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---Part Five--- Justin rubbed his head and
shifted his shoulder bag as he walked up to the gate on Sunday morning. To
his right J.C. was discussing something with Lance, and Mike, on his left,
was silent -- he assumed due to the early hour. "If there's one
thing I hate," he muttered, half to himself and half to Mike, "it's
getting up early." Granted, he had to do a lot of it thanks to 'N Sync's
often frantic schedule, which would only be getting more hectic from now on;
but that didn't mean he had to like it. It didn't help that, to celebrate their
last night in New York, Joey had suggested that they all go out clubbing.
Justin had only had one beer, since he didn't want to risk a hangover; but
something about the crowded atmosphere of the club, the smokiness and the
flashing lights in the dark space, had got to him and he was still feeling a
bit groggy now. He felt a bit of pleasure
at the fact that Joey was obviously feeling much worse. But only a little bit
of pleasure; it wouldn't have been right to gloat, after all. Joey's brother,
Steve, was walking with him, carrying his bag and a paper cup of coffee. As they got to the gate,
he saw Abbey's blond head already there, her small form curled into one of
the chairs. Her nose was red, and she looked pale, coughing into a tissue
when she wasn't sipping from a steaming cup. His eyes narrowed a bit, concern
hitting him: she'd sounded stuffy yesterday, but she hadn't looked quite this
bad then. Lance tugged at his
shoulder. "Hey, you going to stand there in the middle of the terminal
all day?" Seeing that the others had taken seats, he slung his bag off
of his shoulder, dropping it on the floor, and sat down. "Hey, what's up with
Abbey?" Chris asked, having also noticed her. She sneezed as they
watched, looking up with gratitude when one of the crew offered her a small
traveler's box of tissues. "I guess she's
sick," Lance said. "She didn't sound too good yesterday." "She'll be
fine," Justin mumbled, drawing a look from Chris. Soon enough, the boarding
call was made, and the first-class passengers stood up to get on the plane.
Justin glanced absently at his ticket to see which seat he was in before
picking up his bag and shuffling onto the plane. He had the aisle, which was
fine with him; he tended to get up and move around during flights. On the plane, he stuffed
his bag into the overhead compartment, keeping out a book he'd bought in the
gift shop, and then flopped into the seat. Occupied with reading the back of
the book, it took him a moment to realize that someone was standing in the
aisle next to him. "Excuse me,"
Abbey said in a quiet, scratchy voice. "Um, that's my seat." Justin glanced at the
empty window seat, then back at her, eyebrows raised high. Rolling her eyes,
she held up the ticket with the seat's number prominently displayed. "I know I'm not your
favorite person in the world right now, but I swear I didn't arrange to sit
by you. Can we at least tolerate each other for the flight?" she asked. He wanted to object to
her assumption about his feelings for her, but, thinking back over the past
few days, he could see exactly why she'd think that way. Hastily, he stood to
let her into the seat. "Thanks," she
murmured. Sitting down, she buckled her seatbelt, then set her bag in her
lap. "I'll try not to be too contagious." "Bad cold?" he
asked, attempting sympathy. She nodded, her eyes on
her bag, which she was rummaging in. "Can't seem to shake it." Justin fought with his
inner urge to give her the cold shoulder; he wanted to put up a united front
right now, not let her see that she was getting to him. But he couldn't just
sit by and watch her suffer, either. Gesturing to the flight
attendant, he made a quiet request. Abbey, occupied with getting her sweater
out of her bag, didn't notice this until Justin said, "Here, lean
forward." "What?" She looked
at him in confusion, seeing in his hands a pillow and blanket, while a small
carton of orange juice and a few paper packets of pills sat on his tray
table. "Lean forward,"
he said again, a little gruffly. Mystified, Abbey did so, allowing him to
place the pillow behind her head. He then proceeded to spread the blanket
over her before handing the orange juice over. "Are you allergic to
anything?" he asked. "Not that I know of,
Doctor Timberlake," she replied, bemused. "Here." He tore
open the small packet of Tylenol Cold & Flu and placed the gelcaps in her
