|
FLAME IS THE GAME By Allen_Sama Notes: One of the sequels to "Least
Complicated"; begun 7/24/00. The original characters are my property and
are not to be used without permission; if you do, I'll set Karyn on you. J.C.
Chasez, Chris Kirkpatrick, Justin Timberlake, Lance Bass, and Joey Fatone are
their own property; this is a work of fiction and should not be considered
real in any sense of the word. The title is from the song "Gaslighting
Abbie" by Steely Dan. Thus combining two of
my current musical obsessions, the insanity continues. Rating: PG --- As
Abbey Eldridge boarded the plane for Orlando, she thought ruefully that she
just wanted to kill someone. She
wasn't sure who, exactly. Her mother, maybe, for pushing her to submit her
portfolio to Jive Records. Herself, maybe, for actually listening to her
mother (an action she had made a lifelong policy of never doing). Maybe the
junior executive who'd decided to assign her to this particular job should be
her victim. Then again, she could just off herself, but that would definitely
be contradictory to her career plans. At
twenty-two, a year out of college -- she'd skipped first grade, earning
social ostracism until higher education leveled her playing field -- Abbey
was a fast-rising talent in the field of music photography. After a gallery
showing of some of her work with local New York bands that had also
constituted her graduation project, she'd gone freelance for several months.
She'd enjoyed the variety and diversity of freelancing, but it didn't always
translate into regular pay; so, with pressing bills and rising rent costs at
hand, she finally succumbed to her mother's strong pressure to find a job
with a steady paycheck. Erica Eldridge, a socialite well-versed in the ways
of the city's society, had dropped a few words in the right ears; and on the
strength of her admittedly small, but professional portfolio, she'd won a
position in the promotional department at Jive Records. Not
that a steady income was a bad thing. The pay was good, and even if the work
was bland and soulless, Abbey at least couldn't complain that she was working
too hard. Unfortunately -- at least, to her thinking -- in only four months
she'd earned enough of a good reputation to start being sent out on
assignments; and soon she had been informed that she was being flown to
Orlando, Florida, to take pictures of 'N Sync for promotional stuff to do
with their new record. Cheesy boyband, she decided on the flight. Perusing the bio information, she snorted
at most of it (sure, she thought, they say they put themselves
together, they can say whatever they want to sell records). Her tastes in
music were not to this type of thing as a rule; she avoided top 40 radio
stations, since it all sounded pretty much the same to her. Her preferences
ran to hard rock and heavy metal, and generally loud music ranging anywhere
from the Rolling Stones to Metallica. Her older brother had cheerfully
accepted the blame for inspiring her love for what she called "real
music". Carter's probably laughing himself silly right now, she mused to herself, grinning, and
I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it. After
a while, she gave up on the bio stuff and turned her attention to the
in-flight movie, the recent Meryl Streep true-life tale Music of the Heart.
Though she'd avoided it at the theaters, expecting it to be insipid and
overblown, she found herself enjoying it now. Streep was a good actress,
after all, and so were Angela Bassett and Gloria Estefan. It was well-played;
the sentiment didn't feel forced, the emotions were true, and Abbey found
herself wiping away a few tears at the movie's end. Finally,
the credits rolled. Music -- harmonized voices, a soft ballad -- played over
the names appearing on the screen, which Abbey watched, noting familiar names
to go along with equally familiar faces. Then something caught her eye as the
song credits appeared, and she realized, with a chuckle, that she'd been
listening to 'N Sync all along without even knowing. I guess they're not that bad, she thought, giving the song an objective ear. Harmonies
could be faked, of course -- in the right producer's hands, even the worst
piece of dreck could be transformed into gold -- but the song was pretty, not
totally inane, and the voices were good. Gloria Estefan's unique, lovely alto
blended in well, neither overshadowing nor being overshadowed by the male
voices. Well, maybe this won't totally suck. But if I get any more guilt from
Cat about this, someone's going down. It
had been bad enough when her twelve-year-old sister had found out about her
assignment. Abbey'd been sure her eardrums would burst when Catherine started
jumping up and down and yelling. "Oh
my God, you HAVE to get me their signatures, Abbey, you have to! Oh my God,
you have to take me with you!" Even now, days and miles removed from the
incident, Abbey thought she could still hear Cat's screams in her ears. God, please let this be the end of the assignment, Abbey prayed as the plane touched
down in Orlando. Please, please, please. --- Abbey
decided, once she'd met her ride and claimed her baggage (making sure her
cameras had survived the trip intact), to go to the hotel first and get
freshened up. Though she'd been clean and fresh that morning, the plane ride
had left her sweaty and uncomfortable as plane rides always did. Since she
was probably going to meet the band today -- and definitely their manager --
she most certainly wanted to look presentable. After
settling on a casual, yet professional outfit of jeans, a blue blouse and her
favorite brown leather jacket, Abbey called a cab and headed to the recording
studio where she was to meet Johnny Wright. She couldn't deny that she was
nervous, but this was an assignment just like any other; there was no reason
for her to be anything but cool, calm and in control. She would maintain her
demeanor, everything would go smoothly, and that would be that. She
was a bit surprised to see a group of girls at the studio doors, but shrugged
as she slipped past them into the lobby, not noticing the curious glares a
couple of them shot her way. To the receptionist, she smiled pleasantly and
said, "I'm Abbey Eldridge, and I have an appointment with Mr.
