“You okay?” He sat down on the sofa and looked at Justin.
“I guess.” He finally turned and moved to sit down across from Lance. “How long are we going to be here?”
Shrugging, Lance ran his hands over the supple material beneath him, letting himself relax into the safety of the island. “Two or three months; long enough for things to quiet down.”
Blue eyes opened wide. “Two or three months?!? But what about feeding? I mean, we’re on an island, Lance. Don’t you think people are going to wonder?”
Laughter rumbled in his chest as he stared at the young vampire. “Justin, haven’t you noticed anything since we’ve been here? The lack of people running around during the day, the abundance of night life? This island is a haven for us. These people know what we are, and they are amenable.”
“You’re telling me they just give it up? What? How?”
Lance chuckled again. “This place has been around a long time. The people let us feed, and in return, they have a safe place to live. Hell, they don’t even lock their doors at night because they know that no one will hurt them. They have jobs, they’re well taken care of, they can even leave if they want, but very few of them do. Those who do usually return because they see what waits outside, and they know that, despite giving up a little blood now and then, this is paradise. They never want for anything, not really, so why would they give it up?”
Justin just shook his head as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept of the island. Lance just tugged him out of his chair and pushed him towards the bathroom.
“We’re going out. Get ready.”
The two men cruised the streets of the lively little town nestled at one end of the island. Lance’s explanation ensured that Justin wasn’t quite as startled to see vampires feeding in the open, but it didn’t stop the double take. Lance smiled and dragged the other man into a club, where Justin lost himself in the familiarity of music.
Two months later, Justin rolled over and stretched, letting his arms and legs reach to each corner of the mattress. Brushing his hand over his head, he fingered the braids Maresha had put in last week to help combat the tropical heat. He sat up and climbed out of bed, strolling into the living room as he yawned. Justin stopped abruptly, mouth still open in mid yawn as he looked at the man sitting at the table.
“What did you do to your hair?” He sat down and stared at his friend.
Lance looked up from his paper and smiled, running his fingers through the dark locks. Justin studied it for a moment, realizing the color was fairly close to Lance’s roots. He also noticed how long it had gotten in comparison to the short spikes the other man usually wore. The younger man reached out and touched it, still surprised.
“I decided that I needed for it to go more natural if we’re going to go back out there.”
Out there. Justin felt a shiver run down his spine. “When are we leaving?”
“Next week. Do you have any place you want to go?”
Standing, Justin moved towards the coffee pot as he thought. In all the places he had traveled while they had been touring, he never really got a chance to study any of them. With his “death”, there was nothing stopping him from spending weeks in Rome or Paris or London and sightseeing to his heart’s content. For that matter, there was really nothing stopping him from climbing on a bike and riding down Route 66, as he and Chris had often discussed.
Chris. The mere thought of his friend brought pain into his heart, and he felt his eyes well with tears. Lance walked into the kitchen and, taking one look at the young man’s face, promptly pulled him into a hug.
“It gets easier, Jup. It really does. I know there’s pain, and it will hit when you least expect it.”
The deep voice echoed in Justin’s ear, and he nodded even as he tightened his grip. They stood there for long moments before Justin sniffed and pulled away. He wiped his eyes.
“I’ve always wanted to spend some time in the Louvre.”
Lance grinned. “Paris it is.”
By the time they were ready to leave Paris, Justin could have easily given tours in the museum. He spent a couple of hours there every day for the two months they were there. They took trips to other cities, and Lance explained about the old-world hierarchy that existed in Europe. Justin learned about paying tribute when they planned to stay in one place for a while, and he became quite adept at seeking out unusual gifts for their hosts. The older man smiled in appreciation, thankful his protégé was paying attention to the rules.
They spent four months in Italy, moving from Rome to Venice to Milan, taking in history, prowling around fashion houses, and admiring the art. They were careful where they hunted, listening to those who dwelled in the cities to find the best places. The friendship that had formed when *N Sync started grew into a close brotherhood as they each helped the other deal with the loss of their family.
One afternoon, Justin was scootering down a side street in Milan when he stopped abruptly in shock. His eyesight narrowed as he stared across the plaza at the man entering the salon of an up-and-coming designer. Almost afraid to believe it, he moved to the wall of a building at the street entrance and waited. Two hours later, the man exited and turned to walk towards one of the hotels. Biting his lip, Justin turned in the other direction and headed home.
Lance walked into their small house an hour later to find Justin curled up on his bed with a pillow in his arms.
“J?”
“he’s here.” The whisper was muffled by the pillow, but Lance understood him perfectly.
“Who’s here, J?”
“JC. I saw him go into one of the salons in the plaza. At first, I wasn’t sure it was him, so I hung out in an alley until he came out.” Justin sat up and fell against his friend. “He’s here.”
Lance immediately wrapped the young man in a hug, patting his back. “It’ll happen again, Justin. We’ll see them from time to time, but we can’t talk to them.”
“It hurts, Lance. It hurts so much.” Warm tears fell from blue eyes before they closed.
“I know it does.” He continued patting the young man as the minutes passed. “Did he look okay?”
