"Only in my novels," Cass answered, scribbling outline dialogue in her notebook. "What do you think about the title, The Actor's Affair, you know since Kirk's an actor?" She looked briefly up before returning to her notes.
"Oh, that's good . . ." Chris waited a minute before returning to the initial subject. "Because . . . you know . . . why would they come up with love at first sight in the first place, if it weren't real? Somebody's bound to have felt it . . ."
Cassandra paused, looking up to adjust her sunglasses, thoughtfully. "Well maybe so, but no one I know."
"Yeah?"
"Yes, Chris. Do you know anyone?"
He tapped the steering wheel in time to the Ricky Martin song on the radio. "No . . . I guess not." She shook her head and went back to writing, before his tapping interrupted her again.
"Why the sudden interest in love?"
"I don't know. I was just thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
"Love."
She giggled and put her pencil away, knowing she was not going to get any writing done. "Any particular instance of love?"
"Um . . . between Kirk and Alicia."
"Our characters?"
"Yeah. I was just thinking about what they are."
"Well as of now, they're eatting popcorn, together and they end up diving into the bowl for the last piece. And when they do that, his hand clasps over her's and they're holding hands. So she looks up at him, shyly and he lets go, acting like nothing happened. But it's there. Instant connection."
"Instant connection, eh?"
"Yeah. Do you like it?"
"It's good . . ."
"Chris, you seem weird. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. How many relationships have you been in prior to our's?"
She flinched at his way of using the words relationship and our's in the same sentence. "Um . . . serious ones? I'd say one. One serious one in college that lasted for a while. And of course, I've dated lots of people, but you know, I'm only twenty-three. I don't really have a huge, mysterious past."
"Were you in love during that serious one?"
"Mmhmm. Yeah, I guess."
"You guess? What makes you not so sure?"
"Well I was in love during the time, but I have since seen that there is bigger affection you feel for another person and if you can't trust that person, love doesn't exist."
"You didn't trust him?"
"Boy . . . you're full of questions, today. No, he cheated on me." Chris' eyebrows raised and he silently drove a piece. "You that shocked?"
"Well . . . I was just thinking . . . who on Earth would cheat on you?"
"Chris!" she laughed, and found herself blushing. "So smooth."
He turned to her, seriously. "No, I'm being honest. I don't think I've really ever had long, serious relationships or anything. I've loved girls, of course, but nothing ever lasts. You, though. You make me want to stay."
"Wow, Chris," her eyes widened. "Thank you, that's . . . that's incredibly sweet."
"Do you feel the same way?"
"Um . . . well, I don't know, Chris. We're not exactly . . . you know, typical."
"But isn't that what makes it so special?" he asked, and she wondered how he could talk about this while simultaneously concentrating on driving.
"Well sure, but . . . look, I can't just leave and go to concerts with you all the time. And we're both really busy people. It's not like we can just drop things to see each other and you know that after a while it's going to get old. Not to mention the fact that I know you've got so many girls throwing yourself at you. You've probably got another one of me somewhere else and I don't know if I can--"
"Cass! You know you're the only one I've got right now. I'm not going to ruin it . . ."
"I know, babe. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to this at all. In a typical relationship, I would not have started dating you the second after we met. And I certainly wouldn't expect you to remain faithful like this. In fact, I don't know why you're choosing me like this. I feel like I'm on Pokemon--"
"Cassandra Tate, I choose you," he chuckled and shook his head. "I know this isn't typical, but let's face it. My life isn't going to exactly become typical anytime soon. Hasn't been for a while. So . . . I guess . . . are you interested in me? Because I'm definitely interested in you and I'm willing to make this like . . . as typical as possible."
She watched him as he kept his focus on the road and didn't turn to her. "Yeah, Chris, I am."
"Good, 'cause I didn't want to have to let you out of the car and walk."
Smiling she flipped open her notebook again in order to write a new scene to the Alicia and Kirk saga. Ah, sweet inspiration . . .
From the back of the Chickmobile, Diana and Morgan's giggles could be heard for a good radius of the parking lot. Gabbing over the lunch, the girls gossiped about all the necessary tour events.
"And then I got him drunk as a skunk."
Morgan giggled. "And how long did that take?"
"Not long at all. Two, three rounds. I had to escort him back to his hotel room and the boy threw up four times on the drive home."
"What a shame. You'd think a big star like that would be able to hold his liquor," she said, shaking her head and making a "tsk" sound.
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? It was really unattractive. If I hadn't seen the way he walks, I would've given up on him and moved onto a bodyguard."
"The way he walks?"
Diana took a sip of her coffee before answering, "Yeah, he carries himself a certain way. Legs spread a bit, confident. I look for that. It means that he's got a big--"
"Diana!" Morgan squealed and burst into a fit of giggles. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself. "Justin? I don't know about that . . . He's not really who'd I'd expect to be well endowed."
"Well, I tend to think he might . . . That's not the only reason I'm interested in him, though," Diana confessed. "He just exudes sex. The way he sings, the way he moves, the way he gets shit drunk and stares at your boobs, trying to imagine them without clothing. It's all sexy," she cracked a grin.
Morgan took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, and nodded. "I know what you mean . . ."
"You know who does have a big you-know-what, though, right? Don't tell me you haven't heard. From one of the girls?"
Morgan blushed. She was only familiar with the anatomy of one member in particular, and as long as that relationship was under wraps, she tried to lay low as much as possible. "I haven't," she said, shaking her head.
"I can't believe you haven't heard! It's Lance!"
"Lance?" she asked, half in doubt, half in surprise. She'd at least expect it from Joey, but Lance? Impossible.
"Yes, Lance has got the largest in the group. Larger than all of the roadies, too."
"No way!"
"Way!"
"That's so not true, Diana. I believe many things you say, but that's too far fetched. I'd expect him to have the smallest, next to Chris."
"How do you figure? Everything Lance does backs up a good, sizeable amount."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Would I lie to you, Morgan? Notice the way he walks and sits."
Morgan paused, thinking about Lance's posture. "Well . . . no, uh-uh, couldn't be."
