Just Like You ✓

Five

Nicki
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I just couldn't let this one go. Call me OCD, but I wanted to get to the bottom of it, wanted to know what was behind Beyoncé's actions. Obsessing over it was raising more questions than it was answering. And by Sunday I had driven myself mad with the speculation.

"Ms. Maraj how are you this fine afternoon?" As I stepped into my car, Noah's chirpy, sing song british twang rang through my phone when I put him on loud speaker.

"So-so. Hey, listen, you know where Beyoncé lives, right?" I asked in a casual tone.

"Yeah, I got dragged along to that infamous fancy dress party she threw back on 2012. Why?"

"Can you give me the directions?"

"Why? Are you going to put a bag of dog shit on her door step and set it on fire? Americans do things like that, don't they?" He chortled.

"I'm not 12 years old. No, I had some free time and thought I would... stop by."

"Okay, now you've lost me. When have you ever wanted to just stop by Beyoncé Knowles house? Do I need to remind that you hate each other?" 

"Just give me the fucking address!" I snapped. Why did he have to be so inquisitive all the time? 

"Hmm, you're definitely up to something. This wouldn't have anything to do with the weird thing that happened on Friday night, would it?"

"What? No," I said quickly. Too quickly.

He laughed at me. "You know, for an actress, you make a terrible liar. Color me intrigued. I'll give you the address, but only on the condition that you tell me what this is all about when you're done."

"I'm not agreeing to anything."

He gave me the address and tried to pry some more before I asked him was he in my business, and if so, he needed to not do that, then I hung up on him.

I pulled up half an hour later beside a black Ferrari, which was parked in the driveway of a house on an affluent street in Villanova. I cut the engine but didn't step out of the car. Panic set in.

What am I doing here? This is crazy. I'll see her at work tomorrow. What will I say to her? So many questions and reprimands ran through my head. I'd made a huge mistake going there, and I went to switch the ignition and blow out of there before anyone noticed.

Too late.

The front door opened, a tall, dark, man came tearing out of the house. He looked as if he was on a rampage. He slammed the door behind him and shouted, "fuck you" to it. I cowered slightly in my car, hoping he wouldn't see me. But as he approached the Ferrari, he noticed me.

I rolled down the window. "Hi..." I waved modestly, nervously. I recognized him immediately. Rapper Shawn Carter (Jay-Z),  Hip Hop legend.

They resembled each others personality quite a bit. Like they were the same person. I wasn't the only person who thought so. It was more than a little creepy, considering they were dating...if what they were doing could be called that.

Fact was, Beyoncé and Jay had been off and on for two years, and it was the most toxic relationship going. Bust ups outside nightclubs and restaurants,  arguing in the street, cheating...Toxic. Jay may have had a worse temper than Beyoncé, if that were even possible. And together they were the angriest couple in celebrity history.