They didn't usually do this, but Joey was in the mood so Justin and Chris followed. JC and Lance were somewhere else, doing something else, something Justin wasn't meant to see or know about. The anger bubbled inside him, threatening to come roaring back. Part of the reason he was signing autographs was to take his mind off it.
Another hand with polished pink fingernails thrust a piece of paper through the fence. "Sign this one 'to Stacy,'" she said.
Justin scribbled across the paper with his marker. "To Stacy. Love, Justin."
The paper disappeared for a second and came back in front of him. "It's Stacy with an 'I.'"
"What?"
"S-T-A-C-I."
Justin mentally counted to 10. He would not freak. He would not freak.
He took the paper back and wrote over the 'Y' with an 'I.' Maybe now she'd complain that it looked too messy.
Andy tapped his arm. "Come on. We're heading back."
Justin gave one last wave and followed Andy down the grassy slope to the car waiting for them. Chris and Joey were chatting amiably. The security guys were stone-faced. Justin studied Andy for a second. He was big and black and cool looking. Any other day he'd probably hang out with him a little.
"Where's JC?" Justin asked.
"I don't know," Chris answered. "Back at the hotel, maybe. He and Lance took off."
So much for the "we're real good pals" routine. Love trumped friendship every time. But he couldn't remember a time when he'd blown off JC to spend time with Britney. Maybe he just had more devotion to his friends. Maybe he just knew how to treat people.
They settled into the back of the limo, which was dark save for a blue glow from the mini bar that lined one side. Justin watched Joey stretch out, leaning his head on the back of the seat and crossing his arms.
"Can we phone them?" Justin asked.
"Phone them?" Joey said. "Leave them alone. They're probably making sweet luvvvv."
"But..." Neither of the guys he was with would understand where he was coming from. Neither of them would really care. Joey was slumped back. Chris was leaned forward, studying the bar, probably contemplating making a drink. "But I'm supposed to do something with JC."
Joey yawned. "Do something with him tomorrow. Let the two love birds be alone."
Why did the guys in love get more respect than Justin, who was all by himself? It seemed like it should be the other way around.
Justin sat back for a second. The car stopped at an intersection where a clump of club girls stood on the corner, waiting for the light to change. They got the signal to walk and stepped awkwardly off the curb, clacking along the crosswalk in shoes with thick, high heels. In an alternate universe, Justin would probably be dating one of those girls, or primping himself in front of the bathroom mirror getting ready to go out and impress them. But his life consisted of the limo, the hotel, the bus, the stage. The guys.
Justin sat up straight. "Let's go out."
He watched Joey intently. Joey always wanted to go clubbing. Joey couldn't be counted on to remember birthdays or anniversaries or to shut the window when it rained, but he was dependable as fuck when it came to wanting to go out.
But Joey stretched a little and gave another exaggerated yawn. "Tomorrow night. I'm too tired."
"But you're never tired." It was still two hours until last call. Two hours to dance and sweat and soak up the attention.
"Tomorrow," Joey repeated, resting his head on the back of the seat again.
Dammit.
They filed into the hotel, across the marble floor to the glass elevators, into the elevators with the security guys so close behind them that Justin could smell their breath.
Dammit.
If he couldn't do something with JC, Justin sure as hell wasn't going to just go to bed. Whatever JC was doing with Lance, Justin wanted to do something that was even more fun. He wanted to get drunk. Get laid. Get anything other than a good night's sleep. He didn't need JC. He didn't even want JC. JC could fuck off and spend all his time with Lance if it made him so happy.
Andy followed Justin all the way to the door of Justin's hotel room. Justin stood facing the closed door, thinking, studying the number. His main makeup guy, Martin, was probably still up, watching cheesy movies and drinking from the mini bar. He could persuade Martin to go out. Martin would want to go to a gay bar, but that would be fine. That would actually be kind of cool. Justin wanted to be anywhere other than in the hallway of the hotel with JC and Lance fucking down the hall and Andy at his heels.
Justin could feel Andy about two inches behind him, waiting. He knew Andy had his hands folded in front of him, looking stoic and all important. He waited. Andy didn't move.
He took a step to the left, just to see if Andy would mimic him.
"Justin, what are you doing?"
