NOTES AND DISCLAIMERS: So made up, for entertainment only. Entertaining lies about famous people I don't know from Adam. A sideways inspiration from Cry Me A River, the one by JRT, and Mr. Adams of NRBQ. Free Man In Paris is a song by Joni Mitchell about David Geffen. Middlemarch is by George Eliot. Chris sings "Surprise" by the Sundays. Songs quoted are "Perfect From The Start" by Jeremy Toback, "Near Wild Heaven" by REM, "Get You In" by Better Than Ezra and "Easy People" by the Nields, respectively. Thanks to G, Younger and Katie for their help in the first draft writing. Thanks to Katie, Kel, Younger and Missy for very very helpful betas.

1. FREE

I was born a fortunate son
Mother gave me all her fear and attention
I worked to prove my worth to everyone ... - Jeremy Toback

So this is the "post-sync" world, Justin thinks. Sitting outside his own hotel room, staring at his cell phone. Justin closes his eyes and prays.

He opens his eyes and Lance is bending over him. "Why," Lance says, "exactly are you sitting out here?"

Justin half stands up and hugs Lance. Justin says, "There's like, honestly, there's a party in there. But it's not mine."

Lance glances back at Leo, the bodyguard. He frowns. Justin steps aside and Lance and Leo go in the room. Leo closes the door before Justin can walk in. He doesn't really want to. He sinks back to the floor and takes out his cell phone. It's still not ringing.

The door opens again and people start filing out, going to another room, leaving. The new bass player, the three girls he picked up, people Justin can't even place. The door closes again. Justin watches the time display on his cell phone for ten minutes. No one calls at all. Eleven people have this number; he only wants one to call. She doesn't.

Lance comes out and tugs Justin up. "I got a room," Lance says, "you know, to hang out with you. Come on." Lance turns around and Justin follows.

When Justin gets into the room, Lance pulls him into another hug. Then Justin sits on the edge of the bed, and Lance says quietly, "How's your mom?"

Justin looks down. He won't cry. He waits until he can say it without his voice breaking. "She's gonna be fine. That's what all the doctors say, seriously. She calls every day. She's going to be fine. Perfectly treatable."

Lance nods. He looks down quickly and Justin wipes his eyes while Lance isn't looking. Justin says, "Cleared out the party?"

"Clear." Lance stands up and pats his pockets. "Leo's flushing things down the toilet. Why'd you, why are people partying in your room while you're waiting outside?"

Justin shrugs. His mom told him to go on tour; it was such a great album. Trace decided to really be a dad and stay with this one, this girl, this baby. Justin's fucking miserable. He says, "I dunno. Some girl offered to blow me, and she wanted to do it right there, in front of everyone. It just freaked me out. I guess that's a stupid thing to be freaked out by, but you know? Not with all those people there. Anyway, so I walked out and I was waiting."

His mom still hasn't called today. Some days, she doesn't call until really late, after she's rested all day and she can talk without having to get off the phone after a few minutes. Today is one of those days. He just needs to wait.

Lance says, "Who's your tour manager?"

"Ted."

"Ted who? Casablanca?" Lance smirks.

"Ted, who used to work with Usher and still does, but Usher's all off the road for the next year. Ted is very good. He's not hands-on about the after stuff, but that's not his job." Justin rubs his forehead.

Lance rolls his eyes and sits down in the chair. Lance never went to space, never made a third movie, never discovered anyone. When they went on this hiatus, no end date in sight, Lance got into the real estate business. He did that well. He and Howie are business partners now, and last Justin heard, Lance had doubled his fortune in eighteen months.

Lance looks miserable. Justin's pretty sure he's the last stop on Lance's little tour. Justin says, "Weren't you in LA with JC?"

"I was. He's working on the sequel to the disco concept album." Lance purses his lips. "He was like, you know, engrossed in studio things and he didn't want me hanging over his shoulder after the first few weeks. And even LA can get boring."

Chris and Lance broke up six weeks ago. Before Justin's mom was diagnosed. So Joey would have been stop number one, but Justin's pretty sure Joey had location shots in Cleveland and even Lance's misery wouldn't make Cleveland look good. Two weeks with Joey, a month with JC and now Justin.

He looks up at Lance and thinks, misery loves company. He says, "Why don't you, here's an idea. I think, um, Ted's a little over his head. I mean, he can handle the dancers and the tour stuff, but clearly, okay, this is not my best hour. I'm kinda lost. I'm doing crappy, and I need someone good to keep me on track. Why don't you, uh. You could hang out. You know?"

"Are you offering me a job?" Lance smiles.

It's not a smirk so Justin says, "Yes. I think I need someone. You'd be, you know, sort of perfect."

"Sort of?" Lance gets up and sits down next to Justin. "You need another manager?"

"Pretty much." Justin's phone rings and it's his mother.

*

It takes two days of lawyers and negotiating with Johnny and Lance and it's done. Lance basically takes over as Justin's co-manager for the last ten weeks of the tour. It's a really nice distraction for the first week, watching Lance get used to the job. Justin loves distraction right now.

Lance spends two days watching things and the next three days firing people and yelling at everyone else. He takes control of things really well. Ted isn't even resentful as Lance steps all over his turf, mostly because Lance spends his whole first day after the contracts are signed following Ted, asking Ted questions. Justin suspects that the people around him like Lance because they didn't much like being around Justin before Lance showed up. Not like Lance isn't depressed, too, what with the big break-up, but Lance wears it better.

