(2003)

A lot of effort had been put into making the office look friendly. There were potted jade plants in two corners of the room and various smaller plants sat on top of each coffee table-like surface. The walls were painted a slightly off-white and the venetian blinds were tied at the top with thick blue ribbons.

Lance leaned back in the hard, cloth-covered chair. His elbow slid off of the finished wooden arm and he jerked sharply, catching himself.

The briefcase sat between his feet.

"Mr. Bass?" The secretary looked away from the computer at her desk. "Ms. Smith is ready for you. You can go on back."

Lance picked up the briefcase first, wrapping his hand around the thick handle, then unfolded his body from the mold of the chair.
--

(1997)

Lance stood nervously outside of the ranch-style house. The lawn was immaculate; the hedges were pruned perfectly so that not a single leaf protruded from their green walls.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then back again. With a deep breath, he took a step forward, onto the stone landing outside the front door. He lifted his right hand, index finger extended, and pushed the small, black button. He could hear the gong-like doorbell echoing through the house.

A minute later the door opened.

"Lance, my boy." Lou smiled, the fat on his face folding into rolls. "You’re right on time."

Lance instinctively looked down at his watch.

"Come in. Come in." Lou stepped away from the front door and into the cool foyer. "Would you like something to drink, my boy?"

Lance shook his head. "No." His voice cracked. "Um, no, *thank* you."

"Want to get right down to business, huh," Lou said. "You need to learn, boy, that more deals are made in the pre-business socializing than in actual talks. Remember that." He began waddling down the hallway. "Let’s get down to business, then. Come back to my office."

Lance nodded and followed Lou down the hallway, looking briefly at all of the photographs of them, ‘N SYNC and Lou’s other group, the Backstreet Boys, that lined the walls. He stepped into the office filled with overflowing bookshelves, a heavy oak desk, and English-looking red leather chairs.

"Sit down," Lou said as he walked around to the other side of his desk and shifted some papers around. When he sat down, his girth bulged out over the arms of the chair, and his pudgy fingers, protruding from his folded hands, looked like undercooked sausages.

Lance sat. He gripped the arms of the chair for a moment, until his sweat-slicked palm slid across the leather, then he let go and folded his hands in his lap, emulating Lou.

"Thank you for taking the time to see me," Lance said. "I know you’re really busy."

"I always have time for my boys," Lou said. He smiled again, showing teeth. "Now what can I do for you?"

"I have a friend back home," Lance said. "She’s a really good singer and I was hoping that you’d be able to give me some names of people she could get in contact with."

"You mean managers, I take it?" Lou asked. "She’s good?"

Lance nodded.

"Well, why not Johnny or Donna?"

"Because she’s more country oriented," Lance said. "Or, judging from her demo, she wants to be. Johnny doesn’t do country." He paused. "He said you might know some managers who *do* do country."

Lou’s forehead wrinkled as he thought. "I do know a few. I don’t know how trustworthy they are, but--"

Lance narrowed his eyes. "We only want trustworthy."

Lou turned his chair around and dug into a file cabinet. He pulled out a folder, opened it, and took out a piece of paper. Grabbing the notepad on his desk, he scrawled out a few names and numbers. "I’d start here," he said as he handed the paper to Lance. Then he stood up.

Quickly, Lance stood up also. He stuck out his hand and shook Lou’s bloated one.

"I’m glad you came to me, Lance," Lou said. "I’m always here to help any of you boys. Be sure you know that."
--

"I sent your demo off to three places today," Lance said into the phone.

Meredith sighed, her voice breathy through the line. "Oh, wow. Um."

"Don’t get your hopes up," Lance said. "Okay? That’s the first rule of this business. Always expect disappointment."

"Yeah," Meredith said a few moments later. "I’m not getting my hopes up, okay? I mean why would they want me, anyway?"

"Nuh-uh." Lance’s voice was sharper than he’d intended. "Do *not* say *anything* like that. Rule number two is to have confidence. Know you’re good enough to be in the business or you have no reason to be trying to get in."

