"Thanks so much," Chris smiled gratefully. "I need it."
"Well I'm putting it up. You can't eat it just yet."
"Huh?" Chris asked, confused. He really wanted his ice cream and he wanted it, now.
"You'll never believe what I saw on the way back."
"What?"
"Cassandra Tate is having a book signing at the book store at the Pick and Go shopping center. It's only going to be until midnight, but I think we can make it."
Chris' anxiously jumped up. "Oh my God, we have to go. We have to go. I have to see her. We have to go."
Joey laughed. "Dude, calm down. We'll go. Just go straighten up your hair and I can drive you in one of the rental cars."
"My hair!" Chris shrieked, surveying himself in the mirror. "I'm such a mess. I can't go looking like this. She'll think I'm--"
"You don't look bad! It's okay. Just run a comb through your hair. If she asks, you can say you've been sick or something . . ." Joey attempted.
"No, I need to take a shower. I need to do something," Chris got excited.
"Come on!" Joey rolled his eyes and grabbed Chris out of the bus, as Chris frantically straightened his clothing and smoothed his hair. The two got into the car and Joey sped down the road, keeping an eye on signs to remember how to get back to the shopping center.
"I've gotta' get her autograph," Chris said, nervously. "I don't have anything for her to sign! I forgot her book! Can we turn back and get her book? Joey, I don't know what to do! There's nothing to sign."
"Relax, man! Grab a napkin and get her to sign that. Then you can put it in the book. It's gonna' be okay."
"I don't know. I'm so nervous. What if we're late?!" Chris asked, tapping his feet on the car mat.
"You've gotta' calm down, Chris. This chick's gonna' think you're mad. And we're not gonna' be late, so just shut up and let me do the driving." Chris timidly nodded to his friend and sat quietly in the car seat, trying to think of intelligent things to tell Cassandra Tate when he met her. Oh wow . . . he was going to meet Cassandra Tate!
When the guys arrived, the line at the bookstore was completely gone and no one stood in sight. "Shit," Joey thought. "I hope it's not closed." Chris jumped out of the car before it was completely parked and ran to the glass entrance. "You go on in and I'll wait out here, Chris!" Joey shouted, flipping the dials on the radio station.
Chris turned back and nodded, before reaching to open the door. Locked. He looked, worriedly inside and saw several people standing and talking together.
And then he saw her. He'd know her anywhere. She looked a million times more beautiful to him live, than on the little photo on the back of her books. Pounding his fist on the door, he tried to get some attention. A store clerk noticed him and came to the door, pulling it open. "We're closed. I'm sorry . . ." he spoke, feeling sorry for the poor guy who was obviously there to meet the author.
"No, you can't be. Please, let me meet Cassandra. She's still here. I need to meet her. She's my favorite author!"
"Sir, I can't! The signing ended ten minutes ago and I'm under strict orders to not allow--"
"Let him in." Cassandra had walked behind the store clerk when she noticed what was going on.
"But Ms. Tate . . . I--"
"Just let him in. It's okay," she smiled, confidently.
"Okay," he stumbled, pulling the door open for Chris to get through. Chris stood in front of his idol, astonished and unbelieving that she'd told the store clerk to let him meet her.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Cassandra Tate," she extended a hand. He took it, shaking it for much longer than the accepted handshake and he clung to her hand. She had to squeeze his hand to get him to let her go.
"I know," he stumbled across his words. "I . . . I . . . it's nice to meet you."
"Likewise," she smiled. "So you're a fan?" She was interested in this man. He seemed to have a lot going on, but it was almost impossible for him to speak.
"Y--yes," he answered, and then remembered to ask for an autograph. Joey had said to get a napkin. His mind raced and formed words a million times faster than he could say them. He could say these, he convinced himself. He could ask her to sign his napkin. "Would you . . . would you sign my n--eck?" He asked. Oh, he'd screwed himself over. Napkin. "Napkin, you idiot!" he cursed himself, silently. "How hard of a word to say is that? And neck?!" She stood back, surprised and laughed.
"You want me to sign your neck?" She asked for clarification. He looked at her, sadly and pathetically, wishing he'd been more prepared. Something about him . . . she decided. Something about him that was familiar and good. She had to get to know him and she knew that the only way she could do that would be to take him out of the bookstore go somewhere private. "Listen, do you want to get some coffee? I'm not really that tired and I want to go somewhere. We could talk--" she offered.
"Yes!" Chris shouted, accepting her request and rushing outside to motion for Joey to go home. Joey grinned and shook his head, getting excited about hearing details of all the happenings in the morning. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed back. Chris rushed into the bookstore. "I would love to get to talk to you, Ms. Tate."