"What were you getting ready to say, Hon?"
"Well, I was just thinking about that move he made in 'Tearin' Up My Heart' the other night."
"What'd he do? I missed it."
"He gave Thrustin' Justin a run for his money. Ya know, for some reason he has this rap as a bad dancer, but I've watched him in rehearsals and the shows, and I have to say he's certainly got . . . rhythm."
Diana raised her eyebrows. Morgan tended to be guarded around her about sex, while she embraced it openly. It was a huge deal that Morgan was just eluding to it. She exhaled loudly before breaking into a smile, "God, I know he's packing some major equipment, there."
She nodded slowly. "I'd think so, too . . . but are you sure?"
"Well . . ." Diana smiled coyly. "That is what I hear."
"From who?"
"Promise not to tell?"
"I promise. Totally. I swear. Girl Scouts Honor," Morgan said, raising her right hand and holding up three fingers in the Girl Scout salute.
"Okay . . ." Diana looked around the bus and leaned in to whisper in Morgan's ear. "Lynn."
"Justin's mom!?!" Her eyes widened, and were round like saucers.
Diana giggled, "Yes, she said so."
"How on Earth does she know?"
"She didn't share how she knew. You don't question Lynn's authority, Morgan. You just go with it. If she says something, it's pretty much the Bible around here. But I have my own theories. I think that maybe . . . when it came time to choose a bass singer, Lynn tested out the applicants and Lance was the best of the pick. If you know what I mean . . . and I think you do."
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute," Morgan said, holding up one hand. "Let me get this straight. Lynn Harless said that Lance has a large--"
"That's what she said! Honestly, though, I think she just saw it during a wardrobe change or something." Diana paused and reiterated the most important factor. "She made me promise not to tell."
"Oh, I'm not telling anyone!" Morgan said, grinning from ear to ear.
"I trust you."
She bit her lip nervously and blushed before whispering, "So . . . did you ever wonder how big it really is?"
"Yes, quite often, actually. But there's only one way to find out, and you know that ain't happening."
The two sat in silence from their seats on the back of the bus. The only sounds came from the crunching and chewing food as they contemplated the idea, together.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Morgan jumped in after a minute.
"Yes, I am so thinking it."
"Well what do you think?"
"I think I'm in the mood to get to the bottom of this . . ."
Morgan laughed. "And I want to get to the top of it . . ."
After spending an entire night alone in his room, Justin had collected his thoughts and he knew what he had to do. He desperately needed to talk things out with Tammy to make sure they were on the same page. He was flattered, definitely, but there was so much more to her than her ability to write sexy notes and stash them away in pants that gradually got tighter and tighter as the tour progressed.
He didn't blame her, though. Who could resist this ass? Justin reached behind himself to touch a cheek and make sure it was still there. No one could. Not even forty-year-old wardrobe designers who were strict family people and devout Christians. No one.
"Tammy?" he stopped her as she carried several outfits down the hotel hall to deliver them to the bus.
"Yes, Justin?" she asked him in her motherly way. She felt the boys were absolutely wonderful. They always watched out when her children were making visits, made sure to help her along with her work--which could be stressful, and gave her hugs whenever they were around.
She'd been often quoted as telling family and friends that the members of 'N Sync were good, moral, religious boys with positive attitudes. She smiled at Justin as he leaned against the wall in the hallway. He had a look of confusion on his face, which meant he had something to talk about.
Or else he was just . . . confused, and it was Justin, so she knew he often got that way.
Justin was blown away by the middle-aged woman standing before him. She looked like something out of the pages of Betty Crocker, but he knew that on the inside, she was something of a sexual time bomb just waiting to explode.
This realization gave him the burst of confidence he needed to say what was on his mind. "I know what you've been doing, Tammy," he said, suddenly.
"Doing?" She raised her eyebrows and stood back from him, clutching onto the shirts and pants that hung from clothes hangers and were wrapped in plastic.
"Yes, I know what you've been doing, and we need to talk about it, here and now, for once and for all."
"You want to talk about what I've been doing . . . So talk."
"Okay, you might want to set those clothes down," he said, and she looked around, before lowering the outfits to the floor. "Okay . . . this has really been bugging me, but I want you to know that it's okay."
"Hmm . . . What's okay, Justin?" she asked, studying him carefully.
He could beat around the bush no longer before saying what was really on his mind. "Tammy, I know that you're forty-years-old. I know that you're married with two children. But with all of these things you've been doing for me before shows . . . Frankly, it arouses me."
Tammy let Justin's words sink in. She could not believe it! She knew that she was pretty hip for a forty-year-old, but never in her life had she heard such disgusting talk coming her way. "Well I never--" she huffed, before taking her right hand and sending it smacking hard against Justin's cheek.
Haughtily picking up the clothes, she marched off down the hall, amazed at how he had come on to her the way he had. What was he talking about? What she'd been doing to him before shows?!
As she got on the elevator, however, she reasoned with herself. "I can't help it if there's just something saucy about me," she mumbled quietly.
Morgan thoughtfully chewed the tip of her pencil as she looked over the blueprints she'd drawn. They could enter from the back entrance and go up the stairs. Lonnie wouldn't see them there. The tape recorder would serve as a distraction. There was so much work to do. So much to think about. So many worries.
"Lance better be worth it," she huffed and erased a faulty move on the prints.
Concentrating on her work, Morgan didn't notice the entrance of Diana. All five feet, six inches and chunky shoes, Di carefully set two strategic methods of communication on her table in front of the prints.
Jumping, Morgan took off her glasses and blinked her eyes to clear her vision. Were these really what she thought they were? "Walkie talkies?" she marvelled, quietly as she picked one up and surveyed the features. "Where on Earth did you find these?"
Diana smacked her gum. "Stole 'em from Tammy's kids. I told 'em we could play hide and seek, instead. They hid. I stole."
"You're wild!" Morgan squealed, pressing her talk button. "Breaker 9-1, 9-1, this is Giddy Up Goddess. Come in, come in, do you read me? Over."
