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---Part Fourteen--- "...'We do date and
have girlfriends, and we're not going to hide this information out of the fear
that our fans might not be able to handle the knowledge. We know that our
fans are intelligent and emotionally capable of dealing with the
truth.'" Johnny Wright cleared his
throat, glancing down to his left at the row of seated men beside him. The five
guys looked alternatively nervous, relieved, or bored; Johnny wasn't sure
which reaction was best. He turned his attention back to the statement to
read the last paragraph. "'Finally,'" he
read, "'this does not mean that our private lives are now open for all
to see. They will remain private. What this does mean is that we no longer
intend to carry on practices that are a painful reminder of things we have
purposely left behind us. It's another step in the "no strings
attached" attitude that we intend to continue to build for the rest of
our careers.'" Johnny nodded, reaching
for a glass of water; this was enough of a signal of the statement's
conclusion for the various reporters in the room to begin babbling questions
and raise their hands. Johnny searched out faces, picked one at random: a
young man with a microcassette recorder held high in one hand. "So is this because
of the pictures of Justin and the girl in his hotel room?" "Partially,"
Justin said quickly, "but it's also something that's just been a long
time coming. We thought it was past time to set the record straight." "Websites are going
crazy with rumors about this girl," said the next reporter, an older
woman. "Who is she?" "She's my
girlfriend." Justin fought a warm smile and wasn't entirely successful;
flashes went off at even the faintest sight of his famous smile. In the front
of the crowd, seated on the floor, Abbey smiled back at him before raising
her camera for a picture of her own. "So does this
mystery girlfriend of yours have a name?" someone else asked. Before
Justin could answer, other reporters broke in with more questions: "Is
she on the tour?" "How long have you been seeing each other?"
"How do you expect your fans to take the fact that you're in a sexual
relationship? Are you saying that casual sex is okay?" "I'm not saying
anything like that," Justin started hotly. Before he could stand up,
J.C. reached for his friend, giving him a gentle push on the shoulder. J.C. proceeded to take up
the answering, stepping into the line of fire gamely. "We're not saying
that casual sex is okay, not by any stretch of the imagination," he
said. "In the context of a serious relationship, there are a lot of
factors, and sex is one of them." "So this is a serious
relationship?" The reporters were undeterred, continuing to focus on
Justin. "Any wedding bells?" "What does Britney
think about all of this?" asked another reporter. "What about you,
J.C.? The rumors that you're seeing a fan?" This wasn't going well at
all. Johnny stood up, glowering. "Folks, we've given the statement. That
doesn't mean every detail of their private lives is now on public display.
This press conference is over." The reporters not quick
enough to take that cue were quickly shown to the doors, some continuing to
snap pictures as they left. Justin glanced down the row at his groupmates,
his shoulders slumped. "That went pretty
well," Chris said optimistically. Joey groaned and dropped
his head to the table. --- After the press conference,
Abbey slipped out of the room with the rest of the reporters, grateful that
none of them seemed to notice or recognize her. For a little while, she could
maintain some level of anonymity, and she wanted to keep that while she
could. Heading to the elevators, she hit the up button, fidgeting with her
camera while she waited for a car to arrive. The guys had a radio interview
to do, and then soundcheck, so she figured she probably wouldn't see Justin
until before the show, or at worst, not privately until afterwards. That upset her; she
wanted to have at least a little private time with him, to talk about the
press conference -- he'd been visibly upset, not that this was an unusual
state for him lately, but she wanted to comfort him somehow. Later,
she promised herself as an elevator arrived. Entering her room, she
discovered that Michaela was there, flopped out on the bed watching
television. "Hey," she said, settling down on her own bed. "Hey yourself,
stranger." Michaela rolled to her side and eyed Abbey, now occupied with
packing her camera into its case. "Should I just permanently move to
Lance's room or what?" "Oh, Michaela, I'm
sorry." A wave of guilt flooded Abbey, and she set down the camera case,
turning begging eyes on the stylist. "Really, I don't mean to -- it's
just that--" "It's okay,"
Michaela said, smiling wryly. "Lance's girlfriend's just gonna get
jealous, but she doesn't have anything to worry about." "I should hope
not." Abbey knew from an early chat with Michaela that the woman was
firmly opposed to breaking up relationships, even if she liked the guy in
question. "So how are you and
Curly?" Michaela asked with a glance in Abbey's direction. The tremulous
smile on Abbey's face told it all. "Girlfriend, you're glowing like a
lightbulb. That press conference was because of you, wasn't it? You his
girlfriend now?" Abbey chuckled.