"Nothing. Go to bed. I'm not going to run out on you or anything."
Andy paused. Justin tried to send telepathic messages telling him to piss off, but Andy took his sweet time. Finally Andy turned and went to his room. Justin sighed and headed down the hall.
Martin answered the door in a pair of boxer shorts and a silk bathrobe that was undone and hanging loosely. He had perfectly primped platinum blond hair, a nipple ring, tweezed eyebrows... He was probably the gayest guy Justin had ever seen.
"Justin. What are you doing here?"
"Want to go out?"
Martin raised an eyebrow, obviously amused. "On a date?" Justin didn't even have time to respond before Martin waved him off. "Kidding, honey. Kidding. Guys like you don't date guys like me. But I'm too tired to go anywhere."
Justin looked past him and noticed a bottle of something on the night table. He didn't realize how long he just stood there, mouth open, until Martin said "Would you like to come in?" He still had that amused lilting tone.
"Okay."
He followed Martin in and watched Martin pour him a shot of vodka. Martin handed it to him and smirked. "Just walking around getting to know the help?"
What the hell was with that remark?
"I just thought I'd come see if you wanted to go out. What's so strange about that?"
Martin gave an exaggerated shrug and sat down on the end of the bed. "You just look like you have something on your mind that you want to talk to someone about."
"No, I don't."
Martin gave yet another raised eyebrow, yet another exaggerated flourish, yet another skeptical look, and finally Justin sighed. "Okay, yeah, there is."
Inside of an hour Justin had ranted, cried and had three vodka and limes from Martin's bottle. He wasn't sure why he was telling the makeup guy his problems, except that he didn't see the makeup guy every waking hour of his life. Martin had his own set of friends and his own life outside the captivity of the *NSYNC entourage. In the grand scheme of things, Martin was fairly insignificant.
"Honey," Martin said, "it sounds like you have a crush on him."
Without thinking, Justin grabbed one of the pillows and threw it so hard it knocked Martin off balance. "I'm not gay."
Martin put his hands on his face in mock terror. "Oh, God forbid."
"Fuck off. This is serious."
"Sweetheart, I work for you. I take everything you say seriously."
Justin put the empty glass on the night table and stood up. "I gotta go to bed."
"Look, don't hate me for saying it. I just thought it was something you should consider."
"Thanks for the drink," Justin mumbled. The hallway seemed to tilt when he walked back to his room.
___
Justin stared into his Captain Crunch, feeling JC's eyes on him from across the table. He wanted Apple Jacks but their assistant had fucked up again. He had just started eating and already the Captain Crunch was too soggy.
He cleared his throat and bent closer to his bowl, eating methodically. No way, he thought. No way am I fucking looking at you.
JC's eyes on him, Lance's eyes on JC, Chris and Joey's eyes everywhere but on what was happening.
"So what did you guys do last night?" JC asked. JC's shirt was perfectly tucked in, his neck perfectly shaved, his toothbrush probably making toothpaste smears next to Lance's sink.
The question was obviously not meant for Joey, but Joey answered it anyway. "Not much. Signed some autographs and came back here."
More silence. More watching. The cereal had started to dissolve, leaving yellow clumps in the milk.
"Justin, can I talk to you for a second?" JC said.
Justin stared at his cereal, taking another methodic spoonful.
"Just leave him," Lance said. "He'll get over it."
Justin dropped the spoon in the bowl, stainless steel clanging on glass and milk spilling over the side. "Why don't you shut the fuck up?"
"Whoah, whoah, whoah...." Chris said. "Let's all calm down here."
"He's jealous," Lance said. "It's so obvious."
Justin felt every muscle in his body tense. There had never been a better time to reach across the table and just pound the fuck out of Lance. Justin started to stand and Chris's hand hit his chest with a thud.
"Simmer down," Chris said. "Take a breather. Both of you."
Justin pushed his chair out and strode to the door, opening it wide and letting it slam shut behind him. More hallway, more stupid purple carpet, more identical wooden doors with little metal numbers on them. Hotel after hotel, city after city, JC everywhere he looked. Everywhere he went he saw JC's face, even when JC wasn't there. Every song he heard reminded him of JC. Every movie he saw he wondered if JC would like it. Every picture he studied of the band, he determined whether or not it was a good one of JC. There was no end in sight. Just city after city of JC, JC, JC.
