---Part Seven---

College assignments, jobs she'd taken in the past, even the concerts she'd attended both for work and play: none of it had prepared Abbey for the mayhem she was now encountering. 'N Sync's long-awaited first concert of the No Strings Attached tour -- supporting an album that itself was a certified record-breaker, having sold over 2.4 million copies in its first week of release -- was, not surprisingly, a sellout, and the madness Abbey had witnessed during the promotional work was nothing compared to what she saw now.

Fans screamed at the very sight of an image of the group, a hundred times life-size, displayed on a banner that obscured most of the stage. Many of the girls (most of whom were in attendance with their parents) had the name of their favorite 'N Sync member painted on their faces or on homemade t-shirts; as many carried signs declaring their love for the band or their favorite member, some hastily created and some showing more careful design. Abbey found it all a truly amazing show of devotion.

She was glad that she'd brought her earplugs. The babble of thousands of people talking excitedly all at once overwhelmed her hearing, pressing in on her senses like a physical weight. Pausing after attaching a lens to one of her Leicas, Abbey dug the small package of earplugs out of her pocket and hurriedly placed the small foam pieces, one in each ear. The volume abruptly decreased noticeably; she breathed a deep sigh of relief. As she went back to the cameras -- two of which were slung on straps around her neck, with the last on a packing crate that also served as her seat -- she mused absently on the day's events thus far.

All in all, the bus ride hadn't been too bad. Abbey wasn't used to long road trips, but her seat wasn't uncomfortable, and she had plenty of CDs and batteries for her personal disc player. She'd managed to start dozing at several points, but thoughts of Justin plagued her, keeping her awake. Why did he apologize? Why did he have to be nice? Eventually, she'd been able to force her mind to less troubling subjects and rest for a while.

No sooner had she closed her eyes, it seemed, than they were pulling up at the venue in Biloxi, the Mississippi Coast Coliseum. The stage was already assembled, as the semis and crew had left Orlando yesterday to get a head start on it; rigging and lights were being tested as the group ran through their soundcheck. That accomplished, the buses headed to the hotel to check in and drop off luggage; Abbey found that she was assigned to share a room with one of the stylists, an energetic young woman named Michaela. Then it was back to the Coliseum for the pre-show meet and greet. Abbey was already feeling tired from all the travel and rushing around. She hoped that she'd make it through the show; she was looking forward to collapsing in the hotel bed afterwards.

The opening acts had come and gone, and now, in the dusky warm evening as smooth as silk, Abbey waited for the show to begin. She'd seen a lot of it in its infancy, from choreography to pyrotechnics, the stage and some of the surprises for each song; but she had yet to see the whole thing put together. Then again, she noted to herself, she probably wouldn't have much chance to observe, since she'd be so busy documenting the guys' every move.

Finally, the Rolling Stones that had been playing over the PA system -- to which Abbey had been grooving in an idle way, trying to soothe her racing nerves -- abruptly ceased, mid-"Satisfaction", and the house lights went down. A thundering roll of screaming poured from almost every throat in the Coliseum. Abbey grabbed up her first camera and positioned herself, waiting for the banner to drop.

For the next two hours she was in her element, even as the guys on the stage above her were in theirs. True to her prediction, she wasn't able to actually watch much of the show; what she did see was focused through a viewfinder, filtered through her camera's lens. Even with that shrunken view, she could see that they were singing and dancing their hearts out, their eyes shining with evidence of the joy they took in doing what they loved to do. Amid flurries of pyro, stage antics, the occasional silly stuff and the sweet moments, she saw that they worked as hard as any other band, believed in their work as much as any other band did, and loved every moment of it.

Deep into the show, Abbey finally sat back to take a breather. During "This I Promise You", a section at the front of the stage detached from the rest, and the guys stood on the platform, singing, as it rolled down the center aisle. Since Abbey couldn't follow the platform, she was more than content to sit for a couple of minutes and mop sweat from her forehead. Watching the fans' reactions -- some screaming, some crying, some simply standing and staring in wide-eyed awe -- she was both amazed and amused. I'll never get used to the way they react. Is this devotion or complete insanity?

When the platform began to roll back into place, she stood up, ready to catch a few more pictures as it returned. Looking over the guys, she caught sight of Justin's face; he was smiling hugely as he sang, with wonder and incredulous joy shining from his bright eyes. Seeing him was, Abbey thought distractedly, not unlike staring at the sun.

As she observed his clear, unguarded happiness -- a natural and unabashed reaction to the thrilled fans' outpouring of love -- Abbey felt a twinge of inner turmoil twisting in her stomach. Had she, perhaps, been a little too harsh on Justin after all? True, she'd been a bit of a bitch; she knew it, and she wondered if she should apologize for her attitude of late. There was no reason she shouldn't be able to talk to him comfortably, as she could and did to the other guys in the group.