Wright?" The
receptionist checked her date book, then nodded. "He'll be right with
you. Please, have a seat." So this is Jive, Orlando, Abbey thought as she retreated to a chair placed at one
end of a row. The lobby was more casual than the New York offices, which she
somewhat expected since this was more of a branch, rather than the central
division. Gold, platinum, and silver records, framed, littered the walls,
intermixed with posters of the different groups signed to Jive's label.
Involved in her analysis of the lobby's color scheme, Abbey didn't notice the
tall black man until he was standing in front of her. She
looked up, blinking. "Oh! I'm sorry." "Abbey?
I'm Johnny Wright," he said with a pleasant smile. Abbey
gave a chuckle as she stood, taking his proffered hand. "I'm sorry. I --
it's nice to meet you, Mr. Wright." "Oh,
please call me Johnny. My office is right back this way." As
she followed Johnny down the hall, Abbey decided that she already liked this
man. He had a strong professional air, but mixed with that was a friendly,
casual attitude. Even though he wore a suit and tie, he looked like he'd be
just at home in jeans and a polo shirt. Johnny's
office was sparsely decorated, but well-lit and made pleasant by a couple of
potted ferns. He took the executive chair behind the desk, and Abbey sat by
default in one of the two leather chairs opposite. "I've
seen your work," he said, leaning forward to reach for a manila
envelope. Drawing forth the contents, he laid a few of the full page size
photographs out on the desk. Abbey recognized them: most were from recent
assignments, but two seemed to be from her senior project, stark black and
white shots of a heavily pierced punk singer in her element. "Very nice." "Thank
you," she replied. "I'm certainly hoping that we'll be able to
achieve the effect that you're looking for with the band, and believe me, I'm
definitely ready to discuss ideas and such." "Well,
the main pictures have already been shot; what we want now is more along the
same theme for press releases, the website and such. They said you work
fast," he noted, with a hopeful eyebrow raised. Abbey
couldn't help but chuckle. "I do, yes, as long as my subjects are
cooperative. And I'm as eager to get started as you are." "Oh,
and there's been a... slight change in the assignment," Johnny added.
"Did Kelly at Jive tell you?" "A
change?" Abbey blinked, thinking back over her last-minute instructions
from her boss. She remembered Kelly, her boss, saying something about some
sort of change of plans, but that had all been in a rush last night. "Ah,
I see you weren't informed. There's been a change in plans because the tour
photographer we'd scheduled has unfortunately been injured in a skiing
accident, it seems. Jive wants you to be the photographer for the tour." Abbey
blinked again. For a moment, it seemed to be all she could do. After a
moment, she sucked in a discreet lungful of air, and her mind went racing.
The first thought that hit her brain was, Now Cat's really going to
kill me. "That...
sounds like a wonderful opportunity," she managed, surprised at how calm
her voice sounded. "Great.