Justin finally sat up and wiped his face before nodding. “Yeah. He was smiling. I guess he found some really good clothes.”
Both men laughed at JC’s idea of “good”, recognizing a fond memory to combat the pain. They ate a quite dinner before turning in for the night. Lance waited until he knew Justin was deeply asleep before heading out into town. It didn’t take long to find the hotel where JC was staying, gliding quietly up to the balcony outside his room. He waited for an hour before the other man returned, tossing his jacket on the bed. Lance watched as his friend dropped onto the bed and rubbed his face with tired hands. Moments later, a picture frame was picked up and caressed, and Lance saw that it held a picture of the group. Reaching out, he rested his palm against the glass of the balcony door and sighed.
They did end up riding down Route 66, returning to America after twelve months abroad. Even if they got second glances, it wasn’t because they were Justin and Lance from *N Sync, it was because they were two very good looking men on wicked looking motorcycles.
Outside the gift shop at Clines Corner, New Mexico, two men climbed off their bikes and stretched. The tall man tilted his head to both sides, sighing when he heard the creak of vertebrae adjusting.
“I could use a beer.”
The shorter man grinned, the brightness of his smile equaling the sun shining down on them. “Sounds good, but I don’t think you’ll find it here.”
Blue eyes surveyed the campers, vans, and cars with an array of out-of-state license plates. “Nope, probably not.”
After securing their bikes, the two men headed inside the shop. They spent an hour pouring over shirts that proclaimed one wrestler over another, small fish made of shells and fake plastic eyes, and blow up furniture with the Grand Canyon painted on it.
Lance found Justin fingering a black velvet painting of wild horses and knew that he was thinking about Joey.
“You about ready to ride?”
The young man nodded and turned away. “Yeah.”
They made their way to the cashier to pay for their fudge and drinks before heading out to a picnic table to enjoy their treat. Exceptional hearing allowed them to listen to the two women near a Suburban, and Justin flicked his gaze towards his friend. He caught Lance’s smile and tilted his head just a fraction. An answering nod had him up and strolling towards his bike. When he reached the Harley, he pulled a clean tee shirt out of one of the saddle bags. With deliberate slowness, Justin reached down and slowly tugged the hem of his shirt up his body and over his head. He wiped the sweat from his skin before pulling on the new shirt and stuffing the old shirt into the other saddle bag. He fought a grin as he heard the two women sigh, settling onto the bike and turning it on. Lance threw away their bottles before walking over to the bikes. He straddled the Harley, gunning the engine after he turned it on. They carefully pulled out, and Justin winked at the women as they rode past. Lance shook his head and laughed as they headed back out onto the road, the setting sun at their backs.
The first time they did it, it was a lark. Justin pushed Lance towards the stage of the lounge, challenging his friend to see if he could win the open mic night. Lance simply arched an eyebrow, flexed his fingers, and walked up to the stage. After a quick conversation with the host, he sat down at the piano and quickly ran through the scales. Then he launched into Friends in Low Places, catching the attention of the crowd. After the first verse, Justin could barely hear his friend as the audience sang along. When the night was over, Lance walked away a hundred bucks richer, and a brand new lounge act was born.
They stuck to the larger cities, finding lounges that drew in a respectable crowd but wouldn’t necessarily be the type of place people would find former boyband members. Their repertoire was drawn from jazz, blues, country, and Motown. Justin got a chance to bebop to the sounds of Duke Ellington, and Lance got the chance to croon to some of his favorite country singers. They didn’t stay more than a couple of months in any one spot, afraid that someone might recognize them. Both men felt they had changed their appearances enough that fans would be hard pressed to say who they had been.
When they rolled into Chicago, the first thing they did was find an out-of-the-way apartment that didn’t require a year-long lease. They were staying longer in various cities, but they had not worked up the nerve to even commit to a year’s stay in one place. The second thing they did was pay tribute to the prince of the city, making their way to the underground club three days after they arrived. Using Lance’s knowledge of the current prince, Justin had found a pair of antique pistols from the Civil War era. When they presented them to William, he smiled and welcomed them to Chicago with a hug.
The Starlight Lounge was in a nondescript brick building on the corner. It did a respectable business with patrons who were on their way from a hard day in the city, as well as grad students. The drinks were served with a wink if the customer was lucky, and the food was good.
Viki Washington, owner of the Starlight, finished calling in her ad and then replaced the phone. She was hoping she would get a good response this time, unlike the previous three ads. With the number of acts that had come through her doors, she was getting pretty good about sizing up who would work out and who wouldn’t. Sighing, she wiped off the mahogany bar and then went into the back room to run a quick inventory before she had to call in another liquor order.
Lance looked around the city from his vantage point on top of the Sears Tower. He had been there while he was making the movie, which allowed him more time to look around than when they were there for concerts. Chicago had a good feel—the city was alive with a feeling of passion. He hoped they got a chance to stay for a while.
