The second leg of the NSA tour was finally winding down with the fast approach of the holidays. The nationwide tour had been a great success and the members of Nsync were ready for a much-needed break. The rest of the entourage that accompanied the vocal group…the band, management, costuming, make-up/hair…you name it…were all more than happy to know that they would all soon be sleeping in their own beds, in their own rooms, in their own homes…with family and friends nearby.
One particular member of the road crew, Marshall Goines, was more than relieved to know that he would soon be returning home, but his reasons were nothing like those of the rest of the crew…his reasons were a little more desperate because, unfortunately, Marshall was finding himself to be a bind that didn’t seem to have any clear cut way out of…save death…his death or the death of members of his family.
The last few months of the tour had been stressful, to the say the least for the young man and he was nearing his breaking point and that meant he was ready to do something…something very desperate.
Several months earlier, during the first leg of the tour, Marshall became involved with a crowd of people that he had known to be nothing but trouble, but that information had not swayed him in the least when it came to choosing his friends. Unfortunately, Marshall had allowed something to come into play as far as his influences…drugs.
With the introduction of drugs into his lifestyle, Marshall had lost a small piece of himself each time he gave into the temptation. At first, he fought against it and found that he could keep a handle on the pressure being placed upon him by other crew members to try some “stuff,” but soon the temptations began to over ride his good sense and he finally gave in one night in a fellow crew member’s hotel room. The buzz was instantaneous…euphoric…sensual. For the first time in a long time, Michael found himself able to, what he thought, handle the pressure and demands placed upon him with his job. But, in actuality, Marshall’s reputation as a hard, contentious worker slowly began to change into one that had him known as a slacker and careless worker, but he was still a warm body and a place was found for him in the line up.
The drugs became an obsession for Marshall…so much so that his paycheck was no longer enough to meet both his responsibilities toward bills and his new habit. Soon, his entire paycheck was devoted to keeping his habit and he was starting to get phone calls from collection agencies wishing him to fulfill his obligations, but Marshall continued to indulge in drugs and eventually found himself deeply indebt.
In order for the young man to compensate for the lack of income, Marshall sought out a loan shark and put himself, along with his family in dire jeopardy. Tony Picatti was a very demanding individual who would not be put off, much to Marshall’s horror. He resorted to stealing objects from various members of the crew in order to pawn them off to help in paying the debt and that was how the members of Nsync became involved with the young man and his problem.
It was during the final weeks of the second leg where everything came to a head. The members of Nsync, the road crew, band and others had returned to Orlando for an impromptu benefit concert for a foundation that had made a special request to the group’s manager, Johnny Wright. While the members of Nsync rehearsed some dances that were being adjusted for some of the songs requested, Marshall and several fellow crewmembers had reached a stopping point in their own duties in setting up the stage area of the arena and were heading toward several trailers that were set up for employees to rest and relax in. Marshall made a quick excuse before heading in another direction where several others were visiting until their break would end. Marshall looked over his shoulder and saw that there were no eyes directed toward him and at the last moment, he moved between two tractor trailers and made his way toward a handful of empty trailers that were sure to have valuables lying about inside them.
“Lance…that’s the third time you’ve missed that step combination,” Darren, one of the many choreographers working with the group complained to the sweating and shaking young man standing before him.
“I know,” Lance replied quietly. “I’m sorry,” he added as he rubbed his face with both hands then shakily sat down.
Darren’s berating attitude instantly changed to one of concern as he watched Lance slowly close his eyes and rest his head back against the wall he was leaning against.
“Hey…are you okay, man?” he asked as he reached down and rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder and gave it a small shake. When he didn’t receive an immediate response to his question, he shook Lance’s shoulder a little harder.
“Huh?” Lance looked up to see the older man waving at his assistant who quickly left the room. Darren knelt down in front of Lance and gently grasped his chin and pulled his head down so that they were looking at each other eye to eye.
“Did you eat anything this morning?” he asked, trying to figure out what might be behind Lance’s condition.
“Um…yeah,” Lance responded quietly with a wan smile. “I had coffee and a half of a half of a piece of toast.”
“A what?” Darren asked, the concern evident in his voice. He was now concerned that Lance was now no longer coherent in his speech or thought.
Lance chuckled wearily at Darren’s facial expression as he explained himself. “Justin halved a half of a piece of toast with me. That’s all I had time for this morning.”
As he finished with his explanation, Lonnie, Lance’s bodyguard walked into the room and quickly made his way over to the pair on the floor. He took in Lance’s unusually pale complexion and instantly became worried for his young charge.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he stooped his large frame down before Lance and rested his hand on one of his shaking knees.
