You saunter over, trying your best to look casual. “Hi Traywen.”
“Hello yourself,” she purrs, completely ignoring the idiot on her arm.
Screams temporarily deafen the two of you as a horde of teenage girls run over, mobbing you and forcing the bodyguards to hustle all three of you into a black limo. You sigh happily as you sink into the soft, butter-coloured leather seat. This sort of life is too good to give up for the inconvenience of a soul. You can do without it!
Traywen snuggles up to you, stroking your cheek. “I’ve been a fan of yours forever, Justin.”
You smile and kiss her, ignoring the angry hiss of the prat on the seat across the limo. Your hands wander, stroking her hair, her back, her hip and leg.
“Oh no you don’t!” Drevor snaps and hauls you off Traywen.
“Go fuck a groupie, Stone. You’re a has-been anyway, you say. You’re rather proud of the way you slip into the younger man’s shoes.
Traywen giggles and nibbles on one of your earlobes. “You tell him, Tiger.” You shrug Drevor off and turn back to kissing the beautiful starlet.
“I said you are not having my woman!” Drevor growls and bangs on the limo partition three times. The limo screeches to a halt, throwing Traywen into your lap. The two of you collapse in giggles. “Right, Bieber, I want to settle this properly, like men.” Drevor says and gets out of the car.
You look at Traywen. Her eyes are alight with excitement and she almost pushes you out of the limo. “I’ve never had two men fight over me before.”
You fall onto the other seat and Traywen scrambles out. “Come on Justin, if you want me, you’ll have to fight for me.”
You are in the middle of the promenade. All around the limo, curious people are gathering. One or two older women point at Drevor and whisper excitedly. When Traywen emerges, several young guys call out for her to look at them or give them a kiss. She just waves.
The screaming starts as you step out of the limo. “JUSTIN! Over here, look at me! I love you Justin!” Several girls faint and a couple more jump up and down.
Drevor stands there arms folded. “Come on, ickle baby boy. Prove you are a man.”
“What do you want, Drivel?” you ask, standing with one hip cocked. “You’ll never lay a finger on me, coz you’re too old.” Drevor roars and rushes at you. You dance nimbly aside and smile at the swift reactions of this new you. “What’s wrong old man?” you ask, laying one hand on his shoulder and spinning him off into the open limo. Several people laugh. There is a large crowd by now and amongst them you can see the huge lenses of the paparazzi, all flashing away at the action. Turning, you smile and pose for them. Flashbulbs go off all around you and you change to a different pose.
Drevor has clambered out of the limo and is snorting and puffing like a bull. Pulling your jacket off to expose your toned body, you wave it like a matador at Drevor. “Come on then. Hey! Toro! Ole!”
“Don’t you mock me, you half baked, pimple faced pop nobody!” Drevor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flick knife, popping it up to show a shining, eight-inch blade.
You laugh, bravado overcoming the fear that rose in your throat like bile at the sight of the steel. “Is that why you think you’re a man, Drevor?” You sneer. “I bet you have size issues.” He paces towards you, death in his eyes and blade held point out.
“He does you know… have size issues, I mean. His dick is the smallest I have ever seen!” Traywen confides loudly to the crowd.
Several people laugh and Drevor’s head whips round to stare at her. “You bitch. Just for that I am never going to go south on you ever again.”
You can see a reporter scribbling notes of the conversation. An idea occurs to you. I can become the hero of this if I’m careful, you think. Taking advantage of the other man’s distraction, you circle around him and grab for the knife, one arm wrapping around his throat. ”Come on now, old timer. Drop the knife so that no one gets hurt, alright?”
“Yeah, I’ll drop it… in your body!” Drevor puts one hand on your arm around his throat and folds forward, throwing you down to the ground in front of him.
Landing with an “oof”, you lie on the ground and watch as the blade heads down for your chest. Time slows and even as several people rush forward and you attempt to get up again, Drevor plunges the flick knife into your chest, sliding it expertly between your ribs. As the pain and blood erupt with equal measure out of your mouth,
Drevor’s eyes flicker from blue to green to brown and back to blue. “I win, I always win.” Dr. Skin’s voice whispers out of Drevor’s face, before he pushes the blade deeper and you feel your heart burst.
Why did I go to him? You wonder as everything fades to black.