Want You

Sorry Aint Enough, Bitch: Part 9

I had a plan to call Zendaya that night and tell her everything. I couldn't do this arrangement-having sex with strangers and getting paid to do it. This therapy program wasn't doing anything to help me either, it just made things worse. Deja was making things more complicated and I didn't need that. If I really did have a problem, I wanted to get better for the sake of Zendaya and our relationship. She was the one I loved-it was funny how many times I had to remind myself nowadays. I called Zendaya's cell before going to bed but there was no reply.

The next morning, I phoned her again during breakfast but still there was no answer. It just went straight to voicemail. I figured she was still working on her video shoot with Missy and Timberland. The news couldn't stop dropping hints about her new album. It's debut date was for December 18th but that was only an assumption. Hopefully she was close to finishing. I couldn't wait until she came home. I wanted her hugs, kisses and loving more than ever, now that she was gone. It had only been a few days since she left but for some reason it felt like a month. Maybe even longer than that.

I talked to Melissa that afternoon about Zendaya, hoping to get some good insight. I didn't mention anything about Deja or the fight we had last night. It was just too much to deal with. All I wanted to do was forget about her.

"You're being clingy," Melissa said, bluntly.

We were sitting poolside, basking in the sun's high-beam rays in our swimsuits. Melissa laid back on the futon, with one hand behind her head and her legs stretched out on the green cushions. The SP-5 glistened over her now honey colored skin. She was at least two shades darker than from this morning.

I looked to my own arms and legs. My skin was like a chocolate moca with a mixture of milk and sugar. "You think so?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said matter-of-factly. "I mean, if Bret called me five times and left three messages, complaining about how he miss's me and when are I'm coming home, I'd dump him for sure. That's just too much for me."

I squinted my eyes at her in the sunlight. "But she always answers when I call. It's just not like her . . ."

"Well, it's like you said, she's probably working," Melissa said. " She's going to be doing a lot stuff to get this video out. And that calls for interviews, radio stations, and photoshoots."

"I know that, I'm just not used to it," I said. "Guess it just comes with the territory."

"Yep, it does," Melissa added, sipping her tall glass of Ice-Tea, "Just imagine when she goes on tour . . ."

I shook my head. "We have a long time before we can even discuss that."

"I'm just saying," Melissa said. "It's better to practice now than later. Obsessing over her; wondering where she is, what she's doing, who she's with is not going to work out. The last thing you want to do is drive yourself crazy and have her think you're a lunatic."

I looked to her and asked, "I can't imagine being that way. It sounds miserable."

Melissa turned her head in my direction. Her big cat-shaped sunglasses were pushed up close to her face. "It is," she said and turned away. "Long-distance relationships in this type of industry are fatal. You either break-up, get in a big fight or cheat on them to make up for everything you miss about them."

I turned away and bit my lip, guilty.

"A girl can stay a virgin Mary only for so long," Melissa said.

I swallowed and looked down at my binki-clad self. I felt naked and exposed and pulled apart, like someone had just ripped me in two. The sun was starting to eat up my skin and it wasn't long before I couldn't take it anymore. I got up from the orange futon and threw my beach towel around me.