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...
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Ariana's phone calls always made me nervous. Even when we were dating I got a sense of doom every time she called. She would get bent out of shape about a magazine sighting of me having lunch with another woman, and then she'd pester me about it relentlessly. Possessive didn't begin to describe her. I thought all of that would end when we separated, but she still did it.
This call was different, or so she said. I'd been apprehensive in answering it, afraid that she had somehow found out about me and Beyonce. It had been three weeks since Vegas.
It was a Saturday evening when she turned up at my place.
"Not going out tonight?" she asked as she stepped inside, eyeing me up and down. I was dressed casually, and I'd just come back from a jog.
"What do you think?" I said, trying my hardest not to sound too sarcastic.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" She touched the back of her hand to my forehead. I didn't have the energy to push her away. "Everything feels normal..."
"You said you had some news for me?"
She followed me into the living-room and invited herself to sit down. I wondered how long she planned on staying, because I had a date with a bowl of popcorn and a marathon of my favorite TV show.
"I do. I have an opportunity that I think you might be interested in." She crossed her leg, showing off her bare thigh. I'd spent many a night between those legs kissing those thighs and everything between them. I would have been lying if I said the sight of bare flesh didn't arouse me just a little. "But first I want you to answer something for me. Truthfully."
