***************************** Fairy Tale: Chapter Three *****************************


And that disaster was my first appearance on television.  My first introduction to MTV.  To the 
world at large.  

The first hate site dedicated to me went up promptly an hour later.  Complete with digitally 
altered photos.  I always wanted horns on my head and a snake tongue, really.  

Stupid Justin.  Why is he the favorite again?  I know he's gorgeous, trust me I know much better 
now, but its not like the rest of *NSYNC are shabby.  Chris?  Hello!  Hidden hottie alert.

But for as many die hard *NSYNC fans who wanted my blood there were as many guys and girls who 
wanted my music.  Don't ask me why.  Because I was good.  Because I was the guys' pet project 
of the hour.  Because I didn't look like everyone else out there.  Because I was real.  

Hell some people liked me because I didn't like Justin.  They have good taste.

Some people even liked me for my fashion sense.  They have no taste.  

Anyway, higher management threw a little fit when they found out their up and coming artist 
didn't worship their golden boy's smelly feet.  We both got a proverbial slap on the wrist and 
the instruction to play nice.  

Play nice with claws... muhaha.  Okay, kidding.  Chris gave me too much sugar.  Anyway, so 
Justin got stuck in his stuck up head that we needed to make peace and amends and all that 
rubbish.  And since he was ready to forgive ME, of COURSE I was totally ready to forgive him 
too.  

Riiiggghhhtttt.  

And that's when things started to get interesting.  Or more interesting than a virtually 
unknown artist being signed by a major record label and supported by one of America's biggest 
bands already was.  

See the media, for all my general disdain of Simba, didn't have any dirt on me.  I was achingly 
polite at all times, my momma taught me well, and, hell, I hadn't been around long enough to 
make much of a splash in the gossip mills.  But with my single rising up on the charts they 
desperately wanted something to write about.  

So, they made something up and paved the way for my ultimate demise as Simba's future 
girlfriend.  

And Timberlake, jerk that he is, played into their hands.

*****************************************************************************************

"Excuse me?"  

Rhianna blinked lazy blue eyes and stretched out further on the couch, her head in Joey's lap 
as they continued the time honored tradition of napping in the lobby during their afternoon 
break.  "I said no thank you."  

Joey yawned as Justin towered over them and fumed, red face clashing with his newly highlighted 
hair.  He looked like an angry light bulb, though Rhianna secretly preferred his hair the way 
it was now, nearly shaved.  It was rugged and sexy and totally unfair for a man she disliked as 
much as she did to be standing before her, looking that good.  

She snuggled deeper into Joey's warm denim clad thighs and sighed as his fingers absently 
twirled several strands of auburn hair.  They didn't mean anything by their cuddling.  Joey and 
Rhianna understood each other on a lot of levels and they each, instinctively, sought comfort 
from the other in the stresses of their lives.  

If that need for comfort materialized as half hour naps at the studio then neither she nor Joey 
were complaining.  

"Justin," Joey threatened in a reasonable voice, "if you don't go away I wouldn't go to sleep 
next time we go on tour.  There'll be a nasty surprise waiting for you in your bunk.  I 
guarantee it right now.  Let us sleep.  Rhianna is a bum and I partied too hard last night."  

Justin's blue eyes narrowed.  "Rhianna, god, could you stop being a child for one instant?  I 
know you don't like me and right now the feeling is damn mutual but the last thing I need is 
more crap about feuds and arch rivals to complicate my life.  Just come have lunch with me.  We 
can work on being civil, wave at a few photographers, whatever."  

"I already ate lunch," she said, eyes closed peacefully once more in subtle dismissal.  

Justin growled as Joey laughed at him.  "Fine then," he spat.  "Come to dinner."  

One sapphire eye opened and studied him dispassionately.  "Give ME one good reason why I 
should.  All I just heard out of your mouth was I, me, my.  What does Rhianna Gray get out of 
it?"  

He glared at her, furious.  "Think of it this way you stubborn woman.  Every interview you will 
ever have from now until you sink from popularity as quickly as you came will involve answering 
questions about me.  About my life and how you fit into it.  What you like about ME.  What you 
hate about ME.  ME, ME, ME!  