Justin lounged on the sofa in their new home, scanning through the paper for things they might want to do. The habit of scanning the want ads gave him six bars to check out for possible jobs. While he sometimes missed the absolute thrill of bringing 60,000 people to their feet during an *N Sync show, he realized that he missed the music more. That was the reason he kept showing up at small bars and lounges to croon a few songs as Lance played the piano.
He had loved music while he was Justin Timberlake, but he absolutely lived for it as Randy Lake, and that’s why he kept looking for the ads that asked for musicians. The time on his own had allowed him the chance to really write, and Lance had been willing to play the songs that came out of his soul. If nothing else, he was grateful to the man for believing in him.
When they walked into the room, Viki tilted her head and studied them. Placing a finger on her lips, she watched as they looked around before further entering. When the taller man spied her at the bar, he leaned over and whispered to his friend. They approached her with a smile.
“Hi. I’m James Smith. This is Randy Lake. We saw your ad and wondered if you already had someone for the gig.”
She shook hands with them both, admiring the fact they didn’t try to wimp out because she was a woman. “Not yet.” Nodding with her head, she gestured at the stage.
The two men looked at each other and then headed for the piano. After a moment’s conversation, Lance began to play I Heard it Through the Grapevine as Justin began to sing. When that song ended, Lance slid easily into Help as Justin segued from soul into early pop. After they finished, they looked at the bar to see Viki smiling.
“You want the job, it’s yours. You’ll be here Wednesday through Saturday, from seven to close. I pay scale, but there are tips. I’ve got two waitresses who work. Dinner’s provided.”
Justin whooped softly as Lance grinned. They both stepped off the stage and headed back over to the bar to shake her hand.
“We’ll be here on Wednesday.” Lance smiled again before following Justin out the door.
As the two men walked back to their apartment, Justin laughed. “I’ve got a good feeling about this place, man. Maybe we can stay for a little longer.”
Lance shrugged and grinned as the other man did a little jig in the street. “Maybe.”
Lance ran his hands through his dark hair, wondering why he ever agreed to grow it out. The long strands tickled his ears and neck, and he pushed them away with a sigh. Sitting down at the piano, he trailed his fingers over the keys as he waited for Justin. He liked playing in the little bars and clubs, even after playing in arenas. Both men realized that they wouldn’t be able to get back into the entertainment industry for several years, but they enjoyed the opportunity to just play music. He continued playing as he thought about their mutual past. News of their “deaths” had hit fans hard, and it had only been two years—not long enough for people to forget.
Two years. It feels like a lifetime.
He played a soft melody as he waited for his friend to show up. Playing for the sheer love of playing had been a definite benefit, but it hadn’t really compensated for the loss of their brothers. A glass of white wine appeared on the piano in front of him, and he looked up into laughing blue eyes in a heart-shaped face that was surrounded by a dark ringlets.
“I didn’t order this.” The deep voice was soft.
“Consider it a welcome.” She smiled back at him.
“Thank you.” Lance stood and held out his hand. “I’m James.”
“I’m Gabrielle, and I’ll be your waitress tonight.”
“Then I’m in good hands.”
She chuckled, and it reminded him of warm summer days in Mississippi. “Yes, you are.”
Winking, she picked up her tray and headed back to the bar. Justin walked up, his eyes automatically drawn to the swaying hips that passed him, and he backed his way to the piano as he watched.
“Nice.” He let out a low whistle, just catching Gabrielle’s attention.
She turned slightly, arching an eyebrow at him as she looked over her shoulder. Then her glance slid to Lance, and her smile brightened.
“I think she likes you, man.”
Lance smiled as he warmed up with some scales. The two men ran through a couple of songs and tried to decide what to play. Justin was momentarily distracted as a petite Asian woman rushed into the bar and dropped her backpack behind the counter. Both Viki and Gabrielle smiled at her as she grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist.
“Sorry I’m late. Study group ran over. Who’s that?” Her gaze was captured by the two men on the stage.
Viki leaned over the bartop. “That’s James at the piano, and Randy on the stool. Hired them Monday to sing.”
Dionne grinned and arched an eyebrow at her fellow waitress. “Nice.”
Gabrielle winked at the younger woman before grabbing a rag and wiping down tables before the doors opened.
The crowd that night was appreciative, full of suburbanites who wanted to stop for a little relaxation before heading home. After fifteen minutes of bills becoming stuck to the bottom of beer bottles, Gabrielle set a large brandy snifter on top of the piano and stuffed their tips into it. She refilled their water glasses after their first round when both men indicated that they wouldn’t be drinking any more alcohol.
At the end of their performance, they thanked the crowd and told everyone they would be back the next night. When the bar closed, Lance and Justin helped Gabrielle and Dionne stack chairs on the tables. Viki finished counting the till and then paid the men for the night’s performance. They smiled at her before handing some of their tips to the waitresses as thanks. The two women nodded in appreciation after a brief argument about accepting the cash, calling out goodnights as the men left.
As the two waitresses walked out to their cars, Dionne laughed. “Job’s looking better and better.”
“Yeah, I’d say the scenery’s definitely improved.” Gabrielle laughed as well, climbing into her car after making sure her friend was safely in her own. They waved as they headed home.
Table of Contents
Chapter Three