"Giddy Up, I've got you coming in clear. This is Captain Crunk."
Morgan giggled. "Operation Giddy Up Lance is under way!"
Diana put her walkie talkie down and got serious. "Okay, what's involved, Giddy Up? Give me the straight story. This is risky business."
She flipped the papers over to reveal what she had been working on. "These are the blueprints of our hall. Room 271 is Lance's room. I was notified by an unidentified source that Lance will be going out to eat with an unknown person at exactly five o'clock, today. This means, he will be getting in the shower at three. Exactly three. You know how punctual Lance is."
"Yes, very punctual, indeed."
"All right. We're going to enter the back entrance and go up the stairs. Your room is closest to where Lonnie will be standing, so I'll need your help, Captain."
"Absolutely. Anything."
"We need to record you screaming for a good one minute. We'll put it in on the mini-disc player, and we can use Chris' travel speakers."
"Oh, he's got an alarm clock?"
"Yes, isn't technology fabulous?"
"Ooh, Giddy Up, very."
"Lonnie will go to your room to find the source of your screams. We'll be a step behind."
"How so?"
"I've taken some of the extra rope from the puppet choreography out of the tech bus."
"But what if they need it, Morgan?"
"We'll return it before they ever realize it was missing."
"Okay . . ."
"And then, we'll tie that rope to the doorknob of your door, and attach it to the room across it. That's JC's room at 268. Lonnie will pull his hardest, but to no avail."
"You know Lonnie can knock down a door."
"We're going to have to hope he doesn't, Di. If he does, we can send you running down the hall. You can jump into the room and say that your alarm clock went off at the wrong time. He thinks you're a ditz, anyway, so he won't care."
"Lonnie thinks I'm a ditz?!"
Morgan caught herself. "Oh . . . well no, I was just . . . kidding."
"Okay, good. Because I try my hardest to make sure the bodyguards like me."
Morgan smiled. "I've seen your methods."
"You know, Morgan," Diana moved on. "I am majorly impressed by the way that you're carrying this out. These blueprints are amazing."
"Why thank you. It was fairly easy. I'm used to sneaking around hotels. Did you get the I-zone Polaroid Camera with sticky film?"
"Yeah, I had to search through Lance's very own bags. It was torture, because he had his Maybelline stash on top."
"Ooh, what colors?"
"His complexion is too light for me. Had a nice dusty rose, though."
"Hmm, I'll have to check it out. Good thing that you're going in . . . I just don't know if I'm ready to look at another you-know-what."
"Oh, because of JC?"
"Huh?!"
"Don't worry, Morgan, your secret's safe with me. I hear things . . . and see things. It's understandable. JC's a sexy bitch, and I would go after him if it wasn't for you."
"How long have you known, Di?" Morgan asked, surprised.
"Long enough," she answered, simply, blowing a bubble with her gum. Morgan reached out to pop it, but Di sucked it in, before she could.
"Okay, so Lonnie will be tied in. I will be positioned outside of the room with the walkie talkie. You'll inch your way in, and I'll be on the lookout. We'll make sure the water's running, you'll go in, pull the shower curtain, snap a picture of it . . . no make that two."
"One for you?" Diana asked, smirking.
"Well, yes, of course. I mean, I don't want to see another real live one, because if it's much bigger than JC's, then I'll imagine Lance's on JC and that'll just be wrong. But if it's just a sticker, I can control myself."
"That's understandable. You want your own Poofu sticker. I can handle that."
"Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you. Here you go." Morgan dug into her right pocket and took out a hotel card.
"How'd you get your grubby little hands on this?"
"I'm a dancer, babe. I'm stealthy. He left it just sitting out on his duffle bag at rehearsal. He should really keep a better eye out for his things . . ."
"Oh, good! I was afraid we'd have to pick the lock, and I didn't want to hurt my 'N Sync Fan Club membership card."
"You're in the club, too?"
"Yeah, I wish they'd do more articles than pictures in the magazines."
"Ooh, girl, I know what you're talking about. Anyway, the fan club cards don't work anyway. A wire coat hanger does in a pinch."
"How on Earth do you know that?!"
"Didn't we already establish the JC thing?"
"I'm gonna have to take tips from you, Sister. You're bad!"
"So, that's it. I think we're set."
"Sounds like it to me. Giddy Up Goddess and Captain Crunk are on the move."
Justin stretched out on his hotel bed, staring at himself in the mirror covered ceilings. He tried to ignore Lance's shuffling from across the room, digging deep inside his suitcase to find God knows what. "Fuck, I don't know where it is," Lance fussed.
"Where what is?" Justin asked annoyance in his voice, hoping Lance would get the picture that he was not in the mood to deal with the world at the moment.
"My I-zone camera and sticky film. I know it was in here . . ." he huffed.
"Maybe you left it on the tour bus. Who cares, anyway?"
Lance looked up and rolled his eyes. "I care. Now, would you be so kind as to get the stick out of your ass? Or at least tell me why it's there to begin with."
"Girls. I hate girls."
"You don't hate them. You're just frustrated 'cause they're evil."
"You got that right, man. They are evil. So evil." Justin picked up a pillow and smothered his face in it, dramatically moaning from underneath.
"Melodramatic much, JuJu?" Lance said, sitting down on the end of the bed. "So, who was it this time?"
Justin lifted the pillow from his face and sighed. "Tammy."
"Tammy who?" he asked, eyebrows knitted together with curiosity.
"Tammy . . . you know . . . Tammy."
"TAMMY?!" Lance's eyes widened. "Tammy as in our wardrobe designer Tammy?"
"Yes," Justin answered, her name running across his tongue with romantic air.
Slowly a smile formed on Lance's lips, and he began to laugh. His friend shot him a look, only causing him to laugh louder and harder. "What the Hell ever gave you the inclination that she had a thing for you?"
"Shut up," Justin huffed, chucking his pillow at Lance. "Love knows no age . . . And anyway, she's been leaving me these . . . really sexy notes in my pants before we go on stage. She'll talk about how she picked out certain pants just for me. And how she's thinking of me during the concert. And you know . . . my pants have been getting progressively smaller since we started the tour in April."
