Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
( CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: TABLOID JUNKIE ) April, 1993
❝don't listen to what people say. ❞
◯
Devon hadto be dreaming, this had to be some kind of sick joke. Yeah, that's it. He was just imagining this whole thing. It he blinks, this will all go away. However, Devon's dilated brown eyes couldn't seem to look away from the bold font of the headline. And the more he looked at it, his heartbeat felt like it was bouncing around his queasy stomach like a pinball machine, causing for his nausea to amplify.
Devon's Adam's apple twitched uneasily, his clammy fingertips digging into the plastic edges of the magazine with anguishing fear. "Looks like Janet Jackson has a new boyfriend," a sudden voice made Devon jolt out of his blurry haze. The black male violently trembled at the sound of another voice, looking up to see that the plump waitress that was standing behind the counter was eyeing the magazine that he was staring so intently at.
As Devon made eye contact with her, his stature recoiled unpleasantly, knowing that deep down, this was all real. "Hey, he kinda looks like you," the waitress added, which made Devon's jaw strain. He knew that the second he gets to Janet—well, he didn't want to think about what her reaction would be.
As much as he dreaded it, he knew that their sweet, blissful honeymoon phase was now over, and the real, harsh realities of life would soon swing into their relationship, and Devon just prayed he had enough willpower to keep on standing this time.
◯
Once again, Devon felt a pang of deja vu. Running, sweating, chasing after something when he was too late, trying to piece together something when the damage was already done. He's been there before, he knew this feeling. And even as his lungs burned and his chest cramped, Devon kept on dashing through the Los Angeles streets, trying to reach Virgin Records headquarters to find Janet. He needed to talk to her, that was the only thing that could help in that moment.
When Devon Emmet shouldered his way through the glass door and into the sleek building, he couldn't have stood out more. His adrenaline was soaring high, and his brow was sleek with sweat, gasping and huffing his guts out as his dry mouth heaved with exhaustion. The air around him stilled, and as he looked up again, he found himself the subject of many perplexed stares.
Was it due to his loud entrance? His exhausted and dishevelled appearance? Or was it because of his newfound fame? He didn't know, and he didn't care. "Can I help you sir?" The receptionist behind the desk uttered out, baring a similar look to the unwelcoming faces that were pinned around the room. "Is Janet Jackson available? I need to see her," Devon spluttered out, his lips feeling loose from all the panting.