"Okay," Meredith said quickly. Her voice was approaching a squeak.
--

(2003)

"Mr. Bass," the accountant said. She stood up to shake his hand. "I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you, given the circumstances, but it certainly is very nice."

"It’s very nice to meet you, too," Lance said. He shifted the briefcase from his right hand to his left hand and shook the woman’s hand. He looked down and saw that the placard on her desk read Jane Smith.

"Shall we get down to business?" Jane asked. "You brought all of the books?"

Lance nodded and lifted the briefcase onto the desk. "Anything you need, of course, I can get." He rested the case on its side and flipped open the clasps, opening the two halves, and pulling out various and sundry account books.

Jane looked at them. She picked one up and opened it, glancing at the figures inside. She picked up another one. "This looks like everything. It will take me a few days to go through all of these, of course."

"Of course," Lance said. "For obvious reasons I want to make sure that I wasn’t mistaken in my calculations."

"We’ll just have to see," Jane said. She looked down at the books and then back up at Lance. "I’ll be in touch in a few days, Lance."

"I’ll be waiting," Lance said.
--

(1998)

"Any luck with that girl?" Tommy asked. He flopped down on Lance’s bed and began flipping through the latest *Rolling Stone.* He looked up when Lance didn’t answer after a few seconds. "Lance?"

Lance shrugged, almost helplessly. "I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s good, Tom. I don’t know why those managers can’t see that."

"She’s 14," Tommy said. "That’s too young to enter this business, don’t you think?"

"Fifteen." Lance shook his head. "And no, I don’t. Look at Justin. He was in Europe at the age of 15. We’ve recorded *two* albums *now* and he’s only 17."

"So manage her yourself," Tommy said. He looked up from the magazine again. "I mean, you say that she’s good. Put your money where your faith is. That’s what I always say, anyway."

"I’m still too young." Lance sighed.

"You’ll be 19 in not too long," Tommy said. "And all you’d be is representation. Just her connection, right?"

"There’s a lot more to management than that," Lance said. "There’s getting her signed, supervising a CD, getting her at the right appearances. I’m not old enough to do that shit, you know? Plus, I’m on the road, so it’s not like I have time."

Tommy shook his head. "You should think about it, man. I still think you could make it into one of those magazines about young millionaires, or something. Be the cover boy."

"Like I’m ever going to have a million dollars." Lance laughed. "That’s funny. Really funny."
--

Lance rapped on the door once, then again. He opened the door to Johnny’s office when he heard the sound of acknowledgment.

"Lance." Johnny smiled widely, like he always smiled widely. "I wasn’t expecting to see you out there."

"I need some advice," Lance said. He sat down in one of the art-deco armchairs that Johnny loved so much and pushed himself as far into the rounded back as he possibly could.

"Well, I’m here to help," Johnny said. His smile grew wider. "What can I do for you?"

"Remember I told you about my friend Meredith?" Lance asked.

Johnny’s brow wrinkled as he thought. Then he smiled and nodded. "Your friend from back home, right? The one with, what did you say, the voice that made you sit up and say ‘wow’?"

Lance nodded. "That’s the one."

"What about her?"

"She’s not having any responses from her demo," Lance said. "I’ve sent it out to so many managers--she’s really good--and they just aren’t biting."

"And what would you like me to do?" Johnny asked. He twiddled his thumbs. "If I remember correctly, she had rather a *country-ish* spin and you know I don’t do country."

"How implausible would it be for me to manager her myself?" Lance asked.

Johnny’s thumbs stopped moving against each other and he stared at Lance. "What?"

"Tommy, the one with your last name, my friend," Lance said. "You know him, right? Well, he said that I should manage Meredith myself. I told him I was too young, but."

"I wouldn’t say it’s your age that’s the problem, necessarily," Johnny said, "but more like *time.* You guys are going to be busy, Lance, what with your tour coming up. How would you have time to manage some girl on the side?"

