Sunday, January 14, 2001

Justin woke up to a movement beside him, and then the frantic movements of someone leaving the bed.

"Mags?" he asked softly as he opened his eyes.

He saw Maggie quickly open the door to her bedroom and heard her quick footsteps running down the stairs. He sat up on the bed, a look of concern on his face. Shivering, he stood up and made his way out the door. He quietly moved down the stairs and entered the main floor of the house.

"Maggie?" he called lowly. He didn’t want to wake up either Cathy or Bob. Walking down the hall he saw a thin line of light coming from underneath the bathroom door. Silently he moved to the door and listened.

"Maggie?" he called again softly. "You okay?"

The only sound he heard was his girlfriend throwing up. Resting his hand on the doorknob he gently turned it and opened the door, squinting in the bright yellow light. He saw Maggie with her arms crossed over the toilet seat and her forehead resting on her arms.

Justin closed the bathroom door and moved next to his girlfriend. He knelt beside her and began rubbing her back slowly. "You okay, sweetie?"

He saw Maggie’s head move up and down, but noticed she didn’t try to speak.

"Did you drink too much?" Justin asked. That would be the obvious reason she was throwing up. She had been very drunk when Stu had brought her home.

Maggie moved her shoulders up towards her head in an attempt at a shrug.

Justin kept rubbing her back. "It’ll be okay, ‘k?" He saw her move her head up and down in another attempt at a nod.

She turned her head slowly so that her left cheek was resting on her arms. "I don’t feel good, Randy." Her voice was wobbly, and she sounded on the verge of tears.

"I know, sweetie," Justin said.

"I didn’t think I drank that much," Maggie said, her voice still slurred. "But I think I’m still drunk."

Justin looked at his watch. 3:45. He’d only been asleep for an hour and Maggie had only gotten home a half-hour before that, maybe.

"I’m not surprised," he said. "You were pretty drunk."

"I know," Maggie said. She closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them widely. "What you said about leaving at some point, it’s not going to be soon, is it?"

"I don’t think so," Justin said.

"I’ll understand if you have to go," Maggie said. "I just won’t be happy about it."

Justin nodded and continued moving his hand in small circles on Maggie’s back.

"Why did you come here, Randy?" Maggie asked. "Why Mill Creek?"

Justin felt his hand stop moving. He moved so that he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"I don’t know," he said slowly. He looked at Maggie looking at him. There was a warm expression in her eyes, a liquid trust. He couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips, or the hand that moved to pull her hair away from her face. "It was luck. Pure luck."

"It scares me," Maggie said. "You could have gone to some other town, and I never would have known you."

Justin stared at Maggie. He ran a hand through his hair. If he’d gone to another town would he be as attached? Would he have gone back to ‘N SYNC already? "I believe everything happens for a reason."

"When you go back, if it’s soon," Maggie started. She swallowed, her throat working to keep her gag-reflex under control. "What’s going to happen to us?"

Justin blinked. "What?"

"What’s going to happen?" Maggie asked. "I don’t want you to go away and forget me."

Justin blinked twice, three times. "I’m never going to forget you."

"But you’ll be wherever," Maggie said. "And I’ll be here."

Justin looked down at his hands and after a moment back at Maggie. He crossed his fingers, the childish action making his words okay. "Nothing’s going to change, okay?"

Before Maggie could answer, she lost the battle with her gag-reflex and flipped her head over so her forehead was once again pressed to her arms. Justin couldn’t do anything but rub her back and tell her it would all be okay.

Justin closed the door to Maggie’s room and tiptoed down the hallway. The last thing he needed was for Cathy, or for Bob, to wake up and hear his footsteps moving from Maggie’s room to his own at— Justin checked his watch— 5:30 a.m.

It almost wasn’t worth going back to bed. He had to be up for breakfast at eight if he wanted Cathy to cook it for him. He smiled wryly at the thought of how lacking his own culinary skills were. He definitely wanted one of Cathy’s breakfasts. She went all out on the weekends.

He yawned. He should go to bed anyway though. He could always reheat leftovers.

