'Oh, Sean'. Jessica squirms, mouth agape once she's fully leaning in front of her beloved, ex boyfriend. I can tell that she's holding herself back from throwing herself at him, she's just holding his wrist and looking up to him with that sprinkle of admiring in her eyes ... and I'm silently observing them and clenching my fists, because her excitements and her physicality with my whole fucking man is pissing me off just a little bit, as it should rightfully. And yeah, at the same time I'm also trying to see where on the floor exactly I've kicked my passport, because it's shitty and we agree on that, but I'm going to need it again in the foreseeable future... and I'm also trying to keep my feathered baby tame, because he's heard papa's name entering the chat once again, and he just can't hold his excitement back anymore. He just wants daddy now, and so do I. The only thing getting in the way of our beautiful family is ...Jessica.
'Hey, Jess. Howdy?' Sean chimes in, awkward grin still on his lips, as he doesn't do anything to free himself from his ex girlfriend's hold. He just keeps standing here, grinning, and trying not to move or say anything because he knows he'd be easily misunderstood. I don't like the concept of a woman touching my man by any means, not even with a hand over his wrist, and looking at him with love in her eyes... but honestly, what a man is he? He's taking it easy on her, he's calling her by her nickname, not by her full name, he's even asking her how she's doing... and he's in and out acting like I generally do when I'm in presence of either one of my exes. With coldness, but in a quite respectful and civilised manner. Slay Sean. You're handling this much better than I thought you would've.
I don't know if this even makes sense of me, but looking at Sean handling himself with the woman who swears to be still in love with him, acting all natural and unbothered, a little jovial too... I can't help but think that it wouldn't be that bad after all, to be his ex girlfriend. I am his whole girlfriend now, I'm immensely grateful for that, and I hope to be that for a long time... but if one day we were to split out and randomly meet on the breakfast room of a hotel post breakup, I could still count on him to call me by my nickname and ask me how I'm doing. I'm just wondering what the nickname in question would be ... Jennifer ? Or Cherry ? I'd take both, for as long as he'd still judge me worthy of a basic greeting.
'I'm doing a hundred times better now. I missed you so much, but...'. Jessica tries to say something, but before she can finish her sentence and say what I think would've been 'now that I'm seeing you, I'm healed for life'... Sean kindly removes her hand from around his wrist, and leaves her mouth agape because she wasn't expecting him to act so unbothered about her heartfelt love declaration. She slips back on her seat, right in front of me... and she frowns a little, when she sees the man she's still in love with motioning me to stand up from my seat, and sit on his thigh instead. I bite the inside of my cheek, because the temptation to let Sean have my seat and sit on his thigh like we always do is sooo strong ... but somehow, I manage to swallow it down, and I just roll my eyes back almost like I'm annoyed by his attentions. À la 'who the fuck are you and what d'ya want from me? You think that only because we briefly spoke in the hotel hall and you told me you're gay, I'm gonna sit on your lap?'
I deserve a fucking Oscar for best actress for the nerve that I'm showing to have, that's for sure. I'm falling apart, and my beautiful, nose pierced hunk is nonchalantly giving me attentions in front of a woman he knows to be still in love with him. He ain't afraid of telling the truth as it is to her, but I am. She's so sweet, twiddling her thumbs and trying to convince herself that Sean is just clowning... and I'm so smart, for so effortlessly pulling my best acting performance ever for the sake of not breaking her heart. Despite Sean's obvious attentions towards me, she thinks that I'm annoyed for real, with all my looking at him and pretending I don't know him, and with all of his looking back at me like he doesn't know why I'm rejecting his avances. This is confusion at its finest here, and nothing good is going to come out of it, I just know it. But let me do my own thing and see where it gets us? Sean is smart, he will understand what I'm doing, why I'm doing it, and he'll surely back me up in this no matter what. At the end of the day, as long as there's to clown and to deceive, I know I can always trust him. Jessica is slightly less smart than us, and that's the reason why she's looking at us and thinking that this thing, whatever it even is, is nothing too out of the ordinary. Just a case of me being confusional, and Sean being ambiguous. We're just being ourselves, Jessica. I promise we ain't dry fruiting... I mean, dating. Put your broken heart to rest and find yourself a new hobby for the rest of the day. Just let my man and I be.
'I see you've made yourself comfortable with Jennifer'. Sean speaks, as he takes a seat right next to me me, when he understands that I ain't gonna stand up from my stool and let him have it in exchange for his lap. In my girlfriend fantasies, I would've been sitting on his lap, toying with his hair, kissing his lips, stealing his Budweiser hat and flirting up a storm with him. But in my reality of being in a sandwich between him and his ex who still loves him... I'm just having to hear him tell his ex girlfriend that he's surprised to have walked into her and I having a girly chat. I honestly don't think that Sean knows that Jessica and I are friends, I think that he believes I befriended her while getting breakfast, because it's common knowledge that I make new friends wherever I go... it's not like the case, babe, but thank you so much for having just introduced me to your past sweetheart by the wrong name. But also thank you for not having said 'my girlfriend Jennifer' like you always do whenever you introduce me to someone.
