Hey, everyone. I'm completely new to the board; but I'd love it if I could get some feedback on a fan fiction I decided to try...
Synopsis: Beyonce Knowles and Justin Timberlake. They're not even our names anymore. Combined, they've become the world's most common phrase. Definition: Best kept celebrity secret ever.
Chapter One.
Beyonce met Shawn at an industry party back in '98. Sometimes, when something reminds of what she told me went down that night and I get to thinking, I start to wish I'd been there to intercept that whole affair right from the start. Sounds like some top notch cock blocking, I know, but it would've saved us both a bunch of s--- in the long run. Unfortunately, I was spending alot of time overseas with NSYNC back then and even if I would've been in New York by some stroke of luck, I sure as hell wouldn't have been at that party. At the time I was all about bleached hair, pelvic thrusts and gold hoop earrings. Hip hop wasn't exactly my scene.
Anyhow, Beyonce says it was a Christmas party that Russell Simmons threw. She was only seventeen at the time but the bouncers turned a blind eye towards her and the rest of the Destiny's Child chicks on account of the way "No, No, No" was climbing the charts. I'm no stranger to getting grown up perks behind a hit record, but definitely not on this scale. Hell, I couldn't get an invite to a Russell Simmons party now and I'm a household name these days... but let's get back to the party.
I can see her clearly that night, using my mind's eye. Beyonce was a cutie at seventeen. I keep a picture of her from when she was around that age in my wallet, right behind my picture of Brennan and Buckley, Thanksgiving '06.
"Why I gotta come after the dogs?" she always asks whenever she gets her sticky little fingers on my shit.
And I always give her the same answer. "There's a strict picture ranking in place and it's based on attractiveness, babe. I can't help that I have some foxy ass dogs." But of course I'm just bulls---ting. Bee's the foxiest.
So as I imagine the Simmon's Christmas party, I hear something from Ready to Die blasting over the club's PA. It's either Juicy or Big Poppa, I can't decide, but I do know for a fact that the smell in the air means marijuana in large quantities. Beyonce steps right off of the photo paper from my old wallet picture and slides into the scene like magic. Her hair is simple, long and all one uniform shade of dark brown. She's making a white tank top with a funky graffati design and this tight ass leather skirt look pretty damn good but her nervous smile and gently roaming brown eyes tells you that she doesn't know it. She isn't Beyonce the international superstar just yet, but rather a teenage girl, unsure of how to feel about the emerging curves that are starting to seriously set her apart from Tiger Beat's average pop princess. She's working the room in these strappy sandals with thick heels that would get her laughed out of a party these days but attracted all kinds of attention that night.
It isn't long before she's got dudes sending her drinks from the bar that technically she can't legally drink, but she sips on them anyway because they're top shelf. The only glass that really means anything to her was the Cristal that Shawn sent her. She said she almost fainted when the bar tender told it was for her, compliments of Jay-Z. I can just see her now, sucking in all the breath she can fit in her lungs like she always does when she's nervous and tightly pursing her lips to hold it in.
He was seated a few stools to her left at the bar. "And I could just feel him looking," she's said. "I just sensed it, you know?
He was wearing Gucci shades and an off-white linen pant suit. I'll never forget that. I didn't think he'd come over, but he did."
I think linen suits are lame as hell, personally. I mean, unless you're getting married for the fifth time on some island resort. Then, and only then, I guess they're ok. But hey, this was Jay-Z. Jigga Man. Even back then he could do whatever he wanted and have it work in his favor. Alot of times I wonder if he felt a connection to Bee that night. I know that she felt one to him. I don't understand it and I'm not so sure that I ever want to, but to this day she can have her back turned to a door and just know when he walks through it. She just "feels" it. I've always hoped she feels it more in her mind than in her heart, but I don't think I'll ever ask. I'd hate to find out differently.