He closed the door to his room and flicked on the light. He realized he was still in his vest and T-shirt from the night before. The faint smell of smoke and beer suddenly hit his nose. He pulled both articles of clothing over his head in one fluid motion and dropped them on the ground in front of the closet. Shivering, he grabbed a sweatshirt from the closet and pulled it over his head, cuddling into the rough, pilled material.

His eyes traveled around the room as he unbuttoned his jeans, and he tensed when his eyes fell on the computer, the screen still standing upright. The screen was filled with blackness, and the only sign that it was merely asleep, not off, was the small green light slowly flashing at the base of the screen.

He knew the email was behind the deceptively calm blackness. With two quick strides he was at the desk. He shut the computer screen, effectively hiding the green reminder, and quenching all urges to look at the email again. It wouldn’t do any good to look. It wouldn’t change the words written there.

He moved to the dresser and opened the middle drawer. He pulled out his pajama pants. Undoing the zipper of his jeans he allowed them to pool at his feet. He stepped into the loose flannel pants, pulled them up, and tied the drawstring, before shutting the middle drawer. He looked at the dresser and slowly moved his hands to the top drawer. He tugged on the handles and pulled the drawer out. He moved the pile of sweaters, his hands pushing underneath them. He felt the glossy paper of the photograph only because it stuck to the tips of his fingers. He pulled the photo out and— not bothering to pick up his jeans or shut the drawer— walked over to the bed, sitting down on the end.

"Now I have a question for you guys," he said softly, though the words dominated the silent room. "Are you going to be there?"

"Isn’t there something sacrilegious about practicing on a Sunday?" Chris asked as he walked into the practice room.

"Not when you only have 12 days left until your first show," Wade said.

"If we get there," Lance mumbled. He was sitting in a chair at the far end of the room, circles under his eyes, and arms crossed over his chest.

"What’d you say?" Wade asked. His eyes bored into Lance.

"If we get there," Lance repeated. He stared at Chris for a moment before turning back to Wade. "You know, if we don’t all die from exhaustion first."

"We haven’t yet," Joey said as he stepped through the double doors into the practice room. He looked pointedly at Lance. Suddenly his eyes twinkled. "Why should we start now?"

"Because we only have 12 days left," JC said. He looked at his watch as he walked into the room. "We’re nowhere near ready to go out there yet."

"That’s what I’m here for," Wade said. "To whip you into shape. Now can we please start, or are we going to stand around discussing our unpreparedness until we only have eleven days left. Or ten days."

"Let’s start," JC said. He moved to his spot on the floor without a glance at the other men.

"Yeah!" Chris said. He grinned fakely, did a cheerleader arm pump and head nod combination. "Let’s start! Go team!"

"Shut up Chris," Lance said. He moved to his place behind JC and studied the lead singer in the mirror at the front of the room. He could tell JC was watching him too. He saw the hard look in the other man’s eyes. Lance looked back at Chris and deliberately smiled. "You have too much damn energy in the morning."

Chris slowly returned Lance’s smile, until he was smiling the old time, devilish grin. "I’ll let you in on a little secret. Pixie sticks. Lots of them."

"Both of you, shut up," JC said as he glared at their reflection in the mirror. "Let’s just start."

Wade stared at JC, unsure of where the hostility was coming from. He shrugged as none of the four men returned his gaze.

"Okay guys, we’re going to run it from the top and work through song by song." Wade moved towards the stereo system in the corner of the room. "’I Want You Back’ on five okay." He grabbed the stereo remote, walked to the front of the room, and faced the guys. They shuffled into the straight line they were accustomed to.

"And one and two and three and four and five." Wade’s foot tapped in time with his count.

JC’s voice rang out through the stereo. "You’re all I ever wanted. You’re all I ever needed. Yeah. So tell me what to do now, cause…"

"I," Lance sang. His head popped up from the bowed position it had been in.

"I," Joey sang. His head joined Lance’s staring at what would be the unseen crowd.

"I," JC sang. The smile on his face was obviously fake.

"I," Chris sang, his voice impossibly high. He smiled brightly, flashing teeth. They held their note for a beat longer than the original version.