"I'm giving you an opportunity to break away from my shadow and stand unsteadily on your own 
awkward feet.  We stop the talk now and we'll BOTH be happier.  Now how's that for a reason?!"  

She snorted and closed the open eye.  "Do you have any idea how big your ego is?  You'd think 
it would have been shaved away with those much bemoaned for curls but noooo."  Brilliant 
sapphire snapped open to clash with his.  "Fine.  Dinner at seven."  

Justin ground his teeth in frustration.  "Fine.  I'll pick you up.  Dress nice, if you're 
capable of it."  He spun on his hell and strode away before he slapped her.  

Rhianna sat slowly and looked up at Joey who was still shaking from laughter.  "What the hell?  
When did that just turn into a date?  He's picking me up?  I have to dress nice?!  God Joey, if 
he's being decent to me then he really needs to get laid.  Maybe I should bring a groupie along 
with me and use her as a shield."

*****************************************************************************************

Okay, I seriously didn't mean that whole date comment cause like, eww, Justin.  I didn't know 
what the hell was going on in his twisted brain but I was resigned to doing what Jive, the 
rest of the guys, and even what Justin himself wanted, which was to grow up long enough to push 
aside out differences and become, not friends, but at least amiable coworkers.

Amiable.  

Heh.  

Understatement of the freaking century.

******************************************************************************************

Justin hated that he felt nervous as he stood outside the shabby apartment door, hands shoved 
petulantly into the deep pockets of his dress slacks.  He hated that as confident as he was, 
as talented as he was, as self assured and powerful as he was, that some little scrap of a girl 
could make him feel inadequate.  

Guilty for his behavior.

Repentant for words that had slipped out in a moment of anger that he never really meant.  But 
she had taken them to heart and he knew she remembered each and every last one.  And he knew 
that he wasn't the 'baby' in her eyes.  He wasn't the 'kid'.  He was an adult and when the guys 
ignored him in his tempers he knew that Rhianna Gray would call him on it every time.  

He hated that they didn't get along.  Or, more specifically, that she loved the four men he 
thought of as brothers and despised him.  It was lonely, being left out, and it was a feeling 
that charismatic Justin wasn't used to at all.  He hated that they all thought she was special, 
and that he couldn't see it.  

He hated that Rhianna Gray seemed to have a magic all her own and in all the world he alone was 
immune to it.  He hated that he wanted to fall under her spell.  That he wanted to belong.  He 
wanted to have the confidence in her that JC did.  He wanted to let loose with her like Chris.  
He wanted to have the same solidly positive opinion about her that Lance did.  He wanted to 
look at her with adoration in his eyes like Joey.  

He wanted to find all the quirks she had fascinating and endearing.  He wanted to look at her 
and see something other than average.  He wanted her to be beautiful in his eyes.  

And, the painful truth was that she was.  She was beautiful and intoxicating and what he really 
hated, when it came down to it, was that it was him that was lacking, not her.  

He thought back to the first day he had seen her and wondered what had gone wrong.  What had 
made him lash out so maliciously?  Had it been her innocence?  Her naiveté?  It wasn't fair 
that she could be where she was in the world without becoming jaded.  

And what was funny was that music had been his dream, as long as he could remember dreaming.  
He was a musician, a showman.  He had sacrificed so damn much to get where he was today.  He 
had done so many things that he regretted, that he knew were wrong.  

But Rhianna Gray was perfect, as untouched as if she had never sold herself away, piece by 
precious piece.  

Because she hadn't.

He had seen her in interviews and listened to an odd conversation with Lance and JC.  Rhianna 
would never lower herself to the levels that he, that ever single one of them in the business, 
had.  She was here for the ride, for the dream, while it lasted.  And when she was flung back 
into the ocean of life she was content with the idea of swimming against the current.  

She had so many dreams and was humbly content to fulfill the ones she could without killing 
what so many of him and his peers willing had.  Her spark, her sense of self, was so intact 
that it was frightening.  And Justin knew that simple, calm knowledge of self was what drew 
people to her most of all.