"It’s not like I’d be managing her," Lance said. "Just getting her started and then passing her off to someone else."

"It still takes time. Remember how much time I put into getting you guys started? It almost takes more time in the beginning because you have to convince people to talk to an unknown."

Lance sighed. "I just feel bad. Like I got her hopes up and now I can’t deliver."

"*Don’t* feel bad," Johnny said. "Disappointment is part of the business."

Lance nodded again. "I just--"

"She’s young, Lance. She’ll have more chances. Not everyone has to be child stars just because you were."
--

"What’s Lance doing?" Joey asked. He sat on one of the bus couches and peered suspiciously at Lance.

"I don’t know," Chris said. He dropped down onto all fours and began crawling up the aisle of the bus. He scurried forward, peered up over the edge of the table, ducked and ran quickly back towards Joey as Lance made a move to hit him.

"He’s reading," Chris said, drawing out the words as long as he could. "Like, books. With words."

"Words?" Joey asked. "Those strange symbol like things?"

Chris nodded seriously.

"Well, why?" Joey asked. "Once you start reading books, you start, like, thinking."

Chris gasped. He stood up suddenly, pushing out his chest and forcing his clenched fists against his hard hipbones.

"Lefou, I’m afraid I’ve been thinking." He attempted to sing in a low range, but the sound came out more like a growl than anything else.

"A dangerous past time," Joey sang, pitching his voice so that it quivered with nervousness.

"I know," Chris growled.

"And I would continue thinking if you stopped with the bad Beauty and the Beast tributes," Lance said. He turned around and stared heavily at Chris and Joey.

"Well, what are you reading?" Chris asked.

"Business books," Lance said. "On how to become a manager."

"What?" Chris’s voice was heavy with disbelief.

"On how. To become. A manager." Lance started to turn back to his books, but stopped when Joey spoke.

"We’ve already got a manager," he said. "I don’t think we need another one."

"Not for us, dumbass," Lance said. "For Meredith. I think I’m going to try to manage her myself."

Chris and Joey both blinked. Then they looked at each other. Then they looked back at Lance and blinked again.
--

"But mom." Lance stomped his foot. His green eyes flashed.

"Do *not* get that tone with me, young man," Diane said. She narrowed her eyes at her son. "Why would I want to do this, Lance?"

"Because you’d be helping people," Lance said. "You’d be helping me *and* Meredith."

"It’s legal documents, Lance." Diane sighed. "You know I’m always wary of legal documents."

"I’d get Johnny to draw them up," Lance said. "I’m sure he’d be willing to help me or supervise me or whatever."

Diane sat down at her perfectly clean kitchen table. "You said that Johnny had agreed to supervise you already."

"Well, he *will*," Lance said. "I know Johnny, mom. I know he’ll give me any advice and help I’ll need."

"And I’ll just have to supervise?"

Lance nodded. "I just need someone to co-sign the contracts. That’s all."

Diane nodded slowly, a frown on her face. "But *only* if you get Johnny to supervise and you do *everything* according to the book."

Lance threw his arms around his mother tightly. "Thank you, mother. You won’t regret this. And it’s only temporary. Only until I can get some other manager to take an interest in her."

Make sure you remember that," Diane said.
--

"You want me to do what?" Johnny asked.

"Just help me if I need help," Lance said. He leaned forward in the art-deco chair. "My mom has already agreed to co-sign any contracts. But only if you agree to, what’s the phrase, take me under your wing."

"I’m a busy man, Lance." Johnny sighed.

"I know," Lance said quickly. "All I need is for someone to tell me if I do anything wrong. Or to stop me before I do anything wrong."

Johnny sighed again. "You aren’t thinking of getting her on any tours or anything, are you? No CDs being made?"

Lance shook his head. "Just getting her a better manager. That’s all I want. Someone who can take her places."

