Chapter 5 Five

Once I get out of the taxi and slam the door, I feel another wave of nervousness. It's Saturday finally and Cory had sent me a message saying he was at home and ready to meet. I'd thought it would be no big deal to meet him in person since I'd done that countless time in the past, but my body had other plans. The first wave of nervousness I felt was when I heard his voice over the phone three hours ago when he'd called to go over the directions again. As if I didn't already know how to get there.

I thought If he had moved on to the point he felt I wouldn't remember the address, then I had to act like I'd moved on too. So I played along.

I rub my hands together and take a deep breath before ringing the fancy doorbell. Telling myself, "You're not a fan girl. You will not be nervous. You don't fuck with this guy. Be professional."

I wait for exactly four minutes before the door makes a strange sound and opens up by itself. I'm sure my mouth drops to the floor.

All the nervousness gets replaced with rage. Hot rage.

What the bloody hell?

Cory Title stands at the doorway in nothing but tight Pokemon shorts and a red beanie. I don't even care about the fact that he's naked from the waist up, no. I totally am not affected by that. It's his chocolate brown eyes that are emotionless, the puffy bags under them, the redness and the overall expression on his face.

Lifeless, confused, high.

Cory is stoned. He looks like he wouldn't mind taking a nap right here at the door, he even had to steady himself by holding the wall. Who does this? Meet a client while they're high as fuck, that's disrespectful. It's like my breath has been seized and my mouth can't form words to express how I feel.

How do you tell a celebrity off when they're high? I've never done it before. In fact despite being famous-ish, he is the third celebrity I've ever been in the same space with-the other two were females and were both in their fifties-I'm only familiar with influencers like myself. Wait, are we classified as celebrities? I'm not sure.

"Are you kidding me right now?" is what I manage to choke out.

He holds his hands up. "Hey I'm sorry. This-," he gestures around his face, "isn't how I planned it."

Oh. Is getting high something that happens just like that? "You smoked weed by accident, knowing I was coming to your house to talk business?"

He face palms like he's exhausted, avoiding my gaze. "I'm so sorry. Just come on in and we'll talk?" He turns around and walks in, leaving me at the door. I have to ignore how those shorts highlight the shape of his butt. I refuse to be one of those fan-girls.

Why is CoryTitle even wearing Pokemon shorts? This guy sings about guns and violence and how he can kill you with a ball pen (I think the song title is I'd kill you with a ball pen). If you judge by his music, you'd expect him to wear a bullet proof vest and robbery mask ninety percent of the time.

I take a look around the secluded neighbourhood, hoping to see a papparazo or maybe somebody taking a picture while hanging on a tree, but the coast is completely clear. I guess nobody would be expecting Cory to live in a place like this. especially since he made a post about how he was enjoying his vacation in Bali just yesterday. Smart move. Only their trusted family and friends knew about the place and we used to be one of those people.

The door closes by itself after I come in. Cory is sprawled on the couch, rubbing his eyes in attempt to sober up. I join him in the familiar living room, taking a seat on the couch opposite his.

When he doesn't say anything I clear my throat. "So. Can you explain to me why you got high when you know we were supposed to film a video?"

He sits up straight, but falls back like he can't handle it. "I can't apologize enough. I know it's fucked up but this isn't what I wanted. I'm so embarrassed."

I frown. "You keep saying this without giving an explanation."

He sighs loudly. "Its my friend. I told him I didn't want to smoke but he managed to somehow put it in my food. Once I ate it, I had to take up the offer and you know how weed is."

I don't know how weed is. "Well you should have cancelled then. Why did you make me come here to see you like this?"

"I'd sent you that message two hours ago and this happened after that."

"And you could've cancelled still."

He pins his red-eyed gaze on me suddenly and I shift in my seat. He studies my face like he's noticing my appearance for the first time. "I was so stoned, I could barely do anything. I was taking a nap before you rang the dang doorbell."

"So where is this friend of yours?"

"I got mad at him and sent him out. Von is an asshole."

