Bitter laugh.
Well, that�s because it was yesterday.
June 14, 2004.
The day Justin Timberlake died. Or was killed, rather.
Gasp. Sputter. Cry.
Don�t even start with the waterworks, dollface. He�s dead and he aint coming back. I made damn sure of that when I pulled the trigger and shot him square between the eyes.
They say that when you kill a man that you�re not supposed to look him in the eye because it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Chuckles. If I had followed that stupid superstition then I wouldn�t have been able to see the look of utter shock and sheer sadness in his eyes when he saw who aimed the gun at him. I waited years for him to look at me like that, to look at me and know that I possessed the power and he was stripped barren of it. That he no longer had control.
Now, you�re probably sitting there and wracking your brain as to who could have killed him. No, Britney didn�t do it; Wade didn�t do it either. JC�s so fucking in love with him he probably would have jumped in front of the bullet, Chris is his best friend even though they haven�t talked in months, and Joey�s like an older brother to him. Well, then, I guess that just leaves me, doesn�t it.
Collective gasp.
Yes, you stupid, pathetic, little fools, I shot him. I loaded the pistol, aimed it between those crystalline, blue eyes, and shot him. BANG! No more Justin Timberlake. Ever.
Now, you�re probably sitting there in complete shock. Southern, gentile, shy Lance Bass killed Justin Timberlake in cold blood. How na�ve you all are. I was never shy and I never will be. I only played the part I was assigned, just like the others did.
It�s easy to blend in and not be noticed when people think you�re young and meek. That�s when the most interesting things happen. It�s when everyone�s fa�ade is dropped and you can see them for who they really are beneath all that glitter and glitz.
Take Chris for instance. In interviews he�s jumpy, joking all the time, and happy as a child when they first visit Disney World. Watch him as long as I have and you�ll realize that he�s not happy at all. He actually has to take medication so that he won�t try to slice his wrists again.
Or JC. He smokes more cigarettes than everyone in Hollywood put together. He can go through two packs a day if someone doesn�t hide his lighters. The wardrobe ladies hate him because his clothes always reek of that nasty stench of smoke, and the PR people despise him because he�s �ruining his image� with the yellow teeth that so often pop up from his extensive habit. Not to mention that Johnny�s always on his ass about his voice and the repercussions from all the smoking.
Joey has always been perceived as the biggest manwhore of the group. Well, the whore part was right. Only he�s not a whore to the ladies. All together now, gasp. Yes, our dear Joey is gay. He flames more than JC does and has slept with more men than I can count on all five of our hands put together. What about Kelly you ask. Beard.
Now, I�m not claiming I�m perfect. I�d be a fucking moron to try and declare sainthood. I drink like a fish and party harder than all four of the guys put together. I curse worse than a sailor and I�m a pathological liar. Chris was right when he said on Leno that I was the best liar.
I�ve shown you that your heroes, the men you worship and drool over, are no longer saints. Those rose-colored glasses have been lifted from your eyes and PRAISE JESUS YOU HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT! The only thing you have left to wonder is what was Justin really like? I�ll be happy to tell you.
He womanized like it was a sport. I wouldn�t be surprised if he kept a scoreboard of the chicks he fucked. Women were like objects to him. He�d play with them for a little while and when he was satisfied or bored, he�d send them on their merry little way. The media believes that Britney cheated on him but that�s so far from the truth. He slept around on her since day one and she finally got sick of it and dumped his sorry ass. He smoked more pot than JC smoked cigarettes and drank more than I did. The only difference was he got away with it.
The girls would just run back to their friends and brag about getting fucked by the illustrious Justin Timberlake. He never once showed up high to an interview or photo shoot. If he did then it was looked over as a one time thing because perfect Justin Timberlake wouldn�t smoke pot or dare to show up to an interview high. Even when he publicly admitted to smoking up he didn�t get busted for it. Because he probably only did it every once in awhile. Justin Timberlake wasn�t a stoner, oh no, not him.
Yep, I�m bitter. That�s my whole motive. Laughs. Who needs a motive anyway? Motives are clich�.