hand. "These are good, they should knock the stuffiness out." Surprised, she looked at
him as she accepted the pills. "Thank you, Justin." He was taken with the
depth of her grey eyes, drawn into their depths, even as the warmth of her
palm seemed to burn into his. For a moment, he forgot where he was; then
something moved in the corner of his vision, and he realized that he had been
staring. "Uh, yeah, no problem. Just didn't want you going and getting
me sick." "Sure." Abbey's
voice was mildly amused; she took the pills, washing them down with the
orange juice, as he put his tray table up and grabbed his book again. By this time, the plane
had left the terminal, taxiing down the runway for takeoff. Justin was
relieved to leave the ground, even more so when they moved up above the
gloomy oppression of the grey morning into bright sunshine. As soon as they leveled
out, Abbey wasted no time in putting her seat back and curling up to try and
sleep. She was out in moments, and Justin snuck glances at her in between
pages of his book. He was still annoyed at whatever quirk of fate had put
them in neighboring seats, but he supposed it wasn't really all that bad. Across the aisle, Chris
and Lance had been observing the pair since Abbey had first sat down next to
Justin. Lance was starting to feel a bit protective of Abbey ever since he'd
first agreed to help Justin out; their conversation over lunch the other day
had only clinched his feelings. Chris, meanwhile, just liked her, and that
was enough for his friendly loyalty to kick in. "I think he's
finally loosening up," Chris murmured. "Maybe," Lance
said, softly; he was more sure of Justin's feelings, but knew, too, that his
friend's pride had been stung by Abbey's cool indifference. They'd had some
conversation about it, last night at the club and later at the hotel. Though
the atmosphere of the club wasn't very conducive to talking, Justin had
insisted that Lance tell him about the accidental lunch date. Lance had
recited as much of the discussion as he could remember, although it had
wandered quite a bit the way small talk does. "But what did she
say about me?" Justin had wanted to know. "Besides that you're
hardheaded and stubborn?" Lance had shot back. "Not much." Watching them now, Lance
thought about how much things had changed since their flight up here just a
couple of weeks ago. Wondered, too, how much would change -- between Justin
and Abbey, for them all -- in the weeks to come. --- Work resumed as normal on
Monday morning. Abbey drove, despite her ongoing cold and the exhaustion she
was feeling along with it, out to Johnny Wright's house -- a huge place being
affectionately referred to as the "'N Sync Compound" -- to do some
quick cameo shooting. She had a meeting with the website manager, too, though
she was privately hoping that the meeting would be delayed or postponed; in
her current condition, she didn't want to be coughing and sneezing all over
the guy. Hell of a first impression to make. She was duly impressed by
the sizable house, perhaps even better termed a mansion. As she pulled up in
the driveway, she saw several vans printed with the MTV logo there already. Oh
yeah, that's right -- Johnny said MTV was doing some kind of shooting for a
special. Rolling her eyes, she resolved not to let them catch her on
camera. The last thing I need is a million 'N Sync fans hating my guts. Inside, Abbey found the
place decorated both sparsely and with an elegant, classy touch. A personal
assistant of Johnny's showed her to a small meeting room, since he and the
boys were in a meeting in his office at the moment. That in itself entailed
what seemed to Abbey a mile-long walk, and by the time they got to the room,
all she wanted to do was put her head down on the table and pray for mercy.
The assistant ran off to get her some water while she dug in her bag for
meds, hoping she had something with her that wouldn't put her to sleep. "Excuse me, I'm --
oh, you're not Johnny. Sorry." A young man peered into the room, a look
of disappointment on his face when he recognized who she wasn't. Abbey looked up from her
bag, shaking her head. "Nope, I'm not. I think he's in a meeting right
now, though." "Oh." He
glanced around, the expression on his face making him remind Abbey of
someone. "Mind if I wait here with you?" She shrugged. "Be my
guest." He sat down across the
table from her, and after a moment, offered a hand. "I'm Greg
Ketosky." "Abbey
Eldridge," she replied, then grabbed a tissue and sneezed into it.