'It's Tori, silly... and I already know her from Seattle. We're good friends'. Jessica answers, and when I can hear her call my silly fucking man 'silly', I have to hold my breath in order not to throw up all over the breakfast table. I would've never wanted to say this... but I don't think I will call Sean 'silly' ever again in this life. I call him like that even mid coitus at times, I think it suits him and his silly personality, he loves it, he says that the way I say the 's' in it turns him on... but heck, I'm never gonna do it again. I'm gonna call him Sean and that's it. And he won't complain, because he says he loves the way I say his name anyways. I wish I could say the same about the way he says my name... but he calls me either Jennifer or Cherry, and I've almost forgotten how my actual name sounds like in his voice. We should bring it back, that's for sure, because it's been a while since he last did the damn thing. And we should bring our asses away from Jessica... because she just noticed that Sean's hand is on my thigh, and she's trying to grab his other hand in hers to make up for the... disappointment, I think. Eeeeek. Here begins the real shitstorm ... the real question here is if I'll be able to withstand it. Finger crossed that Sean doesn't get too obvious about the fact that we're together ... because this girl just ain't ready to find it out.
'Brother, damn... choose which one you wanna fuck, I'll take the other one in a heartbeat'. Starr chimes in from behind Sean's shoulder, like the spooky, fucking horny demon that he is. He's laughing his ass off, scratching his crotch and undressing Jessica and I under his stare... but none of the three of us is having any of his comment on how he'd gladly get his filthy paws on any of Sean's leftovers. Ew. Jessica is too busy to care, as she's frowning because Sean's just patted the back of her hand and pulled back his own, signalling he ain't feeling like holding hands with her at all. I'm too busy swallowing down the pukes triggered by Mike's comment and Jessica's clingy demeanour. Sean is just ... frowning and wishing he was someplace else. That, while his hand is still on my thigh, and he's literally squeezing it from under the table. He's lowkey hurting me, but at least Jessica now can't see that he's touching me... and that's all that matters.
'Papa! Squawk!' Cock Soup emerges from under the bottom hem of my Alice in Chains T-shirt, and as his usual, he goes flying well above daddy's shoulder and begins to beak the silver hoops in his earlobes. Daddy gives him a smooch, baby reciprocates it, and I about melt inside and scream, because I always love to see my boys being so affectionate. I live for moments like this one, but this one in particular I can't appreciate fully, because it's happening in front of a woman who's still in love with daddy McKinney... and I ewwww. I have to hold my stomach up, in order not to think about the fact that she must've called him 'daddy' in bed, at some point. I have to pray that she won't ask me why my bird (I mean, my son) has just called Sean 'papa', because I just I can't tell her that we are a family, and that Sean was the one to sit Cock Soup on his knee and teach him to say 'papa'. She wouldn't understand... she would hate me for the rest of her life for this... she would hate my baby too... I will have to justify us by saying that he's just a bird who says random words in random moments, and that would mean belittling his intelligence and his feelings... ughhhh.
'Tori, he's so grown up... but seriously, why are you here?' Jessica speaks, her gaze flipping from me, to Sean, then all the way to our beautiful little boy. She's looking at Cock Soup like she's impressed by how much he's grown up over the last month, and I will have to agree with her because he's become such a handsome, healthy birdy boy since the last time she saw him... but besides a rush of maternal pride, because I raised this one with lots of love and breadcrumbs and I love him like I love life, all I can feel is awkwardness. She's asking me the same question she began our exchange with, all over again... and this time she's making it sound like she's asking it because the closeness between my bird and her ex boyfriend is giving her reasons to believe that I may be lying to her when I say that I have no links with Sean. Like, how could I not have links with him, if my bird is nesting on his shoulder and calling him 'papa'? Ain't that the ultimate proof in itself?
'For me. What about you?' Sean answers the question for me, arms crossed on his chest, cheeky grin on his lips and parrot nesting in the hollow of his neck. I instantly leap back at his words, because they were a little too forward and a bit too revealing for my personal taste... but I just laugh them off me, in the hope that Jess ain't gonna take them too seriously. We both have Sean well figured out, and we both know that he could easily be clowning right now. He's not clowning one bit... but who said I can't pretend he is? Ain't he the same guy who entered me after a week of sex starvation last night, and told me that I felt much better than the chick he'd fucked the night before ? When we both know that the night before he was too drunk to even talk to me on the phone?