“He needs to eat something then rest on one of the couches in the dressing room,” Darren answered as he stood up. “He only ate a fourth of a piece of toast for breakfast this morning.”
”Yeah…he overslept this morning…stayed up too late last night working on contracts.”
Lance listened to their exchange. He appreciated their concern, but didn’t like the fact that he was being talked about as if he wasn’t even there.
“Um…hello…I’m still here,” Lance slowly commented as he looked at the two, who continued to ignore him.
“Well…he’s dead on his feet and really needs to get something in his stomach and rest before we can do any more work,” Darren said to Lonnie.
Lonnie stood up and regarded the blonde still seated on the floor.
“Well…I’ll put him on one of the couches in the hallway. The dressing room is pretty much off limits. Chris made a mess in there a few minutes ago and it’s going to take a while to clean it up,” Lonnie said with a disgusted shake of his head. Lance glanced up in interest at the mention of Chris’s latest misadventures then looked back down when the room slightly tilted with his movement.
“No…take him to my trailer,” Darren said. “It’s quiet there and I’ve got some food in the fridge that he can heat and eat.”
Lance kept his gaze on the floor before him, trying to will everything to sit still as he once again tried to get the attention of the two figures standing above him.
“Uh…guys…is the floor moving or is it just me?” Lance asked quietly, closing his eyes when the floor once again tilted but in a new direction this time.
Lonnie and Darren exchanged worried glances before Lonnie bent over and gently grasped Lance by the upper arms then slowly pulled him into a standing position.
“Let’s get you to that trailer, Mississippi,” Lonnie said as he and Darren walked on either side of Lance, supporting him as they left the room.
Marshall had walked around for the last hour, entering unlocked trailers only to find that most of them did not have any real valuables worth stealing. Besides that, he knew that his luck was probably running out. Sooner or later, he was going to either be caught going into or coming out of a trailer or, worse yet be caught inside a trailer. He only had one more trailer to go. In the back of his mind he knew that he should probably just walk away, but he couldn’t do it. He was empty-handed and was in desperate need of pawning something off. So, after debating with himself and several glances all about him, Marshall quietly entered one of the trailers and silently shut the door behind him not knowing that it was not unoccupied. On the table before him there was a CD player, a stack of CDs, a Gameboy, and a laptop computer. With a grin on his face, Marshall began gathering the items up in his arms. Just as he was about to turn around with the items in hand, he heard a small sound in the next room.
At the same time, in the next room, Lance sat up on the bed that he had laid down on when a small noise in the next room woke him up from his light sleep.
‘Probably Joey or JC,’ he thought to himself. He knew that one of them was going to come get him when it was time to resume their rehearsals for the next night’s benefit show but he didn’t think that time could have possibly flown by that fast. He glanced at his watch and saw that 45 minutes had passed by since Lonnie had left him after making sure he had had something decent to eat and had laid down to rest…too soon for anyone to come get him unless one of the others had decided to join him.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Lance slowly scooted off the bed and walked to the doorway leading into the small living area of the trailer to see who had walked in. Once at the doorway, he could not believe his eyes. There, moving about the room with his hands full of Darren’s things was one of the crewmembers. Lance had seen him before, but had not really taken the time to get to know him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Lance had always had a funny feeling about the young man and had decided to avoid him, but now...
“Hey!” Lance yelled in his deep, bass voice.
At the sound of the voice behind him, Marshall froze in his tracks and nervously glanced to his left to see that, standing in the doorway was none other than Lance Bass. Instantly, Marshall began to take several steps backward toward the door behind him.
“Put Darren’s things down now,” Lance said in a tone of voice that did not leave room for discussion. For the moment, his single thought was making sure that Darren’s stuff did not leave his trailer. He had not even considered the possibility that he was in danger and when those thoughts finally did enter his mind, it was too late.
Marshall’s thoughts were racing through his head as he returned the items to the table where he had first seen them. He knew that he was in pretty deep now and he didn’t want to go down on his own. He was going to take someone with him…and why not make that someone Lance Bass.
So, Marshall made up his mind while in the background he heard Lance pick up his cell phone and began dialing a number.
“I’m calling Lonnie,” Lance said in an effort to keep control of the situation. Lonnie was one of the many bodyguards that traveled with the group and had just stepped out of the trailer just minutes earlier.
