So Sick

//Inspiration: The song "So Sick" by Ne*Yo.... and, in a more recent development, the video clip "I'm Tryna" by Omarion.



//Sit back, chillax, and enjoy the ride......





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Gotta change my answering machine, now that I’m alone
‘Cause right now it says that we, can’t come to the phone
And I know it makes no sense ‘cause you walked out the door
But it’s the only way I hear your voice anymore





Omari


“Hey! You’ve reached Casey and… baby, say your name... just say it!… Omari… We can’t come to the phone right now because we’re... out? At work? O, we should’ve written down what we were going to say… I can’t say that! What would my parents say if they heard that? Omaaari, let me go! I’m still recording a message on our-”


- Beep -


“It’s Marques. I know you’re there man, pick up the phone… O, pick up the phone. You need to get your ass off that sofa man… O! I’m at the studio aight. Hit me up.”


- Click -


Marques’ voice didn’t even register in my brain. Only hers. It was always so bubbly, so sweet. It used to make me smile, even on my most stressful days.

Now it just filled me with regret.

I sunk lower into the sofa and looked down at my torso in disgust. I’d been wearing the same wife-beater and grey sweats for three days straight. The floor was littered with empty wrappers, pizza boxes, DVD’s, video games, consoles and various other worthless shit. I sniffed my armpit and wrenched. I needed a shower.

I had transformed into a pathetic blob. And I only had myself to blame.

“AHHHHHHH!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs, trying to release all the rage, all the frustration, the hurt…



Silence engulfed me and my head collapsed back on the sofa in defeat. It didn’t work. Fuck.




R e w i n d . . .




“This is so exciting!” Casey squealed in delight as the mover’s brought in the last of her furniture. She hadn't expected Omari to ask her to move in with her. She hadn't even expected their relationship to last this long, or progress this far. After all - she was just a dancer, wanting to be a singer. He was a superstar.

Their first encounter hadn't exactly been a pleasant one either. In fact she'd loathed his stuck-up attitude. She'd nearly laughed in his face when he, Omarion, had asked for her number. She'd turned him down flat.

Two years and a million dates later, she's moving in with him.

Omari chuckled at her enthusiasm and shook his head. “Baby, you practically live here anyway. What’s the big deal?”

“Now it’s official.” She replied simply, “So you can tell all your booty calls not to come around anymore. There services won’t be needed.”

“Got jokes huh.” Omari smirked, rearranging his mantelpiece by putting framed photos of them at various events. “You can tell all your male gigolo’s they better keep their hands off you if they know what’s good for them.”

She was struck with a sudden thought and gasped with enthusiasm. "The answering machine!" She pushed a button to listen to the current message.


"Wassup.... leave a message."


- Beep -


"That's it?" she gawked at him. She'd never heard it before - he always answered her calls.

"Let's go upstairs." He replied bluntly. He wanted to have fun. Changing his answering machine was not on the agenda.

"O..."

"You're right, downstairs is fine too."

She narrowed her eyes at him. “This is a momentous occasion. We’re celebrating.”

“…By changing the message on my answering machine? I like my idea better.” His eyes were filled with lust. “It involves you, naked, upstairs.”

She grinned, walking over to him and planting her soft lips on his. Then she nibbled on his neck as his arms came around her waist and pulled her into him. She jumped, her eyes travelling from the front of his pants up to his eyes. “Already?”

His forehead touched hers. “Like I said – you, naked, upstairs. Right now. A brother needs some serious attention.”

"Okay, okay." She laughed and hit him playfully on the chest. “But first...”

She settled herself on the sofa, leaning over the arm rest towards the phone. Then she paused and bit her lip. "What should I say?"

His expression was that of immense pain. He groaned. "I don't ca-... know."

After pushing a few buttons a monotonous voice followed. "Please record your message at the tone..."


- Beep -


"Hey! You've reached Casey and..." She looked over at him expectantly. "Baby, say your name."

"You're doing this on purpose." He scowled.

"Just say it!"

He gritted his teeth. "Omari."

She beamed at him. "We can’t come to the phone right now because we’re... out? At work? O, we should’ve written down what we were going to say."

He gave an impatient growl and slumped onto her like a dead-weight. His lips were on her neck. "We're fucking." he murmured almost viciously, "We can't come to the phone because we're fucking."

"I can’t say that! What would my parents say if they heard that?"

She was trapped under his body and he used this to his advantage. His kisses trailed her jaw until they found her lips. Her protests were temporarily muffled but she managed to squirm her way out. "Omaaari, let me go! I’m still recording a message on our-"

He silenced her by dipping his tongue into her mouth, at the same time reaching his arm to press the button on the answering machine. She giggled at his perseverance.