"Well, I like to think that he's my boyfriend." "So I guess I am
gonna be getting kicked out of the room a lot." Michaela gave an
exaggerated sigh, resting her head on her upturned palms again. "That's
okay. I don't mind. Lance is a hottie, you know. Maybe I will give that girl
of his a run for her money. What do you think? You think I got a
chance?" As Abbey laughed, a knock
sounded on the door. Batting her eyelashes and throwing a hitch into her
step, Michaela sashayed over to the door to see who it was. "Oh, hello,
loverboy," she cooed, opening the door for Justin. The singer obviously
didn't know what to make of her actions, so he nodded at her, blinking in a
bemused way. "Uh, hey. Is Abbey
around?" "In here,"
Abbey called. "I'll make myself
scarce." Michaela giggled, grabbed her purse from where it sat on the
dresser after letting Justin in. "Be down in Suzy's room if you need
me." "Okay." Abbey sat
up on her bed, crossing her legs Indian-style as Justin came into the bedroom
area. He looked more than a little drained, and Abbey wanted immediately to
hold him. She gave into the impulse; standing and putting her arms around
him, she felt him relax into her embrace for a long, quiet moment. "I thought you had a
radio interview," she said softly into his chest. "It got
cancelled," he said, sighing; gently, he pulled away from her and sat
down on her bed. Abbey followed suit, resting a hand lightly on his thigh. "We have to
talk," he said. She didn't like the tone
of voice he used -- quiet, subdued, but tightly controlled underneath.
"Okay, what about?" she asked, cautious. "This morning."
He was looking at the floor, or maybe at the stretch of bedspread between
them; Abbey wished she could see his eyes right now. "I mean, the whole
thing with the photographer," he clarified, "not the other--" "Yeah, I
understand," Abbey said softly. He was shaking his head.
"Naw, I don't think you do. See, I don't understand why you let him in
in the first place, and second of all--" "Well, Justin, I'm
sorry, but I thought he was on the hotel staff," she interrupted, just a
little testy. "Did you even look
through the peephole to see who it was?" He looked up at her now, and
Abbey regretted her wish; his eyes were tense with anger, barely restrained. "No, but I thought
security would have screened anyone coming up on the floor, so--" "See, you have to be
more careful," he snapped. "That's exactly what I'm talking
about." "Jesus, Justin, give
me a break." She yanked back from him and stood up, feeling anger flare.
"I've never been on a tour like this, I'm not used to--" "That is no
excuse," Justin shot back, standing up as well. "Didn't you listen
to a damn thing security said when we started the tour?" "Oh, don't you dare
get high and mighty on me. I heard every word and it's all still in my notes.
Everyone makes mistakes, Justin, or are you too perfect to err?" She was close to snarling
now, but Justin didn't concede an inch. "I'm not the issue here, so
don't change the subject." "So what is? The
fact that I'm trying to compromise our little love-fest or something? God,
that's the last thing I want!" "How do I
know?" Justin's voice was suddenly cold. "Maybe you did it all for
a story." Abbey felt the blood
freeze in her veins. "If you think that, then -- out. Just get
out." "This isn't
over--" he started to say, but she was pushing him towards the door. "I can't believe you
think after all this that I'm some kind of plant or spy or -- GET OUT!!"
she shouted, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open. "Get the hell
out of my room and don't come back!" "Don't flatter
yourself, I'm not even interested anymore," he snarled, and stomped out. The door swung shut
behind him, closing almost soundlessly. As suddenly as it had swept over her,
the surge of emotion departed, and Abbey felt herself sink to her knees, the
tears she'd held back before rising to the surface now. Almost unnoticed, the
phone began to ring. --- "You're what?!" Abbey tossed the last
piece of underwear into her duffel bag and yanked at the zipper, cursing in
frustration when it caught on a piece of fabric. "I have to go, or I'll
be fired." "That can't be
right, they can't just do that--" Michaela stood in the middle of the
room, watching Abbey; her face wore a look of dumfounded shock, the same it
had worn since she'd returned to the room to discover the photographer
frantically throwing clothes into a duffel bag, gathering up shower items,
and pulling everything together in a rush. Abbey had explained briefly that
she was being reassigned and that she had to be on a plane in an hour, that
she would be fired if she didn't leave on it; but Michaela was having a hard
time believing it. Something sounded fishy to her. "You should just
stay, Abster," she said. "I'm sure WEG would hire you on or
something, Justin would fight for you--" "The hell he
would," Abbey said, so vehemently that Michaela started. "You guys fought?
Holy shit, Abbey, you can't go now--" "Watch me."
