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---Part Fifteen--- "Ten oh seven
a.m." "Abbey, this is
Justin. Hey, um, gimme a call, a'ight? I miss you." BEEP! "Message deleted.
Next message. One forty two p.m." "It's me again. Do
you ever check this thing? I tried getting your home number, but they said it
was disconnected. Abbey, call me. I mean it." BEEP! "Message deleted.
Next message. Three thirteen p.m." "Abbey, it's Lance. Call
us, we're worried about you. You've got my number, right? Or call Johnny, or
the studio in Orlando, and they'll give you the numbers. Come on, call." BEEP! "Message
deleted. No new messages." The hand -- fingernails
exquisitely manicured, elegant rings gleaming on long fingers -- trailed over
the phone's console. Then, decisive, they disconnected the line, turned the
speaker phone off. Smiling to herself, Kelly
stood up and slipped out of Abbey's office, turning off the light and closing
the door behind her. --- Justin sighed, clicked
his cell phone off. "She must not ever check her voicemail." "Maybe she's just
not in her office," Joey suggested. "Did you try her cell
phone?" "That was
disconnected too." Justin tossed his own phone down on the seat beside
him, sighing. Only a few days after the press conference and subsequent
disappearance of Abbey, they were on the road somewhere between Buffalo and
North Carolina, headed for a concert in Greensboro. He'd fervently wished
that somehow the bus would get lost on the way out of Buffalo and head east
instead of south; he wanted to be in New York, to find Abbey and get
everything sorted out. Joey shrugged, eyes on
the magazine in his hands. "She could have gotten a different cell
phone. I mean, I hate to say it, but maybe she doesn't want to talk to
you." "I can't believe
that," Justin said, though it had crossed his mind. He'd firmly
squelched the thought each time it had arisen, yet he couldn't entirely
eliminate it from his mind. "Nah, I don't buy it
either," Lance added, looking up from his laptop. "It doesn't add
up. Michaela said she didn't want to go, I think Kelly forced her for some
reason." "Then we have to
call her on it." Justin stood up, pacing up the narrow center aisle of
the bus, then back down it again. "But how? We don't
have any evidence, and who would we talk to about it?" Lance pointed
out. Justin paced for a few
moments before pausing, his eyes on his cellphone again. "I've got an
idea." --- Abbey had never felt so
restless in New York before. Manhattan was her home, the place to which she'd
always returned with a sense of love and loyalty; she'd felt joined to the
city by ties of family, of long familiarity and knowledge. But this
homecoming was all wrong. Nothing gave her cheer, nothing seemed familiar
anymore; her old haunts were alien, her old friends distant at best. Even
spending time with her family didn't seem to help; her mother tsked worriedly
at her, and Cat's attempts to lighten Abbey's mood ended in vain. Fortunately, Abbey was very
busy, thanks to Kelly; it seemed like she could barely turn around without
being given another assignment. If I suck so bad, why am I doing so much
work? she wondered more than once. Still, being busy meant she didn't
have time to think, which was a good thing in her opinion. Half the time she
spent assisting other photographers, hardly doing any real work of her own,
which was fine with her even if it did feel like a waste of her talent. I am good. I know I
am! But her
reassurances felt hollow to herself, and she wondered if her self-confidence
had been completely undermined by Kelly's constant criticism of her work. Mostly, she spent her
time trying not to think about Justin. Their fight, just prior to her
leaving, had convinced her that he thought her untrustworthy, that he didn't
care for her. Her fear had been borne out by a lack of contact -- though
she'd had to get a new cell phone after losing her old one, and she'd had to
change her home phone number when calls from the media became overwhelming,
both in number and tone. Too, female fans of Justin's -- having somehow
discerned who she was -- had taken to calling her at all hours to make
threats ranging from the ridiculous to the frightening. Abbey gave up after
the second number change, screened all her calls instead; her answering
machine was now set to inform callers that she was out right now, so if the
caller was a Justin Timberlake fan who wanted her out of the picture, would
they please take a number and get in line? Most of the threats were
pretty laughable, along the lines of "Justin loves me, we're going to
get married, so leave him alone, you bitch!" Abbey had put the police on
speed dial in case of any serious threats, but she wasn't overly worried; it
did bother her that the fans had found out her identity and tracked down her
phone number in the first place. The news that she was no longer with the
tour or Justin would, she figured, probably not matter to them when weighed
against the fact that she had actually slept with him. "It'll pass,"
her mother tried to reassure her. Abbey hoped she was right. --- "This is Kelly
Nivers." Kelly spun in her seat, turning away from the computer screen
to look out her window. Her secretary hadn't identified her caller, so Kelly
figured whoever it was couldn't be very important. "Kelly? Justin
Timberlake." Kelly arched an eyebrow,
intrigued. "I'm honored. May I ask what this call is about, Mr.
