Judas Kiss

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The blonde woman held the microphone closer and closer to my face, until finally I had to push it back.

"What's your name?" She was asking. A lot of the other reporters were asking this question too. 

"Jaydi Campbell. Jay-Jay for short." I replied with a smile. T's publicist told me to be cute, so I did my best.

"Does Tyga call you Jay-Jay?" A man asked. Before I could answer this, another reporter was asking another question.

"Where did you and Tyga meet?" A young guy with a beanie hat and gel in his hair asked.

 I began to respond. "At his concert in LA. My friend and I got backstage passes---

"Does he love you? Do you love him?" One asked. "Is this a real relationship or what?" "How old are you?" 

There were so many questions, and it suddenly became overwhelming for me. I was about to try my best to answer when a guy grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from the crowd of paparazzi. Another man shooed the paparazzi away. Then the boardwalk became suddenly quiet, and it was only the first boy and I standing in front of a tiny restaurant on the boardwalk. 

"Hey Jaydi." He said with a smile. He smelled really good and wore dingy blue jeans, a clearly unironed button-down, and sneakers.

"Um....hi." I mumbled. I wasn't sure who the guy was, but he looked really familiar. Did I know any fair-skinned boys in their late twenties who didn't care about what their clothes looked like?

"I'm Travie." He said, holding out his fist for me to bump. Then I remembered; it was Travie Mccoy, Tyga's cousin. I bumped my fist against his, and then he laughed.

"Those paparazzi are crazy. You can't mess with them." He was saying. I wasn't looking at him though, I was examining all the people walking up and down, staring at us and taking pictures. Not only of Travie, but of me.

I was kind of famous. 

"Yeah. They're scary." I said. 

"So, you and my little cousin are the real deal, huh??" He asked with a smile. I nodded. "I'm proud of that kid, you know. Come on, let's get something to eat."


Travie took me to a pizzeria. We ate plain slices and mozzerella sticks, and talked about what everyone else seemed to be talking about: my relationship with his cousin. Travie did seem really proud of T.

"This is kind of a coincidence, because just the other day, maybe a week ago, I told him that if he couldn't find the right girl for himself, I'd have to find him one. And then you come along!" 

Travie told me he was here in Miami because he knew I'd be here (T's publicist flew me in last night), and he was desperate to meet me.

"I like your style you know. You're not like those other girls T's normally with--just simple and pretty." Travie continued.  I blushed, just like I always did when people told me I was pretty. It's just something I liked to hear.

After we finished eating, Travie gave me the address to the hotel he was staying in and told me not to be a stranger. I thanked him, and we went our separate ways. The only place I wanted to be was the beach.

The sand was hot, so hot that I had to buy three bottles of water and pour them all out on a large spot just to sit down. The sun beamed down on the beach heavily, causing everyone that wasn't wearing sunglasses, including me, to squint. 

I didn't sit close to the water; I couldn't swim, and it wouldn't make much sense to be by the water and not go in. So I just sat and watched guys work out on the pull-up bars. 

There was a tap on my shoulder suddenly, and then a shirtless and enthusiastic T sat down next to me. 

"Hey." I kissed his cheek.

"Guess what?" He paused, waiting for my response. I shrugged my shoulders, urging him to continue. "I wanna go swimming with you." 

I laughed. "T, I hate to burst your bubble, but I can't swim."  

"For the seventeen years that you've been alive, you ain't learned how to swim?" He said dramatically, making me giggle. Before I knew it, he'd lifted me up and was running down to the water. When we got to the water, the tide coming in and going out, he walked in as far as he could, and then dropped me down.

It was shallow, though, so there was nothing to worry about. "I'm not learning how to swim, if that's what you're trying to do." I warned. T paused, looking from me to the horizon and back again, and then soon I was in his arm.s

He dived into the water, which wasn't shallow anymore. He held me by the waist and made me copy everything he did, but didn't let me go. People were taking pictures and pointing; there were a swarm of camera flashes coming our way.

But no one got too close. If they did, T would give them this really bad-boy look, and they'd back off. It was the cutest thing ever.

We eventually crawled out of the water. I hadn't really learned how to swim, but I was more comfortable going in the water than I'd ever been before. We laid on the sand by the shore on our backs, where the sand was cooler.

"I gotta go do something," he said. "I might not be at the hotel later, so don't come looking for me." 

With that, he kissed me, and jogged up to the boardwalk. I didn't watch him go, just stared at the sky and had a single thought the whole time I was there: Good luck does exist.

The boardwalk wasn't as hot as it had been earlier. I left the beach at 11:00 PM. You might think I was crazy to stay there all that time since afternoon, but I liked being on the beach in the night time. The stars were blue and shiny in the dark night sky, and it made me feel kind of at-home, even though I'd never seen stars in LA. At least not this much.

As I walked down the boardwalk, I thought of getting back to the hotel and doing something to surprise T when he came. I didn't think he remembered, but today was our three week anniversary. I wanted to celebrate it.

I stopped in a party store on the way to the hotel and bought balloons, drinks, and an array of junk food.

It seemed like forever before that key finally showed up in the deep pit of my pocketbook.

I opened the door and walked into the hotel-room, only to find that I didn't feel as alone as anticipated. T couldn't be here; he had something to do, like he said. There was a faint sound from the back that I couldn't recognize, though.

Brushing it off as my imagination or something from outside, I put the chicken in the microwave to heat up, and was about to put the balloons up when the sound I'd heard earlier became louder. Curiously, I went to the back toward the bedroom where I could here it getting louder and louder.

For sure, the sound was in the bedroom. I opened it slowly, and was surprised by what I saw.

The lights were off, candles were lit, and the curtains were closed. A song was playing from the stereo, one I didn't know. 

What I did know was that the sounds were stifled moaning coming from the girl that my boyfriend was currently having sex with.

It surprisingly took quite a few seconds for him to notice me there, but when he did, it was too late. He didn't try to get up and apologize. That was smart of him, anyway: smarter than bringing a girl to my hotel to cheat on me with. Furiously wiping my tears, I stormed out of the hotel and made sure to slam the door.

T had lied to me. 

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