"I want you back," they sang together, moving from their line to a carefully formed diamond.

For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Wade smiled. For once, for the first time since Justin had left, the guys had been perfectly in step.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Justin sat up on his bed and stared around the room in confusion.

"Fuck," he muttered. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and continued the motion, his fingers trailing a path through his hair. His other hand still gripped the photograph tightly. He peeled his fingers off the shiny paper.

It had been an old fashioned nightmare. The ones he used to wake up screaming to when he’d been three or four. Now he just woke up swearing.

The room suddenly seemed too small. He looked out the small window and saw the crystal blue sky. The air was guaranteed to be cold, but it would help clear his brain of the last remaining images from the dream.

He looked at the clock. 1:14. He’d been asleep for close to seven hours. He shouldn’t sleep anymore or he’d never be able to go to sleep that night. With practice early the next day he couldn’t afford that.

He stood up from the bed and grabbed a sweater from the top drawer. He closed the drawer and pulled the sweater over his head. He ran his fingers through his curls again. His thoughts touched briefly on the photograph now lying upside down on his bed, but pushed them from his mind as he walked across the room and pushed the small rectangle underneath his pillow.

He walked out the door and down the stairs. The warmth of the main floor of the house hit him full force. He walked through the kitchen and out the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

Maggie heard the sound of the screen door outside the kitchen bang shut. She got up off the bed, ignoring the pounding of her head, and walked to the window.

She saw the figure walking down the walkway and out the gate.

"What’s wrong Randy?" she asked softly. Her breath fogged up the cold windowpane in front of her mouth. "Talk to me, please?"

Lance watched the smile on Wade’s face and grimaced. He’d never seen their choreographer so pleased with their work: the way they were so focused, they way they weren’t goofing around, the way they were actually in step with one another. Lance forced his eyes back to the mirror so that he could watch himself.

Of course, they had to have their best practice on the day the future of the group was more uncertain than it had ever been before. That was Murphy’s Law, or something like that, wasn’t it?

"And stop!" Wade clapped his hands, drawing the four guys attention to him. "Good. Really good."

Lance looked in the mirror and saw Joey bent over, hands braced on knees, catching his breath. He saw that Chris was walking over to his water bottle at the back of the room. And JC was just standing there also staring into the mirror, but not meeting Lance’s eyes.

"I think we’ll end here today," Wade said. "I suppose this is a fluke that you were all this on today."

None of the four men answered.

"So, same time tomorrow, I guess," Wade said. "Cool?"

"Cool," Joey said. He stood up and smiled at the choreographer.

"Yeah," Lance and Chris said at the same time.

JC just nodded.

"So until tomorrow," Wade said. He grabbed his bag from the floor at the front. "Bye guys."

"Bye," Lance said.

Chris looked around the room. "I say we all go out for dinner together. We could go to Giovanni’s."

"Sure," Joey said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He rubbed his stomach and licked his lips. "I just want to shower and then I’ll be ready to go."

Lance nodded slowly. "Okay."

"C?" Chris asked

JC shook his head. He looked pointedly at Lance. "I don’t think so." He turned to Chris and smiled fakely. "Thanks though."

The three men watched as JC walked out of the room.

"Fuck," Chris muttered. He turned to Joey. "He’s really not going to give an inch is he?"

Joey shook his head.

Lance blinked slowly, looking first at the two other men and then at the now empty door. He turned back to Joey and Chris.

"You’re both willing to make this work, right?"

Joey and Chris both nodded.

"I’m not giving up yet," Joey said.

Chris nodded again.

"Then this ends tonight," Lance said. "I’m going to go talk to JC."

Lance could hear the strains of the electric piano from the place he stood in the hallway. Normally when he heard any piano playing he walked away, because he knew— they all knew— that JC was not to be interrupted.

At this point though, Lance didn’t care. He knocked on the door to JC’s room, but didn’t wait for the acknowledgment. He turned the knob and pushed the door open.

As expected, JC was sitting at the piano, his fingers in mid-chord, and eyes willing death on whomever had opened the door.

"What do you want?" JC asked. His tone was clipped, a hard edge that had developed in the last 36 hours. His hands fell to his lap.