As Lance waited for Lonnie to answer the phone he kept a weary eye on the young man before him, not sure whether or not he could possibly pose some sort of threat…unfortunately, he did and Lance soon found out the hard way when Marshall slowly began to approach him.
“Whoa…wait a minute,” Lance said as he held the phone to his ear with one hand and held out his other in a defensive move. ‘Geez…pick up Lonnie…pick up,’ Lance screamed inwardly while he began to step back from the approaching figure.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Mr. Bass…but I don’t have much of a choice now…you’ve seen me…I need money…this stuff will get me some,” Marshall said in a voice void of emotion. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a utility knife and pushed the little lever on its side so that a new blade popped into place.
“Put the phone down…now,” Marshall said in a surprisingly calm voice as he continued to approach the shaking singer.
As those words left Marshall’s lips, Lonnie answered his phone, but Lance was in no position to answer to the bodyguard’s voice since he found himself backed up into a corner in the trailer. The phone was knocked from Lance’s hand with one quick swipe of Marshall’s empty hand then Lance was quickly whipped around to face the corner and his right arm was forced painfully behind his back before he even had a chance to yelp out in surprise. Marshall placed his foot on the discarded phone and dragged it over closer to him before stomping down on the small object several times, effectively smashing it into several pieces.
At the same time, Lonnie winced at the loud static filled sound in his ear then closed his phone.
“Humph…probably a wrong number,” he commented as he slipped the phone into his shirt pocket then walked into the arena to see what the other members of Nsync were doing.
Lance looked on fearfully out of the corner of his eye at what was going on. He couldn’t believe it…he was in a worse case scenario…one that the bodyguards had spoken to all of the singers and band members about. They had even had small workshops with the bodyguards speaking to them of situations and having them practice those types of situations where they had to keep a level head and think things through in the event they were ever threatened, but now that it was really happening, Lance couldn’t remember a thing…he was too scared.
“I want you to stay very quiet, Mr. Bass,” Marshall said in a calm voice as he pulled Lance toward the trailer door, his arm wrapped around the young singer’s neck. Lance could feel the man’s hot breath tickling against the back of his neck and he closed his eyes and pushed back a whimper that was threatening to escape. He had to remain calm…he couldn’t let this person think that he was weak in anyway.
The pair moved awkwardly toward the door and when they had made it there, in one quick move, Marshall locked it and shoved a nearby chair under the doorknob for good measure. As Marshall made his moves, Lance fought the urge to put his hands on the arm wrapped tightly around his neck, not knowing if the move would aggravate the man holding on to him.
While Lance stumbled about in the man’s grasp, his mind raced with the possibilities of what could happen to him and several of the thoughts caused him to inwardly shudder, but he had to keep a clear head…he had to try to stay calm.
Marshall glanced about him as he put a new plan into motion. He had always kept in mind that someone could actually catch him in the act of stealing and he had formed plans of what he might do in the event that that ever happened. But, now that it had, his mind was muddled and his thoughts were moving so quickly that he was finding it difficult to remain in complete control. And…add to that was the fact that the body that he had pulled against him was trembling like a leaf in the wind let him know that the young singer was just as scared as he was caused all plans to temporarily fly out the window…this was real…too real.
Marshall closed his eyes and took in several deep breaths to clear his thoughts before opening his eyes again as a plan began to formulate in his mind all the while hearing Lance’s harsh, quick breaths and feeling his body quivering against his. Okay…sit him down…tie him up…he had not spoken to anyone on the phone so leave him and take the stuff…threaten the others so that he won’t talk…or…beat him…pawn the stuff…pay the debt…buy more drugs. With his plan firmly in mind, Marshall began to take action.
“Sit down,” he said steadily as he suddenly pushed Lance toward a chair in the middle of the room. Lance stumbled and landed on the floor on all fours then scrambled up and turned around to face the person who could possibly harm him.
“You make a move toward me and I will cut you up into ribbons,” Marshall said as he pointed the knife at the shaking young man then, for good measure, sliced open the cushions on couch beside him. Lance watched with almost bulging eyes as the blade sliced through the cloths just like a dull knife through butter all the while imagining much the same result if the blade was used on him. Lance closed his eyes momentarily against the scene then nodded his head and nervously glanced behind him at the chair before sitting down.
“There…in that chair?” Lance asked quietly, not wanting to aggravate the man any further.