When Shawn finally did approach her, he wrapped his hand around her wrist. She seems to remember that clearly and in all her renditions of this night, she never leaves that part out. A batch of butterflies probably came to life in the pit of her stomach and she probably swallowed a bigger gulp of her champagne than she'd anticipated. As the bitter alcohol burned a path down the inside of her, she looked up and for a moment saw a reflection of herself against his expensive sunglasses.
"You know who I am?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"So who are you?"
She wasn't taken aback by the straightforward inquisition. In fact, she liked it. "My name is Beyonce. I'm here with my group; Destiny's Child." She's having to nearly shout and dramatically over-pronounce her words to be heard over the endless Biggie track looping over the sound system - It's either Juicy or Big Poppa, I still haven't decided. The dimple in her right cheek is showing and if I were Shawn, that would've been all I needed to cement the decision to win her.
He licked his lips and pulled his shades down his nose to make eye contact. When he asked her how old she was, he was still holding her wrist. She told him that she was seventeen hesitantly, afraid that it would run him off and back to wherever he came from, but he only nodded. I can imagine the mix of certainty and determination that began to cloud his eyes.
"I'll wait a year for you," he said. "Then you'll be my girl." It was a matter of fact statement with no room for interpretations. Beyonce didn't know what to do with it.
"You wanna give me your number, sweetheart, or should I get in touch with your people?" he continued, in her silence.
Beyonce did what any seventeen year old chick would've done in that situation. She borrowed a pen from the bartender and scribbled her pager number on a napkin. Amazingly, he kept his promise. He spent a year sending her watches, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, gift cards and personal checks through priority mail. He took her out to dinners and parties when they could schedule for their paths to cross in New York. By the time she turned eighteen, he'd wormed his way into Mr. and Mrs. Knowles hearts and despite the fact that he was thirty, they supported their relationship.
I can't imagine how Beyonce must've felt about juggling a performer's life with a relationship with a man who was twelve years her senior. She was left to pour her heart into her journals and there were lots of them. One time she let me read through a few, but trying to situate yourself in someone else's past is a hard thing to do. For me, trying to recreate the headspace of a young woman in her predicament is just as difficult as trying to imagine travelling the Oregon Trail or living as a Jew in Nazi Germany.
From very early on she looked up to Shawn, very much in the same way that a student looks up to teacher. He is, after all, one of the best rappers of his time, a founder, president, and a CEO. A pretty awesome guy all around. She enjoyed his company mostly because it provided her with the most intimate opportunity to learn from him. He was her mentor, and if she could have it to do all over again, she would have fought harder to keep him as just that. Shawn saw Beyonce as one of the best things that ever happened to him. Someone to share his assets with, someone to confide in and someone to care for. He'd fallen in love at first sight and he didn't care who knew it. I think that if it wasn't for the Knowles' determination to keep their daughter's relationship hush-hush, he would've had it printed in the New York Times. This just in: Jay-Z loves Beyonce with all his f---ing heart.
Beyonce worked hard at being a good girlfriend for Shawn. I think alot of it the determination stemmed from the fact that she respected him so much that she figured she owed him a picture perfect relationship in return for waiting a year for her and sharing so much of his time. As a matter of fact, there were alot of things she figured she owed him - some of which she never wrote about.
Three years into their strange union, they collaborated musically. It was, after all, a logical direction to go towards. He was at the top of the rap game and she had been riding the top of the R&B charts for four years strong. '03 Bonnie and Clyde was not only a hit, but the announcement - however indirect - that Shawn had waited a long time to make. Beyonce was his woman. He was her man.
I bet he felt so proud on the day of that video shoot. So proud and so damn lucky. Maybe he got so excited that he started biting his nails off and jumping up and down when no one was looking. Maybe he felt like screaming "nah, nah, nah boo boo!" at the top of his lungs. "I got Beyonce and you can't have her!" Or maybe he just felt like quoting a little Biggie Smalls. That seems more Jay-Z. "If you don't know, now you know."
And I'm pretty sure that quote's from Juicy. Juicy was my s---. Hell, it was probably the joint that was playing at that Christmas party way back in '98.