Lance's eyebrows shot up at that last statement. "Really? I thought that was your doing . . . Joey said Tammy checked out your ass, but . . . Got any of those notes on ya?"
"No, they're locked up in my treasure chest. I wouldn't show them, anyway . . . they're personal."
"Fine. They're personal," he huffed. "Well, you know for sure it was her? I mean, have you confronted her about it?"
"Yeah, that's the thing, Lance. I just saw her in the hall, you know, and I said, 'Hey it's okay. I know you're jones'n for me, and that's cool, 'cause I like your forty-year-old ass."
Lance covered his tired eyes with his hands. "Dear God, please tell me that's just a basic summary, and not the actual words you used," he muttered under his breath. He peaked at Justin through his fingers. "I'm not sure I wanna know, but I'll ask anyway. What happened?"
"Bitch slapped me! I couldn't believe it. Here I was, confessing my soul and the slut smacked me right across the face. As if she didn't write those notes, man. And I don't know what's wrong with me, 'cause normally I got the ladies eatin' out of my palm."
He snickered. "Oh yeah, you're a regular Don Juan."
"You know, like at that party. That Diana Breen chick. She was all up ON me! Trying to get me under the influence, so I wouldn't be thinkin' clearly, ya know. So I'd give her a little sumpin' sumpin' when I wasn't thinkin' 'bout Tammy at home, all alone with her family. So I wouldn't think I had commitments, man!"
"The only commitment you have, Mr. Sumpin' Sumpin', is to see if you can get more digits than Joey. And something tells me Diana--" Lance paused in mid-sentence and thought for a moment. "Wait. Diana? Diana, wardrobe assistant Diana?"
"That'd be her . . ." Justin sat up, adding facts together after Lance worked out the wardrobe assistant bit. "Shit . . . nah, it couldn't be."
Lance grinned. "You mean, it never occurred to you that Diana was leaving you those notes, or giving you pants two sizes too small to wear?"
"But those notes, man. Those notes were so personal. And Diana is way too young to think thoughts like that."
"She's twenty, Justin."
"Yeah, but in girl years, that's like . . ."
"Still older than you."
"Yeah, but--"
"No buts about it, Don Juan. You confronted the wrong woman."
"What have I done?" Justin moaned, falling back onto the bed. Lance chuckled to himself, before getting up and heading back over to his suitcase. He really needed his sticky film.
"Diana, hurry. Your tape is set to go off in T minus sixty seconds. You need to be at Lance's door the second Lonnie's in your room."
"I'm coming!" Diana got even with Morgan who was impatiently checking her watch and preparing the countdown. "Got the rope?"
"Check!" Morgan said, pulling the rope out of her backpack.
"Your walkie talkie's on, right?"
"Roger that, Captain Crunk. My walkie talkie is on. Put new batteries in it and everything."
"Then we're good to go." The two stood in the hallway, watching Lonnie, bored, stand outside of Lance's door, the room in the very center of the five.
"Four . . . three . . . two . . . one," Morgan counted off and as her watch beeped, the sounds of Diana's piercing screams came belting from her room. Lonnie jumped at the sound and took off for her door, knocking once, before taking his key and unlocking the room to let himself in.
Morgan pounced with her rope and took off to Diana's room, slowly shutting the door, so she was out of sight and slipping the rope around the knob. She perfected her loop knot, just like she'd learned when she was eight on the Girl Scout camping trip.
She was the first to get her knot badge, and she was very proud she could finally put her knowledge to use--to clarify unsinkable rumors about the exact size of a pop superstar's package. She proudly tightened the knot, before feeling someone poke her on the shoulder. She jerked her head to check on Diana quickly before seeing she'd already slipped into Lance's room as scheduled.
Whipping around, JC stood before her, quizzically eyeing her as she held his No Strings puppet rope between her hands. "Hi . . . uh . . . JC."
"Morgan . . . uh, what's up?" he asked, not sure if he wanted the answer or not. It wasn't everyday he saw the woman he's currently involved with holding a rope. He backed up to his door, which he'd opened when the hallway noise had interrupted his nap.
"Me? Oh nothing," Morgan smiled, cheerfully, her voice cracking. JC looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "You mean the . . . uh . . . rope? Well, you see . . . I'm playing a joke on Diana." From inside Diana's room, the sound of moving drawers, a repeating high pitched shriek, and excessive shuffling could be heard. She knew that her time was running out, so she held the rope in one hand, backing JC into his room. "Right, a joke. JC, I'm going to run down a pick up the peach cobbler I ordered from the restaurant downstairs. How's about I run down, grab it, and bring it up here for you and I to . . . ah . . . partake in?" she batted her eyelashes, and moved closer to JC, running a finger along his chest and inside his button-up shirt to the wifebeater underneath.
He swallowed and then grinned. "Hurry up," he said, leaning in to kiss her.
She jerked away before his lips could reach her. None of that. This was a life or death situation. "We'll save that for later," she said, pushing him back into his room. "Get comfortable and I'll be back so we can . . . eat together."
Morgan shoved him inside and then slammed the door shut. She quickly and expertly tied the other end of the rope to the handle. "I'll make it up to you later, Babe," she whispered.
She pressed the talk button of her hi-tech communication device. "Captain Crunk, Captain Crunk. Come in, Captain Crunk. 'Lil Lonnie is secured in your room, and time is running out. Are you at the landing point?"
"I read ya' loud and clear, Giddy Up Goddess. I am at the landing point and waiting your arrival. What took you so long?"
"JC showed up, but he's been taken care of for the time being."
"Close call. Okay, the water's been running, so I'm heading in. Over."
Morgan crossed her fingers and said a silent prayer for Diana. Never before had anyone been so passionate about any such mission, but she knew she was doing this not for her, but for the entire generation of 'N Sync fans who had ever wondered . . .
Wondered if there was something more to Lance Bass than an average-sized jet ski.
"Captain Crunk, don't forget to take one for me."
