When I got back to the hotel room and saw his suitcase in the corner, I snapped. The imagine of his hand on her cheek, the same hand that touched me the same way that morning, flashed before my eyes. When I think back on it, it made no sense. He told me he loved my laugh and those simple words made me panic. I had told him to cool it, to take a few steps back. I distinctly told him that a public relationship with him would spoil everything I worked for. That we were slipping with our secrecy and needed to be extra careful. Yet here I was, my arms full of his clothes, watching as I chucked them across the room violently and they rained down everywhere all because I was jealous. It's easy to admit now, though the emotion was undefined as I ripped a few of his shirts and went back to his suitcase for something else to throw. The satisfaction that overcame me when I heard the shattering of the glass lamp on the bedside table made me crave more. Like a sweet drug, I needed more, so I grabbed whatever I could and used every bit of strength I had left to throw things around the room. When his suitcase was empty, I started to grab whatever was closest. The TV crashed to the floor, the mattress was upturned, and the curtains were ripped from the window. The crashing coupled with my screaming must have attracted some attention because just as I threw a paperweight at the mirror, the door flung open and security rushed in.
The room was registered under his name so when they saw tiny little me and the trashed room, the security guards were pretty surprised. As they approached me, I simply collapsed into a heap on the floor, the adrenaline wearing off as reality set in. Boy was I in trouble. My muscles began to ache at their overuse from my match and the one-woman show that was the chaotic room. I had probably been crying for a while now, my mascara running down my face and a false eyelash somewhere on my cheek. I was sweating, panting, and crying when he appeared in the doorway, a few policemen in tow. He must have seen them and beat them to the door. When I looked up and saw the panic on his face, I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands.
"We're awfully sorry, sir," I could hear the hotel manager speaking to him. "She must have broken in and trashed the place. We received several calls to the front desk and security came as soon as possible but…"
"She had a key," I heard him cut the manager off, then spoke softer. "How much to keep this quiet?"
I don't remember much after that, just that it was taken care of. Security, along with the police, took note of the damages as I sat there in a haze. I was told I could stay in the new room they were arranging for him but had to be babysat and leave first thing in the morning. At that moment, I wanted nothing less than to get far, far away from wherever he was. I found my purse in the mess and kept my eye on it while everyone was still there. Once they were gone and it was just us, I plotted my exit. He was watching me like a disapproving father and just as he opened his mouth to speak, I bolted, grabbing my purse on the way. Thankfully, he didn't follow.
I remember the day I met him. I was backstage with the other new girls. We were all excited to finally be in a big time arena. We were saying hello to everyone that passed, chatting politely with those who were interested in the fresh meat. My friend spotted him first as he came in from the parking garage, an entrance not everyone was allowed to use. We came in the regular entrance with the arena workers.
We had arrived in New York City together from Florida, where we all resided to be close to the training facility. Growing up across the river in New Jersey meant that I was in charge of our travel situation. I booked our flights into Newark airport, reserved our rental car, and drove the giant SUV we ended up with through the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan. We tried to park in the parking garage across the street from Madison Square Garden, but our names weren't on the list. After a brief panic attack, I took charge yet again and we circled the streets of New York until we found a parking spot on the street. Let me tell you that finding a parking spot on a Saturday afternoon in midtown Manhattan that would fit a giant SUV is not easy at all.
Walking the five blocks to the arena wasn't bad for me, I try to keep my high heel wearing to a minimum, but the other girls had a slightly harder time. My Converse All-Stars lead me up to the arena easily enough, but we had a problem yet again getting inside. Whoever was in charge of getting our names on the entrance lists starting today had not done their job. First the parking garage and now the front door. We stood around with our suitcases and the fans who were gathered to get a glimpse of the superstars entering the arena, trying to call anyone we could so we could be retrieved and allowed in the building.
An hour later, an agent walking in recognized us and we were allowed in. The initial walk down the hall was a bit scary but the place was still pretty empty so we relaxed a bit and found the women's locker room. Deciding it was ok to leave our things in there, we explored the inner halls of the arena a bit before settling in what was becoming a busy hallway.
Being vertically challenged, I lifted myself up onto one of the empty crates that lined the hallways. The crates usually stored heavy lighting equipment but they shifted easily when empty. The girls had some fun with this fact before two more settled down on either side of me. Moments later the real stars started to show up and did so in a steady stream for the next hour and a half. As superstars and divas filtered down the hall, we greeted them with smiles and handshakes to those who stopped. Most of the guys were interested in a group of new, young, pretty girls, so they stuck around longer than we expected to, asking us about ourselves and other idle chitchat.
My friend grabbed my arm and gasped, her eyes wide as she faced the entrance. "What?" I asked as I quickly turned to see what she was looking at. It was him, probably the top star of the company, and I knew he was my friend's absolute favorite.
"It's him!" she whispered. I felt like a teenager the way her excitement spread to me.
He wore shorts and a plain t-shirt with a ballcap on his head sitting low over his eyes. He had that million dollar smile on his face as he gave one last wave to the fans outside screaming for him. Once he turned inside, though, the smile wore off. I could see how worn and tired he was but he quickly returned to a smile when an agent approached him and started talking business as they walked down the hall. As he passed us, he smiled in our direction and nodded his head, murmuring, "Ladies," as his greeting.
"He looked right at me!" my friend squealed from beside me but she was wrong. He had looked me right in the eye and even held our stare as he passed. The entire situation gave me a chill and it was a moment in my life that would be burned into my memory forever.