"Cassandra. Or Cassie if you're comfortable . . ." she muttered. "Let me get my things and tell them I'm leaving." Chris waited patiently until she was ready to go. She returned with her purse and the two left the bookstore, getting into Cassie's car and driving off to the nearest coffee shop.
The heels of Morgan's brown sandals clicked across the pavement of the bus park as she walked towards the entourage of buses. She shivered a bit as the cold, gentle night breeze brushed over her skin and she sighed. She wanted to turn left to the group's bus, but instead turned right and headed in the direction of the Chick-Mobile, affectionally named by Justin for its passengers which included the costume designers, Morgan, the occasional Mother, and two female tech crew members. Just as she was about to board she stopped, listening carefully.
"Psst . . . Psst . . ." out of the darkness.
There it was again. Morgan wrapped her sweater around herself tighter and slowly turned around. Her eyes darted from left to right, trying to locate in the dark the source of the sound. "Who's there?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
"Morgan, it's me," came a soft voice from the rear of the bus.
"JC?"
"Yeah, Hon," he said, stepping out from behind the bus into view, the moonlight casting shadows on his face.
She breathed a sigh of relief and quickly walked towards him. "Oh, thank God." She wrapped her arms around him. "You scared me."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, Hon," JC said, returning the embrace before stepping back and looking her over. "You look really nice," he said in a low voice, his eyes taking in the sandaled feet, slender legs disappearing underneath her green, knee-length skirt, the cream-colored blouse and the thin, matching sweater covering her shoulders, caramel-colored eyes, and the pink tint that was rising to her cheeks under his gaze. Seeing her blush made him smile, but his face quickly fell. "Do you realize we've never gone on an actual date?" he asked softly.
Morgan took a deep breath and slipped her hand in his, their fingers intertwined. Their joined hands gently swung back and forth as they made their way towards the VIP area of the PNC Bank Arts Center, the dining area to the right of the amphitheater. Morgan sat on the top of the picnic table tops, crossing her legs at her ankles, while he stood facing her. "JC, I wish we could go out on a real date."
"Well, we could . . ." he said, looking at her with hopeful blue eyes.
"But it would be our last," she interrupted him, sighing and tapping the table. Her gaze shifted to her knees, peaking out from underneath her skirt, unable to look into his hurt-filled eyes.
"Morgan, you . . . you don't . . . enjoy these dates with Kingston, do you?" JC's voice was soft and there was a small sense of fear in it, too.
"Well, tonight I had some really delicious chicken parmesan . . ." she said playfully, trying to make light of the situation. Her lips formed a small smile as she raised her gaze to meet his, but when she saw the expression on his face, the corners of her mouth quickly dropped. "Of course I don't, Baby . . ." she whispered, caressing his cheek gently.
He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her caresses, and sighed. "Then why do you keep going on these dates with him?"
"'Cause I wouldn't be able to see you everyday if I didn't. I'd be back in the city waiting tables," she replied softly, her fingertips moving from his cheek to gently trace his lips.
Morgan was surprised to realize that even though she was a talented dancer, in the business, it was just like her father had said--it's more who you know than what you know. And she knew Mr. Kingston. Although she worked directly with Darren, Kingston was at the top of the totem pole. And the top man had taken in interest in the lowest, Morgan.
"Yeah, I know . . . and this way you'll be getting a lot of practice . . . but seeing you with him just makes me sick," he said, a mixture of frustration and disgust, but also love evident in his voice.
"Being with him makes me sicker," Morgan said softly with bitterness. This was not how she envisioned things for herself when she left New York.
Hearing Morgan's words, the bitterness in her voice, JC's eyes flew open. Anger flashed in them and every muscle in his body tensed. This whole situation was too much, and he felt the familiar wave of nausea wash over him, the same one that always did whenever she went out with Kingston.
"No, no, no, no, no," Morgan said over and over, realizing JC had misinterpreted what she had said. "No, I just meant that I'd rather be with you. He hasn't laid a hand on me . . . We're always out in public places . . . Nothing like that has happened . . ." her voice trailed off and she took his hands in hers, offering him comfort. She flashed a small and hopeful smile, trying to convince him.
The night breeze picked up and a few unruly strands of Morgan's hair blew in her face. "You're so beautiful with your hair down like that," JC said, gently pushing the silky strawberry-blonde locks behind her ear. "I never get to see that," he whispered.
