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---Part Three--- Abbey found Johnny Wright
in a small area near the Total Request Live site, where the performance
would be held. Sliding into a seat near him, she waited until he had finished
the call he was involved with, then began to profusely apologize for her
lateness. "It's okay, Abbey,
really," he assured her. "I'm just sorry that your name wasn't on
the list. I'm still not sure how that happened. What came up?" he asked,
his eyes on a schedule book that, from what Abbey could see, was full of
scribbled words, dates, and all such things relating to the daily management
of the group. She sat back in the
folding chair, sighing. "What didn't? I stopped in at my office at
Jive... the one I haven't seen the inside of in something like a month now,
and Kelly ambushed me." She paused there, trying to think how best to
sum up the morning. It hadn't been pleasant,
that was for sure. Kelly Nivers, her boss, was a tall, suave woman with a
sweet enough demeanor; unfortunately, that demeanor hid a driven attitude the
like of which Abbey had never met. Kelly was all smiles and apologies for not
getting the news about the assignment to her in time -- something that rang
distinctly sour with Abbey. She'd shrugged it off, though, caught up in
checking her voicemail and the various regular mail that had come in during
her absence. Then Kelly had begun
asking about the assignment; yet before Abbey could reply, Kelly began
offering suggestions. Suggestions, Abbey thought, that sounded a lot like
orders. "I was under the
impression," Abbey had said, hesitant, "that the group made their own
decisions about this sort of thing." Kelly shook her head
breezily, long auburn hair waving down her back like a banner. "Oh, of
course, but you've had a chance now to see how busy they are. They don't have
time to make this sort of decision, it's immaterial." She pronounced
each syllable of the word, drawing it out as if she were savoring it.
"Besides, we're the ones who have to handle the packaging, we know what
they want overall." Abbey had taken the
suggestions with a grain of salt nonetheless, jotting down notes with
something of a resentful attitude. Why me? she'd begun to wonder
again. The time had passed swiftly after that, what with one thing and
another, and then she'd ended up late here. Lamely, she concluded to
Johnny, "Just a bunch of stuff I had to catch up on. Nothing important.
And then midtown traffic was horrible, so I ended up leaving my cab and
running here." In truth, now, she didn't see how the encounter with
Kelly was that important. She could try following Kelly's suggestions, but she
didn't want to; and on the road, away from her boss, how would Kelly know,
anyway? --- For the next several
days, Abbey did her best to go about her job without letting the tension
between her and Justin affect her work. For the most part, she was successful,
though the other guys noticed that she seemed a bit quieter. And Justin
seemed to be glaring at her whenever she turned around -- or so she thought,
feeling slightly paranoid. They were also extremely
busy, which, Abbey thought guiltily, helped her to avoid Justin. Between
rehearsals for Saturday Night Live, various appearances on MTV and
local radio, and so on, she did a lot of running around like a chicken with
her head cut off. It didn't help that Kelly had other assignments for her
while she was in town, usually scheduled on the opposite side of town or in
difficult-to-get-to places, so Abbey found herself on a lot of subway rides
and in many cabs. But she had her
apartment, where she was gradually getting packed for Florida; she was
enjoying the time with her family, since she wouldn't see them again for a
while. Cat's babbling about the band was just short of incessant; Abbey found
it almost ironic that her little sister's favorite guy in the group was
Justin. "What's so hot about
him?" she'd asked during one visit, genuinely curious. "Oh, come on!"
Cat had said in disbelief. "He's got the eyes, and the voice,
and..." Her voice lowered, conspiratorial. "The body!" Abbey gave Cat a
reproving look. "You're too young to be looking at bodies." "Yeah, but..."
Cat dropped her head to the side and looked up at Abbey endearingly.
"Besides, he's really sweet." "And how do you know
that?" "Just from, you
know, all the interviews and stuff. You've talked to him, haven't you? You'd
know better than I would. Doesn't he have a great smile?" As Cat offered yet
another magazine for Abbey's inspection, the older sister hid a sigh of
disappointment. I'm glad she's too young to know the truth. And I'm sure
as hell not going to disillusion her. He'd better be nice to her, or I'll
punch him out. --- The group, plus
bodyguards, went out early the next week to see "Final
Destination". As they took their seats in the back of the mostly-empty
theater, Lance noticed Justin being unusually quiet. One of the previews was
for a romantic comedy, which made his own heart twist a little with missing
Carrie. I'll have to call her tonight, he thought before glancing over
at Justin. The singer looked completely forlorn, which surprised Lance.