Timberlake?" In his hotel room, Justin
took a deep breath before plunging in. "I believe you're the person in charge
of assigning photographers to us, among other things?" "You're right."
She sounded amused; Justin didn't like that at all. "Well, I wanted to
-- to inquire as to why you decided to reassign Abbey Eldridge." "Abbey is needed for
other projects," Kelly said smoothly. "I made the decision based on
the fact that the quality of her work has been poor. It was a mistake to
assign her to such an important tour as yours, and I'm certainly sorry for
any trouble she might have caused--" "She didn't cause any
trouble," Justin interrupted. "As a matter of fact, we were all
more than happy with her work. We'd like to have her back on the tour, since
this new guy isn't working out." "Not... working out?
How so?" Her voice was all innocence. "His pictures aren't
that great. We're not satisfied with the 'quality of his work'." He
figured if she was going to use the terminology, he might as well too.
"The group was comfortable with Abbey." Kelly sounded colder now
as she said, "Well, that's not your decision. I'm the marketing, and if
I think you need a different photographer, you'll get a different
photographer." "Excuse me, but I'm
your paycheck," Justin replied, doing his level best to keep his temper
even. "Maybe you need a reminder of that. We do make the decisions,
and--" Laughter billowed across
the phone line to him. "Oh, honey, I don't think so. You may think
you're running the show, but without the business people to call the shots
every day, you'd still be singing for your supper in some podunk diner in Florida.
Now why don't you stay on the stage where you belong, like a good little pop
star, and let me handle what I'm here to do." "We will get her
back." No longer bothering to maintain his cool, Justin spat into the
receiver. "Don't think we won't." "I would love to see
you try." Her voice oozed across the line; then she dropped the
connection without another word, leaving Justin clutching the receiver on a
dead phone line. He glanced up at Chris,
who'd been sitting across the room with a phone plugged into the other
outlet, a microcassette recorder held to its earpiece. "Well?" "Lemme check."
Chris hung up the phone and rewound the tape a little, then hit the 'play'
button. Kelly's words were clearly audible, if slightly distorted by static. "Sounds good. Too
bad she didn't really give us anything." "And that this is
technically illegal. Do you think they'll be mad because she insulted the
talent?" Chris suggested, standing up. "I don't know if
it's enough. We'll probably need more evidence." Justin stood as well,
putting the receiver back onto the phone; he began to move restlessly around
the room. "I think we have the
evidence that she's a spiteful bitch." Chris was rewinding the tape,
fiddling with a wrist-strap for the recorder. "It's gotta be a good start,
I mean, if we needed to convince anybody about that." "So what else do we
know?" Justin asked, not pausing in his pacing. "She's part of our
marketing team, but for how long? She's doing stuff to try to make us look
bad?" J.C. came into the room
at that point, followed by Lance. "We have something," Lance called
before J.C. turned around to hush him. "Did you get
anything?" J.C. asked, noticing that their task seemed to be complete. "Yeah, sort
of," Justin began. "We know she thinks
she's, like, God," Chris put in. "Or would that be Goddess?" Justin rolled his eyes at
Chris. "She basically told me to keep my nose out of her business.
Sounded like she was hiding something." "Well, we asked
Johnny, and he said that he remembers her from Transcon. I guess she was in
marketing there, big protegee of Lou's," J.C. reported, seating himself
on one of the beds. As the others raised eyebrows at each other, he went on.