"That's because I'm always dancing and it's hot in the studio and then it gets so sweaty and in my face . . ." She said the words as quickly as her own heart was beating as he leaned in closer, his gaze never moving from her lips. "I--I taste like chicken parmesan . . . Maybe you don't want to--"
Before she could finish, JC gently pressed his lips against Morgan's, barely making contact at first. Longing for more, he leaned in again, one hand on her hip as the other savored the smooth, silky feel of her hair running through his fingertips. Morgan circled her arms around JC's neck, clasping her hands behind his head. They began to pull apart and JC gently rested his forehead against hers, the corners of his mouth turned up in a small grin as he watched her eyes flutter open.
"I can't believe we like the same thing!" Cassandra grasped for conversation, while spinning her spoon in the cafe mocha she was drinking. No answer. "Well, Chris . . . aren't you surprised, too? I mean, how often do people have the same favorite coffee?"
Chris gulped and answered, "Well . . . cafe mocha is okay. I just got it, because you got it . . ." After the words left his mouth, he realized he had absolutely no control over what he was saying and all of his actions. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows and coming to the conclusion that this was going to be a tough coffee date.
"So . . . since we're alone, how about we make this a private interview? You can ask any questions you like," she smiled sipping her coffee and waiting for the awestruck boy in front of her to form some words together in a line.
Questions . . . questions. Chris was always the one to come up with the witty lines. He could've normally charmed the pants off this woman by now, and he could've easily thought of a decent question to ask about her. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know about her books and home, her friends and her favorite music. The questions ran together and tumbled onto one another, snowballing into momentary confusion. He had absolutely no idea of what to ask this woman--his idol. Time slowed and Chris watched Cassandra, patiently waiting for a worthy inquiry from him; his thoughts slowed and he was only able to form one sentence in his mouth. "Would you ever date a fan?" he blurted, just as Cassandra raised her mug to take a huge sip of her hot coffee.
The author spit her drink out, only seconds after she took it in, liquid spewing across the table and spritzing Chris' shirt. Of all the questions he could've asked, he asked that one? And a grown man! A smile broke on her face and she guessed he was kidding, joking around, trying to lighten up the heavy, awkward mood. One glance at Chris' wide eyes and curious features, however, proved Cassandra wrong. "Are you serious?" she asked, trying to tame the smile growing on her face.
"Well . . . yeah . . . if that's too personal, then--"
"No! I'm a pretty open person, you can ask me whatever you choose. It's the first complete sentence you've said since I met you. Oh . . . wow . . . hmm . . . would I ever date a fan? Actually, you know, with book touring and all, I'm very busy and I rarely--"
"Have time for a social life?" Chris interrupted, calming himself down and desperately trying to get ahold of himself. "She's just like me," he thought. "She does the same things I do." Taking a deep breath, he attempted a small smile.
She exhaled, feeling a chip lift off her shoulders as she noticed her fan become more relaxed. "You've got this downpat," she stated, taking notice that he had yet to introduce himself. Narrowing her eyes, she began to realize how she recognized him, though, and she had to admit she was a fan of his, as well.
"Yeah, well that's because I'm--"
"AJ from the Backstreet Boys. I know." She smiled, proudly, knowing he'd be impressed that she was able to pick him out. Instead of his approval, however, she was followed by Chris spitting out his coffee, his creating a much larger spray than her's had and he turned his head so not to soak his girl hero.
"What?! Are you okay?" She sat up in her chair, wondering what she'd done.
Jerking his head back up, he looked at her in surprise, "AJ?! From . . . THE BACKSTREET BOYS?! I can't believe you'd ever think--"
"You're not?! I'm sorry! I didn't realize. I mean, you look kind of like him. I have to admit. I'm sorry. It's not a bad thing! If you look like someone from a major pop band, it's a good thing. Those Backstreet hunks are--"
"Excuse me, Lady, but I do not like to be compared to those . . . those imbeciles. I am Chris Kirkpatrick, thank you very much."
"Okay, Chris Kirkpatrick, sorry, I really am . . . What happened to your hanging on my every word? I kind of liked that," she trailed on, anxious for him to drop it.
"CHRIS KIRKPATRICK!"
"Yes . . . you already said that. I apologize. I didn't think you'd--"
"FROM THE BAND 'N SYNC!"
"You're in a boyband, too?! No way!"
"Yes way!"
"Well then why are you insulted if I confused you with another member? Those bands are all the same anyway--"
"We most certainly are not!" Chris spat. "The Backstreet Boys don't incorporate fast paced, edgy dancing into their shows."
"Ohhh, edgy dancing, I see. Listen, Chris, calm down. Let's change the subject."
"And I started the band. Not some bigwig in Orlando."