Lance and Chris got together during the last NSYNC tour right when it was starting to become clear it would be the last for a really long time. It didn't seem then like the bad idea it ended up being. Or so Justin thinks. He's just judging by what he heard from Chris, and secondhand through Joey. Not like he and Lance didn't talk, but never about that when it started to turn bad.

So Lance and Chris were in love but the last six months sounded an awful lot like torture to Justin. Like they just tore each other down and brought out the worst in each other. Justin thinks they broke up when they had scarred every part of each other and had nowhere else to hurt. But it's not like Chris doesn't sound like the walking wounded whenever he and Justin talk, so maybe there were still a few places left.

Chris doesn't say much when Justin tells him about Lance being his manager. Only, "Well, that will probably work for you." Then he asks about Justin's mom.

*

Justin hates getting up. He always has and now it's just worse. All he wants is to be home. If he were home, he'd bring his mom tea. He'd go over to his daddy's house and see his brothers while she was sleeping. He'd be right there every moment she wasn't feeling well and he'd know how she was, not just how his dad said she was. The only thing that keeps him away is the way she says every time, "You're doing so great, baby."

Lance pushes his arm and says, "You're going to be late. Radio interview."

"I don't wanna." Justin sits up and rubs his eyes. "I want, I want to go home."

Lance presses his lips together and then says, "We can do that. You can. It'll be really expensive. Refunds, insurance. Your insurance next time out will be really scary. But you think about it, you have a radio interview to do first. You know you'll be back here, don't want to piss off the program director."

Justin nods and gets out of bed. In a few hours, Lance will nudge him and ask if he still wants to go home. Justin will say no, he can do it. Justin knows he's being manipulated, but Lance isn't really trying, he hasn't pulled out the big guns yet. Justin's okay with it, and really, he's paying Lance to do it.

He misses his mother. He misses Trace a lot, too, interviews like these. Lance is a perfect replacement because he knows all the people at the radio stations still. In the first two weeks on the job, Lance ends up doing half the interviews with Justin. A nice shield. And when it's just Justin, Lance sits in the back where Justin can see him, the two of them in an unspoken dialogue for the whole time. It's so much better than doing this alone or with the junior publicist he got stuck with for this last leg of the tour.

This morning's deejay doesn't want to talk Lance; it's a more urban station. The guy leans forward and says, "So, I hear your momma's sick, I'm sorry, man."

Justin doesn't smile. He just says, "Yeah, she's getting better. She's gonna be fine."

Three questions about Justin's last girlfriend who dumped him after sleeping with one of her co-stars from her last movie. One question about Britney, which is just silly. "We still talk all the time, man, she's completely cool." Which is true, so it's always easy to remember. Two questions about this album, one about the tour, three pointless jokes about the new Jay-Z song about being dumped by Beyonce.

No questions about NSYNC, only two years for that to become moot for urban stations. Two hours later it's a different kind of station and the deejay makes Lance sit right next to Justin so he can talk to both them. "Good to see you, man. So good to see you." The deejay smiles at Lance.

This one has one less question about Justin's last girlfriend. One question about NSYNC, "Why'd y'all break up? That last album rocked."

Lance says, "We didn't. We always said, you know, we wouldn't break up as long as we were friends, and we're all still friends. We just, you know, everybody had all these things, great stuff going on, and it was impossible to find all the time to focus on NSYNC, because that's, that's a huge chunk of time. So we're on hiatus. We don't know when it'll be over, but, man, it will be some day and for now, hiatus. No break up, just hiatus." He grins and looks over at Justin.

Justin says, "Totally. Man, don't know when, because JC's got this amazing album he's working on, and Joey's in this new movie and Chris has all this stuff and, you know, I've got this little tour that I hope people will be coming out to see, so."

The deejay wraps that part up saying, "And I can see Lance has himself a great job, so." Then another stupid joke about Beyonce's new song about how Jay-Z's an ass and the music fills the studio.

While the music's playing, the deejay takes off his baseball cap and smooths what's left of his hair on the top of his head. "It's not so little a tour, man, saw it two nights ago and you rocked. Great show."

Justin nods. "Yeah, you know, it's no PopOdyssey."

"Thank god," Lance says. He laughs and plays with his bottled water.

"Well, hey, what do you care?" The deejay chuckles. "You don't have to do any of it."

"Nope." Lance grins. "It's all the good parts of touring without any work at all. No dancing or anything."

Ten minutes later they're done and Lance opens the door of the limo for Justin. Justin scoots over as Lance gets in and says, "You don't have to do that."

"Fuck, I certainly don't. But I got to the car first." Lance whaps Justin's thigh with his book and leans back in his seat. He opens the book and starts reading. It's weird, distinctly weird to Justin that Lance is reading all the time now. Justin noticed that first night in Lance's hotel room, the stack of books Lance had already unpacked. Fiction, non-fiction, some titles Justin recognizes and another half he's never heard of. Lance is actually reading them and he takes notes. He jots things in the margins with his expensive Cross pen.

"What are you reading?"

Lance fiddles with his glasses and doesn't look up from his book. "It's about innovation and the Industrial Revolution."

Justin says, "So, like a business thing? Learning about all that?"