"Consider it done, Giddy Up. Just remember, though, it's different in a picture. We'll have to take into account water shrinkage."
"I hadn't thought of that," Morgan muttered into her walkie talkie.
"Cheer up, Hon. It should still be substantial." Diana listened to the water run and took a step closer, edging into the bathroom. "This is it," she whispered, stashing her walkie talkie into a pocket and taking out her Polaroid I-zone camera with sticky film.
Outside in the hallway, Morgan watched, worriedly as Lonnie began to realize that Diana wasn't in the room. The door began pulling a bit and Lonnie pounded on the door. "What's going on?! Anyone out there?! What's going on?!" The tape of Diana's had stopped squealing, so Morgan guessed he'd found the recorder and turned it off.
"Oh God, honey, please hurry . . ."
Diana held out her hand to the shower curtain and jerked the thin layer to the side to see what she could see.
And oh, did she get an eyeful!
Cassandra's beeper buzzed as the employees at Reading Pennsylvania hurriedly set up her signing table. "I have to get this," she mumbled, leaving Chris to help with the task and escaping to the back to make the call.
Dialing from the store phone, Cass waited for the phone to ring and it was at once picked up. "Hello?"
"Melissa?"
"Cass! That was quick. Where are you at?"
"Philadelphia. I'm at this bookstore called Reading Pennsylvania."
"Isn't Reading a city in Pennsylvania?" Mel twirled her wavy red curls around a finger.
"Yeah, that's the pun," Cass laughed.
"Oh, these bookstore people are so clever. Anyway, I have news."
"Yeah? What's up? Gotta' make it quick, because we're late for the signing."
"I got a plane ticket to Boston for this Monday."
"Boston?"
"Yes, I took the liberty of checking out your boyfriend's tour schedule and they're in Boston, next, so I'm--"
"Oh my gosh! He mentioned, but I wasn't paying attention. Melissa, how did you get the money?!"
"You act like I'm poor, Cass," Mel snorted. "I make quite a chunk of change from this salon, you know. And it's not like a go on trips like this all the time or anything. Enough to go on a trip to Boston to see my little sister."
"Little by less than two minutes! And by the way . . . for some reason, I don't think you're coming to visit me, anyway."
"What makes you think that?"
"Oh, the fact that I've been trying to get you to come for a visit for ages."
"Well that's New York and you know I'm scared of such big cities."
"Girl, you're living in Orlando. Orlando is no scarier than New York. You're coming to see Joey and you know it."
"Well . . . he just makes it more appealing is all."
"Yeah, I bet," Cass laughed. "I'm so excited. I can't wait to see you. We'll have to work something out, though. These signings . . . Anyway, hon, I have to run, because people are starting to line up. I promise I'll call you soon. Thank you for making the flight. You will not regret it."
"See ya, Hon."
"Bye." Cass hung up the phone and quickly shuffled out to the table to sit down. A line of fifteen or so readers waited patiently, carrying copies of their favorite Cassandra Tate and Cass beamed with renewed excitement at the idea her sister coming to see her. Well . . . her and Joey.
"Who was that?" Chris asked as he said a mug of coffee down on her table.
"Thank you. That was Mel. She's coming up to see me at Boston."
"Boston, huh?"
"Yes, she just booked her ticket! Isn't that exciting?" Cass took a novel and opened it up. "Who should I make it out to?"
"Lisa."
"All right, Lisa." Cass signed a short message and returned the book. "Here you go!"
"Yeah, that is pretty exciting," Chris answered, grinning. "I didn't realize you were coming with us to Boston."
"Well to be honest, I didn't either. But I guess since she's coming, I should stay a bit longer . . ."
"You don't have any commitments?"
"Got one more book signing in Hartford. Then a break."
"You can handle the driving?"
"Don't be silly. Of course, I can. I doubt I'll stay with you guys after Melissa leaves, though. I've gotta' get back home to New York, even just for a little while."
"Is that your last book signing, period?"
"Well for the time being, yes. If we want to schedule more, we will. Depends on sales."
"How are sales, now?" Chris pried.
"Good! Now, if you don't mind, people have come to see me and I want to talk to them," Cass shooed him away. "Go . . . there's a food table over there. Get something to eat."
"Yes, m'am," he answered and Chris left the table to get some coffee and chat with Cassandra's personal assistant.
Slack jawed and wide eyed, Diana took her eye out from the camera view finder to get a better look at her subject. His back was facing her, so she'd gotten a good view of his rear. "Oh my dear Lord," she mumbled, knowing well that this ass did not belong to Lance, but rather--
"Joey?!" she screamed and he whipped around in the shower, jumping.
Joey jumped at the site of her, walkie talkie in tow, holding a camera. And she was the one screaming. She was the one who had just jerked back his shower curtain, and she was the screamer? He shook his head and boldly stood before her, continuing to scrub his arms with the bar of soap. She continued her shrieking and he wrinkled his eyebrows to think of something to say. "Hey Diana . . . is that a Polaroid I-Zone Camera with sticky film?"
Morgan jumped at the sound of the screaming and got on the walkie talkie. "Captain Crunk, come in. Has there been an emergency? Captain Crunk?" From inside the bathroom, Diana, reached down to get her walkie talkie, stopping her screams, but the shock of seeing Joey in the buff was too much.
She dropped the toy onto the floor and it's unbreakable plastic cover bounced across the tile. Joey reached down to pick it up and Diana backed up from her spot, still in obvious shock.
Joey shook his head and pressed the talk button. "Uh . . . Morgan?" he spoke. He recognized that voice from the minute it said 'Captain Crunk.' "Morgan, we have a problem."
Morgan gulped as she heard the voice. Joey. Their plans were flawless. How could they have confused Lance's room for Joey's? And more importantly, how were they going to handle Lonnie?
Lonnie banged on the door and pulled, jerking the rope to his side of the room. He was able to open it a small space, but not nearly enough for him to fit through. He pounded and pulled, shouting through the door.