I guess you can say that the last straw was when he slammed me on a public radio for wanting to go into space. Unlike the other guys, he didn�t support me; actually told me I was stupid. Laughs. I don�t think that�s the reason why he didn�t want me to go. I think he didn�t want me to try because he was afraid my space mission might get more publicity then his stupid little solo album. So instead of supporting me he slammed me whenever he possibly could. Space jokes here and there, little comments on his radio interviews, whatever he could do to dig into me deeper. That�s what drove me over the edge; what drove me to murder. His predictable, pathetic little desire for a solo career was getting more recognition than any of the things I did.
You�re probably sitting there laughing and saying get over it. Easier said than done, sweetheart. I�d lived in his shadow for seven years and I was sick of it. We all were but the others let it slide just like water runs off a duck's back. They catered to Justin worse than his fucking mother. Little baby Justin got whatever the fuck he wanted while the rest of us sat in the corners with our thumbs stuck up our collective asses.
I had to bide my time, though. When I got back from Russia he was already in the works for his tour and didn�t have any time for me. Being the patient man that I am I waited. I filled my time up with FreeLance, tv producing, whatever I could sink my teeth into. The world couldn�t call me a failure then, I was everywhere they turned and they couldn�t hide from me.
Justin�s tour ended, the other guys released their albums, JC did a small club tour, and finally we went back into the studio and recorded a new album. As usual he got the majority of the solos. Most of the songs were his even though all of us had done some writing during the break. Hell, Chris� stuff was three times better than Justin�s but he got pushed to the side because Justin was �more well known and his stuff would want to be heard�. Like we didn�t hear enough of his ear splitting falsetto shit on Justified. What the hell kind of name is that anyways?
By then I had waited long enough. It was time to put my plan into action.
So, on June 13, 2004, I went and got a pistol from a gun shop up in Georgia. Sure, I had plenty at home in my collection but I�m smarter than that. I know better than to use a gun they could easily trace or to buy it from a local shop. I mean, who would think to check gun shops in Roswell, Georgia? No one.
My plan was flawless. The gun was untraceable and I had an alibi, my secretary at FreeLance offices. Not to mention the janitors that saw me enter the studio that day. I was scott free, even if they suspected me. But I�m the quintessential Southern, mama�s boy. Who would ever suspect little �ole me?
Anyways, June 14th.
We had a meeting with Johnny to discuss the new tour. Justin made sure I had no qualms with killing him then. He whined and threw his weight around till he got what he wanted. By the end of the meeting I was just itching to kill him, to watch him bleed. Afterwards, he pulled me aside so that I could do a favor for him. Just like always he wanted me to look over some stupid contract that some movie producers offered him. He couldn�t act his way out of a paper bag.
So, being the great friend I am, I agreed to look them over but only if we went somewhere quiet rather than the offices. Laughs. The boy never saw it coming. And the reviewers said I was a terrible actor. I could have won an Oscar for the performance I put on that day.
We ended up going to his other house in Lakeland that he had just bought, like he needed another one. It was set far back from the road and had absolutely no neighbors around. Thankfully, it was empty and the security system had yet to be installed. When we got there I wasted no time in pulling out the gun. Just like you see in the movies I went through my whole spiel as to why I hated him, jealousy, bitterness, blah blah blah. Yes, it�s predictable but I thoroughly enjoyed it. He tried to reason with me, claiming the whole �But we�re best friends, Lance� bit. When that didn�t work he tried begging.
Laughs.
That wasn�t one thing I expected him to do. Justin Timberlake begged no man. But there he was before me, begging for his life. That rush of power and excitement I felt will be something I�ll treasure forever. I saw Justin Timberlake beg for his life and fail.
June 15, 2003
A press conference had been called immediately. JC, Chris, Joey, and myself sat at a long table, red eyed and sullen. As usual I answered the majority of the questions.
Yes, we�re extremely saddened by these events. Justin was like a brother to us and we�ll miss him terribly.
Yes, the upcoming tour is cancelled.
No, at this moment, we don�t know if we�ll continue with the group.
The police are still gathering information on the murder.
Most would think that the action of killing him would be the hardest. Naw, that was the easiest part. The hardest part was keeping the satisfied smirk from showing on my face as I answered those questions, to keep the secret that I had killed him to myself