Lance shrugs. He turns a page. "I guess. That's not why I'm reading it."

"Are you, um, going to take a college course or something? You're reading enough." Justin remembers his tutors and how all that worked. Read a lot of books and do exercises, write papers and then a piece of paper that showed it was all done.

Lance snorts. "No college, no grades. I've been judged enough the last three years."

Which is a Chris slam or something. Justin plays with the hem of his t-shirt and doesn't say anything. Five minutes before they get to the hotel, Lance closes his book and tucks it into his messenger bag. He says, "Okay, you still wanna go home?"

Justin looks out of the window of the car. "No, I can do it. She told me to, she says it on the phone every time. It's fine."

*

Justin doesn't talk about Chris to Lance and he doesn't mention Lance to Chris. Chris calls every day, slightly more than normal since Justin's mom was diagnosed. Chris is so fucking talented, so capable of doing anything, so it's not such a surprise that he has bunch of projects going at any given moment. He had a record label for two years and then after the first hit act, Warner Bros bought it. Two years ago, Chris did a guest host thing for some talk show that lasted six months on the UPN. The show died, Chris got buzz. Now he's about to end a two-month stint guest hosting for the latest show to try to follow Letterman. Justin watches it religiously.

Chris calls two minutes after the show's done in whatever time zone Justin is in. Tonight he opens with, "Do you believe that bitch? Man, I been waiting four hours to say that to you."

"Dude, she's a big dyke. You know she dated Brit?" Justin smiles and pulls up the covers.

"I do recall that. I don't keep up with the woman so blessed as to get to deflower you, I don't keep up with her like you do, but I did hear that. And I was being all nice! No sly little questions about that big ol' closet she has right behind her. And she's still a bitch. What is up with that?" Chris laughs and it's almost like he's right there. He won't be, of course. Now that Lance is 24-7 on Justin's tour, Justin's sure he won't see him until the tour is over. One more reason to want the tour to end so Justin can go home. He misses Chris, like he always does.

"Well, she's a bitch, man. Brit dumped her pretty quick. I think you did good. I mean, you made her look bad. It was entertaining. That's the thing, right?"

"Well, it cuts down on people willing to be booked with me, say. I only get the shitty guests and no one watches because who really cares? But hey, I like your reasoning."

"I'm brill at this, man." Justin turns off the light and turns on his side. His mom called this afternoon at five; he can go to sleep after this. "So, anything else going on with you?"

"Nothin' honey. Getting back on my feet, you know, after everything."

Justin says, "You're always on your feet, man."

Chris asks about Justin's mom, Justin says she's fine, getting better and they say goodbye and Justin goes to bed.

*

It's weird. Johnny's still one of Justin's managers, but the album's been out six months, this is the second leg of the tour. And he's still Britney's manager, so with her album just out and her third movie still doing well, Johnny's a lot more focused there. Justin needs someone else. It's been his mom for so long and now it's Lance.

Johnny's old now, officially old, and as long as Justin's been doing all this, Johnny's been doing it longer. Justin always listens to him. And Justin's mom is his mom, he knows she wants what's best for him, he always listens to her, too.

Lance says he should do this silly TV thing, some quickie guest appearance playing in the club where the murder happens. Justin says, "I don't do club shows."

"Well, you have. And it takes two days, which you have in your schedule, and it's top five in the ratings every week."

"Maybe I had other plans for those two days." Justin picks at the hem of his jeans. They're not supposed to be artfully frayed anymore but Justin likes that look.

Lance pushes his glasses back up his nose and frowns. "You actually didn't. Or don't. We're going to be in LA. If you add up the time to fly to Memphis and back, you'd have all of three hours at home. If we stay in LA, you work two days, you get to see Joey and JC and you get a nice bump for the album and the tour."

"The album's officially a hit. The tour's at 90% capacity. I hate TV. You know? Sing the song eighty times and you're on screen for two minutes total. Half the audience thinks you're a whore and the other half doesn't even notice you." Justin takes the thread he's worked out and pulls it into little pieces.

"The jury's voted on whether you're a whore, Justin, you're guilty. Those people aren't going to buy your album anyway. And it's not the other half that doesn't even notice; there are people who will notice. Plus, you know, after this tour, there'll be a break and it's nice to keep your face out there. Along with the money, which is always nice." Lance taps his book but doesn't open it. It's a different one. Industrial revolution over, now it's some gray book about a parrot.

Justin thinks he could make this into an argument. Point out that Lance gets some of this money, because the structure of his contract means Lance only gets his percentage from this tour's receipts and this album's sales. Justin doesn't want an argument. But Justin's twenty-five, about to be twenty-six, and it's his life. He looks up and says, "One day. Why is it two days?"

Lance smiles. "I'll make it one day." Lance picks up his book and his pen. "You go get food or something, man, you're too skinny. People'll talk." Lance winks so Justin knows it's a joke.

The filming takes one day. Justin calls Brit from the side of the stage when he remembers that she used to date one of the actors. She tells him the actor had a very small penis. Lance charms the fuck out of the director, maybe even sleeps with him at the party after the shoot's done. Justin's pretty sure Lance and Ted have some sort of arrangement on the side as well. Which is one way to deal with a break up, Justin supposes.

He tells Joey about it over brunch. Joey says, "It wasn't a quid pro quo, of course." Joey grins and pours syrup on his waffle. They're at some out of the way diner in the Valley, Joey's favorite. "I mean, I bet he slept with the guy, but let's be honest, the guy was hot."