"Ugh. Forgive me if I don't shake. I'm contagious." "Bless you," he
said absently. "That sounds like a nasty cold." "Picked it up in New
York," she muttered. "Figures I'd get this for a souvenir." He chuckled, and looking
at him again, Abbey saw in his dark, close-cropped hair and equally dark eyes
the resemblance to her brother, Carter. The resemblance both amused her and
made her feel a pang of longing; she hadn't seen Carter in at least a year. "So, Abbey,"
Greg said, "mind if I ask what you're here for?" She gestured to the two
camera bags she'd set on the table. "I'm the tour photographer, plus,
since I'm around, they abuse me for other stuff too." Greg's face took on a
look of recognition then, and he chuckled again. "Oh, okay, you're my
10:00." "Huh?" "I'm the website
manager," he explained, smiling. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize
who you were." Abbey double-blinked, let
out a small sigh. "Oh, okay -- well, I'm sorry to have to meet you in
such a rotten state, but as long as I don't get you sick, I think we'll be
okay." "Great." Greg
chuckled. "I have no intention of getting sick anyway, so we'll just be
careful." The website, he
explained, its content officially dictated (more or less) by Jive, did have a
certain amount of freedom in the information it could display about the band.
He wanted to create something that was personal for the fans, hopefully with
interactive areas where they could talk with each other and leave messages
for the group, and Abbey's role would be to provide interesting and fun
pictures that wouldn't be seen anywhere else. "Exclusivity is what
I'm all about. These girls spend hundreds of dollars a month on magazines,
and I want to give them something special for free because they're so
dedicated, so loyal. So you get to have fun, come up with silly stuff or
interesting locations for shooting. Whatever you and the guys want to shoot
is up to you." Abbey considered telling
Greg what a wonderfully refreshing change this was from Kelly's oppressive
tactics, then decided not to; no reason to spread bad feelings around. She
was definitely enjoying talking to him, though, and she couldn't resist
telling him about some of the goofy pictures they'd taken before heading to
New York, a few of which had been saved to send to some special friends of
the guys. All too soon, it seemed,
someone was leaning in and knocking on the open door. "Helloooo," a
falsetto voice crooned, a la Mrs. Doubtfire; Abbey looked up
and smiled faintly at Chris. "Hey," she
said. Greg nodded and smiled as well. "We're ready for ya
now, Abbey," he reported. "Greg, hey man, good to see ya." "Well, that's my
cue, I'll just get out of here," Greg said, and started to gather up the
briefcase and laptop that he'd opened over the course of their conversation. "See you later,
Greg," Abbey called, picking up her bags and following Chris out of the
room. Chris promptly took one
of the bags, shouldering it. "So, Abbey, what'cha doing tomorrow
night?" "With any luck,
sleeping," she replied. "I'm still feeling pretty crappy, if you
can't tell just by the sound of my voice." "That's no good.
We're having a release party for the record tomorrow, here. You should
come." "Are you
kidding?" Abbey looked at him, his perfectly innocent face. "Chris,
I can barely handle walking around at this point. If I don't have to move
tomorrow, I'm not going to." Chris sighed. "All
right, but you're gonna miss a good time." She rolled her eyes.
"And yet somehow I'll live. Besides, you don't want me getting everyone
at the party sick, do you?" "Hmm, good point.
Maybe I'll let it slide. But don't think you're getting off that easy." "Gee. Thanks." They shot for a couple of
lazy hours in the late-morning Florida sun, Abbey wanting to catch this
particular light while it stayed a wonderful lucent quality. Mindful of
Greg's request, she urged the guys to get loose and silly, hoping to catch in
the pictures that quality of fun and enjoyment of life that they displayed to
everyone around them. By the time the session
was over, she was seriously flagging. Her head was swimming, and she had to
sit down for a few minutes before she began to pack up. Lance knelt down next
to her, a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay, Abbey?" "Yeah," she
said, though the sweat prickling all over her skin told a different story.
"I think I pushed myself a bit too much today. I'm going to go home and
collapse." "Why don't I drive
you? You don't look too good." "No, that's okay.