Because they wanted it so badly.  

Because he wanted it so badly.  

And the epiphany that he had while standing on her doorstep was that he wasn't disgusted by 
Rhianna Gray, he was jealous of her.  So incredibly jealous.  

Jealous that she could be perfectly comfortable lounging in dirty sweats and a trashy romance 
in one hand.  Jealous that she still colored outside the lines and considered Ring Pops a valid 
dessert choice.  Jealous because she walked out onto TR freaking L wearing a Mr. Bubbles 
t-shirt.

And suddenly Justin Timberlake became horribly embarrassed as the apartment door he had been 
contemplating opened to reveal the very irritated focus of his epiphany.  "I don't want to
start out fighting but you've been standing outside for ten minutes Simba.  I wasn't sure if 
you remembered how to use a door by yourself or if you needed a bodyguard for that too."  

He glared angrily into her sapphire gaze for a long minute.  "Maybe we wouldn't fight if you'd 
stop calling me Simba."  He paused long enough to see what she was wearing and blinked.  
"THAT'S dressing nicely?" he demanded in disbelief.  

Rhianna looked down, a small furrow on her brow as she studied her outfit.  She was wearing a 
soft simple cotton dress that stopped dangerously at mid thigh.  It would have been lovely in 
its simplicity if it hadn't been in camo print.  The knee high combat boots didn't help the 
image of elegance, nor did the dog tags that hung around her slender neck.  Her hair was up in 
a high pony tail and her eyes were heavily shadowed with eye liner.  

She was beautiful, in a punk rocker sort of way.  She was a toned down Pink.  Rhianna grinned 
toothily and hid the hurt his flippant comment had caused.  

"Oh please SIMBA, I've seen the crap you guys have PAID to wear to award ceremonies.  Its 
frightening.  Now come on.  I want to get our little talk over with and I'm hungry."

The ride to the restaurant was quiet.  Silent actually.  Music was playing softly from the 
radio and Justin's eyes flickered to his passenger occasionally.  She was staring stonily out 
the window of his convertible, body a study of tenseness.  

Why could nothing ever be easy with her?  

With them?  

The first fifteen minute of dinner weren't any better.  The restaurant he had picked was large 
and popular among celebrities.  Press haunted it often, which was one of his deciding factors.  
If they wanted the press off their backs it wouldn't hurt to have some pictures of a cordial 
dinner spread around.  

Rhianna didn't seem intimidated by the presence of the several sports stars and other 
celebrities, nor by the fact that she was by far the most shabbily dressed woman there.  She 
ordered politely, thanked the waiter when he brought her water, and began an intense visual 
study of the silver wear.

Justin was as uncomfortable as hell.  He had grown up in the spotlight.  He was unused to 
strained social situations.  

Justin Timberlake didn't do small talk.  

So he did what any self respecting pop king would do in his situation, he ordered them several 
bottles of the house's finest wine and liquor and got soused.

*****************************************************************************************

Wait, wait, wait...

And this is the exact moment when my life becomes an episode of the Twilight Zone...

*****************************************************************************************

Rhianna wasn't sure why she kept drinking the wine that Justin was putting in her glass.  She 
would have been suspicious if he hadn't been matching, and outdistancing her, in the drunk 
department.  

It was probably a bad idea, considering the fact that she couldn't hold her alcohol well and 
that Justin was a lousy drunk.  It was really not a good idea considering the fact that they 
were in a very public place with lots of cameras.  

Getting smashed with an *NSYNC member was just a bad idea in general.  Even if she had gotten 
her first big break drunk as fish.  Rhianna was pretty sure she could refrain herself from 
singing karaoke this time around.  

But this whole ordeal had freaked her out.  She was stressed, from the album, and her 
increasing fame, and MTV, and Toady Carson, and her own insecurities and JUSTIN.  So she downed 
the glasses as fast as he poured them and miracle of miracles...

They started talking with each other.  

They talked through appetizers and salad and main course and desert.  And the second desert.  

