that he is uninterested in any of those women. They're all touching him. Smiling. Gushing. And here I stand, drinking my wine and scoffing. He shifts right two steps. They shift right three steps. A wry smile crosses my lips as I imagine what it would be like to choke every single one of them.