I'm fine." "Abbey, I don't
think--" "Lance, I'm
okay." She glared at him, her eyes just a bit brighter than normal, and
he swallowed. "All right. But do
me a favor and call here when you get home, all right?" "Sure." She
could do that, at least. Finished with getting her equipment, she gave him a
glare when he picked up the second bag. "Don't look at me
like that. You're getting help whether you want it or not." She could hear the others
snickering as they walked away, but somehow, at that moment, she just didn't
care. Despite Lance's worries (he
was just looking out for you, Abbey, she scolded herself, it's not
like he wanted anything from you), she made it back to the hotel in one
piece. Still, she'd caught her concentration drifting more than once during
the drive, so she was glad she'd called the session when she had. After a
quick call to assure Johnny that she had made it back alive, she shucked her
shoes and collapsed on the bed. --- Abbey slept, fitfully at
best, through most of the day. When she woke, abruptly and without warning,
her room was dark. It took her a few minutes to realize where she was, a
minute more to locate the clock. Seeing that the time was 12:03 didn't help;
it seemed wrong somehow, as if it should be later or earlier than just after
midnight. She didn't like the
shaky, weak feeling in her limbs that increased when she stood up, but some
necessities simply had to be dealt with. Afterwards, in the bathroom, she
splashed water on her face and contemplated how horrible she looked. Pale and
sweaty, her hair a tangled, stringy mess, she had bags under her eyes and her
skin looked plastic. Nice. It's a good look
for you, Abbey. You should go to the party like this. Just thinking about the party
made her feel queasy and exhausted. Orange juice. I need
citrus. She
shuffled into the kitchenette, fumbled a cup out of its plastic wrapping, and
poured some orange juice into it by the cold light of the mini-fridge.
Sipping at it, she moved over to the couch in front of the TV and sat down,
feeling lethargic but awake. Reaching for the remote,
she saw the phone by the bed, its message light blinking. Oh, of course I
couldn't have seen that while I was over there before. She had to smile at the
first message, which was from Jenna, excitedly babbling about how she
couldn't wait to see the pictures. The next, Johnny urging her to rest up and
try to feel better, also made her smile. He didn't have to call, but it
was nice of him anyway. The third message made
her want to jump around happily, despite the fact that she was in no shape
for such activity. Still grinning, she finished her orange juice and laid
down again, already looking forward to tomorrow. --- They got started early
the next morning; there were the six new songs to work on, not to mention old
choreography to re-learn. In between sessions, there were quick meetings with
wardrobe designers, set designers, and so forth, effectively filling all
their free time. The fact that the MTV crew was around filming everything
only added to Justin's already frazzled nerves. He did his best to buckle
down and focus, though. Distractions were easy to come by, but he wanted his
performances to be top-notch; he demanded no less from himself. Every time
the thought of Abbey crept into his mind, he ruthlessly shoved it out again. He'd come very close to
calling her last night. It was tempting, to check on her, just to make sure
she was okay. But he'd restrained himself -- and then wondered why he felt so
weird about talking to her. He'd never had problems talking to girls he'd
liked in the past. Today, he took that
nervous energy and poured it into dancing. As usual, Joey and Lance were
having a little more trouble getting the steps; he knew it was just the way
they were, and spent a little time coaching Joey on a few of the key moves
for "Space Cowboy". Finally, after what
seemed like forever, Wade called it a day. Cheering, the five tumbled out of
the room on renewed bursts of energy, loping down the hall more or less in
formation. "I'm not even goin'
home," Chris declared. "I'm just gonna shower and change and stay
here." "You just don't want
to ride with Justin," Joey observed. Chris nodded. "I
ain't crazy." Justin stuck out his
lower lip. "Y'all don't love me." "We love you, we
just don't trust you behind the wheel of a car," J.C. pointed out. "So what's going on?
We meet back here at seven?" Lance asked, glancing at his watch.
"That doesn't give us a whole lot of time." "Yeah, we should get
going. Party!" Joey yelled, and ran out the front door. Chris paused,
watching the others go by; then he looked at Justin, who had also stopped
just inside the house's large double doors. Justin was looking distant and
thoughtful, not something Chris usually saw in him just after rehearsals. "What?" Chris
asked. "Huh? Oh,
nothin'." "'Oh, nothin'' my
butt," Chris replied. "Unless 'nothin'' is cute, blonde and carries
a camera everywhere she goes." "Maybe," Justin
said. "I was kinda hopin' she'd be here tonight." "I don't think she's
probably feeling well enough to deal with us yet," Chris pointed out.