'What a prankster! I'm here... for work!' I lie, and although I know I'm lying and don't know how to get myself out of the very cringeworthy exchange, I do my best to save face, and I pull out a self assured smile. Jessica sighs with relief at my words and relaxes her furrowed brows. Sean, on the contrary, furrows his brows and puts his hand back on my thigh, squeezing it as to give me a taste of what he's going to do to me as soon as it'll be just the two of us. My lying and pretending I don't know him is keeping him going, and not so deep down, I'm hoping that he'll soon enough bend me over something, take me hard from behind, pull my braids and call me a liar and a slut. I need that. But before anything else, I need to perfect my lie, because I know I just can't get away with saying that I'm here for work, without saying what kinda work it is, if necessary. I don't wanna tell Jess that I model, I'm superstitious, and she wouldn't drink it because my agenda is free for the next few days. I need to think about something else that can justify my presence here real quick...
'You work for Alice in Chains?' Jess asks me, thank goodness, with her brows still relaxed and a hint of a smile on her lips. She doesn't seem too bothered by the fact that I may be working for Alice in Chains, and I think that it's because they have other women in their entourage, and they're all quite... professional. For example, their manager is a woman. Their wardrobe manager is a woman (and I think that Sean barely knows her, because he's always dressed like a homeless). Their on the road nurses are all women. I know medicine, and I could easily be one of them, because I always have a whole pharmacy in my suitcase, and I am also the woman in charge of the drummer's wrist cortisone injections... so yeah, I could easily say that I'm Doctor Khair, proud head nurse in charge of the Alice medical team. But this means that I will have to treat Jessica if she gets sick, and I don't wanna do that. This also means that I will have to justify the fact that Sean is laughing his ass off at her question, and I don't know if I can do it.
'Yes, special stress relief department. She's my...'. He answers the question for me, once again, and I give him a deadly side eye and a slap on the thigh, as he almost tells Jessica that I'm his... girlfriend. I swear to god he was so damn close to saying the thing, and it's a whole miracle if I managed him to stop him right in time before he said the forbidden, super taboo G-word. It's so sweet of him to label me as his special stress relief item, and it's also kinda truthful because I always do everything I can in order to ensure he doesn't do the grumpy ass ... but Jessica is not ready to find it out. Poor girl doesn't have a clue what Sean and I are talking about, she's looking at the two of us laughing and thinking that we're clowning her ... and bless her, I don't want her to find out that, in reality, I'm lying and he's just implicitly backing me up.
'.. Interviewer! I'm a journalist for... MTV Arabia! I'm doing this series of interviews to dirty Seattle rock bands! Last week I was covering Soundgarden, this week I'm covering Alice in Chains...'. I chime in, and I literally light myself up, as I come up with a pretty chuffing (yet fake) explanation of the reason why I'm here today. As if I weren't already feeling like a whole genius for this last second save, I also remember I have a camera in my bag, and I pull it out and shove it under Jessica's nose for the sake of making my lie seem... a bit less like a lie. Slay, girl. You're much, much smarter than you give yourself credit for, and definitely way smarter than people think you are.
She nods with conviction at my words, pretty happy to have a camera almost hitting the tip of her perfectly pointy nose... meanwhile, Sean is just popping his eyes open in disblief, and laughing like the demonic creature that he is. He totally loses it and holds up his stomach for how hard he's laughing, when I slide my hand into my bag again, and pull out a badge written entirely in an alphabet that him and his ex girlfriend can't read. That, in order to prove that I work in music entertainment, and that it's because of my job at MTV that I'm here today. In reality, that's not a journalist badge, that's simply my university badge from back home, but unless one can read Perso-Arabic alphabet, one can't really know what it says. Unless one knows that MTV Arabia doesn't even exist, because music is haram in West Asia, and we don't even get regular MTV, one can't really know that I'm lying. I may be lying, and I am, cold blooded lying even... but I'm feeling like a whole fucking genius here, and no one can take it away from me. Sean is howling, and I don't recall having seen him laugh so hard because of one of my shenanigans, like ever before. Jessica is chill, twiddling my university badge between her fingers, 'reading' it, and almost believing that it's a journalist badge of something of the kind. I'm owning this, and I'm extremely proud of myself for being so bloody good at lying and deceiving. I'm not proud of what I'm doing, like at all, but this doesn't mean that I can't be proud of myself for how I'm staying coherent to my own lies.
Sometimes, having a foreign accent, a quick wit, an university badge in Arabic abjad, a camera in the bag, and coming from a country in 'Arabia' that no one knows about are weapons in one's arsenal, and one just gotta make the most out of them. I did, and with that I triggered my boyfriend's hilarity, and his ex girlfriend's tameness. Where's my Oscar for the best actress just yet?