"I didn't think it was some kind of deal. Just, you know."

Joey says, "I think six weeks is sufficient time after a break up to get back to meaningless sex. Cause I know he didn't get laid when he was hanging out with me or C."

Justin shrugs. "I don't care, man, I was just sayin'."

"Not making sure he's sufficiently upset after breaking things off with your Chris?"

Justin frowns. "God, like we all weren't counting the days on that one. They'll both be happier. Those last six months were fucking torture, to us, at least. They were just making each other miserable at the end."

Joey says, "That happens a lot." He neatly divided his waffle in two and finished exactly half and he lays his fork on the plate. "I mean, never making it work." Joey signals for the check. "I'm glad they broke up, too. Like with you and Brit at the end, it was just kind of a relief."

They walk out and get in Joey's car. Joey says, "So, how's your mom?"

"She's fine. Getting better." Justin looks out the window. Lot of that lately, he thinks.

"Yeah, she's not, Justin. We all know it. She's not fine, it's making you miserable and it would probably behoove you to, you know, tell someone because it's gonna stay bad and you're just gonna explode." Joey shifts gears with an angry shove and pulls out into the road.

"Well, that's your theory." Justin closes his eyes. "I mean, there's some validity there." He actually starts laughing because it's just funny. It's ridiculous. It's funny that they're all doing so well and Justin, Lance, Chris, they're all fucking miserable right now. Joey, too, because Justin's pretty sure Kelly isn't living with him right now and he won't talk about her. Joey stops talking about Kelly when they're apart, and this time he has a tired set to his mouth as he never ever mentions her. Joey's quiet, too, so he's definitely unhappy. Maybe even JC is unhappy but Justin'll find that out tonight.

Joey starts laughing. "God, man, you must be so fucked. No mom, no Trace, no Johnny, really." He's still laughing and Justin doesn't think it's mean, it's just true.

Justin hangs out on Joey's set for a few hours and watches people drift by. He used to go crazy with nothing to do. This tour, he doesn't mind so much. He has one thing he wants to do and he can't. So now he can sit for hours and just watch other people. It's distracting.

Lance drives up with Briahna to pick up Justin. He tries to pass Briahna back to Joey. She clings to Lance. He grins at her and kisses her nose and then she clings to Joey. Justin sits in the car while Lance and Joey talk, laughing and poking at each other, for five minutes. Justin picks up Lance's book. Not the parrot one. This one is called "One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The title sounds familiar. It's a pretty battered paperback edition. Justin looks up and they're still talking, so he opens the book.

He flips quickly, feels like a child sneaking through his parents' bedroom. On page 67, Lance's underlined: "Although she seemed expansive and cordial, she had a solitary character and an impenetrable heart."

Lance walks toward the car so Justin puts the book down.

JC looks tan even though Justin knows he hasn't left the studio in days. The first thing JC does is ask about Justin's mom. Then JC starts talking about the latest song he's finished and Lance rolls his eyes behind JC's back. Justin says, "Oh, Lance is really impressed."

JC turns around and shoves Lance, laughing. "God, you never change."

Lance winces. "I do, too."

Justin says, "Okay, weekly meeting of the girly girls is over there, people. Let's get drinks and enjoy this time, shall we?"

They sit in the back of the club and Lance says something to the bodyguards so no one bothers them but the staff. JC talks about his album a little more, argues with Justin about some of the staging on Justin's tour and barely drinks at all.

When they decided on the long hiatus, the one with no end in sight, JC couldn't stop talking about his next solo album. He waited until they'd decided for sure and then he would babble about it to any of them, it was his only topic of conversation.

Or maybe that's just the way Justin remembers it. The last half of that tour is a blur to Justin in some ways. The big gay second leg, Joey said once. The second leg when everyone had admitted to themselves that there wouldn't be a third one or a new one for a very very long time.

Justin wonders if they were all just running away from each other and clinging to each other at the same time in some mass neurosis. Chris and Lance got together, Justin was sneaking off to screw Nick Carter every chance he got. And Joey rolled his eyes as he called it the big gay second leg, even though he and JC were fucking each other every night and sometimes in the quiet room before shows. Back then, Justin thought at least Chris and Lance seemed to be starting a relationship. Justin barely talked to Nick, even with all the fucking.

JC's last solo album, the one he couldn't shut up about on that tour was the big disco concept album. It did pretty okay. Now JC grins and says, "Okay, so that's that. I think my album will be good and I think you've got too many dancers in those last three songs in the second half of the set. To sum up."

Lance says, "Well, I agree on point one and not on point two. Which I've already said."

JC laughs and butts his head against Lance's shoulder. "You look good." He's looking at Lance.

"I looked bad before?"

"Man, you looked like death warmed over." JC is petting Lance's shoulder.

"I don't think, I think I just looked serious. I'm allowed to be serious." Lance pushes his glasses up again.

"Maybe if you ditched the glasses. Do you even need them?" Justin takes a sip of drink. He's on his third; JC is still on his first.

Lance frowns. "Frankly, yes. Your eyesight does get worse, you know, as you get older."

"Not mine," JC says.

"Fine, mine." Lance keeps frowning.

"Mine, too," Justin says, because it feels like they're on the edge of a stupid argument or Lance getting really pissed.