"There," He said in a strained tone, "We have a new message."



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[It’s ridiculous] It’s been months, for some reason I just
[Can’t get over us] And I’m stronger than this
[Enough is enough] No more walking around with my head down
[Yeah] I’m so over being blue, crying over you...


Marques was lounging in the audio booth with Chris Stokes, working on the newest addition to the TUG camp. At the sound of the door opening he turned and let out a shocked laugh. He nudged Chris who was flicking buttons behind the sound board. “Yo, Chris, am I seeing things? Did O just walked into the studio?”

Chris laughed. “It can’t be O. He told us he was adamant in sulking at home in his own depression for the rest, of his, life.”

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes and smiled, taking a seat next to Marques.

“You just come for a visit or you plan on stickin’ around?” Marques wanted to know.

“I’m back.” I told him with assurance and a grin.

“Yeah!” Marques clapped excitedly, “Aight playa, let’s get this cheddar rolling. While you were in your ‘I-can’t-live-without-Casey’ mode, we recruited a new group to the camp. A rap quartet.”

I ignored his comment and looked through the window into the other room. Four kids, about mid to late teens, were laughing and joking around. “What, you mean like Pretty Ricky or something?”

“Except these cats are prettier and can actually rap.” Chris explained.

“They got a name?”

Marques cringed. "At the moment they're calling themselves 'Motown Underground Freaky Fuckers', or MUFF for short."

My eyes almost fell out of their sockets. "The hell kind of name is that?!"

"One you're gonna change." Marques replied.

“Aight then,” I nodded and cracked my knuckles. “Let’s get down to business.”





R e w i n d . . .




Casey



"I don't know what to do." I told my friend Teresa. We were in my lounge sipping a glass of wine.

"You need to talk to him honey," she soothed, "Get his side of the story. He's probably just going through a male version of PMS or something." My phone buzzed. Teresa looked at the Caller I.D. "Speak of the devil."

She gave me a look of assurance as I held my breath and left the room. I picked up on the third ring. "O?"

"Wassup." His tone was flat. "Listen-"

“O, we need to talk. Is something wrong?" I asked with concern. "You’ve been acting really weird lately.”

“Yeah, that’s why I'm ringing.”

He sounded distant. She frowned. “Where are you?”

“The airport.”

“Why are-”

“I think we should break up.”

Silence. “Break up.”

“I’m going to New York for a few days to finish shooting the video clip and then I’m taking a week off. I don’t know where I’ll be going."


Awkward silence.


"I’m just," he sighed, "I don't know. I'm trying to connect with myself and I need to-”

“You’re running away.” This was happening so quickly and for some reason I found the situation funny. I laughed. “You didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face.”

“It’s not like that.” He lied. We both knew it was. “I’m just at that stage in my life where I need to be alone.”

Suddenly a spark of understanding registered in my head. Alone? I shook my head. No, not alone. Available. I couldn’t blame him. After all, this was the Omarion. At 26yrs he was a multi-millionaire, a successful recording artist, and had enough material possessions to last him a few lifetimes. Fame, friends and fortune. Now all he needed was pussy falling out of his pockets.

At that moment my world paused. His voice was still going in my ear but it was just noise. Instead of listening, I was thinking.

One. The break-up would probably go public. I could see the headlines now:


         Omarion A Bachelor Once Again!


I sighed. It was hard enough shooing away the countless ‘model-material’ females that lined up for his attention when we were together. Now that he wanted to be single, competing against them would be a lost battle.

Two. In a way I was grateful - I’d rather him break up with me than go behind my back and cheat on me. There’s nothing more humiliating or insulting than discovering the man you’re with is fucking other girls while still sharing your bed. I was thankful for the time we had shared. He’d been honest with me since day one, barely even glanced at another girl while we were together, no matter how hard they tried to flirt with him.

Three. The painful part was that he’d grown sick of me. Become bored with having to wake up to the same girl every day. That kind of thing hurts. Bad.



“…and I know it’s kind of sudden but-”

“Fine, Omari.” My tone was void of emotion. Not angry, upset or relieved. Nothing. “I won’t argue with you. If that’s what you want then we’ll break up. I’ll make sure I’m gone before you get back.”

“Oh. But, you don’t have to leave-”


- Click -


I flipped the phone shut. For a few moments I just stood there, staring into space. When I returned to the lounge Teresa was smiling. “That was O, right?” She saw my face and gulped. “Uh oh. What happened.”

A tear escaped the corner of my eye.


No. He’s not worth crying over.


Easier said than done. As soon as Teresa opened her arms I collapsed in her embrace and balled my fucking eyes out.






To be continued...