"Seriously? I thought I heard something on the news about Lou Pearlman--"
"He discovered us."
She paused, watching him for a moment, before wondering what on Earth she'd gotten herself into. What a mistake. Never date a fan. "Never fall for anyone who reads your stuff," her agent had once told her. Maybe her agent had experienced this before. She stood up, straightening her top. "Listen, I guess this was a mistake. I didn't go for coffee, because I thought you were AJ from the Backstreet Boys. I just decided that during our conversation. And I think you're attractive. I also think that you're someone I'd like to get to know, but if you're going to keep this attitude, then I'm changing my mind." Sticking her nose in the air, she ran several fingers through her hair. "Have a nice life, Chris Kirkpatrick . . . from 'N Sync," she huffed, turning her back, and melodramatically moving a few steps away.
Chris surprised himself, sometimes. He had wanted nothing more than to meet and talk to the genius who wrote about such amazing lovers such as Juliana and Lorenzo. And here he was going off on her for her confusing him. He shook his head. No matter how insulted he felt, it was an honest mistake. The hunk remark still stung him, though. "No . . . come back . . . I'm sorry . . . Really . . ." he persuaded her lightly and she quickly turned on her heels to accept his apology. Maybe it was a mistake, but Hell, this boy was cute!
"Okay, I'll give you a second chance," she coyly answered, slipping into the booth again and clicking her tongue. "Wow, that was dramatic, wasn't it? I kind of like that! 'Have a nice live, Chris Kirkpatrick!'" She tested the words on her tongue, getting excited. "Mind if I use this? I could change your name to Kirk Christianson!"
Chris watched her, his lips breaking into a grin. So this was the genius at work. This was how she moved and this was how she took things on. Feeling somewhat inspired, he put his elbow on the table, and propped his chin up in his palm, watching her. "Do you have a pen?" she asked, hurriedly grabbing a napkin out of the metal container and he checked his pockets.
"No, sorry." Damn. He could've loaned Cassandra Tate a pen to come up with a story idea! She dug through her pursue, pulling one out and setting to work.
"'Have a nice life, Kirk Christianson,' Alicia spat at the brooding young actor in the booth,'" Cassandra scribbled on a napkin, reading each word aloud as she wrote. "Yes! That's it. He'll be an actor . . . who was on . . . Dawson's Creek as a recurring character . . . and she'll confuse him for someone off of a sitcom. He'll get insulted. THIS IS PERFECT!" she squealed, jotting words down to jog her memory.
Her excitement was infectious and Chris' eyes widened, "So I'm going to be a character in your story?!" His own character? Never in his wildest dreams did he ever believe he could be a character in a Cassandra Tate romance novel!
"A character, honey? You'll be the lead!"
Lance Bass pulled the bill of his baseball cap lower over his eyes before slipping on his sunglasses. This was exactly what he needed: some down time, some alone time. What he didn't want was to be recognized. He wanted to blend in and be one of many today as he roamed Hershey Park.
Although Lance had a small habit of sneaking off without telling anyone where he was going, it usually consisted of short walks not far from the venues or hotels. This was the first he ventured to a place so big and so public. It made him nervous, but it also sent a thrill of excitement coursing through him. Everything had become such a routine lately, and so stressful, he had forgotten what it was like to take a step back and just do things on a whim.
Lance was thinking of taking a break. He needed one. Certainly felt like he did. He had been thinking about it for some time now, and every time he wanted to mention it, something always came up. An appearance, an album, a video, a tour. And that was just the group! Having his own management company certainly wasn't helping to reduce the stress in his life, either. It all conspired to form this recurring fear, that he would get sick again like last summer. From being overworked so hard, his body would just collapse and he wasn't prepared to go through that again.
Dropping down on the bench, Lance gazed at the long line for Hershey Park's new roller coaster, Lightning Racer, and sighed. He almost said something to JC today, said he wanted to take a break. But it was obvious his friend wasn't really listening, and something kept Lance from saying the words. As if once they were said, there would be no going back. It seemed like a drastic measure, and truth be told, he just didn't feel ready for a step like that. So Lance decided to go back to basics, have some time to himself and relax.
"I need to stop thinking and analyzing, and just forget for the afternoon," Lance said to himself softly, standing on the back of the line for the new roller coaster. "Just relax, and have a good time, Lanceten."
"Excuse me. What's the name of this ride?"
Lance turned to face a woman in her early twenties. She was about 5'5" with cropped, blonde hair, feathery around her head, forming a golden halo. Her hazel eyes glowed in the sunlight, accentuating the yellow flecks in her irises. Her pale skin was dusted with freckles, and she held in her hands a tiny note pad and pen. She licked the ball point tip and looked at him, waiting for an answer. Lance swallowed before managing to get the words, "The Lightning Racer" out of his mouth.
