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Chris Brown is clearly someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. A very emotional person, someone who loves hard and wants the same love in return. He's someone who wants to find love, but he's looking in all the wrong places. He's dated all...
Later that night, I watched him talk on the phone to whoever was on the other line. It was clearly a business call, and it seemed somewhat heated. He turned, looked at me, and smiled. I smiled back, curious as to what the conversation was about. I couldn't help but feel like it was about me.
He turned back around for a second, listening to the person.
"Alright, we can do that. I'll meet you there in 30 minutes. We'll talk about it then." He says, then hangs up.
"What's wrong?" I asked
"Nothing. We're going to go to a meeting with Amanda Grey, my publicist."
"We?"
"Yes, you guys need to meet because she's your publicist now." He says
"Mine?" I say confused.
"Yes."
"I don't need a publicist," I say
"Yes, you do. I don't understand why you didn't have one in the first place. You spin a story pretty well, but you need it, especially after today. We're going to get you a PR team so you don't have to deal with things like today. That's what they're there for."
"I don't need that," I say, and he looks at me with a straight face.
"If you had a team, you wouldn't—." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Just listen to me, Mami. Okay? I know what I'm doing." He says, calmly.
"Okay."
"So see if Mercedes can watch the baby girl, and we'll be back in a couple of hours." He says, pulling me to my feet. "We need to clean up your image a little. He should've done this for you, but I got you. We're going to meet with her and see how we should handle this situation. As a couple."
I sigh, "Can we not admit that we're a couple yet? I mean, it's gonna be a lot going on, and I don't really wanna confirm anything just yet."
"I'm sure they already know, but yeah, we don't have to confirm anything." He kisses me on my forehead. "However, if you want to play this, we can if it benefits. Whatever you want, baby."
The meeting with Amanda, his publicist, was going to take place at Alinea. It was only about a 15-minute drive from our house. When we got there, we pulled up to the front door and waited for his security to "secure" the building. I forgot about the security measures he takes. We've only really been out once, and he had the whole outside cleared.
After about 10 minutes, they came back out and got us. Aubrey got out first, then helped me out of the sprinter. Paparazzi took pictures, of course. How do they even know where we are? I hate this. He grabbed my hand as we walked into the building. Once we got inside, we quickly walked through the restaurant, while people watched and snapped more photos of us. Aubrey made sure to keep his hand on my lower back, guiding me, which I loved because I thought shit was crazy with Chris, well, with Aubrey, things are crazier. He didn't take his hand off of me until we got upstairs and into the private room. The four security guys who were with us stayed outside the closed door. So it was just the two of us inside. It was quiet and cold—all chaos outside the door.
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