'And next week Brett is covering Pearl Jam'. Sean finishes my sentence for me, taking a sip from my cup of coffee like the unbothered, cold blooded specimen that he is. And he does his best not to laugh and spit coffee all over the breakfast room floor, when Bessie walks right past us the exact moment he utters these teasing words out loud. We all know that Sean has a knack for teasing Bessie over her trysts with several men from several bands, and the jokes he cracked when we were in Green River (not the band) we will never forget, because we laughed over them for hours in a row. But he becomes a whole different level of harassing, annoying even, when there's to tease Bessie over her links with the rhythm guitarist of Pearl Jam. Bessie is walking past us with her glance lowered to the floor, and what look like tears in her beautiful blue eyes. I would like to stand up from my seat and go throw my arms around her and see what's going on with her ... but I realise that I have different priorities, when I catch Sean taking off his shoe, and inspecting it more or less like he's trying to pull... a stone out of it. I slap the back of his head, the impact of my hand being minimised by the ridiculous amount of hair he has, and he looks at me like he's trying to silently tell me 'why so mad at me for nothing, Miss خير of MTV Arabia?' I think he understood our assignment with Jessica, and for as much as I hate it that he's nagging my best friend, that's still a step forward.
'You're fucking annoying, Kinney'. Bessie speaks, rolling her tearful eyes back at my boyfriend's relentless, shameless teasing assault. Jessica is giggling, because she somehow finds this thing, whatever it is, funny... and when I can see Sean lean towards Bessie and ask her if her eyes are red because 'Layne missed the bullseye while cumming in her face', I stomp on his shoeless foot with the heel of my boot, and I stand up from my seat. Leaving my badge and my camera unattended on the table and at Jessica's mercy, yes, but for the sake of going to check up on my best friend in the world. Fuck MTV Arabia and Jessica's Endangerement Treatment Programme, Bessie's well being is all that matters to me right now.
'Bessie, I'm sorry. Don't mind him, babe'. I speak, as soon as I'm close enough to Bessie, and I escort her to the coffee machines with one arm well around her shoulders. She's sniffling and sobbing, why for I don't know and don't want to ask because I don't think she'd like me to... but I'm apologising to her on behalf of Sean (as usual), and she's doing her possible best to sketch a smile at my words, although she's near damn crying and I can tell it. She's affected by something I don't know just yet, and Sean's comment didn't help one bit with the way she's feeling. My man is funny as heck, but sometimes he's so annoying and so tactless that he makes me want to apologise for him. This is one of these times, and right now, I'm just wishing I had a magic wand to erase the moment I decided that mentioning Seattle bands in a sentence to justify myself in front of his ex who's still in love with him would've been a good idea. It wasn't. It's not my fault if Sean never misses a chance to harass the people around him for no reason besides his evil amusement... but if I'd chosen different words to justify myself, Bessie wouldn't be sobbing that hard right now. And of course, Gerry wouldn't be looking at Sean with that war glimmer in his stare, as to suggest him that there's to end up brawling, he won't say no to it.
Gerry is very brave for handing himself over a plate to Sean, and I appreciate him for the courage, because all of their brawls so far always ended in his defeat, for as much as I can remember... but I'm nowhere near brave as him, and I'm already shitting myself and thinking that I won't be able to save face, if the two men will really end up all over one another and exchanging fists. Sean knows I hate violence, but he's got that 'break it or break it' attitude when he's pissed, and I can't take it away from him. I can't take his ex girlfriend away from us no matter how hard I try to... and it's gonna be a little bit of a problem, if things will take the turn that I think they will take. Let's say that Sean and Gerry will really end up in fisticuffs: how am I gonna justify my desperate screams, shakes and cries in front of Jessica? Miss خير of MTV Arabia shouldn't be supposed to cry at the sight of two strangers from a dirty Seattle band going to war. She should just be supposed to film them and air the saucy footage on MTV Arabia, possibly with foreign colour commentary of what's happening. I know I won't be able to hold back my tears and my shakes, I know I will get a full fledged, violence-triggered panic attack... and consequentially, I'll lose all the credibility I've worked hard enough to gain in front of Jessica.
Help me. I can't pull this off. Everything but this. I can stay chill in front of everything, just not violence .
'Not your fault if your boyfriend is an asshole'. Bessie mumbles, and I shrug with sheer sense of guilt at her words, no matter if she's saying that I ain't the problem, but Sean is. I can't do much to help Bessie now, I can't even talk to her and ask what's going on with her, there's too many people around us and the fear that Sean will hear our exchange and make a tease out of it overrides everything else... and that's the reason why I do the only thing(s) I can do: aka, I hug her tight, I set up the coffee machine, and brew her the best espresso that I could possibly brew. Looking at the side of my eye at Sean and Gerry all the while, to see if they're still exchanging war stares or not anymore.
I sigh with semi-relief, when I see that Gerry is pretty chill, smoking a cigarette, and motioning Bess to go sit down at the table with him. Sean is just feeding salad to our feathered baby, and motioning me to brew him some coffee while I'm at the machines. Jessica is trying to stand up from her seat to come here and brew him the coffee that he's 'asked' for... and the next thing I know, much to my now total relief, is that Sean somehow manages to keep her there by doing that hand gesture one normally dos when one's trying to keep their dog tame. What a fucking genius. I can definitely tell that he has dogs, and that's enough to make me fall in love with him just a little more, if it's even possible.