Even if he does still want to go out with you? the little voice in her head asked, distinctly smug. She growled, unable to come up with a suitable reply.

---

After the show, drained of the adrenaline that had kept her flying during the show, she packed up her cameras into their bags. The film she collected, placing it in a separate pouch; it would be sent overnight to a developer, and from there, the final pictures would be sent to Jive. Abbey felt confident that a good eighty percent of the pictures were "keepers", as she called them -- high in quality, composition, and so forth -- and that Jive would be well pleased with the results.

Once her packing was complete, she headed out the back to get on one of the passenger vans headed back to the hotel. A small group of girls was hanging around outside, safely separated from the activity by a chain-link fence. They clung to the fence, and as Abbey emerged from the back door, she heard a fierce babble going up among them. Idly, she wondered what the girls would say if she were to tell them that 'N Sync had left the building some time ago -- during the last moments of their final song, "Bye Bye Bye"'s raucous outro complete with fireworks neatly obscuring their exit. By now the guys were undoubtedly back at the hotel.

"Hey, Jimmy," Abbey said as she climbed into the nearest van. The driver nodded at her, smiling.

"How was the show?" he asked.

"Don't know. I was too busy getting money shots of our teen idols."

Jimmy laughed. Abbey had met Jimmy, along with the rest of the crew, a couple of weeks earlier, at a group conference that had introduced new and unfamiliar faces to the existing crew. She'd immediately taken a liking to the driver, an older man who reminded her of her father. He had a pleasant air, friendly without being overbearing, and she liked having that kind of presence around.

The van filled up with various personnel soon enough, and before long they trundled back to the hotel. Abbey felt an intense relief when they arrived; she was too tired to think about anything but crashing. The front doors were mobbed with fans, so she and the rest of the passengers were dropped off at the hotel's loading entrance to avoid trouble. Abbey thanked Jimmy for the ride as she disembarked, then followed the others inside.

Thoroughly exhausted now, all she wanted to do was sleep. Standing in the elevator, swaying a little on her feet, Abbey thought about how lovely the bed would be, how soft and comfortable the mattress and pillows would feel. Sleep. Sleep good.

She found herself behind her roommate, Michaela, as they headed down the hall to their room. "You look beat," the stylist commented, running a hand tipped in scarlet through her black hair.

"I am," Abbey agreed. "You have a key?"

"Just going to sleep, even after that?" Michaela asked as she slipped the keycard out of her pocket and into the door's slot.

Abbey only nodded, following the stylist into the room. She'd claimed the bed closer to the window, and now she flopped on it, kicking off her shoes. Michaela laughed as she retrieved a makeup case from her suitcase and went into the bathroom.

"You are gonna be missing out," she called. "The guys are going clubbing, don't you want to come?"

"Are you kidding?" Abbey pulled one of the pillows over her head. "I can't even stand up straight right now."

Michaela sighed, leaning out of the bathroom to tsk at Abbey. "Well, I know a certain blond singer who's going to be asking after you."

Abbey refused to rise to the bait. "He can keep on asking," she replied, voice muffled by the pillow. Michaela laughed. Soon enough, she was gone and Abbey gratefully shut off the light, curling into the blankets in sleepy contentment. It had been a pretty good first day, she thought. Maybe it was even a good omen, a sign of things to come.

She slept right through Michaela's early-morning return to the room, not even noticing the murmuring voices at the door, their half-whispering words punctuated with giggles, and the soft sounds of someone creeping into the room. All things considered, that was probably for the best.

Morning came bright and early; Abbey poured herself into the shower while Michaela was still asleep, then blow-dried her hair, put it back in a ponytail, and packed up her bags. She was determined to be relentlessly prepared for this tour, knowing full well that she would have only herself to blame if she forgot anything or was late.

Thus it was that she was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, bags ready at her feet, when the band stumbled groggily out of the elevators. She did her best to restrain a smirk at the sight of the fatigue in their faces, the circles under drooping eyes and slack exhaustion in their posture.

With a dramatic spreading of his arms, Chris slumped down on the couch next to Abbey. "What are you doing looking so awake?" he complained.

"Unlike some people, I went to bed at a decent hour last night," she informed him primly. Lance chuckled as he settled down in a nearby chair.

"We had to celebrate the first show, you should have gone." Chris stifled a yawn as he spoke.

"I had to drop off my film this morning so it'll get to Jive on time." She dared a glance at Justin, who was sitting on the arm of Lance's chair. To her amusement, he flushed and looked away. Oh, that's interesting. "So, did you guys have fun? I didn't even hear Michaela come back."

"Yeah, we did. Went this hot club, it was wild," Joey stated.