Would you like to meet the band?" Johnny's smile was wide in his face,
as if he were pleased to have delivered the coup de grace. "Why
not? I've heard so much about them." Chuckling,
Johnny led Abbey from his office and down a different corridor. As they
approached one of the recording studios, laughter sounded from the open door,
pouring towards them in a rolling wave. Abbey smiled as Johnny gestured to
her to wait outside; when he stepped into the room, the laughter slowly died,
trickling to a low burble. She
heard him talking to the others; apparently some introductions went around,
and then he said her name. Summoning a smile, she stepped into the door. Abbey
recognized the group immediately; she'd seen recent pictures of them with the
bios, so she knew who was who. She didn't recognize the three girls in the
room, but as they weren't her business, she was going to leave well enough
alone there. Feeling their eyes all on her, that was awkward, uncomfortable;
but Abbey swallowed the nerves. She'd been in this position before and she
would again, without doubt. Best to get this part out of the way quickly. "Hey,"
she said. "I'm Abbey Eldridge. We'll be setting up a photo shoot in a
couple of days, so I'll get to know you then, all right?" They
all nodded agreeably, and she let her gaze travel from each of them to the
next, categorizing each with a name. J.C. was sitting next to a cute, petite
redhead; Lance looked as charming as his pictures implied; then the other two
girls, a brunette and a blond; Chris, with a laptop, on the sofa; Justin,
next to him, seemed a bit damp; and finally Joey, who was eyeing her right
back. What a shock, she thought, her mind flickering back to the way
he'd been portrayed in the press releases. Nodding
again, she smiled, offered a small wave, and stepped out of the studio.
Behind her, she heard Johnny tell them something about getting back to work,
and then they headed back down to his office to make further plans. --- "...Yes,
Mom. I'm going to be the tour photographer. No, that means I have to go on
tour with them. Take pictures at the concerts and appearances and such.
They're coordinating some of it with the website, so I'm basically going to
be shooting everything." Shouldering
the phone, Abbey bent down to pick up a shirt she'd discarded earlier. As she
meticulously folded, she suppressed a sigh at her mother's tone of voice.
Though she'd dreamt of going into photography ever since childhood, her
mother had never really approved of it, and even now Abbey continued to
suffer the disparagement of her chosen career. "Yes,
you might as well tell Cat. Tell her I'll try to get their autographs, too,
although things are a bit busy right now. No, I don't know how long I'll be
down here, the schedule's really hectic, but I'll be back at least once
before the tour starts. May. I don't know when exactly. Well, if I need to go
shopping, that's what the gold card is for, right?" Finally
she was able to dismiss her mother from the phone, and as she flopped back
onto the bed of her small hotel suite -- she had been booked into an
extended-stay room, since Jive had pretty much put her on an open-ended stay
down here -- she wondered if Cat had begun screaming yet. --- Justin
pounded through the routine, trying to focus on the choreography and nothing
else. Though he usually didn't have a problem with the routines -- normally
he picked stuff up quickly, even the intricate parts -- today he couldn't
seem to concentrate. "Stop,"
Wade yelled. Justin realized he'd screwed up another move. With a groan, he
let his body go boneless on the floor. "Come
on, Timberlake, rise and shine." Chris gave his shoulder a shove with
the toe of one sneaker. "Justin's
out right now, please leave a message at the sound of the tone." Justin
ignored J.C.'s good-natured teasing. Naturally J.C. was in a good mood. J.C.
had a cute redhead to fawn over. He wondered briefly if he was just jealous
that the others had met girls on a trip to DisneyWorld which he'd
specifically passed up, and if that was leading into his interest in Abbey.
After a moment, he dismissed that possibility with a mental sigh. Chris was
right; he had a crush on Abbey, after only having seen her once. But hell,
who could blame him? She was gorgeous. He'd
seen a lot of pretty girls in the last five years, too. Most of them his age,
younger, some that were lovely but much too old for him (he considered old to
be anything above twenty-five). But Abbey was young, he guessed twenty-one or
so; she had a pretty enough face, sleek blonde-and-brown hair gleamed even
while pulled back in a partial twist, and her smile was to die for. "Ah,
I thought I'd find you here." Her
voice -- for a moment he thought it was his imagination working overtime;
then he realized that she was supposed to be here today. Hastily he jumped to
his feet, brushing himself off and cursing mentally that this was the second
time now he'd been forced to meet her in a less-than-groomed state. "All
right, why don't you guys take a break," Wade, the choreographer, said
amiably. "Fifteen minutes." They
dragged themselves over to the leather couches at the side of the room, Chris
crawling across the floor as if swimming for dear life. Abbey suppressed a
smile as she noticed this. Taking a perch on one of the couch arms, she set
her camera case down. She'd figured it would probably always be good to have
a camera handy around these guys, just in case. "Well,
since we don't have long, I thought it'd be good to arrange a time for a
session with you folks," she began without preamble. "Also, if you
have any specific ideas of how you want the photos to look, let me know now
so I can get a place arranged." "I
want to wear a Mickey Mouse suit," Chris offered. "I
don't know if you know anything about us," Lance promptly said, all but
rolling his eyes, "but it's probably a good idea to ignore everything
that comes out of Chris's mouth." "I'll
keep that in mind," Abbey said drily. "But,
Mickey Mouse!" "I
had an idea," Justin said. "No
one wants to hear your ideas." Joey grinned, looking positively evil.