Synopsis: Beyonce Knowles and Justin Timberlake. They're not even our names anymore. Combined, they've become the world's most common phrase. Definition: Best kept celebrity secret ever.
Chapter One.
Beyonce met Shawn at an industry party back in '98. Sometimes, when something reminds of what she told me went down that night and I get to thinking, I start to wish I'd been there to intercept that whole affair right from the start. Sounds like some top notch cock blocking, I know, but it would've saved us both a bunch of s--- in the long run. Unfortunately, I was spending alot of time overseas with NSYNC back then and even if I would've been in New York by some stroke of luck, I sure as hell wouldn't have been at that party. At the time I was all about bleached hair, pelvic thrusts and gold hoop earrings. Hip hop wasn't exactly my scene.
Anyhow, Beyonce says it was a Christmas party that Russell Simmons threw. She was only seventeen at the time but the bouncers turned a blind eye towards her and the rest of the Destiny's Child chicks on account of the way "No, No, No" was climbing the charts. I'm no stranger to getting grown up perks behind a hit record, but definitely not on this scale. Hell, I couldn't get an invite to a Russell Simmons party now and I'm a household name these days... but let's get back to the party.
I can see her clearly that night, using my mind's eye. Beyonce was a cutie at seventeen. I keep a picture of her from when she was around that age in my wallet, right behind my picture of Brennan and Buckley, Thanksgiving '06.
"Why I gotta come after the dogs?" she always asks whenever she gets her sticky little fingers on my shit.
And I always give her the same answer. "There's a strict picture ranking in place and it's based on attractiveness, babe. I can't help that I have some foxy ass dogs." But of course I'm just bulls---ting. Bee's the foxiest.
So as I imagine the Simmon's Christmas party, I hear something from Ready to Die blasting over the club's PA. It's either Juicy or Big Poppa, I can't decide, but I do know for a fact that the smell in the air means marijuana in large quantities. Beyonce steps right off of the photo paper from my old wallet picture and slides into the scene like magic. Her hair is simple, long and all one uniform shade of dark brown. She's making a white tank top with a funky graffati design and this tight ass leather skirt look pretty damn good but her nervous smile and gently roaming brown eyes tells you that she doesn't know it. She isn't Beyonce the international superstar just yet, but rather a teenage girl, unsure of how to feel about the emerging curves that are starting to seriously set her apart from Tiger Beat's average pop princess. She's working the room in these strappy sandals with thick heels that would get her laughed out of a party these days but attracted all kinds of attention that night.
It isn't long before she's got dudes sending her drinks from the bar that technically she can't legally drink, but she sips on them anyway because they're top shelf. The only glass that really means anything to her was the Cristal that Shawn sent her. She said she almost fainted when the bar tender told it was for her, compliments of Jay-Z. I can just see her now, sucking in all the breath she can fit in her lungs like she always does when she's nervous and tightly pursing her lips to hold it in.
He was seated a few stools to her left at the bar. "And I could just feel him looking," she's said. "I just sensed it, you know?
He was wearing Gucci shades and an off-white linen pant suit. I'll never forget that. I didn't think he'd come over, but he did."
I think linen suits are lame as hell, personally. I mean, unless you're getting married for the fifth time on some island resort. Then, and only then, I guess they're ok. But hey, this was Jay-Z. Jigga Man. Even back then he could do whatever he wanted and have it work in his favor. Alot of times I wonder if he felt a connection to Bee that night. I know that she felt one to him. I don't understand it and I'm not so sure that I ever want to, but to this day she can have her back turned to a door and just know when he walks through it. She just "feels" it. I've always hoped she feels it more in her mind than in her heart, but I don't think I'll ever ask. I'd hate to find out differently.
When Shawn finally did approach her, he wrapped his hand around her wrist. She seems to remember that clearly and in all her renditions of this night, she never leaves that part out. A batch of butterflies probably came to life in the pit of her stomach and she probably swallowed a bigger gulp of her champagne than she'd anticipated. As the bitter alcohol burned a path down the inside of her, she looked up and for a moment saw a reflection of herself against his expensive sunglasses.