"Johnny said he didn't know what happened to her, because he didn't
really like her and wasn't keeping track, but apparently some people lost
their jobs when everything went down, and he thinks she might have been one
of them." "So, we thought she
lost her job because of us and now she's trying to get her revenge
somehow," Lance added. "That's dumb,"
Chris muttered. "I mean, geez, if she wanted us to stay with Transcon
she could have kept the finances straight in the first place." "I don't know if
that's what she wants, but it doesn't really matter," J.C. said.
"Pretty much what I'm thinking now is that we get her off of handling
our marketing, and anyone else's if we can help it. She's coming off as
vindictive to me." Chris nodded, glanced
around. "Hey, where's Joey?" "On the phone with
Lindsey," Lance noted; he'd draped himself in one of the chairs and had
his head lolling on the chair's high back. "Didn't sound good." "Mm." Chris
gave an empathetic wince, his thoughts flashing on Victoria for a moment
before he forcibly returned his attention to the present. "So what do we
do about Kelly?" "Nothing for right
now," Justin put in calmly. "We wait until we get to New York.
We're supposed to be having a meeting with Jive then. Johnny will be there,
he can back us up." "And we suffer with
this crappy photographer until then?" Chris lamented. "Abbey took a ton of
good pictures. They'll all use those." J.C. noticed Justin's quickly
downcast eyes at the mention of Abbey. "But we'll get her back one way
or another." "We better,"
Lance said. "Michaela's threatening to start sleeping on our floor
because she's so lonely." Justin gave an artistic
shudder at that. --- On a Friday afternoon in
July, Abbey snapped. She knew exactly when it
happened. She'd been dealing with an artist newly signed to Jive, a rapper
who was about to start recording his first album; he'd been courted by the
label, who'd thrown obscene amounts of money at him to get him to sign with
them. The photo session wasn't his first -- he'd spent some time boasting
about how popular he was back home -- and he was using the opportunity to behave
like a spoiled brat. Abbey had given up trying to direct him about twenty
minutes into the session, but when he started inviting all of his friends,
including the scantily-dressed girls, into the shoot, she suddenly lost all
her patience. "That's it," she
declared, standing up and beginning to detach the camera from its tripod.
"Session's over." "What? We ain't
done--" the rapper started. "Yeah, we are,"
she said. "Your afternoon's free now, go enjoy it." As she began shoving
cameras, lenses, and rolls of film into her cases, the manager came up to
her. "Look, lady, I don't know who you think you are cancelling a photo
session like this, but unless you're Annie Leibowitz--" Abbey shot him a dark
look. "Are you going to make your artist behave? Because I haven't
noticed it yet." "Behave? You wantin'
me to lose his personality, make him into some stamped product for
you--" The man was getting in her face now, and Abbey dropped the
equipment case, standing. "I don't honestly
give a rat's ass," Abbey snarled back at him, "if he's a product or
a human being, but if he's going to behave like a child then he's going to be
treated as one. I don't have to put up with his behavior, I've worked with
children who are more mature than this, and I've seen people making a hell of
a lot more money than him behave better. So if you want this session
finished--" Her voice lowered, darkening in tone as she pointed at the
rapper. "Get -- him -- in -- line." After a surprisingly
docile rapper finished the photo session without argument, Abbey repacked her
cases and threw them in the passenger seat of the company car. Her temper had
cooled a bit once the artist had settled down, but she was still feeling that
undertone of annoyance -- and she was getting tired of not following her
instincts. Sometimes you just
gotta go with what you feel, she mused as she headed back to the offices. It had
certainly helped with the photo session today. But her new impulse, as
attractive as it seemed, was scaring her a bit. Can I really just do
it? I have to, before I lose my nerve. I can't keep functioning like this. I
don't have a plan! I can always move back in with Mom and Cat if I don't find
something else. As she pulled into the
parking garage beneath Jive's building, she couldn't help but feel grateful
to Justin for unleashing the side of her that did things spontaneously,
without thought for the consequences. Before -- before everything that had
happened, she amended the thought -- she never would have considered taking
this kind of leap. Thank you, wherever
you are. --- "Ah, Abbey. We need
to talk." Kelly looked up from the
contract she'd been glancing through, laying it down on her otherwise
pristine desk. Abbey had been announced moments before by the secretary; the
photographer had a stormy look on her face as she marched into the office. "Yeah, Kelly, you're
right. We do need to talk," Abbey replied. Her voice sounded strange to
Kelly -- there was an unusual element of tautness in it, as if she'd been
frayed almost to the breaking point. "Was it the photo
session today? The manager called me to apologize. What did you tell
him?" "That his artist was
being an immature brat and I was tired of putting up with his nonsense." Kelly took a deep breath.
