"Bieber, explain this. What the hell is going on?!" Scooter yelled, his voice on volume seven. He threw the magazine on the coffee table, right before Justin, definitely with all his might and clenched his fists up. This was scary. He was scary. But Justin was...hopeless.
"No, no, no, no, shit, fuck, oh Jesus, oh my God," Justin took it up and crushed the sides of the magazine. "This is not true, Scoot, believe me. I am seriously not the kind of guy who does this. Scoot- " He got cut off.
"Yeah? Then what happened, huh? Okay, this girl, who's older than you, gave birth to a baby, whom she claims to be your son. Justin, your son. This is a serious matter. The both of you had sex? What on earth is that? It's illegal, you know that? Who is she? What's going on between the both of you? What the- " Scooter got cut off abruptly.
"Mariah Yeater's a fan. She's some obsessed chick, okay? She's a goddamn psycho. She's mental! Why the fuck would I wanna have sexual - FUCK! You know what? Get the press here. Now," Justin whipped his phone out and dialed on someone's number, but Scooter snatched it away.
"You are not to call the press, the paparazzis, the reporters or whatever flying fuck, until you explain the whole fucking thing. Straight out. Right now!" Scooter's voice suddenly became a hundred times louder.
Justin paced back and forth behind the couch. "I was having a meet and greet right after the concert, but I needed to piss, so I went to the gents, I did what I had to do, I left the gents, she stood before me, we talked for a while, I didn't even fucking touch her or anything, she was so fucking ugly, she was so old! Right after we talked, I told her I was going to have a meet and greet, and she asked if she could come, and I said yeah, and she followed me out, joined the crowd of girls out there, and she was the last. Skip the whole meet and greet part. At the last part, I just hugged her, snapped a picture, and then she was gone. I left for the little party we had in the dressing room. The both of us were fucking gone. Gone to different fucking directions. She's a slut! I didn't have sex with her or anything, I - oh God, who would wanna touch her? Oh, my fucking God. Like......crap, where's Justine. Where's Justine?! Where's my girlfriend?!" He stared straight at Scooter, his eyes begging for Scooter to say something. But no, I made Scooter swear that he wouldn't tell him where I was. Besides, I was eavesdropping from another room. This wasn't a scheme, neither was it an act. Pattie and I were the first two who learnt about this news, and after that, Carin, then Kenny, Alfredo and Ryan Good, then the paparazzis and lastly......the fans.
"I'm getting a lawyer," Scooter threw Justin's phone on the couch and left the room to make a phone call. "and you are not going to leave this room."
"No, this isn't happening...it's all untrue...all those motherfucking people with cameras and mindless heads. God, never in my fucking life would I fucking have sex with a stranger! What does "Brief sex" mean? BULL-FUCKING-SHIT. GODDAMN IT, FUCK THE MEDIA!" Justin yelled and wiped his tears. No matter how much he wiped them off, whether it's with his palm, or the back of his hand, or his shirt or whatever, it just kept flowing. He fell on his knees and he entwined his fingers. He was praying. He sniffled and continue sobbing. It was heartbreaking. I was crying either. I believe him. I believe he didn't do it. I believe he wasn't the kind of guy. I just believe him.
He stood up and cupped his face with his hands and I widened the door which I was hiding behind of, but Scooter came in just as I was about to step out.
Scooter sighed and placed his hand on Justin's shoulder. "Tough on you, little man. It's afternoon now, and you're going to have a concert in the evening. You up for it, or do you want it canceled?" He asked with another sigh.