"Justin."
Justin spun around to find JC standing there, hands in his pockets. "Let's talk."
"Maybe I don't want to talk."
"For crying out loud, Justin. Let's talk." JC grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hallway, opening the door to his room and pushing Justin inside.
The dam burst the second the door shut."All yesterday I couldn't wait for us to do something," Justin said. "It's all I thought about. And then we do that whole fucking show and I come out and you're not even there."
"Justin, I'm sorry." JC moved closer like he might hug him, but Justin kept ranting.
"It's Lance, you know," Justin said. "Ever since you guys got together he has fucking hated us talking to each other. I don't get that."
"He just...."
"It's like he's a little kid with a new toy and he doesn't want anyone else to play with it. It's like he's hogging you and any time we're going to do something, he finds a way to fuck it up."
"Justin, let me...."
"This is so fucked. We're supposed to be a group here. A team. And it's like he's trying to cause tension between us. Have you noticed that? He knew we were supposed to hang out last night and the second we got off stage he rushed you out of there before I even got a chance to talk to you."
"Justin, would you shut up for a minute?"
Justin paced to the bed and away from it again. He couldn't decide if he wanted to sit or stand, laugh or cry, stay or leave.
"Lance just knows...how I used to feel about you. I think that's why he's weird sometimes."
Justin spun around. "How you used to feel about me? What the fuck does that mean?"
JC's mouth opened and closed again, his eyes going to the window and back. "How I used to...look, you don't want to hear this."
"No. I want to hear this."
"Then sit down."
Justin backed up until his legs touched the bed. He flopped down in time with JC, wiggling his legs, not sure what to do with his hands.
JC turned carefully, resting his hand on his knee. He looked like a father about to give his son a heart-to-heart sex talk. "Justin, I used to...I used to feel really strongly about you and Lance knows that."
"What?" Justin felt like his entire body was wound around a corkscrew. "You don't feel strongly about me anymore?"
"No. You don't understand what I'm saying. I used to...."
Pause. Justin wanted to scream at JC to get on with it, but talking would make it worse. He had no choice but to wait.
"I used to be, like, in love with you."
Justin felt his heart clocking about 180 in his chest, his breath struggling to come out but stopping somewhere in his throat. "Huh?" he said, not to clarify but because he wanted to hear it again. That was it. That was it. That fucking Martin was right, and Lance was right, and the thought Justin supposed was always lurking in the back of his mind was right. His masturbatory instincts. His deep, dark secret. His unthinkable reality. He was...
"I used to be in love with you," JC repeated, quieter this time. "I never said anything because I knew you wouldn't go for it. I just lived with it for..." JC sighed. "I lived with it for what seemed like forever and I finally got over it."
Justin struggled to talk past the lump in his throat. "Got over it?"
"Yeah. You know how you like someone but you can't have them, so you do stuff to take your mind off it? I just did that. But I think it still makes Lance uncomfortable."
Justin's thoughts were reduced to fragments. Got over it. Did other things. Lance uncomfortable. "Oh."
"I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told you that. I don't want you to freak out or anything. I mean, Lance will get used to it and maybe stop thinking about it after awhile. It's just that right now...it's still new, and you've been acting so weird...."
Justin took a gasping breath. He realized he hadn't breathed since the conversation started. Why hadn't JC just told him? What would he have done? Would he have freaked out? No, he wouldn't have freaked out. Maybe he would have even gone for it. Maybe. Okay, probably.
Definitely.
He felt JC's hand rest on his shoulder. The hand with the butterfly-shaped Band Aid. "Don't worry about it. None of this is your fault. I promise we'll do something tonight. I promise."
Justin nodded slowly, his voice still not working. He felt JC get up, heard his feet shuffle across the carpet to the door.
"I'll go talk to Lance. Everything'll work out."
JC, the eternal optimist. Justin nodded again, listening to the door shut. He waited a full five minutes before he moved.
JC had loved him. JC had felt the same way about Justin as Justin felt about him - the anger, the jealousy, the crying. If only he'd realized sooner. If only there was some way he could get it back.