Mrs. Bieber [Zustin Mieber FF] English Version

Part 8

Zayn

I was jolted awake by a really annoying and obnoxious ringtone. I could hear my phone vibrating and making noises really loudly on the nightstand next to my bed in my hotel room in Atlanta.

I groaned in annoyance and hoped whoever was calling was going to die in hell. What can I say in my defense? I'm obnoxious when I'm just woken up.

I waited and let out a sigh of relief when the annoying ringtone ceased to exist.

I guess the stupid caller didn't realize we lived in different time zones.

My mom never called me, I was always the one who called her because she didn't want to disturb my sleep and I was always busy when she called. Either in an interview or photo shoot. Try keeping a straight face when a phone vibrates in your pocket. I'm telling you, it's really hard.

I felt myself slowly drifting back to sleep and sinking into the warm, soft sheets. My mind blocked everything out and I almost fell back asleep.

But then the dreaded ringing started again.

I growled at my pillow and fumbled for my phone, but fell out of bed when I stretched too far. I reached for the iPhone from the floor and just as I reached it, it stopped again. I hauled myself back into bed and sank back into the sheets. I needed sleep with all the appointments and shows. We slept whenever we could. The long-haul flights were horrible and there was no relaxing at all.

This trip took everything we had.

I pressed myself into the pillow and smiled. Finally, after the last exhausting day, peace and quiet.

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

My phone started vibrating again. I threw the covers off and sat bolt upright in bed. I was about to scream. I reached for the phone to see who was calling. This person, whoever it was, was getting on my last nerve.

"WHAT?!" I screamed into the iPhone.

"Whoa! Have a nice day, honey. Are you on your period? Should I send you chocolate and tampons? Does that make you feel better?" the most annoying voice in the whole fucking world greeted me.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" I hissed angrily.

"Actually, I do, Mrs. Bieber, it's three in the morning, right?" he said cheerfully.

I took the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen. In fact, he was right. Growling, I put the phone back to my ear.

"You son of a bitch! Why the hell are you calling me at this time?!"

"Well, it's early evening where I am right now and I was bored so I thought, 'Yeah, why don't I call my wife?'" he replied cheerfully

. "You're an ass," I spat.

"Your ass, sweetheart," he purred.

I rolled my eyes.

"Why the hell are you calling me? Do you think it's funny that I'm tied to your idiotic ass from now on?"

He giggled. "And," he continued, "that I'm married to your warm and simply wonderful self? I wonder how many fangirls would die just to marry you." His disguised high-pitched voice made me close my eyes and I had to pull myself together not to throw the phone against the wall. As if that's what I sound like when I speak!

"Probably none, they're all just after Harry," I continued, muttering. Louder, I said, "You're annoying and I'm tired. Awful combination. Why did you call me now?!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Did I wake you up from your dirty dreams of me? Tsk, bad, bad, woman."

"I'm not your fucking woman, Bieber!" I growled.

"I dare you to disagree, baby. The documents clearly state that you took my name! Mrs. Zayn Bieber. I think that sounds wonderful!" he mocked.

"Nonsense! If so, you would have to take my name. Bieber is a ridiculous name!" I shot back.

To my annoyance, Justin just laughed.

"You think I'm the woman?" he giggled.

"Hell yes! I expect a wonderful home-cooked dinner from my little housewife every night when I come home." I replied with a grin.

"Fuck you! I'm not a housewife! I'm the husband! I earn our bread!" he protested and I giggled again.

"Oh, touchy subject, so you don't want to sit at home with your sewing kit and wait for me, your wonderful husband?"

"Of course I want to wait for you, Zaynie! I'll have the red, supple whip that you love so much ready for you, so that you can take me as usual, my stallion." he explained in a much too high, submissive voice.

I had to gag at the idea.

"Thank you for letting me vomit up everything I've eaten in the last year." I grimaced at the images that slowly took shape in my mind. That would be so disgusting.

"And you're the only one who can treat me like that, woman," he added.

"I'm not your fucking woman!" I screamed at him.

"What on earth are we thinking? We've only been married for a week and we're already arguing," he said indignantly.

"Why am I chained to your retarded ass?" I whined.

"And why am I married to such an uptight and bitter dick?" he added angrily.