JC had long removed himself of his clothing and had slipped on Morgan's favorite boxers with the words "Giddy Up" printed in bold on the seat. Standing in his socks and boxers, he'd gotten quite impatient. "She should be up here with the peach cobbler by now," he mumbled, checking his watch.
He turned down his mood music and went to the door to peak outside. Grabbing at the knob, the rope pulled toward him, but caught just as Lonnie was snatching onto his. "What the--?" JC pulled harder and began a tug of war with Lonnie.
"JC, is that you?" Lonnie's low voice sounded across the hall.
Morgan eyed the both of them, still hidden from their view. "Code red, code red, code red!" she squealed into the walkie talkie. "Di, I need your assistance, now! Little Lonnie and the Giddy Up God have just discovered they're locked in their rooms! Come on out!"
Diana jumped, poised to run, but changed her mind. Turning around, she couldn't resist taking a picture of Joey with her camera. "Hell . . . it beats having nothing," she thought as she took off out the door, leaving a very surprised Joey standing in the water, soaped down, and holding a kid's walkie talkie.
"If you so much as think of putting that on ebay, we're getting a new wardrobe assistant!" he shouted at her as she slammed his hotel room door shut. He was not about to be the brunt of Serena's next joke. Pulling back the curtain, he placed the walkie talkie outside, and got back to shower, revelling in the satisfaction that two very sexy women had created an entire operation to get a look at his naked body.
And what a fine naked body it was.
Outside, Diana grabbed Morgan's hand and the two went running down the hall. Each took to their own door and rapidly untied the knots. They pulled away the rope at the same time, and the guys came tumbling out of their rooms. Lonnie couldn't control his strength and fell to the ground on his stomach. JC jumped and tripped on top of Lonnie, showing his "Giddy Up" clad rear to the world.
"My rope! I couldn't remember where I tied it!" Morgan recited her line in much the same manner as a seventh grader would recite Shakespeare. Silence. She elbowed Diana.
"Oww . . . oh . . . my . . . uh . . . alarm clock must've gone off at the wrong time. Thank you for turning it off," she said , biting her lip to keep from busting into laughter.
Morgan grabbed the rope from the floor and took off down the hall towards the elevators. Diana stood, still staring at the site of JC on top of Lonnie in his intimate apparel. The light bulb flashed over her head and she took out the Polaroid camera, getting a good shot.
"DON'T FORGET ONE FOR ME!" Morgan screamed, frantically pressing the elevator button. Diana snapped a second picture and she took off after Morgan, jogging down the hall. The two got on the elevator and their laughter reverberated in the walls of the entire Hershey hotel.
JC rolled off Lonnie and helped the bodyguard stand on his own feet. Lonnie clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Nice boxers, JC. Nice boxers."
"DON'T FORGET ONE FOR ME!"
Morgan's voice ended Justin's pit party, the young singer quickly sitting up. Lance jumped to his feet. "What the fuck . . . ?" he muttered, swinging the door open in time to see Morgan and Diana get into the elevator at the end of the hall.
Justin came up behind Lance and looked over his friend's shoulder. He watched Lonnie and JC untangle themselves and stand up. Justin's eyebrows rose as he read the words across his friend's butt. "JC! Are those the boxers that guy gave you?"
"Huh? Wha-?" A confused expression crossed JC's face, but quickly turned into one of embarrassment as he realized he was standing in the middle of the hallway, his giddy up-clad rear for all the world to see. Well, just one bodyguard and two friends, but that was more than enough in his opinion. Yes, they were from a guy. Eric. Eric, the tall, red headed superfan that followed them from appearance to appearance. He had given them all pairs of Giddy Up boxers at the Jersey concert, but it appeared that JC was the only one getting the good out of them. His face turned a nice shade of crimson. "That's it! The show's over! Go back to your rooms, please!" He stormed into his room and slammed the door shut.
The guys chuckled softly. Lonnie sat back down outside Lance's room, and the two band members returned to Justin's room. There was a soft knock on the door, and Joey let himself in. "Hey, Lance, thanks for letting me take a shower in your room. I don't know . . . J's and mine hot water isn't working . . . there's something wrong."
Lance shrugged and smiled. "Hey, no prob, man. Don't mention it."
"So how long have you guys been dating?" Lucille, Cass' personal assistant struck up conversation again after an awkward silence.
"Just a little while. It's amazing, though."
"What?"
"Being with her."
"Oh," Lucille smiled, turning to watch Cass as she signed books for fans and chatted with them. "I've never seen her as much into anyone before, so I think she feels the same way."
"Oh yeah?" Chris grinned. "I was totally a fan before this."
"Of Cass? Her novels?"
"Yeah, I've got them all."
"That's classic!" Lucille remarked. "And here you are, now. She has a lot of talent that she doesn't use."
"Hmm?"
"You know. She wastes a lot of it on romance novels when she could be writing very respectable stuff."
"I didn't realize she wrote anything other than the novels? And I . . . think they're very good."
"Oh they're good if you like that kind of thing. You'd be surprised, though. She's got some poetry and this one story she never shows anyone and the stuff's incredible. Maybe she'll show it to you, eventually. If you don't press it."
"Maybe," Chris answered, wondering if she'd show him or not. He was certainly interested. He looked up to watch a man who looked to be in his thirties step up to the table. He was last in line and he had brought with him a collection of fifteen or so Tate romance novels. Chris' eyebrows furrowed as he watched the man unload them. Cass looked on, surprised and flattered, taking her Sharpie and signing her name hurriedly. The crowd was filtering out and he could pick up the conversation they were having.
"Oh Ms. Tate--"
"Please . . . call me Cassandra."
"Okay, Ms.-- Cassandra. I own every novel you have ever written and you are just incredible. You are my inspiration."
"Inspiration?" Cass' eyes grew wide and she laughed.
"Yes. I hope to find love in real life like you've written about in your novels."
"Well, I'll let you in on a secret. Even I've never had a relationship like those in these books. The real thing just isn't like that." Chris' eyebrows furrowed as he watched the man move closer.