“That’s right bright boy and…I don’t want to hear another word from you,” Marshall stated darkly as he walked over to one of the shaded windows and, with his utility knife, cut the cords to the blinds then moved to the next several windows doing the same act until he had a handful of long cords. Lance swallowed hard as he watched the crewmember move about the room, knowing what was going to probably be happening to him in the next few minutes. His only hope was that someone would come to the trailer to get him for rehearsals before something really bad happened. Lance’s frantic thoughts were interrupted when he heard harsh words being spoken to him.
“Hands behind you,” he ordered and Lance meekly complied with the order and winced as he felt the coarse string being wrapped tightly around his wrists. Lance tried to look behind him to see what was being done but was ordered to turn back around.
Marshall glanced to his left and saw a discarded t-shirt lying on the floor and he grabbed it up and, with his knife, tore the material into several strips.
Lance knew what was going to happen…he didn’t’ want to be blindfolded or gagged, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to have much of a choice unless he voiced his opinions before anything happened.
“Um…listen…just tie me up and take the stuff,” Lance said in a quiet, steady voice as he looked up at the figure standing before him. He dropped his gaze for a split second at the items in the man’s hands…one hand the cloths…the other, the knife and cords. Lance then looked back up at the young man, and this time directly into his eyes.
“Please…just tie me up…I won’t yell for help. Lonnie or one of the others won’t be here for a long while. I came in here to rest and that was just about 5 minutes before you walked in.”
“I’m not going to hurt you…but I am going to tie you up…all the way,” Marshall said as he raised the cloths in the air as an indication to what he meant.
Lance shook his head no and tried to avoid the approaching cloths, but couldn’t go very far in his position.
“Open up,” Marshall said as he held a stretched cloth before Lance’s mouth. Lance looked up one more time in the hope that he could possibly change his captor’s mind silently but shuddered when he felt the knife against his throat.
“I said…open up…I won’t change my mind about tying you up, but I might change my mind about hurting you.”
Lance nodded his head and slightly parted his lips. Marshall pushed the cloth harshly between Lance’s lips and pulled tightly causing Lance’s mouth to open even wider as he tied off the cloth behind his head. Lance winced at the pain he was feeling. He had read about people being tied up and gagged, but never in his wildest imagination had he thought it could be this painful…this frightening. He glanced up and saw Marshall approaching again with another cloth, which was tied over his mouth effectively closing it off so that no sound could be heard from him in the event he did try to call for help.
Lance grunted mutely as Marshall completed tying him up. A cord was wrapped about his ankles then attached to the chair so that he could not even attempt to stand up. Another cord was wound around his chest and arms then tied off to the chair so that his movements were further restricted. All of those were bad enough, but the last cord struck fear into Lance’s heart. He moaned against his gag in an effort to stop what was happening, but his sounds went unheeded. He closed his eyes in fear as he felt the last cord being wrapped several times around his neck then tied off at his knees, bending him slightly forward causing him to pull painfully against the cords holding his wrists behind him. Lance’s first impulse was to pull away, but one small jerk let him know that he needed to keep perfectly still…no matter what when he felt the cord slightly tighten its grip on his pale flesh.
“Now…I’m going to leave,” Marshall began as he squatted down so that he could look Lance in the eye. “I know where you live…I know where the others live…I will find you if you tell anyone about this…I will find you and you will be sorry…do you understand me?” he asked gazing intently into Lance’s pale, green eyes.
Lance closed his eyes twice with his answer and Marshall chuckled at the young man’s ingenuity.
“That was pretty bright, pretty boy,” he said with a small laugh as he wrapped the blindfold tightly over Lance’s eyes, effectively cutting off his sight.
Lance heard movement around the trailer then, finally the door opening and then closing…he was alone.
“Hey…Joey,” Darren called out to the young man as he passed by the room where the choreographer had been mapping out some new dance steps with one of his assistants.
“Yeah, Darren,” Joey answered as he leaned against the doorframe and glanced into the room. “What can I do you for?”
“Lance went back to my trailer for a while to rest…he wasn’t feeling too good,” Darren began.
“Really?” Joey asked stepping into the room. “He didn’t say anything to one of us,” he said with a frown and a shrug.
“Well…I think he’s just ready for the holidays to get here, just like the rest of us,” the assistant said with a smile as he pulled a towel over his shoulders as he brushed by Joey and headed down the hallway.
“I heard you there,” Joey called out with a laugh at the retreating figure, who waved his acknowledgement of the comment before rounding the corner at the end of the hallway.
“Can you go get him…then the others? It’s time to get back to work,” Darren said as he stooped over and began searching through his duffle bag for drier socks to wear for the next round of rehearsals.