"We’re going to talk," Lance said. He closed the door and walked fully into the room.

"I don’t want to talk to you," JC said. He raised his left hand and indicated the piano in front of him. "And I’m a little busy."

"I don’t care and this is more important," Lance said. He sat down on JC’s bed, noticing that the older man hadn’t made it that morning.

JC sighed, but didn’t say anything.

"Do you know why we’ve survived this long as a group Josh?" Lance asked.

JC rolled his eyes and sighed again, a frustrated sound. "Why?"

"Because we talk through our problems," Lance said. "We don’t let them hang and grow. We scream, we yell, and then we deal."

"I’m sorry I’m having a little bit of a hard time getting over this," JC said sarcastically. "I’m so blowing it out of proportion."

"You are," Lance said. A humorless smile appeared on his face. "But you can’t see it."

"I’m not," JC said loudly. He realized his voice was approaching a yell and he lowered it. "You betrayed us, Lance."

"Yes, I did," Lance said. "But that’s not the issue."

"The fuck it’s not," JC said. His hands gripped the seat of the piano bench. His knuckles were white. "If you’d fucking told Justin to come back then we wouldn’t be having this problem."

"And I maintain I made the right decision," Lance said. "Just so you know, I emailed Justin and told him that I wasn’t sure the group was going to survive, and that I wasn’t going to be emailing him anymore. I know you’re jealous, so if you want to write him and repair your broken friendship, go for it."

"Goddammit," JC said. He stood up and stalked towards Lance. "I’m not fucking jealous."

"Bullshit," Lance said. The same humorless smile appeared on his face again. "That’s fucking bullshit Josh and we both know it. Joey and Chris do too."

"Chris told me why he thought I was jealous yesterday," JC said. "I assume you’re going to say the same thing."

"Tell me what Chris said," Lance said. "Then I’ll tell you why I think it."

"He thinks I wanted Justin to call me," JC said. "Justin’s lucky he didn’t call me because I would have chewed him out so badly he would have caught an earlier flight."

"And that’s why he didn’t call you," Lance said calmly.

"I know that," JC said. "Why does everyone think I don’t know that?"

"Because you know you would have acted differently if you’d been in my shoes," Lance said. "Tell me honestly Josh. If you’d picked up your cell phone and Justin had been on the other end, and he’d said he couldn’t come back in that voice, you know the unguarded one that we never hear anymore? The voice that’s filled with the emotions Justin loses on tour? Could you have told him to come back still?"

"Yes," JC said. He winced when his voice didn’t sound as sure as he’d obviously willed it to be.

"You couldn’t have," Lance said.

"If you’re so sure of that then why didn’t Justin call me?" JC asked. "How could our friendship have changed that much that he didn’t trust me anymore?"

"That email Josh," Lance said. "The brilliant idea."

"He knows I can’t bluff worth shit," JC said. "But this is not the issue!"

"Sure it is," Lance said.

"No," JC said. "The issue is that you lied. You put Justin above us, above everything we’ve worked six years for."

"Fine," Lance said. "So yell at me. Get it out of your system. I’m not going to let the group end over it."

"I can’t just yell at you," JC said. "I’ve said everything I want to say."

"So can we drop it?" Lance asked. He sat forward hopefully. "Can we move on? Can we say the group is on solid ground now?"

JC shook his head.

Lance sat back again. "Why not?"

"Because I still don’t know why we’re doing this," JC said. "We’re just prolonging an inevitable sour parting."

"We’re holding on until Justin comes back," Lance said.

"Why?" JC asked. "Yes, he said he’d be back, but it’s been two months, Lance. Each day he’s gone there’s less of a chance he’ll come back."

"That’s why we’re going on tour," Lance said. "To show him we want him back. You said it yourself a few days ago."

JC shook his head. "Maybe I don’t want him back anymore."

"What?" Lance sat forward quickly. His ears caught a faint sound outside the door, but he ignored it. "How can you even say that? You’re the one who’s been going off about how I told him not to come back! Now you’re saying you don’t want him back?"