"Thanks," she replied, slipping the cap back on the pen, before sliding both it and the note pad into the back pocket of her blue denim shorts.
Lance looked her up and down, hoping against hope the answer to the question he was about to ask would not be his worst nightmare come true. "Are . . . are you a reporter, or something?"
"A reporter?" She shook her head slightly and smiled. "God, no. Was never much of a writer. Wish I was, though, 'cause I don't believe reporters are required to go on rides."
He gave her a questioning look, eyebrows knitted with curiosity behind his sunglasses. "What kind of job requires anyone to go on roller coasters?"
"Unfortunately, mine. I'm a travel agent, and here on a fam trip." She removed the pair of sunglasses from the front pocket of her shorts and slipped them on, before running fingers through her short hair, causing some of the strands to stand up on end.
"A fam trip?" He looked at her in confusion. Was he supposed to know what that was? "What's that?" he asked, moving forward with the line.
"All travel agents are required to go on them, and my agency sends me on two a year. I've done cruises, Europe, tropical locations. Never thought in a million years I'd end up in an amusement park. Believe it or not, I didn't realize this was such a hot spot." She shook her head in amusement, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. "Some travel agent I am . . ."
"Ah, if I were you, I wouldn't worry about it. To be honest, I think the biggest attractions here are the chocolate and the concerts. I think everyone just goes on the rides 'cause they're already here." Lance smiled before turning around to move up with the line again.
"I'm here for the chocolate, too. I'm heading on the roller coasters first, though; eating before being shaken up would be a disaster for me . . . And it would be for you, too."
"Huh?" Lance listened, wondering why that would be his problem.
"Well it looks like we'll be sitting, together." The front couple had taken their seats leaving the two of them.
The employee at the gate stood tall, looking stiff. "How many?" he asked, barely giving them a second's glance.
Lance smiled and said, "Two."
The two seated themselves, and the man secured their harnesses. "Enjoy the ride," he mumbled, moving on to the people sitting behind them.
"Like Hell I will," she mumbled under her breath. "Roller coasters scare me," she explained when Lance cocked his head to the side, looking at her questionably.
"So I take it these next few minutes are going to include a lot of screaming then," Lance said, flashing the young lady sitting next to him a brilliant smile. He hadn't realized until now just how long it'd been since he'd interacted with people outside the music industry. It felt good, so incredibly good, to just talk to someone, talking about something other than music, other than 'N Sync. Just your casual, everyday conversation. He felt so refreshed to be sitting beside someone random, without owing her anything or having to give her a part of him.
Well, at least he felt refreshed until the ride started and she let out her first shrill scream. "Damn, we haven't done anything. We just got started!" Lance choked, feeling his ear drums ringing in his head.
"I'm sorry! I can't help it."
"Ever think of being a groupie? God, with a voice box like-"
"I break glasses, I know."
Conversation cut short as the ride took a steep dive, and the two were knocked back in their seats. With his hands raised in the air, Lance laughed at the fear on the travel agent's face. "Put your hands up!"
"Huh?" she shouted over the screaming.
"Put your hands in the air!"
"No way!" she laughed, grasping the bar tighter. Lance snorted, putting his down to pry her hands from the bar during a flatter stretch of the ride. She gave in, feeling safe from the lack of curves and hills, timidly holding her arms up. Feeling more confident, she swayed her hands in the air and squealed with excitement. The ride shifted, immediately, taking a huge dive and surprising her so much she let out a blood curdling scream, and grabbed onto Lance with the claws of death.
"SHHIIIIIIIITTTTT!!" Lance cried out, trying to lower his arm and numb his skin to the aching pain of her fingernails.
"SCARED TOO?" the woman shouted, closing her eyes to prevent herself from seeing where she was going.
Lance cringed, out of breath. "Scared? Yeah, but fuck, not from the ride."
"Huh?" she lowered her voice, and clung to Lance's arm, opening up an eye to see what was going on.
"Your fingers! Damn! Your nails are lodged in my arm!" Lance groaned, not paying attention to where the tracks led.
She grinned sheepishly, realizing what she'd done. She slowly removed her nails to survey the damage. "Hardly a mark!" she protested and he winced, looking down at the skin to see four perfect, half circles imprinted.
"Hardly a--?" Lance was cut off when he looked directly in front of him. The train was headed for a waterfall. His jaw dropped and he forgot all the pain aching in his arm.