"You probably just haven't met the right person. Are you in a relationship right now? I'm not and I'm interested in--" That's all it took for Chris to march across the floor and put his arms around Cass' shoulders. She jumped at his touch.
"Yes, she's in a relationship. With me. She's my girlfriend. We're together. And the only reason she hasn't been in a relationship like one in one of her books is because we haven't been together long enough." He sharply glared at the man who stood back in surprise.
"Oh, I didn't realize. I'm sorry," he sheepishly answered, looking down.
"You'll have to excuse Chris," Cassandra told him, after pushing Chris' hands off her shoulders. "We had a long drive and he's anxious to get some rest. He just wants to get home, that's all." She discreetly elbowed him and Chris moved back from her, as she signed the rest of the books.
"I understand how that can be . . . I drove all the way from College Park, Maryland to get here."
"Oh wow. Thanks so much for coming to see me! That's quite an honor."
"Well you deserve it and this was the closest bookstore you were coming to. I had to make it."
She grinned. "Thank you. This is the last book; here ya go."
"Can I ask for something else, Cassandra?" he asked, quietly, after placing all his books in his tote.
"Sure, anything you want."
"Can I have . . . a hug?"
She laughed. "Absolutely!" Standing up, she hugged the man from across the table, not letting go soon enough for Chris' liking. Chris cleared his throat and breathed heavily until the man let go.
"Thank you so much. I really mean it. I won't ever forget this."
"You're completely welcome! Pleasure's all mine."
"Now, I know you're anxious to get home, so I'll be on my way. Thanks a lot." The man excused himself with his bag of books, leaving Reading Pennsylvania with an odd light in his eyes.
"He was all over you," Chris stated simply as Cass stood up to stretch.
"Don't be stupid, Chris. He just wanted to talk. He likes me!"
"He doesn't know you, Cass. He just likes--"
"Okay, you know what? You have my solemn vow and promise that I will always use good judgment when meeting fans and that I will never do anything that I shouldn't. I trust you. Trust me."
"I do trust you. It's just that--"
"You don't need to protect me," she laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I'm a very . . . very big girl." He sighed and smiled at her, their noses touching together.
"This I know. You wanna' ditch this joint?"
"I'd be happy to. I've had a long day . . ."
Lucille interrupted the couple. "Arrangements are made at the hotel. You guys go on back there. I have to meet with an agent, now, so I'll see you a bit later, all right?"
"Gotcha." Chris answered and before Lucille could nod, they were out the door.
"Joey, what happened, today is of upmost secrecy and you absolutely cannot share what you witnessed with anyone. Understand?"
"Affirmative, Giddy Up Goddess," Joey rolled his eyes. Morgan and Diana had him locked in Diana's hotel room, sitting in a desk chair, as they circled him and went over the story.
"Do you realize what happened, today, at 5:04 PM, Eastern Standard Time?"
"Yes, you were trying to get a look and Superman," came his cocky response . . . no pun intended.
"Actually, you couldn't be more wrong!" Diana snapped and sat down on her bed.
"Oh yeah? Then explain to me why you were going into the bathroom with a camera. Why you pulled open the shower curtain and proceeded to stare at him for a considerable amount of time, before snapping a photo."
"For your information, we were not in that room looking for Superman, but rather the little Bass," Morgan spoke, quietly, ashamed she'd been caught.
"Lance?!" Joey jumped. "Um . . . why would you want a picture of Lance's . . ."
"There has been tell, Mr. Fatone," Diana spoke up, "that our subject, Lance Bass, proudly boasts the largest . . . equipment among the entire 'N Sync group and entourage."
"Who'd you hear that from?" Joey asked, interested.
"Doesn't matter who we heard it from. What matters is . . . the truth."
"You lookin' at me? How would I know?" Joey gulped.
"We have something you might be interested in," Morgan dug through her purse.
"Oh yeah, and what's that?"
"This." She shoved the snapshot of Superman in his face. He jumped. "Now, we've compared notes, Joey, and we know for a fact that you do not want this getting out to the general public.
"I . . . well . . . I . . ."
"It would be your ruin, Joseph Anthony Fatone, Jr. You have a million and one women thinking Superman is a lot more . . . superb than he actually is."
"Listen up, it's not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean, Di."
"Anything you say can and will be held against you!" Morgan shouted. "And if I may say, it would take an awful lot of motion to--"
"I don't hear any complaints," Joey huffed. "I'm good at what I do. Even if Superman isn't really superior, he still gets the job done . . . and then some."
Morgan cringed. "Let me cut this short. You don't want this getting out, no matter how many jobs you've done. We'll gladly give you the picture back in exchange for your services."
"My . . . services?"
"Can you tell us if the rumors are true?"
"About Lance?"
"Yes, about Lance, Joey."
Joey shifted uncomfortable in his seat, before caving. "Yes, it's true," he sniffled. "I've seen it and it's incredible. There's absolutely nothing like it and he's the luckiest guy I know."
Morgan and Diana gasped as Joey got up to grab a tissue from the box on the dresser.
"You girls don't have any idea how it feels to constantly be measured up to that. Lance, man . . . he's a God."
The girls took seats on the edge of the bed, slowly, and took in the information. Diana caught Morgan's eye and began to smile. Lance Bass. What were they wasting their time on JC and Justin for? Diana was first to giggle, causing an eruption of laughter that pierced Joey's ears.
"There . . . ya happy?"
"Yes!" Morgan hooted. "Yes, we're happy! Here you go," she handed him his Superman sticker and he excused himself out of the room, to the sounds of their giggling. Joey shut the door and was met by Lance.
"What are they laughing about?" Lance asked him.
"Oh, nothing. You know how they are . . . girls," Joey answered, unable to meet Lance's gaze.
"Tell me about it," Lance agreed and Joey made his trek back to his room.
"Hey, aren't you . . .?" a young woman at the hotel asked Cassandra as she walked up to check in. Chris avoided the lobby by carrying their luggage straight to the elevator and concealing his identity with a Yankees baseball cap and sunglasses.