Justin had never been this way about a girl, not to the extent of Lance's
knowledge, anyway. He resolved to talk to him about it after the movie. Lance knew that the hotel
had a private basketball court; so, after the movie, he proceeded to
challenge Justin to a one-on-one game. This was out of character enough that
Justin gave Lance a strange look. "You on crack or
something? You know I'll beat you like a red-headed stepchild." "I've been
practicing," Lance said evenly, though he hadn't. "Come on. Or are
you scared I'll win?" A disbelieving snort was
Justin's response. The others, still talking about the movie, had missed most
of the exchange, but Chris leaned over the back of the seat ahead of them to
look at the pair. "Did I hear a challenge? Who's goin' down?" Lance leaned back,
folding his arms over his chest with a confident look. "Just might be
the J-man tonight." "We'll see about
that," Justin replied, his eyes focused on the passing scenery. Chris's
gaze leveled on Justin for a moment before he looked over to Lance, one
eyebrow raised. He had noticed the younger man's remoteness as well, but
accepted Lance's subtle nod: the bass singer was on it. --- Back at the hotel, Lance
procured a basketball from the concierge once he'd changed into more
appropriate clothes for the game. When he got out to the court, accompanied
by one of the bodyguards, he found Justin already there; wearing a down parka
against the cool evening air, he was jogging in place just inside the court. Lance tossed him the
ball, and they got down without much preamble. As he'd expected, Lance fared
poorly against Justin's greater experience with the game, but Lance wasn't
worried about that tonight. After a particularly poor attempt at a basket
that Justin intercepted, he followed Justin back to block, waiting until the
last moment. The ball was about to leave Justin's hands when Lance said,
"So, what's going on with you and Abbey?" Caught off guard, Justin
dropped the ball. Lance scooped it up and backed toward the basket, grinning
as he dribbled the ball. "That was so not
fair!" Justin panted. "Just answer the
question." Lance aimed, dodged to the side to avoid Justin's attempt at
a block, and shot. This time, to his pleased surprise, he made it. "Nothing's going
on." Justin grabbed the ball, dribbled it away. Lance put his hands on
his hips and shook his head. "Then why do you
jump every time I say the name Abbey?" He couldn't quite suppress a
smirk as, once again, Justin flinched. This time, though, he held on to the ball,
although his next shot hit the board too high and bounced away without even
touching the rim. "It's nothing, she's
just a bitch." Justin scrambled after the ball, but Lance grabbed it
and, maneuvering closer to the hoop, aimed again. "A bitch, huh? That's
pretty harsh. She seems nice to me." Lance took the shot, not flinching
when he missed. Justin grabbed the ball out of the air, dodging away; Lance
went after him to try and block. "Well, she isn't.
She doesn't want to be anyone's friend, she doesn't want to hang out, she's a
bitch." "Wow, you mean,
she's here to do a job? Yeah, she sure sounds like a bitch to me." Justin stopped, tucking
the ball under one arm so that he could focus a narrow blue glare at Lance.
"Dude, that's not what I mean and you know it. You don't have to be so
smug just because you have Carrie." Lance's own eyes narrowed
in return, but instead of retorting, he pushed the ball out of Justin's hold
and darted around him after it. The game continued in silence for several
moments; after Justin made another shot, he looked sheepishly at Lance. "I'm sorry. That was
cold." "You're right, it
was." Lance bounced the ball back into the court, following it in,
feeling no malice towards Justin. He knew his friend was just lashing out.
"So tell me why you're upset." Justin swiped at the
ball, his motion lacking the energy he'd had before. Lance easily took the
ball back, holding it close for a moment. "I think I like her
a lot," Justin confessed. "So why can't she like me back?" "Maybe it just isn't
that simple. She doesn't seem like someone you can get to know that
easily," Lance replied, heading over to one of the benches and setting
the ball down. Justin followed, slinging his legs on either side of the
bench. "So, like, what do I
do? I have to do something, or I'm gonna go crazy before the end of the
tour." Lance restrained a smile.