I let out a sound of frustration and clutched my phone.

Allah, please help me! Give me patience so I don't have to murder this guy.

"Oh," I heard Justin say suddenly, excited. "I have to go, woman. Bring home the bacon," I could see the disgusting grin! "Dream of me, Zaynie!" I was about to reply, but he cut me off. "Oh, and by the way, you have a really sexy morning voice." I could hear his laughter as he hung up and had to control myself not to throw my iPhone across the room.

He loved to tease me or annoy me, right?!

How could I think I could get through to him? How could I think I could set up a date when all we could do together was argue?

I could barely stand him, his voice, his annoying personality, his music, his fans.

And I'm married to that shit!

--

Justin

I looked at my phone and burst out laughing. I could feel his anger, I could see the smoke hissing out of his ears like in the comics. I could picture him throwing his iPhone at the wall and that's when I finally lost control.

I hit my knees and could barely stand up from laughing. God, Zayn Malik is the death of my sanity. I gasped and gasped for air.

"What the hell did you do? Did you smoke a joint with Wiz Khalifa before you came here?" Heidi asked as she looked at me in dismay.

I could hardly breathe and I held my sides, but I tried to answer her: "Zayn... woman... I'm so exhausted..." I finally managed.

She shook her head and laughed. "Trouble in paradise already?"

I snorted. "What paradise? You mean hell! At least that's what it feels like to be married to that asshole."

"What happened? What did he mean? Does he want to divorce you?" she sneered.

I glared at her, this was definitely not funny.

"We both do. I want nothing to do with him!"

"So have you been trying to figure out when you can meet? Have you done what your lawyer told you?" she asked.

I froze and cursed under my breath.

"Shit!"

"Justin!" she groused.

"I know, I know. I was so focused on our arguments that I forgot," I explained, defending myself.

She put her hand over her eyes, annoyed.

"Justin! This is serious! Your lawyer told you to end this as soon as possible!"

That reminded me of my previous conversation with my lawyer, Alan Bridges.

... ✈...Flashback... ✈...

"What's up, Bridges!" I shouted into the cell phone, greeting my savior. He had gotten me out of this Mariah Yeater thing(2) so wonderfully well, I could kiss him.

He stood by my side, through every problem I had. He made sure that my public image was halfway decent. Without him, I would have crashed and sunk long ago.

"Justin Drew Bieber, I'll hang you if you don't at least have some remorse," he spat in a not exactly friendly voice.

"What's wrong?" I furrowed my eyebrows. "Did another Billie Jean (3) claim I got her pregnant? I swear to God, I haven't had sex in six months!" I defended myself. God, how degrading. I haven't had sex in half a year! This is pathetic! What if my little friend down there stopped working? What if I could never have sex again?

"...in Vegas, Justin?" I caught the last few words of his sentence.

"What about Vegas? Do you want to rent the movie 'What happens in Vegas?' You know, the one with Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz?" I asked him cheerfully.

"Did you hear a goddamn word I said?!" he snapped and I winced a little, intimidated.

"Nope, sorry," I said, but didn't let it throw me off track. "I was too busy thinking about the fact that I haven't had sex in six months! For God's sake! I might as well join a monastery," I shouted.

"Try two weeks. You had sex two weeks ago," he said dryly.

"What? But I would remember that!" I argued, mentally going back over the last few weeks.

"So you don't remember getting married either, Justin?!" he screamed, now beside himself.

I froze.

"W-what?" I stuttered.

"So it's true! You got drunk as hell and woke up married to a boy band member!"

I swear, at that moment my heart stopped beating for a moment. No, it was squeezed and I felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head. I couldn't breathe.

"Please tell me,that this isn't true..." I pleaded.

But all I could hear on the other end of the line was laughter.

... ✈...Flashback end... ✈...

I shook my head. That was earlier that evening and that call will probably go down as one of the worst calls of my life. It even surpassed the call from Mariah Yeater because that call I knew was fake. An attempt by some stupid girl to get media attention.

This, this was fucking real. It was written into law.

And if this got out, I wouldn't be the only one going down.

I'd take One Direction's Zayn Malik down with me.

.★*... ✈...*★. ★*... ✈...*★. ★*... ✈...*★