"Oh, no!" his riding partner, cried. "I didn't realize there'd be water. I'm going to be soaked all day and I just started--" The coaster turned, just missing the waterfall and the passengers were only misted by water.
The ride slowed down and then came to a stop. The two tried to get their breathing under control between fits of giggles. "I was really scared we were going to get wet," she said, running her hands through her hair.
"Who are you kidding? You were scared through the whole thing," Lance said, laughing uncontrollably. A few hiccups escaped his lips between fits of laughter, and his smile grew wider. "I've never breathed this hard since . . . since . . . never mind."
"Since Boy Meets World when Corey and Topanga had their honeymoon?" she asked, the corners of her mouth turning up in a grin.
Lance perked up as he unbuckled the seat belt for them. "What do you mean?"
"I know who you are, Lance," she said softly.
He raised an eyebrow. Y--you do?"
"Of course," she said matter-of-factly, stepping out of the ride. She offered him a hand. "You know how many trips to Florida I've booked for teenage girls 'cause of your band?" She turned and walked down the ramp towards the exit.
"Hey! Wait up!" Lance shouted, jogging after her.
She turned around, pulling her sunglasses out of her pocket and slipping them back on again. "Yeah?"
"Well, you know who I am. Do I get to know who you are?"
"Renee. Renee Hargrove," she said, extending a hand for him to shake.
"Nice to meet you, Renee," Lance said, accepting her hand and shaking it.
"Nice to meet you, too," Renee said, smiling. She took a deep breath. "That's enough for me and roller coasters."
He smiled shyly. "I'm not here with anyone. Want some company?"
"Well, I'm headed to the chocolate factory. Of course, you wouldn't want to go, because what with the touring you have to keep in shape and eat healthy. So, no chocolate for--"
"Are you kidding? I'm there."
"Um . . . can I ask you a question?" she asked in a soft voice, avoiding his gaze.
"Sure. What's up?"
"Do you think . . . do you think you could sign something for my niece? She loves you guys."
"Oh, sure. No problem." Lance held out his hand and Renee handed him her small note pad and pen. "Who should I make it out to?"
"Renee," she said, watching him intently.
He looked up from the pad, a small smile on his face and one eyebrow raised. "Renee?"
A pink tint rose to her cheeks "Yeah . . . Renee. That's her name, too . . . Renee. We both have the same name . . . Renee . . ." her voice trailed off in embarrassment.
"And I'm sure she's just as beautiful as her aunt, too," Lance said, scribbling on the paper. He handed the pad and pen back to her, a brilliant smile on his face.
Renee opened up a chocolate bar she'd bought, as she and Lance stood in the chocolate factory gift shop. "Yummmm," she said swallowing the candy. "It's so good! I love chocolate so much," she smiled, going for another bite. He watched her eat her chocolate bar and lick her lips when she was through. She tossed the wrapper into a trash can and smiled at him. "Are you sure you don't want one? I think I might buy some more. It tastes better than, at home, I think. It's fresher." She paused, looking up at the blonde haired, green-eyed popstar who hadn't said a word. "Okay, I know I'm babbling . . ."
"It's okay. I like your babble," he smoothly answered.
She laughed and shook her head, "Aww . . . whatever. It gets old." She stopped talking when she saw him staring at her again. "Why are you staring? Lance, that makes me so uncomfortable!" she giggled, getting giddy at the thought of getting more chocolate combined with having an amazingly attractive man stare at her. God, what could be better?
"Sorry, I just couldn't stop--" Lance hushed up and leaned down to kiss her, gently. His lips played, quickly across hers, tickling skin and connecting with force, holding in place for several seconds. They separated and he tasted his lower lip. "You taste sweet."
"You could've bought some chocolate to taste something sweet . . ." she answered, not quite sure of what to say.
"It's not the chocolate I wanted," he said, bravely feeding a line.
"Oh my God!" she squealed between fits of laughter. "I cannot believe you have the balls to say something as pitiful as that!"
Lance grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you know, I try . . . And I always did have a bit of a sweet tooth . . ."
"My lord . . . you need to shut up with those lines. Just shut up and kiss me."
"That was a line!" Lance protested as she pulled him to her.
No defense followed and so he gladly did as she ordered. He shut up and kissed her.
"Who's he talking to?" Joey asked JC while sitting in two front row seats at Hershey Park Stadium. The crew worked quickly, setting up equipment and getting ready for the soundcheck.
"Chris? That Cassandra chick."
"Again?" Joey asked, cracking a smile.
"Again. He says he's collaborating with her on a novel."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, he's been pretty occupied, today."