"Well, sounds like fun, but no offense -- just doesn't sound like my idea of a good time," Abbey commented, glancing towards the hotel doors. Two of the bodyguards who had come down with the guys were talking with the road manager, and now John -- the manager in question -- was gesturing towards them.

"Looks like it's time for us to go," J.C. said, yawning mightily.

"He's gotta get back to sleep!" Chris laughed as he stood up.

Swinging her bag over her shoulder, Abbey stood as well, then touched Lance's arm to keep him back for a moment. Justin was already heading towards the door, the others with him; she glanced at him again, then towards Lance. "Did something... happen last night?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Lance swallowed visibly, then shook his head. "He just danced with a few girls, I think he felt weird about it because, well--" He paused, and Abbey watched him go a little red beneath his tan.

"Because of me?" she finished. He nodded, and she shook her head, sighing. "Well, it's hardly like there's anything to feel guilty about," she muttered.

"Yeah, who knows what he's thinking." The chuckle Lance tacked on to the end of his statement sounded a bit forced to Abbey, but she decided that must be due to the early hour.

"Well, thanks." She shrugged, re-settling her bag on her shoulder, and watched him escape, with an almost visible air of relief, to the company of the others.

Weird. That word continued to be the primary descriptive identifier for the entire encounter, even as Abbey boarded her own bus, found her seat, and curled up with her book. Just... weird.

---

"Dude, I still can't believe you kissed her."

In the main living area of the 'N Sync tour bus, Chris flopped on his belly, PlayStation controller in hand. "That was so uncool. What if she'd woken up?"

"She didn't, so it's cool." Justin had the other controller, but he was sitting on one of the couches, one leg tucked underneath him. Having just finished whomping Lance at Tekken 3, he was now preparing to do the same to Chris.

"Yeah, but it's still playing dirty. I mean, what's the point of scoring on her behind her back?"

"Shut up while I kick your ass." Justin leaned forward, concentrating on the game.

"Kick my ass and I'll shut up," Chris replied, glancing at Justin. "You gotta stop doing shit like that, I mean it. She's going to find out."

"How? Michaela promised not to tell, you guys aren't going to tell her."

"Michaela's cool, but she's got the girl power thing going on. Sooner or later she's going to regret letting you into their room, you know that. They're gonna bond."

"It'll be fine." Justin's jaw clenched, his fingers moving over the controller to work a combination of moves on Chris's character. Chris focused on the game for a few minutes, finally whooping in triumph when he got the knockout.

"Keep it down!" Joey's shout from the back made Chris roll his eyes.

"Sheesh, some people, just because they get two hours of sleep they gotta be all cranky."

"You only got two hours of sleep," Justin pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm HyperMan," Chris informed him. "Come on, raggedy ass, try and beat me down now."

The door separating the back from the front slid open, and J.C.'s head poked out. "If you guys are gonna keep up the macho crap, could you at least keep it quiet? Some of us are trying to sleep so that we can do the show tonight."

"Whine, whine, whine," Chris muttered, but Justin nodded.

They resumed the game in silence once Lance had closed the door again, and aside from the muted sounds of the game, all was quiet -- at least until Justin won the next match.

---

Touring quickly settled into a regular schedule. Although Abbey found herself weary of the traveling, she soon adjusted to a different sleep cycle: awake until around two o'clock in the morning, an early rising followed by sleeping in the bus -- or sometimes one of the vans, depending on who chose to stay where -- until late in the morning. She wasn't a night owl by nature, but she didn't find it too difficult to adjust.

Michaela constantly amazed her with seemingly indefatigable amounts of energy. Though the stylist was a few years older than her, she acted about eighteen most of the time; constantly running, she often stayed up until the sun rose, but never showed signs of tiredness the next day. Abbey found herself liking the girl, with her devil-may-care attitude, the way she liked to live from moment to moment. Still, Abbey thought, she herself would never be able to live like that. Abbey liked knowing where her life was going, being in control. Agendas and itineraries were in profusion on the tour, and that was just fine with her.

Chris constantly bugged her about going out with them after shows. They were usually hyped and up for a few hours after concerts, and while some nights were spent deflating normally -- watching tapes of the show, trying to improve on mistakes made that night -- as often they needed to go out and expend their energy by dancing and having a good time. Abbey steadfastly refused every offer, chuckling and shrugging the invites off by explaining that she needed her beauty rest.

She still didn't feel totally comfortable around Justin, but she felt like she was starting to get there with him. Something had changed after the first night -- she didn't know what it was, couldn't explain it -- but he was more friendly, less with the demanding boy-girl stuff she'd come to associate with him. Sometimes, though, she'd catch him looking at her during a show, and that old look of intense desire would be there for just a moment -- just long enough to make her want to scream in annoyance. Why couldn't he just let it go?