'You are nineteen? Jesus fucking Christ... so hot'. Starr speaks, in his usual, squalid and horny tone, as he moves a strand of my braided hair to the side, and grins an inch away from my face. I turn his way with nothing but disgust in my stare, and I catch him standing there with my opened passport in hand, and one hell of a cheeky grin on his lips. So he found my travel document on the floor and he's kindly returning it to me, and I appreciate him for the courtesy... but his drooling over my age at the registry office is giving me the pukes, and I just wish I could hit him with something right fucking now. But I can't, because I'm a pacifist and a wannabe MTV Arabia journalist. I don't know since when being 'nineteen' is 'hot', or at least why would it be, to Starr... but thank goodness, Sean comes to my rescue just in time before I throw up all over his bass player buddy's shoes. Starr, coward extraordinaire, disappears the moment he sees Sean appearing by my hip. Bessie disappears too, because she just can't stand Sean today and she has reasons for that... and there she goes, cup of coffee in her hand, taking a seat at Cuntrell's same table. Leaving Sean and I alone for the first time since we hopped off the tour bus and headed to the hotel hall.
'Cherry, what the fuck are you doing?' He asks, brows raised up to the ceiling, and it takes me about a fraction of a second to realise that what he's talking about ... is my confusional skit with his ex girlfriend, out there at the breakfast table. He obviously wants to know why I'm acting all conceited and like I don't know him in front of her, and I am just looking at him brewing his own coffee, and trying to find the perfect words to tell him that I ain't crazy... just perhaps a little bit too emphatic and apprehensive. And fuck me in the ass for that, because I always end up bothering about stuff that is none of my business, when nobody would do the same for me, with roles swapped.
'Babe, Jess is my friend and she loves you soooo so so much. I can't break her heart, understand me... she told me about her feelings for you, she's here for you today... oh my goodness. We should be tactful'. I answer, hand well over my mouth because I know that Jessica is looking at us and searching for evidence, and I just don't want her to hear what Sean and I are saying. Sean is sugaring his coffee, playfully winding his hand too close to my buttocks, and I'm just mumbling him to stop, and feeling guilty to have his attentions because I know that a girl is aching for him a few steps away from us. Jessica is a little bit crazy, judgmental and snobbish at times, but she's a sweet girl, and a very good pal of mine. And first of all, she's a human with feelings, and I don't want to hurt her, she just doesn't deserve it. I know her, and although I don't know the way she's feeling, because thank goodness I've never been dumped by a man I was in love with overnight... I can only imagine that it must feel like a train wreck, and I naturally ache for her. She told me the most beautiful things about Sean, she sung her feelings for him to me in the most genuine way, she had that sprinkle of loving in her eyes while talking about him that reminded of the sprinkle of loving in my own eyes when I talk about him... and call me an idiot for saying this, but I want to preserve it. I don't want her to live in the illusion that she's gonna get her hands back on a man who's mine now, but at the same time I don't want her to ache because he's with me, out of all the women in the world. There is no balance in these two things like there's no balance between lying to her and being honest to her... the only thing I can do is delaying the moment we'll have to get honest with her and let her heart get accustomed to the breakage, and I'll keep doing it. Regardless of what Sean feels like it's best to do.
I don't know how Sean feels like, to know that there's a woman who would do everything to get back with him. I honestly think he couldn't give any less fucks about it, because it's just the way he is, he doesn't give a fuck about things and he doesn't even do do it on purpose ... but just because he doesn't care, it doesn't mean that we shouldn't be extra careful with handling Jessica and her feelings. She rode two thousand miles to be here today, that's a love declaration in itself. Not only that, but her heart also isn't ready to get broken all over again. She isn't ready to find out that her beloved sweetheart has moved on to the next 'prey', aka me. Looking at her now, with the side of my eye, I see a stunning girl tapping her fingers on the breakfast table, impatient to have Sean (and I) back there, and pour all of her heart on him. Looking at Sean, I can see a handsome piece of fuck grinning like he couldn't care any less, and drinking his coffee instead of being receptive to what I've just told him. I'm hopeless, and I know it. Like I know it's gonna be a whole miracle, if we walk back to Jessica, and he doesn't straightforwardly tell her that I'm his girlfriend. Jennifer. From Italy and Syria, with lots of love.
'Cherry?' Sean calls my 'name', with crumbs of croissants falling from all sides of his mouth, because he's eating and speaking simultaneously, and there's nothing surprising about it. Just another very Sean thing of Sean. I giggle, and try to hold back the impulse to grab his face in mine, wipe sugar off his lips, kiss him, and call him silly, because I love him even more when he does the silly things... but I can't call him 'silly' anymore, because it reminds me of Jessica. I can't kiss him, because of Jessica. I can't do anything... and that's why I just remove Cock Soup from his shoulder and cuddle him between my arms, while daddy picks up a shit ton of food from the breakfast table, and motions me to go back to Jessica. I don't know what he meant, when he called my 'name' out of nowhere ... but judging by the fact that he's giving away hints of wanting to go back to his ex, I have hope in my heart he's understood the assignment: fooling her for her own good.
