She's made no secret of her dislike for me and my "lifestyle". The whole world knows about it. What the whole world doesn't know, however, is what goes on when the cameras stop rolling, and when we're alone together...
Being hated never felt so good...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I couldn't stay there, not after that. I leaped out of my seat, found Noah at his and begged him to switch seats with me. He must have seen the desperation, the despair in my eyes, because instead of arguing with me, he agreed almost immediately. He would be fine beside the witch that was Beyonce Knowles. She had nothing to hold over his head, nothing to make him feel small and dirty.
___
With her vulgarity and downright indecency on the plane, Beyonce had set the tone for the three day trip. She'd shown me that she couldn't be civil to me while we were in Vegas. So I decided I would repay her in kind. I could be uncivilized too. I didn't always play fair. I was going to give her a taste of her own medicine.
The network had sprung for one of the top hotels in Vegas, and the first thing I wanted to do was crawl into my king-sized bed and take a nap before our radio interview in the late afternoon.
I had just gotten changed when a call came through from the radio station Beyonce and I were scheduled to appear at.
"Sorry for the inconvenience, but we've had to move the interview up," the woman said. "We got dates and times mixed up. Are you in Vegas already?"
"Yeah. We got in about an hour ago."
"Do you think you could make it here for five?"
That was forty-five minutes away. I would have to leave soon. Luckily it wasn't television, and thus I didn't have to look my best and spend two hours doing my hair and makeup.
"Sure," I said.
"You're a lifesaver!" The woman breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks a bunch. Oh, by the way, you don't think you could let Beyonce Knowles know, do you? My co-worker has been trying to reach her on her phone, but it keeps going to her voice mail. We've left a message."
"If I see her I'll tell her."
I grabbed a bag of cashews from the mini bar because I was running on empty and didn't have time for anything more substantial. As I made my way down the hall, I came to Beyonce's room. It would have been so easy to just walk on by, without stopping, without passing on the message. I was still in bitch-mode, still wantimg to be uncivil to her. But my conscience got the better of me.
I sighed and tapped lightly on the door. She was the last person I wanted to see, and, I suspected, I was the last person she wanted to see. I just wished I could, for once, stop being a half-decent person and treat her the way she treated me. She wouldn't have thought twice about walking past my door and not informing me about the changes.
The door swung open with such force I thought it would fly off the hinges. As soon as she appeared, for several seconds my mind drew a blank. I forgot where I was, what I was doing outside her room, what my damn name was! The sight of a beautiful woman in a bra and jeans had never had such an effect on me. And I'd seen my fair share of beautiful women, wearing much less than Beyonce was. But that eternal tan, the washboard stomach, the almost too perfect breasts, and the way her slightly tousled honey blonde hair fell around her shoulders, were impossible to not to drool over.
