Typical Jerk (A Bruno Mars Fanfic)

FOUR

*Bruno's POV*

It felt like an eternity before I had finally found Alison. She was leaning against the gift table, talking to a red-haired lady. I couldn't quite see the other woman from where I was standing, but she looked about forty years old.

I didn't want to interrupt their conversation, so I stopped a few feet left of Alison and stood there. To my disappointment, the red-headed lady wasn't in my field of vision. I took the opportunity to check out the venue; the whole place was absolutely gorgeous! Dark wooden walls and flooring with white chairs, table cloths, etc.. Beautiful arrays of blue flowers made up the centerpieces. I really liked the looks of the place despite my dislike of weddings and occasions of the like.

I took a sip of my drink and glanced at the time. It was already seven o'clock, I should probably leave soon. I looked over at Alison, who was still conversing with the redhead. Whatever they were talking about must have been pretty funny because they both threw their heads back as laughter ransacked their bodies. The read-haired lady's face came into view.

She was pretty, but not anything close to Alison; the kind of beauty that your high school chearleaders grow up to aquire. This woman was probably in her mid-forties, and you could tell she was a mother. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost black, and her eyes were surrounded by small wrinkles. She did look good for her age, but what really made me aware of her age was her loosely-hanging skin surrounding her arms. I chuckled at the thought of her jumping off the pinacle of a mountain, because who knows--maybe she can fly with that damn skin.

My thoughts, as well as my attempts at ignoring their conversation, were quickly disrupted by the mention of my name. I tuned in on theit words then, wondering why I was being mentioned.

"Pardon?" Alison asked.

"Bruno Mars," the redhead said.

Alison rolled her neck, obviously not enjoying the topic. What's her problem with me? "What about Bruno Mars?

"What do you think of him? I saw you talking to him." Yes! Thank you, Miss Red.

"Oh," Alison spat. "What do you expect from him?"

Miss Red pursed her lips together, clearly thinking. "I don't know. Is he really the sweetheart everyone says he is?" I smirked.

My ego wasn't left to stand tall, of course. Alison snorted fiercely before responing, "You think he--Bruno Mars-- is a sweetheart?"

Miss Red shrugged, "That's what everyone tells me. He's cute, too. So, if he's really the gentleman that the tabloids make him out to be, then he's the full package!"

"Kelly, aren't you married?" Alison joked. Kelly, huh? Total redhead name.

Kelly giggled, huddling her shoulders as most people do when sharing a secret. "Don't tell Cade, he would totally kill me if he caught me talking about other men!"

Alison chuckled and scanned the crown, probably looking for Cade. "Just because you have a ring on your finger doesn't automatically condemn you from lookin' at other guys."

"Yeah, I know. You know the rule: you can look all you want, but no touching.

I even had to laugh at that one. Who knew women could be so funny? I guess I really have been just seeing them as a piece of meat lately. Fuck Hollywood; it ruins your life. That is if you aren't strong enough to keep your head from growing too large.

"Really, Ally. Why don't you like him?" Kelly questioned. My attention was caught once again.

Alison let out a breath of frustration, "He's Bruno Mars, he's famous, he's rich, he's good-looking, and worst of all, his ego is completely out of control. He calls his penis a 'carrot' from Christ's sake; he loves the attention he gets from women. He's a whore--a man whore--and he simply can't be trusted."

I felt her words cut through my heart like a ten-inch dagger. Was it really that noticeable that I've been sleeping with so many women? Could they all tell? I didn't want people to think of me as a whore, especially not Alison. I looked at my feet, not exactly sure what to do. Kelly was quiet, too. I had to show the world I was no longer that kind of person; I had to prove to Alison I was the gentleman Kelly told her I was.