'You're fucking beautiful today. I mean, not just today... but there's something about you today... that makes me wanna thrust you into the floor and call you mama'. He adds, before I can even be right back at him with my usual, mandatory and very heartfelt 'yes, love?'. Now I'd like to be back at him with a mandatory 'you silly! I love you so much!', because he's being silly all over again... but that nickname is abolished for good, and I'm still too busy pretending I don't know him to show how much his sudden, very honest and very primal 'compliment' actually flattered me. You, babe, thrusting me into the floor and calling me mama? As in mama of your babies? Anytime! Get me on all fours, drill me, break my back, grip my neck, spank my ass, call me mama and make me one! We're gonna make good looking babies together ... 'cause they're gonna look like you !
'Okay, daddy... okay! Room number?' I tease him, just mere moments before I lock my lips for good, shrug, and begin to walk back to Jessica, side to side with him. That, while Cock Soup calls me 'mama', 'cause he heard it from daddy, he loves to pick up words from daddy, and it's never a bad thing, especially when he does it totally out of the original, scandalous context. On his side, daddy almost laughs in my face, when I call him... like that. Daddy. It's clear, he ain't big on the daddy kink... but what is not clear at all, it's whether he's understood that we gotta handle Jessica like we'd handle a box containing glass: with extreme fucking care. He's walking steady steps back to her, ready to clown the poor girl I reckon... but every once in five seconds, he squeezes my ass and grins, and with that he leaves not much to the imagination of the poor girl herself.
Sean and I sit back at the table with Jessica in the end, and as soon as we're there, she crosses her legs and grabs her face in her palms, looking at my man with the air of a loved up fish that almost pisses me off. But then I remember that I can't get any pissed off, that I'm Miss خير of MTV Arabia and I have no reasons to tell her to stop looking at my man like that, and I do the only thing I can do, amidst the lies and the chaos: which means, I turn on my camera, I put it on record mode, and I point it right at Sean's face. Poor guy is just eating his second croissant in a row (I'm jealous, as I still haven't touched food), and he naturally welcomes the camera with a middle finger up, a shrug, a curse, and an elbow right to the eye of it. Amazing way to start this, I think. Or at least so, as long as he doesn't break my beloved camera for as little as not being a fan of it on him. Standard degree of Sean's Seanisms.
'So, Sean... your band is set to play in Qatar this summer, how excited are you feeling?' I ask, camera still pointed at his face, as he tries to keep it as serious as possible at my very unexpected question. He wasn't seeing this one coming, and honestly I wasn't either ... but what can I do, if I'm full on my MTV interviewer gimmick, with a twist of dates and camels and desert to it, and I randomly got the idea to make this whole thing sound like Alice in Chains will be playing in the Arabian peninsula, this summer ? I could've said so many things, I could've chimed in and asked Sean to sing me a snippet of their new single, a tune with an exotic, Arabic hook to it... but I decided to keep things easy on him, and credible to Jessica. And yeah, I also decided to make myself look like an idiot (again, what's new), because I just don't do pronouncing q's, and out of all the countries in the area of 'coverage' of my 'MTV show', I've decided to bring up the table the only one whose name I pronounce in a weird manner. Without the Q, but with a beautiful, gagging sound as a replacement for it. Who wouldn't dream of playing a gig or two in 'atar? Most definitely not Sean, because he's looking at me partly like he hasn't understood what I've said, partly like he's silently wondering if 'atar is a suburb of Sheikh Jarrah (chic jar-rah, as he says it, but bless him because he tries), and definitely like he's got the perfect answer to my question right up his sleeve. A man after my heart, even when he doesn't understand. That's what he is.
'I'm feeling lost. I've heard that there's no pussy and booze over there... what the fuck am I gonna do? You?' He answers, and I literally scream at his words, more or less like I'm pretending I can't broadcast his answer on television for how obscene it is. MTV Arabia doesn't exist, but if it existed, comments about pussy and booze and demonstrations of wanting to fuck the interviewer, although humorous, would definitely be banned. I don't know 'atari law, but I'm pretty sure that Sean could be as well prosecuted for immorality for what he's just said. Still, he's a genius, he knows that 'atar is a country, and not a terrible disease, because it sounds like it is, when I say it... and he's given me the best answer he could've potentially given me. Forward, humorous, à la spoiled rockstar, but with a sprinkle of sarcasm, and very Sean-like, in a very Sean way.