Abbey hauled her bags to the door, paused to look back at the stylist. Her
heart crumpled as she realized this might be the last time she'd ever see her
temporary roommate, of whom she'd grown genuinely fond. Not thinking about
the others, NOT THINKING about the others-- "God, Mickey, I'm
gonna miss you." Michaela came over,
hugging Abbey for a long moment. "I'll miss you too, girlfriend." "Do me a
favor?" Abbey whispered. "Tell Justin I'm sorry." "Sure." Abbey grabbed her bags
again, heaved them out the door, and all but bolted to the elevators. The cab
she'd called was already waiting outside the hotel when she got to the front
doors; once her bags were in the trunk and she safely ensconced in the back
seat, with directions to take her to the airport as quickly as possible,
Abbey let out a ragged sigh. The fight with Justin had
been heart-rending; even the thought that he might not trust her was enough
to send her close to tears again. Then, just after he'd left, Kelly had
called, and her world had fallen apart. "You did exactly
what I told you not to do, Abbey. Those pictures on the Internet? What were
you thinking? The label is very upset with your behavior. You're reassigned
as of right now." "But I -- I can't
leave now, I--" "Let me
clarify," Kelly had said, her voice silken. "If you are not on the
plane in one hour, you will be willfully revoking an assignment. That's a
breach of contract, Abbey. You may consider yourself terminated if you stay
there." "What?"
Abbey whispered, feeling herself go numb. "You should have
read the fine print when you signed your services up with us, Abbey. Really,
I expected better from you." There had been a pause; Abbey thought she
could almost see the smirk that was undoubtedly all over Kelly's face right
now. Then Kelly's voice had gone serious. "Be on that plane or you're
out of a job, Eldridge. And trust me, I'll make sure you never get hired
again." With that, the line went dead. What choice did she have?
Lose a job, or lose some of the closest friends she'd ever made -- and
Justin, who probably hated her guts and never wanted to see her again?
Thinking of Justin made her decision simple. So I'm going home
again, she
thought. That's a good thing, right? --- Justin became aware of
Abbey's absence sometime in the middle of the second song. There was someone
taking pictures, but even through the haze of flashing lights, he could tell
that it wasn't her. It actually threw him off a step, and while he
compensated quickly enough that almost no-one noticed, he finished the song
with half the usual energy. Where the hell is
she?! During the first break,
while they were rushing through a change of clothes, Justin grabbed Johnny.
"Where the hell's Abbey?" Johnny shook his head.
"Not now, Timberlake." "Where the hell is
she?!" he repeated, frantic. "What happened to her?" "She had to leave.
Go, you're on!" She had to leave?!
What the fuck did she have to leave for? It wasn't a coincidence
that he put more heart into his lines of "I Drive Myself Crazy"
than usual, nor that his performance of "This I Promise You" was
much more passionate than usual. He felt her loss keenly, as if a part of his
heart had been sliced out. Too, he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He was stalking towards
the buses after the show when Michaela caught up with him. "There you
are! Justin!" she shouted. "Not now,
Michaela!" "I know what
happened!" That stopped him in his
tracks, even as Lonnie was urging him on. "Come on," Justin yelled,
grabbing her arm and ushering her to the 'N Sync bus ahead of him. Inside, they grabbed
seats, waiting for the final head-count; then, all five present and accounted
for, the bus took off, heading back to the hotel. Michaela wasted no time in
telling Justin everything that had happened that afternoon after his hasty departure
from her hotel room. "She said she had to
go or she'd be fired," Michaela finished, her voice puzzled. "I
tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen to me." "So she's -- back in
New York?" he said, an eyebrow raised. "I guess, probably.
And she told me to tell you that she's sorry." Justin blinked, the
impact of that relayed apology hitting him hard. "Oh," he said,
softer. "Oh, shit, she's gone, she's gone and I didn't get to--" "I know, I tried to
get her not to go--" Michaela was frantic again, and Joey, who'd been
listening to the tale along with the others, gave her a sympathetic squeeze. "Do you think
Kelly--?" Lance angled an eyebrow at Justin, who nodded slowly, fire
beginning to burn in his eyes again. "I do. And I think
we're going to have to do something about Kelly once and for all." --- As the plane touched down
in New York, Abbey began to gather her things together. She thought she
should feel something -- some sense of homecoming, maybe, a sense of relief
that it was all over. She hadn't wanted to go on this project to begin with;
now she could put it behind her and get on with things. First, she thought,
she'd go back to her apartment and sleep in her own bed for at least a week. Somehow, the sight of
Kelly waiting at the gate didn't surprise her in the least. It did make her
want to turn around and get back on the plane, regardless of where it was
headed. Shifting her carry-on bag, she heaved a sigh and headed towards her
boss. "Abbey, I'm so glad
you saw fit to come back," Kelly said as soon as Abbey was close enough
to hear. "Let's go get your bags in the limo, and we can head over to
the studios. I have some new projects planned that you're really going to
love." Mute, Abbey followed
Kelly down the concourse, feeling her stomach sink to somewhere around the
level of her knees. She'd thought coming back would be a good thing? What had
she been thinking? |