YONCÉ in LOVE

SOLO VS. JUSTIN

"I hope you're right. She's called and I feel bad for ignoring them. When she gets angry, she gets angry. I try to stay away from it. I had to learn the hard way. One night, she kicked me out and you won't believe why."

Two weeks later (December 28, 2012)

"What up, homie?" Justin entered the VIP lounge at Club Cabaret with his posse. Trace, his best friend; Lonnie, his bodyguard; Marty, his long time choreographer and Free from FreeSol, the group he signed to his label in 2009.

There were a few people in the lounge. All men but the dancers were all women, of course. "JT!!!" He slapped hands with Andrew Garfield, the next Spiderman. The last time they saw one another were at the premiere of The Social Network.

"Andrew, I gotta tell ya', man...I am surprised to see you here. And like this?" There was a dancer giving him a lap dance at the time. "Andrew, it's wayyy past your bedtime."

"Ha ha. Yeah. Don't hate because I look good for my age. And we're only what? A year apart? Justin, you're getting old."

"I know." He spoke, running his hand over his five o'clock shadow. "I'm feeling it. I get this very bad back pain. My chiropractor said I should take it easy. I'm looking at this dude like...do you know what type of work I do? I'm dancing all the time."

"I bet you dance in your dreams, huh? Ahaha."

"Man, I'm dancing now. It may not look like it but I'm doing all types of dances. I'm about to dance my way over there." He pointed to a stripper hanging from a pole. "Seriously, this is bad. I shouldn't even be here. I'm a married man."

"That's right! Congrats, man. How's married life?"

"It's...it has it's ups and downs. I got lucky though. So I can't complain." He took a seat on the sofa, putting his gaze on the strippers onstage.

An hour later

Justin had four shots of tequila within the hour and a lap dance. "I better go. Bee is gonna kick my ass." He stood up, immediately being pushed back down by the stripper.

"You don't have to go so soon. I'm not finished." She climbed in his lap. He could feel her lips on his neck and her hands all over him. "I'll give you a private show for extra." She spoke in his ear.

"Nah. I can't. It's sound really nice but I can't." She climbed off him the second he stood up. "I gotta go."

When he made it back home, he met up with Solange who was standing at the island in the kitchen eating from a fruit platter. "Hey, Justin."

"Hey." He sat his keys, wallet and phone on the counter. "What are you eating?" He approached her.

"Cantaloupe. Watermelon..." She grabbed a grape, tossing it in her mouth. "Grape. Compliments from the hotel chef." He grabbed a piece of watermelon, taking a bite out of it as he leant back against the counter. "So where did you go?" She asked; her eyes landing on a red mark on his collar.

"I stopped by the store and dropped Trace off." Of course he "forgot" to mention the visit to the club to celebrate his friend Andrew's film debut. He finished off his watermelon as he watched her amble towards him. She was squinting her eyes, looking somewhere on his body and he had no idea why. "What?" He quickly checked out his figure, looking back up at her.

"Are you kidding me?" He flashed her a baffled look.

"What?" She reached out to touch his collar. "Solange, what the hell..." He pulled away from her. "What's wrong with you?"