“Okay…I’ll get Lance and we’ll go look for the others. We’ll be back here in about…oh…15 minutes?” he said in a questioning tone.
“Sure,” Darren answered. He pulled off his shoes. “See you then…and…bring some more water bottles in here too if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah.” Joey waved at Darren and left the room to head outside into the gated yard of the arena. Joey crossed the yard, frequently waving at different people who passed by and stopping to speak to those he had not had a chance to visit with in a while. It was during one of these visits that he happened to glance down at his watch only to see that the 15 minutes that he had promised to return with Lance in was fast approaching being over. He ended the conversation and trotted over to Darren’s trailer.
“Humph…that’s funny, the door is locked,” Joey commented after climbing the short steps up to the trailer door and trying the knob.
“Hey…Lance!” Joey yelled as he knocked loudly on the door. “Wake up in there, man! Darren needs us back inside, pronto!”
Inside the trailer, Lance started awake. He had fallen into a fitful sleep as he waited for someone to find him, but when he had jerked awake, he pulled the cord wrapped around his neck a little tighter. The pressure around his neck caused a wave of panic to run through him and he had to steel himself so as not to pull against it again, but at the same time, the pressure was enough to cause him to have trouble in getting the air that he needed into his lungs…he was slowly choking to death.
‘Stay calm…stay calm,’ he said to himself before pulling as much air into his lungs as possible and screaming Joey’s name into his thick gag.
Joey was just about to hit the door again when he heard the muted cry coming from inside the trailer.
“Lance?” he yelled.
“Oy…Oy!” was the cry heard once again, but this time it was not as loud and was accompanied by what sounding like choking coughs.
“Hang on, Lance!” Joey yelled into the door. He stepped down from the small porch and grabbed a cement stepping stone from off the ground.
“I’m gonna break the glass by the door!” Joey yelled before gripping the stepping stone firmly and thrusting it through the window nearest the door. The sound of shattering glass created enough noise, along with Joey’s frantic yells to bring JC and Justin running over to the trailer.
“What’s going on?” JC called out as he watched Joey reach through the broken window into the room.
“Lance is in there and something’s wrong,” Joey answered as he popped the lock on the door with his left hand and jerked it open with his right.
The sight that beheld the trio was something right out of a horror movie. In a chair at the far end of the living area of the trailer sat a barely breathing Lance whose eyes were hidden by a blindfold…a chillingly sick, choking sound coming from his gagged mouth.
“J…call 911…now!” JC ordered Justin as he raced over to Lance’s side and began to work on the cloths wrapped about his mouth and eyes while Joey grabbed a large piece of glass off the floor and began to saw through the cord wrapped around Lance’s neck. In two, quick strokes the cord snapped in two and Joey worked as fast as he could to free Lance from the makeshift noose.
JC pushed Lance’s limp body up so that his back was against the chair, giving Joey some slack as he cut through the remaining cords holding Lance’s upper body to the chair. He then moved in front of Lance and sliced through the cords tied around his ankles.
“Help is on the way,” Justin said in a small voice as he watched Joey and JC slowly lower Lance’s limp, but breathing form to the floor.
“Call Lonnie…Johnny…Chris…” JC said over his shoulder at the younger man before standing to reach for a cloth lying on the kitchenette’s counter. He wet it then knelt back down at Lance’s side and began to slowly wipe Lance’s pale face. JC noticed blood on Lance’s shirt and immediately began looking for its source and it wasn’t until he happened to glance at Joey’s hands that he found out what was bleeding.
“Man…Joe…you’re bleeding,” JC said as he stood back up and grabbed another nearby towel from the counter. He knelt back down and motioned for Joey to extend his hand toward him. Joey did and JC quickly wrapped the towel around his hand.
“I didn’t even notice,” Joey quietly commented as he looked to see the cloth wrapped around his hand was not staying white for very long…it was quickly becoming crimson in color with his blood.
“You’re going to need stitches,” JC said as he picked up the cloth that he had dropped and once again began wiping Lance’s pale face in an effort to revive him.
“I did what I had to do,” Joey commented to JC before looking back down at Lance.
“Lance…come on…let us know you’re okay,” Joey quietly urged as he pulled Lance’s head into his lap. He gently ran one hand over Lance’s head while holding one of the young man’s hands in his wrapped, right hand. In the meantime, Justin spoke into his cell phone, calling the people that JC had told him to, all the while not breaking his gaze from what was happening before him.
“Geez…who would do something like this?” JC asked in a choked voice, knowing that there really was no answer to his question…none at all.