"Abbey, now you know better than to--" "Than to what,
Kelly?" Abbey planted herself before the desk, glaring at her boss.
"Than to talk back, to open my mouth? Because it's better to just let
the artist run roughshod over me and completely ruin the session? But wait, I
thought I was supposed to dictate everything down to the last detail. Isn't
that how you had me doing it with 'N Sync?" In the moment of silence
that followed that outburst, Kelly sat stunned, disbelief on her face. Abbey
wouldn't dare speak to her like that-- "Oh, but 'N Sync were
different, because you wanted my pictures to be horrible. Well, it's too bad
that I got some advice from someone who actually wanted the guys to look
decent, because then I started shooting good pictures, and I don't care what
you told me, I know that my pictures made magazines all over the
place. So don't you dare tell me that my work isn't up to par!" Abbey
took a deep breath. Taking that moment, Kelly
plunged in. "Abbey, I was trying to direct you for your own good--" "Oh,
horseshit." Abbey folded her arms, then, thinking better of it, leaned
on the back of one of the two chairs across from Kelly's desk. "You
wanted the guys to look bad. You're the one who set me up so that there would
be some scandalous romance with one of the guys -- I don't think you cared
who, but the fact that it was Justin made it all the sweeter for you. And
don't think I've missed the fact that the photo credit for that mystery
picture from the hotel has been listed as 'Jive Records'." She was
jumping to conclusions, she knew, based on gut instincts and suspicions that
had teased at her for months now; but the way Kelly's face kept going paler
and paler was sufficient enough proof for her. "All I want to know
is one thing -- was this anything personal against me, or were you just using
me because I happened to be there?" Slowly, the smirk began
to slip back into place; Kelly raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter? Your
accusations are foundless at any rate." "Maybe they are.
Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the fact that you screwed my life over, took
away the only thing that had really begun to matter to me, and tried to make
me lose any self-confidence I had -- maybe that doesn't matter at all. But
you know what? Neither do you." Abbey couldn't restrain a
smirk of her own as she stood and walked to the door. Turning in the
entryway, she informed Kelly calmly, "Find yourself another photographer
to manipulate. I quit." She heard Kelly's voice
after her -- strident, yelling, even something about "you'll never work
in this town again" -- but as she strode to her office to collect her
things, Abbey felt only laughter welling up inside her, as sweet as nothing
she'd felt in a long time. --- "You what? Oh my
God." Cat grabbed the receiver, clung to it as if it were a lifeline. "I need your help,
Cat," Justin said patiently. He was praying that Cat was as level-headed
as Abbey had made her out to be; he knew he could be potentially getting
himself in a lot of trouble, but she was his last hope. "Yeah, sure,
anything! Uh, this is about Abbey, right?" "Good call."
Justin had to smile. "Hey, you know she
quit her job, right?" He blinked at that.
"What? No, I didn't know." "Haven't you talked
to her? She's kinda freaked right now." "I don't have her
number," Justin said, wondering idly how that might sound to the girl.
Then again, if Cat was assuming that he was still in touch with Abbey-- "Oh, here, I'll get
it for you. She's had to change it a couple times, people keep calling her...
um--" Cat's voice took on a nervous tone. "Because girls are like
threatening her to stay away from you and stuff." "Figures."