He could hardly claim expertise when it came to romance; before his surprise
reunion with Carrie, he'd only gone out on a few dates. Most of those had
been with Danielle Fishel, and that particular relationship hadn't ended too
well due to both of them always being busy. But Lance wanted to be there for
Justin, who obviously needed advice. "Well, to be honest,
I don't really know what to tell you. There's a lot to think about here,
after all. Just because she's the tour photographer doesn't mean she won't be
with us forever. She could be assigned somewhere after this leg of the
tour--" He caught a bleak look on Justin's face, and, bemused, hastily
revised his mental arguments. He's got it bad. "Okay, well, keep in
mind that the media's going to have a field day. Look at how they're still
playing up the stuff with you and Britney." "I thought about
that," Justin replied drily. "Believe me." Lance shivered a little.
Now that they'd stopped playing, the cold air was starting to get to him;
Justin was all right with his coat, but Lance had forgotten to bring one with
him. "Why don't we go inside?" he suggested. "A'ight."
Amenable, Justin stood up, grabbing the basketball, and they headed in
towards the elevators. He kept thumping the ball on the carpeted floor until
Mike reached out a large hand and took it away from him, earning a scowl. "So you've
considered all the angles," Lance said. "Yep." "And you talked to
her about it?" "Well, sort
of." Justin had been trying to block the argument, if one could call it
that, from his memory. He'd been supremely unsuccessful; even now, the glare
she'd given him was clear in his mind. "Oh." Lance
felt it all come together as he thought back over the events of the past few
days: Justin's surliness during the @MTV performance, though he'd hidden it
well from the cameras; Chris's off-hand comment about catching Abbey and
Justin in a room together just before the show. Obviously something had gone
down between them which brought on Justin's present moodiness. "So what did she
say?" Lance finally asked. They'd reached their floor by then;
conveniently, both were sharing a room -- as they usually did on tour, since
they both liked quiet sleeping environments -- and Justin dug in a pocket for
his keycard. "Well, she said that
she just wants to do her job, be part of the crew, not hang out with
us." "With you, you mean.
Thanks, Mike," Lance added, smiling to the bodyguard. "No problem, man. Later." Lance closed the door and
headed over to turn up the heat, as he was shivering. "Okay, so she
doesn't want to get involved." "Pretty much."
Justin shed his jacket and dropped like a stone onto his bed. "And you do." Lance
sat on the other bed, watching Justin. "Hell yeah." "Well, you seem to
be at an impasse." Lance leaned back, thoughtful. "Help me out,
man." Justin sat up, looking almost desperate. "You can talk to
her, find out why she won't go out with me." Lance raised an eyebrow,
not liking where this idea of Justin's was heading. "Uh-uh. No
way." "No, see, she
wouldn't feel threatened by you because you have a girlfriend already." "She doesn't know
that--" Justin was up again,
pacing around the room with frenetic energy. "Maybe you could be like
apologizing for me and us getting off on the wrong foot, stuff like
that." "Well, that wouldn't
be a lie," Lance muttered under his breath. He glanced up to see Justin
glaring at him. "No, dude, forget it. There is no way I'm going along
with this. Just get it out of your head right now. You want the girl, you
have to talk to her yourself." "But she won't talk
to me, that's the problem. Come on, Lance, you're my only hope." "No way, Princess
Leia." --- Abbey stopped at her
favorite deli for lunch on Friday. They had a photo shoot scheduled later in
the day at Jive, and though she wasn't the primary photographer, Kelly wanted
her there nonetheless. Doesn't make sense to
me, but ours is not to reason why. She hummed to herself while waiting for her sandwich --
her favorite, pastrami on rye -- and, once she had it, looked around to see
if there was a free table. Unfortunately, since it was lunchtime, the deli
was fairly packed. As she scanned the place, she caught sight of blond-streaked
brown hair, spiked in front, and realized that it was Lance. He was alone.
With a deep breath of mental fortification, she headed over. So much for
not socializing. At least it isn't Timberlake. Lance had papers
scattered all over the small table, with a hat and sunglasses crowning one
pile. He appeared to be engrossed in a letter sitting next to his plate. "Mind if I join
you?" she asked. Lance looked up, and she
had a moment to reflect that he actually looked quite nice with glasses on.