After their show in Minneapolis, she finally gave into Chris's demands that she join them and go out. He'd been asking her for so long that she was actually starting to feel a little guilty about it; so, with her warning that she was terminally unhip and didn't know how to dance, he dragged her out to the van where the others were waiting.

"Look who I managed to drag along," he boasted as he threw open the side door. Applause sounded immediately from Lance, Joey, and Michaela, while Justin's surprised look made Abbey want to smirk. Weren't expecting me, were you? Feeling a surge of strength from that -- damn, she'd do this just to spite him -- she climbed into the van and plopped down on the seat next to J.C., who was grinning.

"You look like you're in a good mood," she commented to him.

"I am," he replied, his eyes dancing. "I get to see my girlfriend tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right." Belatedly, Abbey remembered that the tour would be doing a sort of pit-stop in Indianapolis tomorrow, on their way through to Lexington, Kentucky. Ostensibly it was to break up the monotony of the drive, but considering the way J.C., Lance, and Joey were glowing, Abbey knew that the stop was really for personal reasons. And she thought it was cool, media whining about girlfriends be damned. She'd personally witnessed the three of them on so many phone calls with the girls that their phone bills had to be horrendous.

Soon enough, the van arrived at the club, and the group piled out and into the VIP entrance. The club's staff had been forewarned of their celebrity guests, and they were ushered to a semi-private table that afforded a clear view of the dance floor and most of the club. A waitress, giggling and blushing, approached the table as they sat down, and spurred on by Michaela's teasing, Abbey ordered a strawberry daiquiri.

"Ah, that's a girl's drink!" Michaela laughed.

"Last time I checked, that's what I am," Abbey replied, chuckling.

"You going to get her drunk?" Across the table, Lance arched an eyebrow; the other guys had already hit the floor to the raucous beat of a Jay-Z song.

"I'm damn well gonna try!" the stylist pronounced. "I think we need -- I've got it, Jello shots!"

"Jello shots?" Abbey asked, dubious. But it was too late to protest; Michaela was already halfway to the bar. Abbey sighed and shook her head, defeated. "I've never been drunk in my life. Help me, Lance!" She turned her best pleading look on him, and he laughed.

"Well, come on, let's go dance," he suggested, pushing himself up from the table. "Maybe you can convince her you're having a good time without needing a drink."

"We can but hope," she replied, and, taking Lance's proferred hand, followed him out to the floor.

To say that she was intimidated by the other dancers already there would be an understatement; Abbey had dressed in what she considered to be nice clothes, but her tank-top and simple skirt made her feel plain beside many of the club-goers who wore glitter, shiny tight outfits, or mostly skin with the barest essentials covered. Biting her lip, she focused on Lance, keeping her body moving to the beat and trying her hardest not to worry about the opinions of others.

"There, see, you're doing fine!" he encouraged her, pitching his voice louder to be heard over the music.

She flashed him a nervous smile by way of reply, and he grinned back. Soon, the song surged into another with a similar beat; Chris jumped in, taking Lance's place as her partner, and she chuckled at him as he moved them closer to where the rest of the group was dancing.

From here, Abbey could see Joey dancing casually with probably his third partner since he'd taken the floor; he was maintaining a polite distance, though, and looked a bit unhappy at the way she was trying to get touchy-feely with him. J.C. was dancing with Michaela, who winked over at Abbey; Lance had found a local girl who, like their waitress, was blushing brightly, hardly able to look him in the eyes as they danced. And Justin--

He was dancing alone. Abbey watched him, half-mesmerized by the look on his face. His eyes closed, he was moving as if he were in another world, one where no one existed but himself; he spun, swayed, every movement spontaneous and precise, unplanned but evocative. And the sensual look of his slightly open lips, his lashes curved over his cheeks...

"Hey, I know he's cute, but I'm cute too!"

To her shock, Abbey felt a blush stain her face as she heard Chris's yell. "Sorry!" she said, re-focusing on him. "I'm -- I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's all right, I forgive ya." Moving closer, he put his hands on her waist as if to pull her into a more seductive dance. Confused, Abbey went along with it, feeling sweat prickle her hands and under her arms. Chris leaned to her ear, and his words, low-pitched for her alone, were distinct: "You should go dance with him, let him know you like him."

"What?" She pulled back, staring at him. His dark eyes were, for once, serious, even though he smiled lightly at her. "I do not!"

Chris continued to smirk at her. With a disbelieving snort, Abbey pulled out of his grasp completely and stalked back to the table. Their drinks had arrived in the interim; with a sigh, she pulled her daiquiri close and took a long pull from its straw. After the heat of the dance floor, the drink's icy coolness sent welcome relief down her insides, and she sighed happily. Better.

Eyeing the jello shots that had been left on the table -- six altogether, each in a small paper cup -- Abbey shrugged, picking one up. Maybe there was something to this getting loose business.

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