Justin smacked his forehead with one palm, wondering why that hadn't crossed
his mind. Of course there would be vindictive fans... No, he hadn't wanted to
think about it. "Okay, here it
is." She rattled off the numbers, and he wrote them down on a piece of
hotel stationery. "Okay, so anyway, what did you want me to help you
with?" Justin smiled. "I've
got this little surprise in mind..." --- Four days after quitting
her job, Abbey was awakened by the sound of her doorbell ringing. She'd slept in for the
past few days, and this particular Tuesday wasn't any exception; the sound of
the doorbell, unfamiliar at first, jarred her from her slumber. With a
mumbled curse, she found her old, plaid robe, tossed it on over the
sleep-shirt and boxers, and stumbled to the door to see who it was. "Delivery," the
voice called up on the intercom. Confused, Abbey buzzed him up. Through the
peephole, all she could see was bright, riotous color when his footsteps announced
his arrival. Flowers..? Bemused, she let the
deliveryman in; he handed her an enormous bouquet of bright tropical flowers,
their hues rich and pure enough to have come straight from a painter's
palette. Abbey thanked him, nudged the door closed, and carefully hauled the
flowers -- set in a wide porcelain vase -- to her kitchen table. There, among the blooms,
she discovered a card. Ah, my mystery admirer reveals himself. Or herself,
gotta be politically correct. But the card bore no name. Be
ready at 7:00. A limousine will be waiting downstairs. An evening of music
and adventure awaits. That's it? Abbey sighed, tossed the card in
the trash, and went back to bed. The flowers had her
puzzled, kept her mind from lapsing into true slumber. Who could have sent
the flowers to her? Maybe the rapper, in apology for his behavior; no, she
thought, he wouldn't be that considerate. His manager, maybe, but no way she
was going out on 'a night of music and adventure' with that sleazeball. And
Justin-- no, she amended promptly, he doesn't want to see me
anymore. Even though today was-- The thought hit her out
of the blue; she grabbed her watch from the bedside stand and inspected the
date display. Oh God, it was July 25th, their first day back in New York, and
the first of their sold-out shows at Madison Square Garden was tonight. Abbey forced her
breathing to calm down, attempting to restore a modicum of rationality to her
suddenly racing pulse. It can't be Justin, it's just a coincidence,
Kelly's probably trying to court me back to Jive or something. Unable to sleep now, she
got up, pulled some clothes on, and went to putter at her email. She'd
recently purchased a computer and an online account with some of the money
from the 'N Sync gig, and it amused her to browse around the Web, finding the
variety of information to be had there. She wasn't too surprised
to see Cat online as well; Cat had convinced her to get an instant-message
program so that they could talk online as well as off, and the program also
showed when Cat was online or off. Even as she noticed that, an instant
message window popped up. kitty281: hey sis! aaeldridge: What's up? kitty281: you gotta check
this out, it's really funny. aaeldridge: What, another
hate site? kitty281: yeah... this
one will make you laugh i promise Abbey chuckled as she
clicked on the link Cat provided. Cat and her friends seemed to run across at
least one new site devoted to Abbey's destruction on a daily basis, and each
one seemed more ridiculous than the rest. Cat was on target again with this
one, which proclaimed Abbey to be the spawn of Satan; that she'd lured Justin
into sin with her fake breasts and "so-called innocent"
personality, and that the site's proprietors would rather see Justin with Britney
Spears than with Abbey (although, they added, Justin would of course
eventually discover the existence of the site's owners and become their
willing slave for the rest of his life). abeldridge: Very funny,
kitten. kitty281: i thought so...