He also looked a bit furtive, but he cleaned off the opposite side of the
table, making room for her readily enough. "Go ahead," he said. "Thanks." She
slid into the seat, setting her shoulder bag at her feet. "I see you
found my favorite deli." "Really?" He
glanced up at her again, and she thought she saw -- nervousness? no, couldn't
be -- in his eyes. "Weird. I always come here when we're in New
York." "Strange
coincidence." She smiled and tucked into her sandwich. Her eyes
flickered to the letter, still laying on the table; from what she could see,
the handwriting was feminine, if not overly frilly. Lance caught the
direction of her gaze. A faint blush stained his cheeks as he hastily
gathered up the letter, folding it back into an envelope. "Sorry. It's
from my girlfriend, I just got it today." "Oh, that's
sweet." She caught the blush, smiling at him warmly. He picked at the potato
chips that had come with his sandwich, fidgeting enough that Abbey arched an
eyebrow at him. "Something
wrong?" she asked. "Sort of,"
Lance said, tightening his lips momentarily. "I actually kind of wanted
to talk to you, although," he hastened to add, as her eyes widened,
"I had no idea you liked coming here. Really." He took a deep
breath. Timberlake, you owe me big money for this. "What, then?" "Well, I wanted to
apologize for Justin's behavior towards you. It was uncool of him, but he
won't admit it -- and I really feel bad about it." "He told you,
huh?" She had gone cool, withdrawn without moving. "Not exactly," Lance
said quickly. "He's been in a really foul mood the past few days, and
Chris said he thought he heard you guys arguing at MTV. And it wasn't that
hard to put two and two together." "Ah." Abbey put
down her sandwich, appetite gone. "Well, that's all well and good, but
it really doesn't mean as much coming from you. No offense, but it's not like
you're responsible for his behavior." "Tell me about
it." Lance rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I just want to shake him
hard." "You too, huh?" --- They ended up sitting in
the deli, talking, for almost two hours. Abbey found Lance easy to talk to;
freed by the knowledge that he already had a girlfriend, she didn't have to
worry about whether he was thinking about her as a woman, so she could talk
to him on a normal level. He was much more down-to-earth than she would have
thought, for someone of his superstar status; Abbey had had a glimpse of that
during their first photo session, but she'd been concentrating on her job
then. Now, she was a bit annoyed with herself for not allowing herself to
relax then; and, with a mental smile, she had to admit that Justin had,
indeed, had a point. It wouldn't kill her to get to know the people she'd be
working with for the next few months. Damn him. In the middle of
describing his house to Abbey, Lance glanced at his watch and gasped.
"Oh, shoot -- the session, we're gonna be late." "You're
kidding." Abbey grabbed her bag reflexively, looking at her own watch.
"No way, I totally lost track of time." Lance had guessed by now
that this didn't happen very often to her; he'd figured out by now that Abbey
was something of a control freak, which might well explain why Justin was so
effectively rattling her. He hadn't meant to carry on like this, though, so
he hurriedly crammed his stuff into the outer flap of his laptop's case.
"The offices are just down the street. We can make it if we run." "Let's go."
Abbey grabbed his sunglasses and cap, handing them to him on their way out
the door. The streets were crowded,
but not impossible to maneuver. Abbey blinked at the snow that had begun to
fall while they'd been chatting away in the deli; she knew she should be used
to freaky weather by now, but sometimes New York still managed to surprise
her. "I thought winter
was over," Lance panted, chuckling. "Tell that to the
white stuff," she replied. They didn't have far to run, fortunately; the
Jive offices were in a building two blocks over and one down, and they made
it inside with just a dusting of snow on their shoulders. Abbey had been laughing at
a joking comment of Lance's about how he lived in proper climates, where
people never had to deal with annoying things like weather, but she froze
when she saw Kelly in the lobby. Kelly's fashion-model face was set in a
scowl, and she tapped her foot, arms folded. "Well, it's nice of
you to show up," she said in a voice colder than the air outside. "Kelly -- I'm
sorry," Abbey started, confused. But Lance stepped in, brushing snow off
his shoulders. "Ma'am, it's my
fault we're late. We were having something to eat and lost track of
time." His implied tone -- are you going to be mad at your
moneymaker? -- made Abbey grin. "Well." Kelly
tossed Abbey a final glare. "I'm sure I'm sorry for Abbey's behavior,
and you don't have to take the blame for her. There's nothing to be done
about it now, though. Shall we?" She spun on one heel and
stalked towards the elevators; behind her, Abbey gaped at Lance, who was
returning her dumfounded look. "What the heck was
that all about?" he asked. "Your guess is as
good as mine." Abbey sighed, starting off after Kelly. This was the
first time she'd seen her boss display such behavior, and she hoped it would
be the last. But an ugly feeling sank
into her spine as she trailed after Lance and Kelly. |