Categories > Celebrities > Justin Timberlake > Different but Together
There were about 25 people attending the V.I.P party. Justin knew they were all going to be either really rich important people or really famous important people. Trace had looked so excited when he was told that Cindy would be seated at the same table. After snowboarding for a few hours, Justin, Trace, and Cindy returned to their rooms to get ready. Justin did not see Rachel.
At about 2 hours before the party, Lynn phoned.
"Hello?"
"Yes Justin, I'm going to be leaving now."
"Ok, see you in a week."
"Uh-huh and oh, I know Rachel Watson isn't exactly on friendly terms with you."
There was a pause. Justin shook his head. That was so typical of his mom. So typical.
"One of the main reasons I invited them was because I hoped that well, you two could get to know each other better. I know Mrs. Watson pretty well, especially from what Aunt Eliza tells me and I really think you guys could get along."
"Who, me and Aunt Eliza? Oh, we get along fine."
"You know what I mean, Justin."
"She hates my guts!"
"Yeah well, deal with it alright?" Lynn finished impatently. Justin sighed.
"Goodbye Justin. Have fun."
"Yeah, you too. Bye."
The room was big. Really fancy and really big. Justin was, apparently the "Host" so he had to be there an hour earlier to see that everything was ready. Obviously this was pretty formal and nobody, not even Paris Hilton (who was btw, coming), was going to be "fashionably late". There was going to be several caters from different name-dropping food chains, entertainers including world-famous comedians and fire-eaters, and above all that there was going to be hundreds of famous cheifs and quick waiters dressed in black and white. All for just 25 people. 25 either famous or important people. Justin thought it was pretty ridiculous...and funny. In the hour before the hour-that-Justin-had-to-check-on-the-progress-of-things, maids and fashinistas had come in and out of his room bringing combs, different expensive outfits, shoes, make-up that Justin refused to touch ("If you wear make-up, you're a girl in my opinion"), more expensive outfits, and so on. Shudder
Justin spent the hour before the party running around the room. He could have hired a group to do all that for but he wasn't that kind of person. Besides, it had been troubling enough, calling up his original bodyguards and about 35 more security guards to guard the entire perimeter and room from papparazi and other unwanted intruders. By the time everything was ready, Justin was exhusted. After all, he was a perfectionist.
Just then, Justin got a call. "Hello?" A girl's breathless voice answered him. "OMG is this Justin Timberlake?!" Justin frowned. "Um-" He had a feeling it might be a smart fan that managed to hack into his cell phone. "I heard you're having a party today!" The girl giggled. "Who is this?' Justin wasn't even sure why he was bothering. "YOUR BIGGEST FAN!!!" Then she hung up.
The next few minutes were filled with such phone calls. It happened all the time. Yup, it was time to get a new cell number. But Justin could now see cars (limos) pulling into the parking lot. The party was about to start.
At about 2 hours before the party, Lynn phoned.
"Hello?"
"Yes Justin, I'm going to be leaving now."
"Ok, see you in a week."
"Uh-huh and oh, I know Rachel Watson isn't exactly on friendly terms with you."
There was a pause. Justin shook his head. That was so typical of his mom. So typical.
"One of the main reasons I invited them was because I hoped that well, you two could get to know each other better. I know Mrs. Watson pretty well, especially from what Aunt Eliza tells me and I really think you guys could get along."
"Who, me and Aunt Eliza? Oh, we get along fine."
"You know what I mean, Justin."
"She hates my guts!"
"Yeah well, deal with it alright?" Lynn finished impatently. Justin sighed.
"Goodbye Justin. Have fun."
"Yeah, you too. Bye."
The room was big. Really fancy and really big. Justin was, apparently the "Host" so he had to be there an hour earlier to see that everything was ready. Obviously this was pretty formal and nobody, not even Paris Hilton (who was btw, coming), was going to be "fashionably late". There was going to be several caters from different name-dropping food chains, entertainers including world-famous comedians and fire-eaters, and above all that there was going to be hundreds of famous cheifs and quick waiters dressed in black and white. All for just 25 people. 25 either famous or important people. Justin thought it was pretty ridiculous...and funny. In the hour before the hour-that-Justin-had-to-check-on-the-progress-of-things, maids and fashinistas had come in and out of his room bringing combs, different expensive outfits, shoes, make-up that Justin refused to touch ("If you wear make-up, you're a girl in my opinion"), more expensive outfits, and so on. Shudder
Justin spent the hour before the party running around the room. He could have hired a group to do all that for but he wasn't that kind of person. Besides, it had been troubling enough, calling up his original bodyguards and about 35 more security guards to guard the entire perimeter and room from papparazi and other unwanted intruders. By the time everything was ready, Justin was exhusted. After all, he was a perfectionist.
Just then, Justin got a call. "Hello?" A girl's breathless voice answered him. "OMG is this Justin Timberlake?!" Justin frowned. "Um-" He had a feeling it might be a smart fan that managed to hack into his cell phone. "I heard you're having a party today!" The girl giggled. "Who is this?' Justin wasn't even sure why he was bothering. "YOUR BIGGEST FAN!!!" Then she hung up.
The next few minutes were filled with such phone calls. It happened all the time. Yup, it was time to get a new cell number. But Justin could now see cars (limos) pulling into the parking lot. The party was about to start.
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