kitty281: guess i can't
talk you into going to the show tonight? Abbey sighed. Over the
past few days, Cat had been obsessive about begging Abbey to go to the
Madison Square Garden show. She and her friends had pretty decent seats,
purchased by her mother for a donation to a charity group, and Cat seemed to
think that Abbey was interested. aaeldridge: Sorry, I
can't make it. kitty281: why not? A flash of inspiration
hit Abbey, who was sorely tired of Cat bugging her about this. aaeldridge: I have plans. kitty281: youre kidding,
really? with who? aaeldridge: Not sure yet,
I have a blind date. kitty281: ahh, that's
cool... i mean it sucks that you're not going but i'm glad you're going out,
you have to tell me all about it. And that, Abbey thought,
was that. She finished checking her email, said a farewell to Cat, and logged
off; then, picking up the newspaper, she went to lay on her bed and look at
the job section. By six-thirty that
evening she was thoroughly bored. She'd done everything she needed to --
she'd even organized her books, a project that she'd been delaying for months
-- and she wasn't even remotely tired. Glancing at the flowers, their warm
scent still rich in the still air of the apartment, she pondered her
mysterious invitation again. Well, what the hell. Whoever it was knew her, knew
that the note would intrigue her; besides, she'd taken a self-defense class
and she'd have her cell phone and mace with her in case anything went wrong.
Shoving up from the couch, she turned off the television and went to take a
shower. --- When the limousine pulled
up in front of Madison Square Garden, Abbey thought about killing someone.
She was most definitely not amused, especially since there were lots of girls
screaming at the mere sight of the limo. The driver came around to open the
door; Abbey smiled at him as he helped her out, and he tipped his hat
politely at her. As the disappointed crowd dispersed, Abbey headed into the
Garden. She'd found an envelope
on the seat when she'd first climbed into the limo; curious, she'd opened it
before the driver had even reached his seat, and then she'd cursed to see the
single ticket for tonight's 'N Sync concert as well as a backstage pass. Heck,
I still have mine from the tour, I don't need this... but someone's got a lot
of nerve, and I don't know if I want to know who. Once she found her seat
-- in the first row, surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls who openly
stared at her -- she sat down to ponder who might have brought this about.
She immediately ruled out Justin, as she was positive that he had no desire
to see her again. Chris, maybe, or Lance; either one was a possibility, as
she'd been close to both, and she figured Lance particularly for the type to
pull off this kind of scheme. While she had also enjoyed hanging out with
Joey and J.C., she doubted that they would have come up with this -- although
she couldn't rule out the possibility of them helping out somehow. That's fine. I'll sit
here, I'll wait until the concert is over, and I'll leave. None of us needs
to be tormented about this anymore. She endured the stares of
the girls around her through the opening acts, was glad when 'N Sync's set
started, as it diverted their attention from her. Her resolve to sit in her
seat and stay calm and quiet lasted until Justin's first approach to the
front of the stage during the opening song. Then she lost it. Justin's eyes went wider
than she'd have ever thought possible; for a moment, she was afraid he might
lose track of where he was. An incredulous smile split his face, and then he
was off, dancing the next set of moves with twice the energy of before.
Abbey's hands were on her face, trying to dam the tears whose flow had
already begun without her permission. He's happy to see me
he doesn't hate me he didn't know I was here or maybe he did it doesn't
matter he's happy to see me-- After the show, even
before the final pounding moments of "Bye, Bye, Bye" had ended the
evening's festivities, Abbey was running to the stage door. She knew where it
was, having been to the Garden before for photo shoots; fumbling with her
pass, she flashed it to the guards and made her way inside. "Abbey!"