"Who says things are going to get better when he comes back?" JC asked. "There’s going to be tension beyond anything this group has ever faced. He’s not just going to be able to drop back into the group like nothing happened. How can we trust him again?"

"We will," Lance said. "Obviously it will take time, but…"

"Time isn’t something we have," JC said. "How long do you think we really have anyway?"

Lance looked at JC confused. "Huh?"

"How much longer do you really think pop is going to be the thing? How much longer do you think we’ll really sell out our concerts? We know Backstreet’s going to retire at the end of their tour. 98° just isn’t making it anymore. The genre’s dying."

"But we aren’t dead unless we decide to kill the group ourselves," Lance said. "You can’t be ready to give up Josh."

"I’m not," JC said. "I know I’m contradicting myself. I know I’m sounding severely screwed up, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I just have a lot running through my head."

"That’s okay," Lance said. He stood up and walked towards JC. The older man stepped away from him.

"Don’t," JC said. He hung his head slightly. "Wouldn’t it be better for us to end it here, while we’re still semi on top?"

"Yesterday you were the one who was saying that you gave a fuck about our careers," Lance said. "And now you want to end the group?"

"I’m still thinking about our careers," JC said. "How much good will it do to continue this for too long?"

"And again I ask if you are really ready to give up on the group," Lance said. "Think long and hard Josh, because once we officially give up, do you think any of us are going to get any support from the fans or MTV if we decide we made a mistake? We’ll be the former members of ‘N SYNC."

"We’d make our own names," JC said.

"On. Our. Own," Lance said. "We’ve had good times JC. We can still have good times. Are you ready to throw that all away?"

JC stared at Lance before moving around the blond to go sit on the bed.

"I know we’ll break up sometime," Lance said when it was obvious that JC wasn’t going to reply. "But wouldn’t it be better to have one last tour and go out on that note? I don’t want my last memories of ‘N SYNC to be waking up one morning and realizing that Justin hadn’t made it from the bus to the hotel room. Do you?"

JC remained silent.

"Think long and hard Josh," Lance said, "because we aren’t going to get a second chance if we give up."

Lance walked to the door and out of the room. He smiled sadly when he saw the door to Chris’s room shut, almost slamming closed.

Justin moved his fingers stiffly as he reached for the handle to the screen door, and pushed the button to release the catch. He pulled the door out, ignoring the creaking of the spring at the top, and opened the door to the kitchen.

The sudden heat enveloped him, overwhelming his senses as he stepped into the room. He blinked quickly trying to clear his vision of the tears that had developed from the cold air.

"Hey."

He heard Maggie’s voice and smiled.

"Hey," he said. He undid the zipper of his coat and walked over to his girlfriend. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin gently on top of her head. "How you feeling?"

"Okay," Maggie said. "Not wonderful, but okay. How are you?" She pulled out of his grasp.

"I’m fine," Justin said. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

"I’m still worried," Maggie said. "Please talk to me, Randy."

Justin pulled his coat off and turned back to the door, hanging it up. "I’m fine," he repeated. "Just a little homesick. That’s all."

"I don’t believe you," Maggie said. "There’s more going on here than ‘just a little homesickness.’"

"That’s all it is," Justin said. He walked back to Maggie and pulled her in for a kiss, brushing his lips against hers. "I promise."

Maggie stared up at him and blinked. She sighed. "Okay." She lifted her arms up and put them over Justin’s shoulders, raising her mouth to meet his.

He parted her lips with his tongue and put his hand on the back of her neck, bringing her even closer.

Justin’s room was dark when he walked through the doorway. He flipped on the light and moved over to the desk, raising the computer screen. He heard the electronic sound of the screen coming back to life.

The message on the screen was exactly like he remembered it: short, sweet, and the words he didn’t want to believe. He pressed reply, and then added three other addresses to the ‘To:’ line. He went to the bottom of the message.

 
Hey…

Now I have a question for you guys… Are you gonna be there?

I’m sure you won’t believe me when I say I’m sorry. I am. I’m still doing what I need to do though. I can’t leave yet. I will be back though. I will be. And I’d love to have a group to come back to.

J