The Artist & The Q.B.

Ch. 12

After we eat, the girls decide to look at wedding dresses while the boys go do what boys do...I didn't ask. All I know is I have to be back at the hotel at 3 o'clock for my hair and makeup.

"This place isn't the one I really wanted to go to. I think most of their stuff is commercial, I've see half of these designs walk down the aisle already." Mya says, pointing to rack full of dresses as we leave. She looked but never tried on, convinced they weren't her. I thought they were all beautiful, but what do I know about wedding dresses? Oh, yes...nothing.

"However, the place we have an appointment at on Thursday is all custom and couture." She explains, as we leave to make our way to a sandwich place for lunch.

Starved we order and I watch as Debbie gives me a few confused and questioning looks, something that she's been constantly doing all day. "Is something wrong, Deb?" I ask.

She doesn't hesitate. "If Truex wants to be with you, why would you say you're not together?"

Surprised, I look at Mya for help to explain to her mother, what exactly Truex and I have in a not so crude way.  I don't think the term fuck-buddy, would be socially acceptable and its not exactly true.

"Well, I'm not looking to be in a relationship right now. I told Truex this, but you know he doesn't always like to listen." I can see she is struggling with the thought of me not wanting to be with her son, so I take advantage of it. "I'm not the type of girl he should be with. He needs a nice, super tall, sweet, successful woman. Surly, we can agree on that?"

The Marshall eyebrow raises, "I haven't told Truex what he needs in years and I won't start now. There is nothing wrong with my son and you should be honored he wants to be with you." She points out.

"Hold on." I say, holding up my hand to stop her from saying anything more. I can only take so much offense before I start biting back.  "Although, I'm flattered by his interest. I really don't think he or I, have plans of making this a relationship."

"Truex wouldn't say he wants to be with you if he didn't want a relationship. I raised him to be a gentleman. He's never been a tomcat." She states, distastefully.

"Mya, a little help here?" I beg. She shrugs, leaving me no choice. "I am under the impression that he is very much a gentleman. However, I am positive that he only wants to be friendly." I state, in a suggestive way.

"You said you didn't sleep with him." Mya interjects.

"I didn't! I just meant that he wants too, big difference!" I explain, my exasperation clear.

The rest of lunch is awkward and the only thing I want to do right now is go back to the hotel and sleep. By the time we get back I have 45 minutes before the makeup and hair people get here. "I still don't get why I can't do my own hair and makeup." I comment to Mya as we step off the elevator. Debbie goes to her room without speaking to us, looking completely worn out.

"Because, this is a big deal and you're going be in front of a lot of cameras, you have to look perfect. I'll be over in thirty minutes. I want to watch the transformation." She says, looking absolutely joyful.

I open the door and see Truex at the small living-room table talking to a woman and a man. I shrug off my coat and throw it on a chair. "This is my girlfriend, Briar. Briar, this is Sam Towers my agent and Emma Conway my publicist."

I let the girlfriend title slide considering I should be honored Truex James Marshall gave it to me. I mentally roll my eyes at Debbie's tirade. I sit next to him in a huff.

"What?" He asks.

"Your mom is exhausting." I answer, watching him sign his name on pictures of himself. "Do you really need that many?" I question, looking at the stack of photos still to be sighed, there are hundreds.

"That's what they tell me. What did she do?"

"We fought about you, Tootle-Bear. Because you're so perfect and if you say jump, I should ask, how high?" I reply, sarcastically pinching his cheek.

He laughs. "That bad, huh?"

"Simply, awful. And Mya the turncoat wouldn't even help me out. She refused to explain to your mother the nature of our friendship."

I hear a throat being cleared and look up. "When you're asked by a reporter you both should say the same thing. The media will pick apart friends and girlfriend." Emma states, while texting on her phone.

"I know what to say." Truex replies, still signing his name vigorously.

"I was talking to her." Emma states, looking up at me. Her thin eyebrows raised waiting for me to respond to her, so I don't. Her eyes narrow at me slightly giving me the impression she doesn't like or want me here.

"I'm going to talk to Mya."

"Hair and makeup will be arriving in 35 minutes." Emma comments, as I stand up.

"Here." Truex says, holding up a phone.

"What's this?

"Its called a phone." He replies, smirking.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Not sure. Maybe because it short for phonics?"

"Truex." I warn.

"I'll text you when they're here." He replies, simply.

"Text, Mya." I reply, refusing to take the phone. Leaving the room I walk to Mya's suite and knock. Easton opens the door and this time I'm surprised.

"Hey. Mya's in there with you?" I ask.

"Yeah." He answers, holding the door open for me.

"Mya!" I call, as I walk in.

"Are they here already?" She asks, grabbing her phone off the nightstand.

"No, Truex's publicist is being annoying." I answer, throwing myself on the bed. Then thinking about what Truex heard going on in here yesterday I scramble out of bed falling on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Mya, asks laughing.

I shake my head and hold up my hands feeling their sex particles all over me. "Unclean, unclean! Forever unclean!" I yell, running to the bathroom to wash my hands. Tate and Easton's loud laughter follow me.

"You're such a dork." Mya, comments when I walk out of the bathroom.

I think about he insult, but if the shoe fits...I shrug, "I'm okay with that. By the way he'll be texting you when they get here."

"Have you seen the dress yet?" She asks.

"No. Did you?"

"Nope, can't wait to see what he picked." Mya, says, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

"Wait. Truex picked out a dress?" Tate asks.

Followed by Easton's question, "For her to wear tonight?"

"Yup." Mya replies.

"Wow." Easton states, impressed, but we all know he's going to make fun of Truex by the look on his face. I ignore his and Tate's smirks, not wanting to know what they're thinking.

"I need you to tell me what this whole thing is about. Why is Emma Conway trying to telling me what to say and what not to say?"

"Because, of the press. They're going to ask you questions." She answers, simply.

"But I'm not a sports player."

"Athlete, and they don't care. They'll want gossip on you because you're with Truex. He never brings anyone, they'll assume you're together. Not that it really matters. Just give short and sweet answers, or let Truex answer the questions, he's used to it."

"All this seems to be a little too much for an awards show, its so ridiculous. Why do people care so much about this stuff? It makes no sense."

"Yes, we know. Sports are dumb. Just don't say that to a reporter. You're there to support your boyfriend, not bash what he does for a living."

I glare at her. "He's not my boyfriend."