Simple Deal

Two

Beth:

"So, please―tell me how the plan works."

Ushering the both of us into a small, air-conditioned room with nothing but two wooden stools that sat in the middle, I gestured for him to take a seat before I sat down, as basic customer-service manners.

Once we had both made ourselves comfortable on the stools, my eyes fixated themselves onto Justin Bieber's manager that was in front of me, who looked like he was ready to speak so I took a quick breath, hopefully deep enough to calm my nerves later on if necessary.

If this isn't awkward, I thought to myself, trying to ease myself away from the discomfort that wouldn't stop chasing me.

Instead of opening his mouth to speak and answer my inquiring eyes, Mr. Braun over here decided to have a staring competition with me. Or rather, staring competition with himself, all over my body. His big brown eyes did what they had to do, beginning from my face.

After he'd scanned his eyes down my entire face, he shifted his gaze down to my other parts that I dare not speak of only to cause my eyes to start twitching in agitation. Just what the hell did he think he was doing? God, 'violation' isn't even enough to define what I'm experiencing right now!

Needless to say, I felt overly self-conscious. This man was madly famous for being the manager of many well-known singers, but damn it. There he was, scanning me down as though trying to find bruises on me like I was a corpse.

Why, Jesus, why.

Quickly nodding his head once probably to himself for internal approval, he opened his mouth without hesitation and said, "I need you to be Justin's personal psychiatrist"―he paused to observe my reaction but I refused to show any because a) I haven't really registered it in my head fully. b) I was testing his patience―"Well, in a way anyway. I need you to bring back the good inside of him because, let's face it―he's lost it."

Blinking the sudden information into my brain, I held my breath for a second to still my senses that felt like they were going to explode.

What the bloody hell did this man just say?

Shaking my head once as a gesture to wake me up, I stared at him; my heart tugging and squeezing in shock. "How are you so certain that I'm a good person?" I could feel my eyebrows furrowing due to the confusion that was slowly filling up my senses.

There's no way in hell someone as capable as him could be so naïve as to think that his judgment of a stranger that he just met was correct. That's just― I just― no.

For a moment there, he was silent and held no facial expression.

I could almost feel the intensity in the atmosphere biting me, and I was beginning to wonder (not worry) if I had said something wrong to him. However, when he allowed a few chuckles to leave his mouth interrupting the pin-dropping silence, I knew I was wrong.