"Crazy."
"Yeah, I know. It's pretty wild. I'm not used to seeing him this happy over books. He's normally crying his eyes out and eating ice cream," JC replied. Chris chattered into his cell phone and looked up, catching the eyes of his bandmates. Tossing a rude glare, the singer stood up to walk away.
"Hold on for a sec. I need to go somewhere private."
"Sure," she answered, waiting on him as he walked out of earshot.
"Okay, someone was listening in and you know, I don't want any plot ideas to leak out."
"Good thinking," she laughed, amused at his antics and the sound traveled musically into Chris' ears.
"So back to Kirk and Alicia?"
"Mmhmm?"
"Well I was thinking . . . what if Kirk's on a movie set? And Alicia is working in her studio, trying to finish up some illustrations for the children's book, because her deadline's almost up. They haven't seen each other in a week, but they've kept in touch over the phone."
"Right. Go on--"
"Well Kirk really misses Alicia, a lot. So what if he asks her to come visit him on the set for a day or two?"
Cassandra paused for a second to think. "Well Alicia's really busy with her artwork. It would be next to impossible to get out there."
"But listen, Kirk really needs to see her. He knows he's only been with her once, but there's something about Alicia he really likes . . ."
"What is it, do you think? That he likes so much?" she softly asked over the phone, hoping Chris wasn't exactly talking about Alicia anymore.
"Well . . ." Chris trailed off, getting kind of embarrassed. He looked around again and made sure no one was looking, before lightly answering. "He likes her talent. He likes how dedicated she is to what she does. He thinks her . . . her drawings are beautiful. And you know, he thinks she's beautiful."
Cassandra blushed. "Kirk thinks Alicia's beautiful?"
"So beautiful. He dreams of her at night and wants to kiss her, even though he's so far away. He knows exactly how he'd treat her if she was here. And he just wants to be with her and to see her smile."
"Kirk's such a sweet guy," she smiled.
"Yeah, well he tries," Chris answered, straightening up again. "So Cassie, do you think Alicia thinks about Kirk in the same way?"
She laughed lightly. "Oh, I think Alicia has a huge crush on Kirk. She likes how he's so interested in the things she does. And she loves that he always works extra hard at acting to make sure things get done right the first time . . . so that he has time to call her up on the set. And she thinks he is so cute."
"Cute, huh? She thinks Kirk's cute?" Chris' lips creased in an uncontrollable smile.
"Oh yeah. She thinks he's adorable. The cutest boy she knows."
"Well do you think that she wants to come visit Kirk?"
She sighed, pausing a second. "I think she really wants to see him, but she doesn't know if she'll be able to. She's really busy and all. And she's under a lot of stress--"
"Well wouldn't Kirk relieve her of the stress?" Chris answered and Cassie knew she was putty in his hands. There was no way she could say no.
"You've got a point. Okay, so Alicia decides she wants to visit Kirk, because she really does miss him."
"Good." Chris grinned, getting excited.
"How long will you be in Hershey, Chris?" Cassie shook her head, not really believe she was doing this for him.
"Three more days. You can fly out here, tonight, can't you? After the signing in Trenton?"
"I could. I do have a signing in Pittsburgh the day after tomorrow, though, and I'm not missing it."
"That's fine. I'll come with you."
"Are you sure?" she asked, quietly, knowing she was getting really caught up in this. At first she was sure Chris was a lunatic, absolutely crazy. But talking to him, really getting to know him proved her wrong. After he'd calmed down and wasn't quite so crazy, the boy had turned on the charm.
"Positive. I have a soundcheck, Cassie. Call me when you get in, tonight."
"Bye," she said, closing her phone. He sure had charisma . . . charisma and a nice ass.
Justin and Joey stood together, in front of the dressing room mirror. Adjusting his jersey, Justin felt something shift in his pocket. "That's strange. I didn't realize I'd put anything in here," he said aloud, digging through the pants to see what it was. "Joey, look at this," he said, unfolding the paper he'd pulled out.
"What is it, man?" Joey asked, looking at himself from side to side and jumping up and down to make sure he was comfortable.
"It's a note. Dude, somebody's been slippin' me notes in my pants pockets. This is the second one I've got and I don't know who it is." Joey turned to Justin, eyes narrowed and he snatched the note out of his hands to read it.
"Dear Justy," he read aloud, speaking in a girly voice. "I've been watching you." He stopped in surprise and read on, lowering his voice back to normal. "I chose these pants especially for you, because I know how sexy you'll look in them. They're tight in the crotch . . . the better to see you with." Joey's eyes widened considerably and he cracked up, handing the note back. "It's not signed. Damn, Justin!"