I'm flat out howling in laughter, and thinking that he isn't too wrong, when he says that he couldn't be able to find pussy different than stray cats, in what of 'atar. I'm vibing with the way he's playfully talking about his basic need to get laid and drunk like the average rocker, in such a funny and sarcastic tone ... and despite his comment on the eventuality of having to do 'me' to kill the time, Jessica is laughing too. Phew. She thinks that this is just a standard case of Sean clowning around and exasperating interviewers... and I'm regarding this as the undeniable proof that we were both born to be actors. I was probably born to be a MTV interviewer too, but I suppose that I'll keep sticking to modelling because it pays better cash, and you even get to steal the clothes, from time to time.
Anyways, I'd like to high five Sean, because he's handled this brilliantly ... but guess what? I can't. Because I gotta pretend that I'm horrified by his answer in front of Jessica, in order to keep saving face. I can't even laugh that much, because a laugh could be misunderstood as me falling for his super weird ways of rizzing. I'm just an 'interviewer', and Jessica is the ex girlfriend in this scenario: he's the man, respectively my interviewee and her beloved ex boyfriend. She's the one laughing now, and she's doing it with that aura of 'he's so smart and so funny, wow, I love him so much' to herself, that reminds me of myself everytime Sean makes me laugh for his goofiness and immaculate knack with words. I can't tolerate this crap, it makes me wanna explode like a bomb, but still, I let Jess get away with everything for the sake of protecting her feelings in spite of mine. And while I'm at it, I keep shooting a closeup of Sean drinking his coffee, cursing, and scratching his crotch like the unbothered king that he is. Rigorously for my MTV programme, of course... not for the sake of making my own amateur footage of my nomadic boyfriend on a regular morning...
'And that's a wrap! That's all Sean has to tell us for the morning... stay tuned for Gerry, Mike and Layne's takes on this! Ma'assalama! Yalla bye!' I squeal, removing the camera eye off Sean, much to his relief... and putting it all on me, much to my own cringe. Never once in my life I've seen an interviewer without a trusted cameraman holding up the camera for them, never once in my life I've heard a 'music interviewer' speaking a weird mix of Arabic and English in front of said, self held camera... but I'm hundred percent in character, Jessica is drinking this, Sean is laughing, I'm thinking that if necessary, I'll really ask the rest of Alice in Chains how they feel about playing in Qatar this summer... and that's all that matters. Literally, a whole fucking wrap. Don't unwrap it, or some shit might as well hit the fan and end in my face...
I turn the camera off, reassured by the thought that if needed, I'll get it out later today to finish my 'round of interviews with Alice in Chains'... and I sigh with total relief, when Layne and Demri approach our table and sit down at it with us, bringing all of their breakfast delicacies along. This means that I will be pulled out of my Sean-Jessica sandwich, and silly me, I'm thinking that this is the best thing that's happened to me since Sean and I woke up this morning, and fucked in the tour bus.
'Fuck'. Demri breaks the overly awkward silence, yeets her both arms around my shoulders, pulls me into a tight hug, and near damn crushes my son through her own excited motion. I wonder how could someone ever be so happy to see me after as little as a few weeks no see... but despite the sheer confusion, I just hug back my beloved, midget pal, and I confess that I might've missed her when we were apart. Not in the sexual way of it, although we used to fuck until not many moons ago, but much rather in the way that I missed a girl after my heart, and one of my favourite partners in high and drunkenness. As a response for that, she whispers how much she's missed me over the last month no see, straight into my ear. I tell her that I missed her more, she tells me that she's glad that Sean and I found eachother, and most importantly, that she's sorry she couldn't give him my number, because of her 'bestie' Jessica's pressure.
No hard feelings for that, we moved past it, and in the end we were still able to find eachother, even if Jessica was trying to keep her beau away from the infamous 'pornstar', that night at Cuntrell's party. But Demri's low tone, her discretion while talking about Sean and I, and her attention not to be heard from The Jessica in front of us legit make me think that I ain't doing a bad thing, having secrets with her. Demri and I know her pretty well, Demri knows her even better than I do, they're best friends for as far as I've heard... and if she's being mindful not to talk too loud in her presence, well, it means that she knows Jess ain't ready to find out that she's travelled two thousand miles in vain today. Slay, Demri. You just came here, hugged me, whispered two words into my ear, and you somehow still showed more collaboration and more thoughtfulness than Sean ever did since I've been knowing him. What a queen.
'I mean, fuck, Tori... I loved your cunty walk for Todd Oldham. You killed it'. Demri adds, and when she 'finishes' her previous sentence and surprises me with special effects with her totally unexpected 'compliment' over the walk that I pulled at the Todd Oldham show of this weekend, I buzz my eyes open and wonder how the heck she knows I've walked that one, because I clearly wasn't the one to tell her. Then I remember that Fashion TV exists, unlike MTV Arabia, I remember that all fashionable girls including Demri watch it around Fashion Week, and bloody love it... and everything starts to make sense to me. Hello mom, I was that girl walking like an entitled to cunt, clad from head to toe in Todd Oldham, right on Fashion TV, New York Fashion Week special! I generally watch Fashion TV with my morning cereal and use it as an incentive to stay skinny... but one day I woke up, hustled hard, got casted for NYFW, appeared on TV, my friend from Seattle saw me and complimented me for my sassy as fuck strutting... and slay slay! What a dream come true !