"Yup, that's me." Cassie loved being recognized, even if it was a rare occurrence outside of book-related locations. But when it did happen, it was the most amazing feeling. "I'm Cassandra Tate." She extended a hand to shake, which was taken by the girl who had an uncontrollable smile forming on her face.
"I thought I recognized you! How do you do it?"
"Writing? It's nothing! I've always loved it and--"
"No, I mean, how do you deal with dating someone in such a high profile position. It must be so hard." Cass let go of her hand and frowned, slightly.
"Chris? I . . ."
"Yes, Chris Kirkpatrick! Is he here?" She leaned forward past the counter to look behind Cass in all directions. "I'm such a fan on 'N Sync. I would die if you introduced me."
"Chris is still in Hershey, packing up to head to Boston." Cass felt the words flow from her tongue, long before she realized she was lying. It was just a natural reaction to the question, but she felt terrible for it, knowing there was a huge chance Chris would be noticed at the hotel and she'd be pinned as the bad girl.
"Oh . . ." she said, disappointment evident in her town.
"Um . . . just out of curiosity . . . how did you know Chris and I were seeing each other?"
"Oh, your picture is up on several websites. Don't worry. The fans are cool with Chris having a girlfriend . . . most of them, anyway." Casss' jaw dropped in surprise. She hadn't really expected any new changes would ensue as a result of her dating Chris. She'd have to talk to him about it . . . and soon.
"I'm sorry. I just didn't realize this. You took me by surprise! I didn't get your name."
"Jamie," she smiled. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Tate."
"You, too. Thank you so much," she answered, taking her key and reservation information. "And . . . I'll tell Chris you were thinking about him."
"Oh my gosh, you don't have to--"
"I want to!"
"Well . . . in that case . . . tell Lance, too. I love him to death."
"He is pretty cool, yeah. I promise I'll mention it, Jamie."
"Oh wow, thank you. If there's anything you want or need, I'd be happy to take care of it."
"Actually, do you hve restaurant menus with you? I'm starving, so I think I'll order something and get room service to bring it up."
"I certainly do." Jamie whipped around, grabbing a menu and giving it to Cass. "Have a nice stay!"
As the two centered the hotel room, Cass finished up her story. "And I told her I'd tell you she was thinking about you. But geez, it was so weird, Chris."
"Well, get used to it, 'cause you're going to be recognized a lot more, now."
"The tables have really turned from when we first met," Cass nodded, placing her brochures and keys on the counter in the small hotel kitchen.
Chris chuckled. "Right! Now you're drooling over me." She playfully swatted him, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, from behind.
"One bed," she remarked, surveying the surroundings.
"That's not a problem, is it?" he asked, letting her go, and plopping on the bed to look over his menu.
"Oh . . . nah, of course not." She moved to sit beside him.
"Good. Let's get something to eat."
"Who ya talking to?" Morgan asked Lance as she passed him in the hall. Justin had kicked him out of his room for his shower and Lance was chattering away into his cell.
"Renee," he whispered, covering the speaker.
"That girl from Hershey?"
"That'd be her," Lance smiled, uncovering the phone and getting back into the conversation.
Morgan shook her head and mumbled to herself, "What a lucky girl." Knocking on JC's door, she was almost swept off her feet, by the force that JC managed to pull her into his room with.
"I'm going to forgive you of all the days events, no questions asked, because I've got something in here," JC told her quickly, still wearing his Giddy Up underoos.
"What's that?" Morgan asked in surprise. She'd guessed she'd have a lot of explaining to do and this was why she'd been avoiding her visit.
"Peach cobbler for two." She blushed and he moved behind her to hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob and closed the door with extra oomph, signaling it was time to eat.
Chris and Cass snuggled together, in bed. "Philadelphia is such a nice city," she whispered in the darkness.
"Yeah, we'll have to come back sometime when we have more time to visit."
"Chris . . . do you want to . . .?" she asked him, finding warmth from his body.
"Hmm? Oh . . . nah, not yet."
"Okay. Night," she said, drifting off to peaceful sleep as he held her tightly, resting his his chin on the top of her head, and following close behind.
Justin slipped his towel on and walked out of Lance's bathroom. He jumped when he saw Diana sitting on his bed. "How did you get in here?!"
"I told Lonnie I had to talk to you!" she defended. "It wasn't like a big operation or anything."
Justin shook his head. "So . . . I know it was you who left those notes."
"Took you forever to figure out," she snickered. "And Tammy told me what happened--"
"She's not telling anyone else, is she?!"
"Um . . . I don't know. It's her business. Pretty funny, though."
"Shut up, Di. Anyway . . ."
"So."
"So."
"You like those notes I wrote?"
"Actually, I liked them a lot," Justin admitted.
"Oh well, then," Diana grinned. "You get dressed. I've got some tequila in my room if you're interested."
Justin raised his eyebrows as she stood up and left. "Ooh, I'm interested . . ."
Joey slipped his picture in an ash tray and grabbed his key. "Lonnie, I'm going to go grab something from the snack machines. Be right back." Lonnie nodded his head and Joey jogged down the hall.
A younger maid walked towards Lonnie, pushing a cart full of towels and bath supplies. She nodded to Lonnie. "I was called up for towels?" she asked, unsure of herself and a bit nervous. It wasn't everyday that she brought towels to the members of 'N Sync.
"Yes, right in there. It's okay. No one's in." She smiled and unlocked Joey's room, picking up several towels to take to the bathroom. As she left the bathroom, she glanced over, everything, making sure nothing need to be cleaned. Spotting the ash tray, she stepped over to see if it needed emptying. She gasped when she saw the little sticker and could not help but steal it from the ash tray, slipping into her uniform pocket.
She smiled to herself, sneakily shutting the door, and walking past Lonnie with her cart, down to the elevator. Still not believing her brilliant find, she jumped when Joey eased past her back to his room. "It's Joey's?" she thought to herself. "Wow . . . she'd never expect that it would belong to Joey. Maybe Justin or Chris, but . . . Joey?! She left the hall, clasping her pocket to make sure it didn't fall out. Laughing, she spoke quietly to no one in particular. "So this is the pickle."