"You know who I am?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"So who are you?"
She wasn't taken aback by the straightforward inquisition. In fact, she liked it. "My name is Beyonce. I'm here with my group; Destiny's Child." She's having to nearly shout and dramatically over-pronounce her words to be heard over the endless Biggie track looping over the sound system - It's either Juicy or Big Poppa, I still haven't decided. The dimple in her right cheek is showing and if I were Shawn, that would've been all I needed to cement the decision to win her.
He licked his lips and pulled his shades down his nose to make eye contact. When he asked her how old she was, he was still holding her wrist. She told him that she was seventeen hesitantly, afraid that it would run him off and back to wherever he came from, but he only nodded. I can imagine the mix of certainty and determination that began to cloud his eyes.
"I'll wait a year for you," he said. "Then you'll be my girl." It was a matter of fact statement with no room for interpretations. Beyonce didn't know what to do with it.
"You wanna give me your number, sweetheart, or should I get in touch with your people?" he continued, in her silence.
Beyonce did what any seventeen year old chick would've done in that situation. She borrowed a pen from the bartender and scribbled her pager number on a napkin. Amazingly, he kept his promise. He spent a year sending her watches, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, gift cards and personal checks through priority mail. He took her out to dinners and parties when they could schedule for their paths to cross in New York. By the time she turned eighteen, he'd wormed his way into Mr. and Mrs. Knowles hearts and despite the fact that he was thirty, they supported their relationship.
I can't imagine how Beyonce must've felt about juggling a performer's life with a relationship with a man who was twelve years her senior. She was left to pour her heart into her journals and there were lots of them. One time she let me read through a few, but trying to situate yourself in someone else's past is a hard thing to do. For me, trying to recreate the headspace of a young woman in her predicament is just as difficult as trying to imagine travelling the Oregon Trail or living as a Jew in Nazi Germany.
From very early on she looked up to Shawn, very much in the same way that a student looks up to teacher. He is, after all, one of the best rappers of his time, a founder, president, and a CEO. A pretty awesome guy all around. She enjoyed his company mostly because it provided her with the most intimate opportunity to learn from him. He was her mentor, and if she could have it to do all over again, she would have fought harder to keep him as just that. Shawn saw Beyonce as one of the best things that ever happened to him. Someone to share his assets with, someone to confide in and someone to care for. He'd fallen in love at first sight and he didn't care who knew it. I think that if it wasn't for the Knowles' determination to keep their daughter's relationship hush-hush, he would've had it printed in the New York Times. This just in: Jay-Z loves Beyonce with all his f---ing heart.
Beyonce worked hard at being a good girlfriend for Shawn. I think alot of it the determination stemmed from the fact that she respected him so much that she figured she owed him a picture perfect relationship in return for waiting a year for her and sharing so much of his time. As a matter of fact, there were alot of things she figured she owed him - some of which she never wrote about.
Three years into their strange union, they collaborated musically. It was, after all, a logical direction to go towards. He was at the top of the rap game and she had been riding the top of the R&B charts for four years strong. '03 Bonnie and Clyde was not only a hit, but the announcement - however indirect - that Shawn had waited a long time to make. Beyonce was his woman. He was her man.
I bet he felt so proud on the day of that video shoot. So proud and so damn lucky. Maybe he got so excited that he started biting his nails off and jumping up and down when no one was looking. Maybe he felt like screaming "nah, nah, nah boo boo!" at the top of his lungs. "I got Beyonce and you can't have her!" Or maybe he just felt like quoting a little Biggie Smalls. That seems more Jay-Z. "If you don't know, now you know."
And I'm pretty sure that quote's from Juicy. Juicy was my s---. Hell, it was probably the joint that was playing at that Christmas party way back in '98.
she's part of his
history...what's done is done right? 