Slowly, rather like Lance’s mother had done, Johnny nodded. "Okay."

Lance stuck out his hand. He gripped Johnny’s hand firmly, and smiled. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"I just have one question, Lance." Johnny released Lance’s hand. "How are you going to finance this deal?"
--

"You’re actually doing it," Tommy said. He smiled at Lance before he lay back in the bed of the truck. "Taking the bulls by the horns. Wrestling it to the ground."

"Could you use any more cliché terms," Lance said dryly. He took a drink of his Pepsi. "I’ve just got one problem."

"What’s that?" Tommy asked. His voice was lazy.

"I need money," Lance said. "Until Meredith starts making money, I don’t get a cent and it’s my job to fly her places and pay for studio time and--"

"How much do you need? Can’t your parents help you out?"

"My mom’s already agreed to co-sign any legal documents," Lance said. "I can’t ask her for money on top of that."

"Then are you going to get a loan?" Tommy asked. "Are you even eligible for a loan?"

"I got *nothing* to my name," Lance said. "They’d have no reason to give me a loan."

"So--" Tommy trailed off.

"I think I’m going to ask Lou for an advance of my paycheck," Lance said. "That’s the only thing I can think of."

"And he’d give it to you?" Tommy asked.

Lance nodded. "I think he would, maybe."

"Sounds like a plan, man," Tommy said. He giggled. "I rhymed. Heh. I crack my shit up, sometimes."

Lance chugged the rest of his soda, crumpled the can in his fist, and then chucked it at Tommy. The other boy caught it and tossed it back at Lance.

They dissolved into laughter.
--

Lou frowned when Lance asked him for the money.

"And why should I do that, Lance?" Lou asked. "You boys owe me so much already."

"But we have some money coming to us," Lance said. "You know we will after this tour anyway. Some places are already close to being sold out."

"And you want an advance of 10,000 dollars?" Lou asked. "That would be a very stupid thing for me to do. This business is not stable. Who knows where any of us could be next year."

"I’ll pay you your money back," Lance said. "I promise. My word is good, Lou."

Lou stared at Lance for several long moments. "I know it is, Lance. And that’s why I’m going to give you the money."

"Oh, thank you." Lance breathed deeply, exhaling air from his lungs. "Thank you so much."
--

Justin was sprawled across Lance’s hotel room bed. "I can’t believe you’re flying back to Mississippi again. This is the second time this week." He rolled over so that he was propped up on his elbows.

"I need to," Lance said. He folded a pair of jeans and stuck them in his suitcase. "This isn’t really something I can tell Meredith over the phone, you know? Plus, there are contracts for her to sign and for her parents to sign. You know the deal."

"Yeah." Justin nodded. "You really think she’s that good, Lance?"

"I do," Lance said. He turned his back towards Justin and grabbed a shirt out of the closet. "I think she’s got as much of a chance as Britney."

"So someday Meredith will be opening for us?" Justin asked, a smile forming on his face at the mention of Britney.

"Well, I’m not going to be managing her then," Lance said as he folded the shirt. "And besides she does country. Not pop. The two aren’t compatible in a concert format, I don’t think."

"I guess," Justin said. He shrugged and moved so he was sitting up. He spread his knees out in the butterfly position, the souls of his feet meeting in front of him, and bent his hands around his sock covered feet. "I don’t see why this couldn’t wait until we got to Jackson. We’re going to be there for two days. You wouldn’t have to be spending your own money to go *again*."

"She doesn’t know I was even considering this," Lance said. "She’s getting discouraged, I can tell, and I want to surprise her."

"She doesn’t know?" Justin asked. His eyes opened widely. "Woah. That’s just. You’ve been talking about nothing else to us for so long now."

"She doesn’t know," Lance repeated. "I didn’t want to get her hopes up for the hundredth time only to have to tell her that my mom wouldn’t sign the papers or that Johnny wouldn’t supervise me or that Lou wouldn’t advance me the money."