JC cocks his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I have to wear my contacts all the time now. Even on stage and everywhere." Justin watches Lance as he relaxes slightly.

Lance leans back against the cushions and says to JC, "So, you seeing anyone?"

JC blushes and looks down. "Maybe. I'm mostly in the studio, you know."

Justin pokes JC's arm. "Maybe? Who's the maybe?"

"Just some actress. She's nice. She's, like, thirty-eight, but she's really cool." JC grins and changes the subject. So, one for five, Justin thinks. Not that being with someone is a mark of happiness, but JC's definitely happy, actress or not.

*

Lance wears his glasses every day now. He reads a book a week, five books in the five weeks he's been managing Justin. When they're done, he puts them in his suitcase. Justin thinks he ships the books back to his house in Orlando because Justin's looking for a pair of socks in Lance's suitcase and he doesn't see any of the books Lance's finished.

Justin watches Lance all the time. It's been years since they were in such constant contact and even then, Justin didn't pay too much attention. There were so many people to try to understand and figure out, Justin trusted the guys implicitly and never watched them like this. But now, Lance is twenty-seven, he works two hours a day on his real estate business, the other twenty-two for Justin and he's the only person Justin sees every day that he trusts.

After his first week of the tour, Lance asked Justin when he worked out. Justin just shrugged and Lance said that Justin should join him in the mornings. So they work out every weekday morning, in hotels or the venue. Justin hadn't actually forgotten that Lance was incredibly competitive, but he's reminded every day. And Justin's no slouch in that department. Every day, it's who can press more, who can up the intensity more on the treadmill, who does more crunches. Justin thinks it's another manipulation. Lance thinks Justin will be happier or more stable if he's in better shape, if he's exercising more than just the show and the rehearsals. But he doesn't out and out say it; he just makes sure Justin does it. Justin doesn't resent it; it feels like love in a way. Like someone who cares enough to make him do things.

Lance is still in great shape, astronaut shape, Justin thinks. He's careful with his body, for all their pushing and competing, Lance isn't about to get injured. They both wear headphones for their music and Justin doesn't know what Lance is listening to these days.

Lance talks to Joey every day, JC more than twice a week. He never calls Chris. Lance is a fast typist and he doesn't play computer games any more.

Lance is a really good manager. He's right about the TV appearance. People start talking about Justin's appearance right after he films it, and there's a brief snippet on the stupid nightly entertainment shows and a resulting bump in album sales.

Three weeks before the tour ends, Justin's mom doesn't call. He stays up until two a.m. and there's nothing. Justin doesn't call her because he might wake her up. She's told him over and over that she wouldn't mind if he did, but it's something Justin would never do. He could call his dad, but he doesn't want to be an interruption. It must be something bad. He won't let himself think about it. He tosses and turns and reaches for his phone. He puts the phone back. He just needs to wait.

He falls asleep somehow because Lance is waking him up. Lance sleeps on the bus, in a big bunk while Justin has the bed in the back. Lance is in his face, Lance looks groggy and unshaven.

Lance says, "Paul, it's Paul on the phone."

Justin backs up against the headboard and starts to cry. He just can't, he won't hear it. Lance is there next to him, his hand on Justin's face.

Lance strokes Justin's cheek. He says, "I wouldn't, Justin, I wouldn't. I wouldn't just hand you the phone, understand? And it won't be that, it won't, you're not going to get that call, you're not."

Justin hiccups and takes the phone. So it's okay. Lance says it's not the worst, so Justin feels not as hysterical. Lance sits next to Justin on the bed and rubs his back while Justin talks to his dad.

It's not good news, but it's not surprising. Justin's mom is exhausted, dehydrated and she has to go into the hospital for a few days. Justin's dad says she'll be fine; it's just a little setback.

When they're done talking Justin closes the phone and puts his head on his knees. Lance says, "You've got time. You know, we can go back to Memphis tomorrow. I'll set it up."

Justin nods. He lays back on the bed and tugs at his covers. Lance starts to get up and Justin grabs his hand. "Please?" Lance gets in next to him.

Lance gets Justin on the earliest flight to Memphis. He doesn't fly out himself for another two hours because he has to cancel things. Not shows, but radio things and one TV appearance. Justin doesn't care. He calls his dad and he calls Brit because she was supposed to come by for lunch and now he'll be in Memphis and she'll be St. Louis.

*

"So she said she likes my hair." Justin sniffles and wipes his nose with his hand. Lance pats his arm. "I keep forgetting to get a haircut."

Lance says, "That's sweet." Lance hands Justin a handkerchief.

"She looked really tired. You know?" Justin leans against the wall and blows his nose. "This fucking sucks."

"I know." Lance crosses his arms.

"It's just, fuck. She's sick and I can't do anything and I have no fucking idea what to do without her and she's just sick now." Justin sinks to the floor and covers his face.

Lance rubs Justin's neck. "Justin." Lance hugs him and then says, "Look, I'll get your dad. We don't need to leave now."

Justin shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Visiting hours are over, I don't wanna tire her out and I promised I'd go home and make dinner for Dad. I can go see my brothers and Lisa and my dad." Justin stands up. "I'm sick of being such a fucking wuss."