'Seriously... but can you try and see if your agency wants to hire me? Pretty please...'. Jessica chimes in, tugging me by the arm, and with this, letting me know two things on her account: first, she knows that I'm a model, but that ain't enough for her to suspect that I couldn't be a MTV employee too, at the same time. Makes sense to me, and as long as it makes sense to her and she doesn't find out that in reality I'm the 'pornstar' Sean was tryna chase at Gerry's party, it's all good. Second, she wants everything that I have, from the man to the job, and she ain't afraid of coming across as a whole fucking, obnoxious opportunist in order to get there. She knows that I'm generous, emphatic and good natured... and if my sixth sense ain't failing me, she's trying to fucking exploit my goodness, thinking that I may as well nod my head yes and give her whatever the fuck she may want from me, just with a couple selected, fake ass words.
But I'm sorry, I'm much smarter than what I sell myself to be, and I won't let her take advantage of my goodness: as what concerns Sean, she doesn't know that we're together, and she's almost excused for wanting him back. As for my job, she can call me 'pretty' and say 'please' a thousand times, but I won't fucking sponsor her ass to my agency. Don't get me wrong, she's a gorgeous woman with a gorgeous face, she's tall and lean enough to be a model, she has potential and as a model myself, I can see it... but if modelling is what she wants, she gotta work for it the same way I did. Fall, get burned, get false hopes, get burned again, handle rejection, grind grind and grind until you get there. No cheats, no recommendations, no shotouts, no nepotism. Just hard working, time, patience and sacrifice. And a sprinkle of knack for business too... because if it wasn't for that one, I would've never been able to get casted for Fashion Week, and pull a 'cunty walk' for Todd fucking Oldham's show. And of course, I wouldn't have been able to steal some clothes from his backstage, and call them 'haute couture presents' for my besties.
'Me too, please'. Demri speaks, and when she candidly jumps the bandwagon and informs us that she wants to become a model too... well, we all chuckle a bit under our breaths. It's not that she doesn't have potential, she's an ethereal beauty, she's full of charisma, she loves the camera and the camera loves her (no, I don't mean porn-wise), she's either cheeky or classy, according to the setting, and that's a very important skill to have, in modelling... but the only thing getting in the way of her and of her dream of being a fashion model, is that she's literally four feet eleven tall. And modelling agencies never hire girls below five feet seven. Maybe you will be able to get the occasional photoshoot if you don't fit their rigid body measurements, and Demri gets many of them because it was at a photoshoot that we first met... but I swear to goodness, if my manager saw a 4ft11 girl at her door, she'd throw the fucking printer at her, order her to put it back together from the pieces, and then just fucking intimate her to leave.
Modelling is definitely not for the weaker hearted ones, and definitely not for the ones below 5ft7. But am I gonna tell that to Demri? No. I haven't answered Jessica, and I won't answer Demri either. What do they think I am, a talent scout? Their convenient buddy who can hook them up with everything they may want or need at any given time? I swear I'm a good person, but is it okay if I'm starting to get fucking tired of people always taking me for granted and exploiting my kindness? Will I ever be able to break this circle ?
'So you said... MTV Arabia ? I thought you worked for MTV Egypt!' Jessica chimes in, to make the awkwardness feel just a little bit less awkward... more or less when she understands I ain't gonna answer to her request to sponsor her to my modelling agency. So, as a getaway for that, he makes everything about my other job, the one for MTV. I hear her words, and once they enter my earbuds, I can't fucking unhear them to save my life. My first reaction at them is relief, because it means that I've somehow been able to convince her that I ain't much more than just an interviewer... and hence, I haven't lost a friend, because in reality, I'm much more than just that. My second reaction is... confusion. Because I just can't fucking understand why everyone in this country thinks I'm Egyptian. Is it because of my Nubian, pierced nose? Is it the curly hair? The wicked sense of humour? The funny accent? The work smart, not hard kinda attitude? The Key of Life pendant necklace that I'm wearing today? Who's gonna tell this girl that she's smart for recognising the ancient hieroglyphic symbol on my necklace, but that alone ain't enough to make me Egyptian? I promise, if she looks right above it, I have a less chunky, golden necklace with a pendant the shape of my country. And no, it ain't Egypt. Egypt ain't that small, and definitely not in 'Arabia'. I'm so non Egyptian, that I don't even know if MTV Egypt exists...
... I may be a little ignorant, but wow! I'm master of lying and deceiving!