"Are you sure her parents are going to want a 19-year-old managing their daughter?" Justin asked. "I would have been freaked out by that."

"She wanted me in the beginning." Lance zipped up the bag and set it on his bed.

"You know she wants you, Bass." Justin grinned evilly. "I’m sure she’s lusting after you in her heart."

Lance fixed Justin with a steady gaze. "One word. Sixteen. That’s younger than you, kiddo."

Justin raised his middle finger and scratched the tip of his nose.
--

Lance stared at himself in the mirror. He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt and smoothed down the front of his khakis. He looped the tie around his neck and tied it, tugging the knot tight.

He heard his mother call him from the first floor of the house and with that, he turned away from the mirror and walked out the door of his room.

His dress shoes clattered as they moved down the stairs and with quick steps he moved to the kitchen.

"I made you breakfast," Diane said. She turned away from the stove, frying pan in her hand, and put three strips of bacon on Lance’s already filled plate.

"Thanks, mom." Lance kissed Diane on the cheek and sat down at the table. "I miss your breakfasts when I’m on the road."

Diane sat down next to him. She stared out the kitchen window. "What time are we leaving?"

"I told her we’d be there at 11," Lance said. "We should be done by lunch, then."

"And you have the contracts?" Diane asked. "Johnny drew them up?"

"I do," Lance said. "They’re in my bag upstairs."

"You’re sure you can handle this?" Diane asked. She turned towards Lance suddenly. "I don’t want you taking on too much, honey. You’re young." She smiled wryly. "Heck, you’re on your way to becoming a star. Why would you want to tie yourself down with a business?"

"I *want* to," Lance said. "I. You know those sports stars that have college educations? Everyone says that they’re smart because they have something to fall back on. What happens if this whole singing for money thing doesn’t end up working? What then? I have a high school education."

"You’re young," Diane said. "You could go back to school."

Lance sighed. "I want to do this, mom. Really, I do. I watch Johnny and I just think, *I* want to do that."

"I just want you to know that you can’t back out on this if you decide it’s not fun anymore."

"I know," Lance said. "I swear, mom, I know what I’m doing."
--

Meredith signed on the dotted line of the contract, and then again on the next page where Lance had marked with post-it note arrows. She handed the contract to her mother who also signed.

"This is for a year," Lance said. He looked at his mother. "Twelve months from today. As I said, I’m going to get a professional demo tape made and submit it directly to record companies as well as to more managers. Once we’ve got some bites there it shouldn’t be hard to find her a manager with more experience who will take her to the top."

Diane nodded. Mrs. Edwards nodded. Meredith looked as if she were about to cry.

"We’ll be in L.A. for about a week in June," Lance said. "If you meet me out there we can get studio time and get you a new demo tape that truly shows off your vocal ability."

Meredith nodded.
--

"You signed her?" Tommy asked. He popped open the tab of the beer can and lay back in the bed of the truck.

Lance nodded. "Yeah, I did. It’s a little scary, you know."

"So does this mean I get to be your accountant?" Tommy asked.

"Like I have very much money for you to keep track of." Lance snorted. "I’m poor, bro."

"But you have money," Tommy said. "You’re a businessman now, Lance. Your books need to be done right."

"I can’t pay you very much." Lance looked at Tommy with hope-filled eyes.

"You’re my friend," Tommy said. "We’ll work something out."

Lance smiled. "You’re the best, man. You know that, right?"

Tommy nodded.
--

(2003)

The suite was empty when Lance walked in. He looked around the room, a dead look on his face, before he moved to his room. He shut the door to his room quietly and walked over to the dresser. He picked up his cell phone and noticed that one person had called while he had been gone.

Tommy.

He dialed the number back, without listening to the message. When Tommy’s message clicked on, Lance spoke, his voice hard.

"Tom, we need to talk. Give me a call tomorrow."

Then he turned his phone off and flipped it closed.

"Oh yes," Lance said to the empty room. "We need to talk."