"Especially you." He got a look shot at him for that, but he
blithely ignored it. "Probably."
Justin sighed, shrugged. "Well, I'll see you tonight." With that,
he headed out the door. Chris looked after him.
He'd been just a bit too docile, and that was never good when it came to
Justin. What's going in that boy's head now...? --- Justin took a deep breath
as he pulled up in the hotel parking lot. He'd showered, changed, done his
best to look decent before coming over here. Surely Abbey would change her mind
and go to the party -- with him -- if he made the request in person. He'd debated stopping for
flowers, but then decided that such an action would be overkill. Besides, it
wasn't like this was a date or anything. Taking a deep breath, he got out of
the car and headed up the walk to the door of the hotel room. I wonder if she'll be
mad that I got her hotel and room number from Johnny. Hope not. He knocked on the door, then
stuck his hands in his pockets. Justin was taken a more
than a little aback when, instead of Abbey's face, a man's appeared at the
door. The sight of the guy -- tall, handsome, with short-cropped dark hair
and dark green eyes -- threw him into momentary speechlessness. "Uh, can I help
you?" the guy asked. Justin narrowed his eyes,
a bit annoyed. "I'm looking for Abbey Eldridge." "And you
are..?" The guy didn't seem dangerous, but something about him
bore a protective air that Justin didn't like at all. "I'm Justin
Timberlake. Who the hell are you?" Just then, Abbey
appeared, ducking under the male arm propping open the door. She looked
pretty ragged, lines of exhaustion clear on her face, and she clutched an old
peach-colored bathrobe around her. Her eyes were wide with surprise. "Justin!" she
exclaimed. "What in the world are you doing here?" Seeing her casual
familiarity with the man -- their close physical proximity, something
undefinable about the way they stood together, and his undeniably protective
air towards her -- made an alarm go off in the back of Justin's head. He felt
disgust -- with her, with himself -- begin to swell in his throat. "I was going to ask
you to come to the party, but I guess you've already got plans," he
said, not even bothering to fight the angered tone in his voice. "Just
tell me one thing, Abbey: why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?" "Justin--" she
started, her voice incredulous and shocked. But he didn't want to
hear it. "Save it," he spat. "Have fun, whatever, just stay
out of my face." Abbey reached for one of
his hands, balled into a fist at his side, wanting to calm him down more than
anything. He wouldn't let her touch him; he took a step back and then all but
ran to his car. The door slammed and the tires squealed as he spun out of the
parking lot, leaving Abbey and the stranger stunned in the doorway. --- The party was getting
underway as Justin arrived at Johnny's house for the second time that day.
The driveway was already crowded with cars, all expensive makes and models;
he didn't get to squeal in angrily, as much as he wanted to. He'd sped all the way
over here, trying to burn away his disbelieving anger at the sight of Abbey's
boyfriend. Really, it had been a miracle he hadn't been ticketed. The
speeding hadn't worked, either; that image, of the two of them, weighed just
as heavily on his mind now. Part of it was anger at
himself -- I could have asked her anytime, he scolded himself. I
shouldn't have assumed. No wonder she was being so cool. The rest of his
frustration he dumped, without regret or qualms, on her. She had every
chance to say something. She was playin' me the whole time. He followed the sound of
a thumping bass beat to the newly-finished ballroom, already decorated with No
Strings Attached covers, themed pictures, marionettes and such. The place
was about a quarter full, industry types mixed with crew members, Jive
employees, and various friends of the group. Over in one corner, he saw Lance
with a group of friends, Jack DiFeo among them; Chris and J.C. were goofing
around at the banquet table, and he caught sight of Joey, nearby, talking
with Johnny. Suppressing a growl,
Justin headed over to Lance, who saw him coming. The stormy look on Justin's
face wasn't a good sign at all; Lance excused himself from the group and met
Justin halfway. "What
happened?" he asked, concerned. "You're not gonna
freakin' believe this," Justin replied, his voice low and upset.
"Abbey has a boyfriend." |