Von? The rapper Von? My brain clicks. Von Grate, his best friend of five years. He and Von had met each other at a club and ever since then had been inseparable. They have about six song collaborations and were even rumoured to have both tattooed each others names on their butt cheeks. I know this because it was the trending news at that time, not because I stalk him on Zeep or anything.

Giving him another once over, I take off my jacket and place it on my exposed laps-I shouldn't have won a mini skirt. His position on the couch isn't helping. If he noticed, he doesn't point it out. "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know," he says. "I don't want you to think I'm an asshole who doesn't value your time though. If I wasn't stoned, I'd have treated you better."

I find myself chuckling. "Weird reunion, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he answers with a small smile. I take the time to study his face too. Now that the beanie is off, I can see that he'd gotten a buzz cut which shouldn't look as good as it does on him. His face looks freshly shaved and is sporting an impressive moustache, he looks like the stereotyped cover boy which makes me even more annoyed. Cory looks good, great even. I sure hope he thinks the same of me. Tate and Mira had urged me to wear this black miniskirt and orange tank top, they'd said "orange and black is what is in style now. Everyone is wearing it. You need to wear it," and I'd obeyed them because I'd noticed the trend too. Nothing about him is the same, he'd gotten uncountable tattoos, an eyebrow piercing-which looks like it was newly done-and he looked a bit leaner than he did in his music videos. So this is the Cory all the girls are pining for? I can't help feeling overwhelmed.

"So why didn't you get in touch all these years?" The question comes about before I know it. What happened to being professional?

"Sorry what?"

"You heard me."

Cory doesn't meet my eyes as he speaks, he purses his lips before saying, "I just wanted to move on. You know we all wanted to forget everything about that neighbourhood."

Incredible. "So you guys cut everyone off, including your closest family friends because you wanted to move on? How nice of you."

"I'm pretty sure that's what moving on is all about. Cutting people off," he gives me a duh look, eyes still puffy as hell.

I scoff. "Oh I forgot how blunt you were. Mr famous. Where I come from, ghosting people who cared about you is a horrible thing." I wish the words would have an impact on him but the look he's giving me doesn't seem like he cares.

"You'd think that until you become famous yourself."

"I'm famous too aren't I?"

"Not so much as my family is. No offence. Haven't you ghosted people too?"

"Only if they weren't important or close to me."

"Can you hear how you sound now? What's the difference between us?"

I boil in rage. How did he go from surprisingly nice to full-on asshole. "The difference is I could never snob the people that where there for me when I was nobody, but you guys completely cut off a family that had your back."

"Maybe you don't really know as much as you think. Can we go back to professional now?"

I'm left dumbfounded for the second time today. If only my parents could here all he said right now, they wouldn't respect the Titles as much as they do. I can't wait to tell them that the friends they'd thought only ghosted them because they had to, had done it deliberately. They'd wanted to move on.

I can't let it go, not yet. "So why did you call hit me up? Of all people."

He sits up and this time doesn't fall back. Seems our conversation is sobering him up. "You're the perfect person for what I want. What my management wants."

Oh. His management. If it were up to him, he wouldn't have bothered talking to me. Well, Cory, I also happen to be an expert at treating people like shit. Bring it on.

"Do your parents know I'm here? Would they be mad if they find out?"

"No they don't. This isn't their house anymore and I'm not a kid. This place is my hide out when I want to stay low-key."

"So what makes you think I wouldn't rat you out. I might've brought an army of papparazi along with me."

He eyes me for a second. "You wouldn't,"-first as a statement, then as a question-, "You wouldn't?"

I shrug. "I mean I'm a stranger you can't trust right now." I give myself a pat on the shoulder. Nicely done, Judith.

"Look I don't want to fight with you. I literally am not in the right state," he says in a tired voice. "Can we just be nice to each other? Because we have to if we're going to work together."

Nodding, I agree. "Can I get something to drink?"

"You know your way around the house. Help yourself. I don't want to sound rude but you can do whatever you want while I try to sober up here," he says before flopping back on the couch.