Justin's still sniffling as they walk out of the hospital. The parking lot is full and Justin stops to remember where he parked. Then there's a flash right in his face and he blinks, puts up his hand. Lance starts swearing and when Justin opens his eyes, some tall skinny guy is pushing Lance. The guy has a digital camera in his other hand.

It happens like another flash of the camera. Lance shoves back. The guy says, "Fuck you, Bass." Lance glares and then punches him in the shoulder, just like that and Justin steps back. He backs away because the guy is lurching, Lance's eyes are thin slits and Justin can't believe this is happening.

The guy drops the camera and Lance picks it up, throws it on the ground. It makes a cracking sound and bounces a little. Lance stamps on it. The guy lunges at Lance again and Lance punches him again, in the stomach. The guy falls down and Justin just stares. He's never seen Lance throw a punch before. The guy struggles up and Lance stamps on the camera again and again until it breaks and splits and there's nothing on the ground but smashed plastic. Justin turns around and walks to the car, he sees the car.

Lance has the keys. He's one beat behind Justin and the doors beep as Justin steps up. He gets in as just as Lance does. They peel out of the parking lot. Justin says, "What the fuck was that?"

"He works for the fucking Enquirer, man. He, I saw him once, Chris bitched him out for taking pictures of Taylor." Lance is speeding and Justin grips the armrest.

"So you beat him up? Dude, did you just leave the scene of the crime?"

"He was fine. He stood up, he was yelling at me."

"Yeah, you fucking punched him. Dude, he's gonna call the police." Lance grips the steering wheel and Justin can see where his knuckles are cracked, his hands red. Justin says, "He's going to call the police. This is like, our speeding getaway car or something." Justin starts laughing hysterically. "Fuck, getaway car. Christ, you beat him up."

Lance doesn't say anything. He's staring straight ahead. He takes a turn way too fast. "Okay," Justin says, "you should let me drive. You're all way wound tight."

Lance says, "Get me my phone. It's in my bag."

Justin covers his mouth and then says, "Dude, no. You're driving like a fucking maniac. I am not giving you a cell phone."

"Give me my fucking cell phone, I want to call my lawyer."

"Or you'll punch me, too?" Justin can't stop laughing. "I'll call him. Wait, doesn't your lawyer handle real estate and corporate shit?"

"It's a firm. I'm sure he can refer me to someone at the firm who knows something about criminal law." Lance waits for Justin to get the phone out and then says, "Speed dial, it's number 3."

"Who's one and two?"

"Justin, dial." Lance brakes too suddenly and the tires squeal.

"I am, and it's ringing." Justin bites his lip so he doesn't giggle. This is so fucking ridiculous. Lance the terminator manager or something. Justin gets a receptionist and he says, "I'm calling on behalf of Lance Bass."

Lance's lawyer, Brad something or other, says, "Lance?"

"No, it's Justin, Lance is driving. Lance needs to talk to a criminal lawyer, he just beat the shit out of some photographer and we're speeding away in our getaway car."

Brad sputters and says, "Is this a joke?"

"I wish." Brad puts Justin on hold. Justin says, "I think he's getting someone."

Lance says, "I didn't beat the shit out of him. And this isn't a getaway car, for fuck's sake. He was in the hospital parking lot."

A woman comes on the phone. "This is Lacey Bayard. Is this Mr. Bass?"

"Mr. Bass is driving, I'm not giving him the phone."

"Make him pull over."

Justin covers the phone and says, "She says pull over. She sounds really serious. I bet she's a great lawyer, man."

Lance snorts and pulls over. Justin hands him the phone as soon the car is turned off. It's the road leading to Justin's house, so it's not that busy. Justin listens as Lance tells what happened twice. He starts in on the third time and Justin gets out of the car. He leans against the door and wishes he smoked. After ten minutes, Lance opens the door and says, "I'm done. She's flying out from Atlanta, she'll meet me at the house in five hours."

Justin gets back in the car. "What do you do until then?"

"Sit tight. Don't talk to anyone. I need to call Howie and my mom." Lance frowns and they pull into the driveway.

"Howie and your mom aren't anyone?"

"She meant the press or the cops." Lance steps aside so Justin can open the door.

Justin says, "I'm gonna call my dad."

*

Lance's criminal lawyer is a really tall black woman. WNBA tall, Justin thinks. Lacey brings her associate, a pretty blond woman who looks like Emily Proctor and has the same accent as the actress. It's like a Lifetime series or something.

Lacey slams down the remote for the TV and says, "There's a tape?"

Justin nods. He's sitting in his own living room, petting his dog. Justin says, "You saw. Some guy got it all, he wanted to film his wife giving birth. Isn't the tape a good thing? I mean, you can totally see that the guy shoved Lance first."

Lacey frowns. "It doesn't help." She stomps out of the room.

Justin makes grilled cheese sandwiches. Thanks to the tape, they've already got cameras in the driveway. Lots of phone calls back and forth and Justin figures his role right now is to just sit tight. And make grilled cheese sandwiches. Justin's dad decides to stay at the hospital. Justin tells his mom over the phone what happened. She says, "Good for him. What a bastard. I mean, the photographer. He deserved it."

Justin snorts. "I don't think that's gonna work as a defense." He promises to call her with more updates.

He makes five with just cheese and five with ham. You never can tell who's a vegetarian or who doesn't eat pork. He brings them into the dining room where Lacey, the Emily Proctor girl and Lance are talking. There are pictures of Justin's family all over the room but it still somehow looks like a war room. Justin puts the sandwiches down and says, "I can get drinks, too. Anybody want?"