They talked as people changed table and new customers came in.  They talked politics and 
philosophy and bickered about which Care Bear was the coolest.  They talked about anything and 
everything under the sun except for what they had come to the restaurant to talk about.  

And it worked.  

After three hours of tipsy, barely coherent conversation Justin and Rhianna had a break through.  

A group epiphany.

Rhianna accidentally spilled her untouched water glass in the middle of their debate of knee 
high versus ankle socks.  Her hand, chipped fingernails and all, reached out to grab the glass 
and bumped into Justin's warm, strong hand.  

She stared at the entwined fingers.

He stared at the entwined fingers.

Water soaked into the table cloth.  

She raised shocked blue eyes.

He raised shocked blue eyes.  

They shivered together at the current of electricity that passed like a warm wave through their 
bodies.  

Entwined fingers had never been so intimate.  

And before there was coherent thought, Justin acted on instinct.  He leaned in, a single 
perfect move, across the table that separated them, and brushed his lips across Rhianna's.

They froze as their breath mingled, as their lips warmed each others, and as ten paparazzi 
popped out from behind the potted plants and snapped their picture.

*******************************************************************************************

So, the next morning, I was Justin freaking Timberlake's girlfriend.  

Chris laughed so hard he almost peed his pants.  

I was less than amused.

********************************************************************************************

"Oh mother of all that is holy," Rhianna said as she stared at the paper in shock.  "This is a 
nightmare."  

Chris peered over her shoulder and snickered.  "One teeny's daydream is a grown woman's 
nightmare."  

"Oh shut up Chris.  This is mortifying."  

The snicker turned into a full blown laugh as he wiped tears from his eyes.  "Only you would be 
mortified by a picture of you and Justin Timberlake shacking up."  

She smacked him absently as she scanned the article with morbid fascination.  "I can't believe 
this.  I'm Simba's girlfriend.  Shit!"  

"JC sends his condolences..."  

Rhianna closed her eyes in misery.  "He's seen?" she asked weakly.  

Chris snickered again.  "Yeah and he called Lance.  Lance is planning on kicking Justin's ass 
for doing that to you but thinks its amusing."  Rhianna groaned.  

"What about Joey?"  

She opened her eyes and stared at Chris who fidgeted under her direct open stare.  
"Chris..."  

He sighed, humor gone as he ran a hand through his spiked hair in frustration.  "Rhi Rhi, you 
know Joey cares about you, a lot.  It, he's upset okay?"  

"What do you mean Chris?  I mean, we're friends right, me and Joe?"  

Chris wouldn't meet her eyes.  "Have you ever wondered if Joey didn't want you guys to be 
more?"  

"You mean sex?"  

Chris groaned, suddenly angry.  "Not sex!  Not just sex...  Dammit, Rhianna, don't you get it?  
Joey looks at you like you've hung the moon.  He's infatuated.  He adores you.  How can you not 
see that?!"  

She stepped back, startled by the vehemence in Chris's voice.  She stared at him, paper falling 
from lifeless fingers as tears filled the sapphire of her eyes.  "I...  I didn't know."  

"How could you not?" Chris demanded.  

Rhianna looked away as her hands curled into fists.  "Maybe because I never thought that was 
possible!  Because I'm not perfect.  Because I'm not some damn stick model with silicon 
implants.  Because I've... I've never had a boyfriend who ever bothered to tell me I was 
beautiful.  Because this whole damn thing seems so surreal sometimes I have a hard time 
believing I'm here, let alone that you or JC or Joey or Lance care about me as a friend, that 
Justin cared enough about me to dislike me, let alone thinking any of you looked at me with 
romantic intentions.  

"Because sometimes I have a hard time believing that I'm worth all of this.  That I'm worth 
anything at all..."  

One huge tear slipped down her cheek as it was Chris's turn to stare.  They both look up as 
movement from the door of the conference room drew their attention to Justin who was standing 
grimly in the doorway.  

And before either of the men could stop her Rhianna fled, pushed her way past Chris and Justin, 
and did what she had swore she would never do in any situation, no matter what, she ran away.