Someone was yelling her name; she paused long enough to see Joey's brother,
Steve, wading through the crowd of people jamming the backstage corridors. "Steve," she
shouted, waiting for him to reach her. "Come on, this
way." He guided her through the maze to the dressing rooms, Abbey's
heart jackhammering in her chest all the while. Finally, Steve pushed open a
nondescript door bearing only a piece of paper, photocopied with the group's
name. Abbey's heart leapt into
her throat, and for a moment, she faltered at the door, feeling the weight of
the moment press in on her all at once. Then Steve's hand was on her back,
pushing her through the door, and she heard her name cried aloud by many
voices -- but only one registered in her ears, the hoarse voice that she'd
heard only in her dreams for weeks. She opened her arms just
in time for Justin to stumble into her embrace, squeezing her tightly to him
as he pressed his face to her shoulder. Gripping handfuls of his shirt, she
held on and tried not to cry, but his body was there, real, and he was
holding her like he never wanted to let her go... "Oh God, you came, I
can't believe you came..." "I almost
didn't," she whispered, forcefully, breathing against his ear. "I
didn't know if it was real... I thought you hated me--" "God, no, Abbey, no,
why would you think that?" He pulled back long enough to look at her,
truly see her, as he'd been afraid he'd never be able to again. Then
he kissed her, heedless of the others' presence -- until their cheers and
whoops of laughter made Abbey pull away, blushing. She accepted hugs of greeting
from the others, then, including a light punch on the shoulder from Joey and
a kiss on the cheek from Lance. Last was Johnny, who seemed as relieved as
the other guys that she'd come. "I hear you're out
of a job," Johnny said, his demeanor that of a disappointed parent. "Yeah, I -- I quit
Jive. Kelly was getting to be impossible to work for. Haven't found anything
else, though." She realized she was babbling; Justin squeezed her hand,
and she glanced at him, momentarily confused at the eager look on his face. "Well, I'm not
really as sorry to hear that as I'd like to be," Johnny went on. Abbey
turned her attention back to him, eyebrows narrowing in confusion. "See,
your talent was just being wasted under her. I'd like to offer you a contract
with WEG. It'd be much more beneficial to you, of course -- better pay, an
apartment in Orlando; but of course I'd want you to look over the offer
before making any kind of final decision." The tears blurring
Abbey's eyes made Johnny double in her vision; she wiped them away with the
back of a hand, blinking, disbelieving, at him. "You're kidding." "No, I'm very
serious. Please think about it, Abbey. We don't want to see your talent
wasted anymore." "There is one
condition," Justin added. "What's that?"
She turned wide eyes on him, clearly stunned now by this overload of
information. "You have to come
back on tour with us and take better pictures. That guy's making us look
terrible!" "Really?" Abbey
blinked back more stinging tears. "Y-you want me back?" "Duh!" Chris
put in. "Please."
Justin's voice was sincere, the love in his eyes plain as day. Timidly, still stunned
and a bit overwhelmed, Abbey nodded. With a whoop, Justin grabbed her up in
his arms, holding her above him. She put her arms around his neck, laughing
and holding on for dear life, while the others high-fived each other and
cheered and she spun around in the safe haven of his arms. A few moments later,
Justin gently settled her back on her feet. His arms slid around her waist,
firmly pressing her body close to his. "I'm glad you're coming
back," he murmured. "Me too," she
said, her dark eyes meeting his. She swallowed at seeing the deep emotion
shining in his sapphire gaze. "But... I thought you didn't want me back.
I never heard from you..." "Are you kidding? I
called like twice, three times a day." Abbey's eyes narrowed.
"I never got... wait, what number did you call?" "Your office
number," he replied, concern in his eyes. "I kept leaving messages
on your voicemail. You didn't get them?" "No, I didn't."
Abbey swore softly. "The only person who had my password for that -- oh,
crap. Kelly. She programmed it for me." "Shit," Justin
said. "Ugh, I can't
believe--!" With a sigh, Abbey forced herself to calm down. "It
doesn't matter now. I don't work there anymore, it doesn't matter." "I'm sorry."
Justin pulled her into a gentle hug. Abbey leaned into him, noticing absently
that the others had snuck off, presumably to the hotel and an after-party. "Don't be," she
said, soft-voiced. "It's not your fault." "Well, I'm sorry she
made your life so miserable." "I'm just annoyed at
myself for trusting her for so long." Abbey shook her head before
looking up at him again. "But you know what?" "What?" he
asked, brushing a few stray locks of hair back from her face. "It's all over, and
I'm happy now. And I have you to thank for that." "Oh. You're
welcome," Justin said. Still smiling, she leaned
up on her toes to press a kiss to his mouth, to the lips that she'd been
missing for weeks. She could feel the unhappiness that had engulfed her for
so long begin to spiral away, dissolving in a delicious burst of happiness. "Hey, come on you
guys, we're gonna be late!" Chris stuck his head back into the room to
yell at them. Laughing, Justin took
Abbey's hand, and together they chased Chris out of the room and down the
hall. FIN Send
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