"No one likes you, Justin, just get used to it." "All
right, someone kill him for me." "Aww,
can't give me the big beat down yourself?" "I
have people to do that for me." Lance
coughed loudly, interrupting the pair. "Now, for the
NON-testosterone-impaired in the room..." Abbey
suppressed a smile. "So, when's the soonest we can get together?" "We
have plans tonight, but maybe Monday," J.C. suggested. His eyes looked
bleak for the barest moment, but the emotion was gone so quickly that Abbey
immediately doubted she'd seen it in the first place. "Monday's
good. I've seen the weather reports, and it should be clear if you want to do
some outside shooting." Abbey was banking on the advice Johnny had given
her: that the guys were very opinionated about how they would want their
shots to appear. In that, it seemed, she was not mistaken; in no time, all five
of them were chiming in with suggestions, including the ever popular
'personality shots' and Chris's idea that she shoot them messing up on skis
(inspired, no doubt, by their recent "Snowed In" appearance). Abbey
jotted down notes as quickly as she could until the choreographer called them
out to the floor again. By then they were buzzing with energy again, and Joey
danced out to the center of the floor, light on his toes, with fists clenched
loosely before him like a boxer. "I'm da greatest!" he proclaimed;
this title lasted for about one minute, until Chris swung a wide, fake
uppercut and tapped Joey's chin. Joey sprawled on the floor as if the 'punch'
had laid him out. On
an impulse, Abbey grabbed her camera case and began assembling her trusted
Nikon. "Do you guys mind if I take some pictures now?" "You
want to take pictures of us all sweaty and disgusting and stuff?" Justin
looked rather green at the thought. "It'll
get you used to me being back here. After a while you'll forget I'm even
taking pictures." With practiced ease, she popped open a roll of film,
deftly inserting it into the camera, and checked the light level in the room
with a meter. "Sure,"
J.C. shrugged. She
stayed for about half an hour more, slipping around the edges of the room to
capture quick, unguarded shots. There was silliness here and there, but for
the most part the guys had definitely buckled down to work, and the
concentration showed in their serious, set faces. Abbey felt reasonably
pleased with the roll of pictures; she was even beginning to think now that
this might not be the most heinous of jobs after all. ---
"You
like her, huh?" "Shut
up, Chris." "You're
spending too much time in front of the mirror, fro boy. Justin's got a crush!
Justin's got a crush!" Chris danced around the room, singsonging the
words to everyone in earshot. "Geez,
Chris, give it a rest!" Lance picked up the first object that came to
hand -- a small box of tacks, left over from some workmen who had been
redecorating the room prior to its temporary transformation into a makeup
area. -- and held it up in a threatening manner. Chris
went into a sulk, grumbling and folding his arms. "Can't help it if
you're not a morning person." "Bite
me." "Ooh,
can I?" "Chris."
