Ghost In The Sheets

Pretty Hurts

Pretty Hurts

Beyonce slid a box from the back of the U-Haul and braced it against her chest. The California heat beat down on her back and she wished she had tied her hair up. Her white shirt clung to her back lined with sweat; it gave hints of midriff without her even raising her arms and her denim shorts weren't much more comfortable.

Way to go Bey. Trying to be stylish while moving.

"You alright?" The tattooed bastard inside the U-Haul yelled to her. She hadn't realized she'd been lost in a daze and stand in the same spot for longer than necessary.

"Fuck you Juan." She laughed. All of her teeth visible to the world.

"Yea sure...we can make that happen." He smiled at her. "I know you aren't use to all this manual labor. So fragile and all."

Bey scoffed at her long-time acquaintance as she moved her body and the box back toward her new home. She'd made the decision to purchase a moderate ranch style home in the little town of Charming. She needed to get away....from Los Angeles, from New York, and from her estranged husband. She'd calmly filed for a legal separation and jetted like a theft in the night. It was bound to happen. His excessive partying and cheating, the phone calls in the middle of the night, and finally the miscarriage that had spiraled her into in artistic manic.

As she placed the box inside of her small living room, she felt at peace. It was something she hadn't felt in years. Her head whipped towards the door as Juice made his way in struggling slightly with a box of shoes. He moaned as he all but slammed the box to the floor. "It's just shoes!"

"Shoes?!" He huffed and licked a line of sweat on his upper lip. "There are four fucking boxes like this!

Beyonce rolled her neck in Juice's direction. She closed her eyes and exhaled. The next thing he knew; she was stabbing him with those honey brown eyes. "I thought you said you had people to help you."

"They are on their way. They just got back from a small run." Juice shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it onto the sofa. "You got a really good deal on this house."

"Yea! It reminds me of my home in Houston." She glanced around the living space and felt this sense of freedom swell inside her chest. "So...these people of yours...."

Juan Ortiz groaned as he rubbed the top of his head. He and Beyonce went way back; to the days of her wearing too much bronzer and tacky designer clothing. He was a teenager that lied on his application to become her bodyguard while she toured with Destiny's Child. He wasn't a fan; but he needed a job. They'd stuck together like glue until she started dating her husband. Juice wasn't upset, but he missed the rush of it all, so he moved to the other side of the country and joined The Sons. But she always looked out for him, called him to check in, and they even had vent sessions. He would never talk about the club or things he was involved it and she liked it that way.

"They are good people...that sometimes do bad shit." Juice smiled at her. "But they are family and they've been with me through some pretty tough shit."

Juice had vaguely talked about his depression and his struggle with his identity. Beyonce always was the over protective friend; often threatening to fly to Charming and set it on fire. She didn't have many close friends and she loved Juice beyond all reason. Now he got to help her. When she called and said she needed to get away...to disappear; he was there. The marriage had gone south and her music career was becoming boring. She's lost herself in the glitz and the glam and she missed being the girl from Houston with dirt under her nails that swam in the stream behind her childhood home.