Under The Influence {Editing}

I Need Love

A month after the Chris Brown show, I was at home trying to relax. It was Friday around 3 p.m., and I had just gotten home from work. I was super stressed about work, and my ex had been giving me a hard time lately.

I hadn't talked to Chris, which I figured would happen. I wasn't tripping about it, though. It was a fun night, but that's all it was—a fun night. I wish I hadn't been such a bitch that night. Maybe I would've had a little more fun. Not like that, because I'm no thot, but I should've loosened up a little more.

I poured myself a glass of wine, turned on the TV, and heard my phone ding. I picked it up, and it was Chris—like Chris Brown—texting me.

CB: You disappeared on me?

Me: No, what do you mean?

CB: I haven't talked to you since that night over a month ago.

Me: I didn't think you were serious.

CB: What are you doing this weekend?

Me: Nothing, why?

CB: I wanna see you. I'm flying you out here.

Me: Out where?

CB: LA. I'm gonna send a car to your house. What's your address?

Me: Right now?

CB: Yeah. Address?

Me: 37271 N. Insignia Ave. in Chicago.

CB: Be ready in an hour. You don't need to pack, just come.

Me: How do you know I want to come?

CB: Because I'm me. I know you wanna see me. It'll be fun.

Me: I'm sure it will, but I have to work.

CB: That's the excuse you used last time. Plus, it's the weekend—you're off. Nice try! Ima get this handled. The car will be there soon. Be ready.

Me: Fine.

I put my phone down and thought to myself, Do I really want to do this? Chris wants to fly me out to see him in LA. I guess he really does like me... okay, fine, fuck it, I'm going!

I threw my charger in my purse and grabbed a few things anyway. I wasn't about to go out of town with nothing. He's crazy.

While I waited for the driving service, I checked his Instagram. There was a post with a picture and the caption said, "I don't mind spending cuz I need love."

"This was five minutes ago," I said to myself. I smiled, thinking he was talking about me. He probably wasn't, though—but it was nice to think so.

After about 45 minutes, the car arrived to pick me up and take me to Midway Airport. I didn't know what airline I was flying, just that I was going to LA. We entered on the far east side of the airport, at an entrance I'd never even seen before.

We pulled into the parking lot and the driver helped me out. A lady greeted me, verified my name, and told me to follow her. We walked through a building, then back out towards the rear where there was a private jet.

"I'm taking this?" I asked the lady.

"Yes," she answered.

"A private jet?" I said, shocked.

"Yes, ma'am. Enjoy your flight!" She smiled and helped me on the plane.

I stepped onto the plane, greeted by the pilot and a flight attendant. It was my first time on a private jet, and everything was so nice. I didn't even want to touch anything. I tried to sit down and relax, but I was still so confused about this whole thing—even though I was also excited at the same time. I mean, come on, I'm on a private jet, going to see Chris freaking Brown.