"I know! Can you believe that someone would write that?"
"Looks like the costume designer's got it bad for you."
"Tammy? Shiiit," Justin said with a laugh. "Forty-year-old Tammy with her two daughters and loving husband? Yeah, I'm so sure."
"No, seriously. The tech boys call her Tammy, The Tiger." Joey cracked a smile, while messing with Justin's head. He only played jokes on him once in a while. Never about anything serious.
"Tammy, huh?" Justin said, taking the information in.
"Yeah, they say for a mom she's pretty wild." Joey had to turn his head to keep from laughing. The boys were interrupted from their thoughts when a knock sounded on the door.
"Who is it?" Justin shouted.
"Tammy! Just bringing in clothes."
Justin's eyes bugged out of his head and he stumbled to answer. "Uh . . . Come in!" Tammy opened up the door, carrying a bundle of clothes and hanging them up with hooks on the wall across the back of the room.
"Now, Diana's going to handle wardrobing, tonight," Tammy addressed the guys when she was finished. "She may be the assistant, but she knows what she's doing, so trust her. My daughters are here and I'm going to be watching the show in the audience, with them."
"Okay, that's cool," Joey answered when his bandmate seemed to be at a loss for words. Tammy nodded and let herself out in search of her children. "See? What I mean?" Joey asked, walking over to shut the door.
"Huh?"
"She wants a better view of you, so she's sitting at the front. You saw how she was holding those shirts. She was all up on them, touching them. She wants you, Man."
Justin gulped and stared at himself in the mirror.
Was he really that irresistable?
Diana, carried clothes down the hallway and placed two pairs of pants on a table outside of the dressing rooms, in order to grab something out of her purse. Digging through, she found a little note and opened it up to check and see if it was the right one. Smiling at her own inventiveness, she folded the paper back up and slipped it into the pockets of the smaller pair of pants, before knocking on the door and carrying the clothes into the dressing room.
Joey and Justin went back to preening themselves in front of the mirror, adjusting their outfits and chatting, when they were again interrupted by knocks on the door, these much more loud and frantic than the previous.
"Justin, Joey! Open up!!" JC shouted from outside. "Hurry up!"
"Come on in; it's unlocked," Justin answered, unaffected by their excitement. Lance and JC busted into the room.
"Turn on the TV, Man!"
"What?"
"Turn it on! Turn it to MTV!" Lance spoke, hurriedly. Joey flipped on the little TV on the counter and switched channels to MTV. Serena Altschul was introducing a news segment and the guys surrounded the channel, perking up as a picture of Joey showed on the screen. "Twenty-three-year-old Joey Fatone was reportedly in Holmdel, New Jersey, preparing for a show at the PNC Bank Arts Center, several days ago, when he made a visit to the Pick and Go Supermarket and apparently caused quite a scene. The popstar was filmed using store surveillance equipment while in the act of quote picking a wedgie unquote."
Color washed away from each boy's face as they took in the news. "Witnesses stated Fatone bribed one of the employees for the footage and she gave it to him in exchange for a used tissue. The girl refused to comment on her reasoning for choosing this item, but we have reason to believe she will probably be selling the souvenir. A second copy of the event surfaced, however, and we have it for you, airing for the first time." The screen cut to Joey, walking down an aisle, looking in both directions before reaching behind and completing the act.
"Oh my God," Lance moaned, smiling. "I knew it wouldn't last. I knew we wouldn't be famous forever, but God, I didn't realize this would be the way we'd go."
Serena Altschul came onto the screen. "In related news, a tape of the alleged wedgie picking is being sold on the black market, but sources say this copy is fake. How to know if you have a fake Fatone Wedgie Tape? Sources told us that the tape going around is very blurry and also in color. That's all for the news, at this hour. Stay tuned for more MTV News, live, ten to the hour, on the hour, for further information." A montage of random musicians followed the news brief, over which the words, "MTV News, You Hear it First, completed the segment.
The door to the dressing room plowed open and Chris came running. "Did you hear the news?! Joey?! Man!"
The defeated boys gathered together, heads hung low, suppressing laughter and sat down on two couches in the room. Chris knew from their reaction what the answer to his question was and sat down with them. Joey remained standing, shaking his head and punching a wall. One by one, JC, Chris, Lance, and Justin began shaking with huge fits of giggles. Joey's face blushed crimson and he couldn't face his friends. "What the fuck? Man! We had a fucking DEAL!" he shouted and stomped out of the dressing room, slamming the door, only to hear the guys reach new decibles with their amusement.