This from J.C., who may not quite have been fed up yet, but was definitely
getting close. At his terse utterance, Chris settled down, returning his
attention to the laptop computer and the business he'd been dealing with
before being distracted by Justin's careful ministrations to his hair. Fortunately
for all concerned, Abbey arrived only a couple of minutes later. She
apologized for her lateness, as she'd been unexpectedly stuck in traffic;
they reassured her that it was only to be expected, and she began setting up
for the shoot. Aware
of Johnny Wright's presence, serious but quiet in the background, she felt a
twinge of nerves which she quickly suppressed. "So who wants to go
first?" she asked, glancing at the others. Chris was done with the
laptop and had begun playing with a small pug dog, tossing a rubber ball for
the little dog to catch. Joey just grinned and pointed at Justin. "I
will," the blond said, standing up and giving Joey a grimace. He looked
like he wanted to run a hand through his hair; Abbey bit her lip and hoped he
wouldn't, since the tight curls would probably be horribly disarrayed by such
an action. Fortunately, he refrained, and the first photo session got
underway. Abbey
was impressed, if reluctantly, with the professionalism each of them
displayed throughout the morning. Though it was early, they weren't overly
grumpy; aside from one incident when Busta, Chris's dog, ran through the shot
with his owner in hot pursuit, there were no disturbances. The only thing
that bothered her was the way Justin kept hanging around her. Even
after his shots were done, Abbey noticed him looking at her; and while she
admitted that he wasn't unpleasant to the eye, it was something of a
distraction. During a break after Joey's shots, while she put new film into
her cameras, she felt eyes on her and looked up to see Justin standing
nearby. "Yeah?"
she asked, returning her attention to her bag to make sure she had things
sorted correctly. "I
was just wondering if I could get you a pop or something." He looked
less confident than she'd been led to believe he was, and she couldn't help
but smile to herself. "Sure,
that'd be nice." She didn't notice Chris's snickering, and that may have
been for the best. --- "So
what do you do for fun? We're going out tonight if you want to come
along." That was all delivered in a rush as Abbey packed up her cases.
She suppressed a chuckle as Justin once again tried to get some conversation
out of her. "That's
all right, Justin. But if you really want to do something for me, would you
sign a picture? My kid sister is threatening my life if I don't go back to
New York without at least your signatures." "Oh,
sure." Justin accepted the pen she fished out of a pocket, scribbling
his autograph on one of the test shots without a second thought. "But
really, I mean it, you're missing a really good time." "Justin."
She accepted the picture and pen, set them on top of her bags, and reached
out to hold one of his shoulders firmly. "This is my job, okay? I'm not
here to socialize. I appreciate the offer, but you're barking up the wrong
tree." And anyway, why would you want me to go out with you when
you've got a million cute girls lusting after you? The
singer's face fell, and Abbey winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound
harsh--" "Nah,
it's a'ight." She saw the wall come up just like that, a mask hiding the
feelings crushed by her casual rejection. "It's cool." "Well,
I'll see you later." Abbey went back to tucking lenses and rolls of
spent film into their cases, feeling horrible now. Once she was finished, she
approached the others -- Lance chatting on a cellphone, Chris bringing Busta
back from a walk outside, Joey and J.C. chasing each other on scooters -- to
get their autographs as well. "Sure,
no problem," J.C. said when Abbey asked for his signature. "Who's
it for?" "My
little sister, Catherine. Cat for short. She's twelve, and you guys are her
whole world." Abbey couldn't keep from smiling at the thought of Cat's
inevitable reaction to this. "She'd skin me alive if I didn't bring
something back." "Back?"
Joey asked, looking a bit puzzled. "Yeah,
I'm flying up tomorrow with you lot. Apparently I'm supposed to tag around
with you until the tour starts, only," she sighed softly, transferring
the picture from J.C. to Joey, "no one bothered to let me in on that
until after I got here." Chris
smirked. "Gotta love those last-minute decisions." Abbey
smiled, reaching over to caress Busta's ears. "Yeah, well. I'll live. I
guess it works out anyway, since I can get packed for the tour and, you know,
see my family and such." "Oh,
you're from New York?" Joey perked up a little as he handed the picture
and pen over to Chris, who had to juggle Busta to sign. Abbey nodded. "Manhattan
born and raised, I'm afraid. My mom's something of... well." She shook
her head, attempting to contain a smile. "'Snob' is the word she likes
least, so it's the one I use most. But, oh, hey -- if you guys could get Cat
in to one of the promo things you're doing up there, I'd have a personal
slave for the next ten years." Joey
laughed. "No problem." Finally,
she got Lance's signature -- he talking on the phone all the while, though by
the tone she wondered if it was a business call or something more personal --
and tucked the picture into her satchel. "Thanks, guys. See you at the
airport tomorrow morning?" Receiving
groans at the anticipated early morning, she chuckled, picked up her cases,
and headed out. Something told her that this stint in New York would be very
interesting. |