Almost Emily Proctor is the only one who smiles. She says, "Sure, I'd like some coffee. Thank you so much."

Justin swallows and watches Lance take a sandwich. "That one has ham. The blue plate has ham. In case you don't eat meat or something." Almost Emily Proctor smiles again and takes one of the cheese only sandwiches. "Is Lance going to jail? Or, you don't know yet?"

Lacey taps her pen on the table. "Probably not. And I'd like some coffee, too."

Justin rubs Lance's shoulder and goes back to the kitchen to make coffee. He grabs the really expensive brand he knows Lance likes.

In the morning, Lacey says they've "worked out this part. You stay here," she says, gesturing at Justin, "The rest of us will be gone for two or three hours. When we get back, you and Lance will be free to leave to finish the tour. Not the country, but we'll work everything out."

Justin thinks, he's already finished the overseas dates. Lance comes downstairs in a suit, not one of the cool ones, the one he'd wear to an unexpected funeral or something. He looks older and tired. Lance rubs his hair and Justin can see his knuckles are still red. Justin gives him a hug and Lance is tense under his arms. Then all three of them leave. Justin sits on the couch for a while. He wants to leave, see his brothers, his daddy. He thinks he'll have time tomorrow, but tonight, it feels like desertion. He reaches to turn on the TV and his phone rings.

"Is Lance going to jail?" Chris sounds choked.

"No, Lacey the lawyer thinks he won't." Justin waits.

Chris says, "Okay." After a minute, he says, "Good." Then he asks about Justin's mother.

*

Lance sits on the steps with his suitcase next to him. Lacey is standing next to him, talking quietly, ticking points off on her fingers, but Justin can't hear. He turns to Almost Emily Proctor and says, "Hey, can I ask you some questions here?"

She nods. Justin says, "Um, I never actually caught your name, I'm sorry."

She blushes. She's pretty, really pretty. She says, "Norris Ransom."

Justin nods. "That's a nice name."

"Norris is my mother's maiden name. It's unusual, at least." She rolls her eyes.

"Must have been fun at age five," Justin says and slouches a little. He must be a foot taller than her, and she's wearing heels. She's pretty and smart, Justin likes that in a girl. It's not that different from what he likes in a guy, but she's standing right there. He thinks she's probably twenty-six, twenty-seven and it hits him with a rush they're almost the same age. He stutters, "I mean, Norris isn't the easiest name, I guess."

"Well, no one called me that then. But, um, you know, not very professional."

"What?"

She blushes again. "Daisy. Everyone called me Daisy, even my mother. But I don't use that when I'm working."

Justin smiles. "Okay. I promise not to tell." He sits down on his duffel bag so she's not craning her neck to look up at him. He says, "So Lance is free to go now?"

"Yes. He'll have to be back here for the rest of the legal stuff in three weeks. But the tour will be over then, right? Did you want more details than that?"

Justin shakes his head. "Just, he's not going to jail, right?"

"Lacey's very good, I think it will be fine." She pats his arm and smiles at him. She walks over to Lacey and Lance. Lance stands up and then they're ready to go.

They sit together on the plane out to Chicago. Lance opens his laptop and starts typing as soon as he can. Justin says, "How you doing?"

"Fine." Lance doesn't look up.

"No, seriously, man. I mean, you know."

"Yes, Justin, I know. I'm fine. My summer's kind of shot to hell, my mother almost yelled at me, and my lawyer is telling me I can't leave the country. I now have a criminal attorney, so really, I feel really special." Lance stops typing and clasps his hands together. He sighs and goes back to typing. "I have this stuff Howie sent me. I'm pretty behind."

"Okay, then." Justin leans against the window and closes his eyes. "I'm just gonna sleep. You wake me up when we land."

"Fine."

When Justin wakes up, he's covered with one of those blue blankets the airline has, tucked tight around his arms. Lance's laptop is stowed and Lance has one hand over his face. Justin says, "Hey, Lance."

Lance says, "Yeah?"

"You have a shitty right hook. I meant to tell you earlier, but you know, the seven hundredth time I saw the video on ET, it was just really clear."

Lance puts his hand down and smirks at Justin. "Yeah, well, it worked fine, didn't it? I had a TKO." Justin almost laughs.

*

Justin is just tired. Three weeks, two weeks and then one week to go. It's just torture and he keeps thinking, one foot in front of the other. Lance's cancelled a lot of the radio interviews Justin had, because Justin asked. He can't talk anymore, can't push some stupid album that he doesn't care about anymore. He doesn't. He doesn't care about the tour; he just wants to go home. He misses his mother more than he can say.

Six days left. Lance is sitting on the bed when Justin wakes up. Justin mumbles something and turns on his side. Lance says, "So, there's this article in US, wanna hear?"

Justin says, "No." He flings the covers off and hopes he hits Lance. He doesn't. He walks to the bathroom and realizes he's naked, so, no, he didn't sleep in his underwear last night. He doesn't care about that either, Lance has seen it all before in changing rooms and the like. He starts the shower and drags his bag into the bathroom.

Lance comes in the bathroom and leans against the counter. He starts reading from the article. "Sources in the DA's office say they plan to throw the book at Bass." Lance sighs. Justin steps in the shower and rubs his hair. He peeks out from behind the curtain and looks at Lance. Faded shorts, white socks, gold-rimmed glasses. Justin turns up the hot water and hopes he'll make Lance's glasses steam over. He really doesn't care about anything right now.

Lance steps closer to the shower and says loudly, "But this is the good part of the article. Snippet. Whatever. It's pretty short. So they say, 'Bass has unlikely support from many quarters in Hollywood.' Do you wanna hear about the celebrities who think I was completely justified? They want to buy me lunch. Mind you, none of them have actually contacted me or anything. But still. It's a nice list. Wanna hear?"

Justin says, "No. God, shut up."

Lance says, "Just trying to distract you or something. I'm not having the best day, you know."

When Justin is showered and dressed he comes out of the bathroom and Lance is sitting on his bed. "I'm sorry your day is sucking, man."

Lance shrugs. "Whatever, I brought it all on myself." Lance nudges his glasses up on nose. "I talked to Joey. So, you know, I'll just make myself scarce tomorrow and the day after, okay?"

"Why?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Of course. Of course, he talked to Joey and didn't even tell you. Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise or something." Lance stands up and says, "Chris is coming to hang with you. He gets in tomorrow night. In time for the show."

Justin grins. "Cool. Um, that's gonna be awkward, right?"

"No, it'll be peachy." Lance walks out and slams the door.

*

Chris is big and smiling. Skinnier than the last time Justin saw him, and he looks really good. He looks like the best thing in the world. He hugs Justin twice in the airport and then again at the hotel. He was visiting Justin's mom just two days ago. Justin can't stop grinning. He doesn't see Lance once all day until after the concert. There's a photographer backstage from the radio station. Chris hugs Justin and then Lance is there on the other side. Lance laughs a little while the photographer is there and when the photographer leaves, Lance is gone again.

Chris comes back to Justin's hotel room and perches on the bed. "So, just, what, a few more shows?"

"Two shows, four days."

"Man, good for you. I didn't think you make it." Chris stands up and pours himself a glass of water. "I mean, it must be really hard without your mom."

Justin nods. "But it's been okay. I mean, it hasn't. But I think the shows have been good."

"It was a good show." Chris downed half his glass. "But. I just mean, you've never really toured without your mom and Trace. You're used to more of a support network."

Justin shrugs. "It's been okay. I mean, Lance is here."

"Yeah." Chris goes into the bathroom and closes the door. He comes out a few minutes later. "So that's working good, Lance? Beating up photographers, taking care of you?"

Justin closes his eyes and lies back on the bed. "He's fine. Come on, man."

"What? I'm not saying anything."

Justin snorts. "Come on, can we not talk about Lance a little? Like, just, he's my friend, he's my manager and sadly, he's your ex-boyfriend and it just seems, you know, right now, not something we're gonna talk about like this, okay?"

"Oh, so all things Lance are off the table? Does that include Lance-related subjects? Can I talk about space exploration, country music or are those verboten as well?"

Justin sits up. "Come on, man. You wanna talk about how you're all suffering and shit, I'm there for you. But I'm not gonna sit tight for you bitching and making snide remarks about Lance. Okay?"

Chris frowns and rubs his chin. Then he says, "Fine. But I'm not gonna talk about my pain and suffering."

"Okay, me neither." Justin grins. "Did you see that Lakers game?"

*

Justin goes with Chris to the airport when he leaves. "It was great seeing you, man."

"I had to come, I hadn't seen any of the shows on this leg. It was a responsibility thing." Chris leans over and hugs Justin. "You're a strong man, you're strong, you know?"

Justin hugs Chris back and doesn't say anything. He doesn't even sniffle.

When he gets back to the venue, Lance is sitting in a front row seat, laptop open, typing away. Justin sits down next to him and taps his shoulder. "Hey, you. How are you?"

Lance shrugs.

Justin says, "I was, just, you know. That was nice of you. To show up for the pictures."

"Don't want to start rumors." Lance keeps typing. Justin's convinced that Lance doesn't really type anything; he just does it to look busy. Justin cranes his neck and tries to read over Lance's shoulder. He sees the phrase "location price differentials" and decides Lance actually is working. Real estate stuff.

"Well, still, it was nice. I mean, have you seen him since the big break-up?"

Lance stops typing and stares straight ahead. "Justin. Drop it."

"Okay. Are you excited about the last show?"

"Imminent unemployment followed by whatever sort of punishment the DA decides for me? Oooooooh, boy, can't wait." Lance starts typing again.

Justin looks at Lance's profile. He says, "You've really made a difference. You know? I couldn't've done this without you. I'd be, like, home, being sued, with my career all fucked up. Seriously. You did really good."

Lance smiles. "Thank you."

*

One last show and it's really good. It's in Memphis and his mom is there, right in the front row. It's the best show of the tour. Before the show, Lance talked to all the crew, it was a really good speech. Justin's pretty sure all the crew likes Lance more than him. Justin's also pretty sure he was a miserable motherfucker for the last ten weeks and most of the people who worked for him are even happier than he is that this is over.

It makes him feel bad. He hates leaving a bad impression, and more, he hates that he made the whole thing so shitty for other people. There's nothing he can do now, but he approved the bonuses Lance thought of giving to everyone. For doing a good job when Justin was barely there.

But now it's over and he goes home from the show with his mom and his dad. His mom hugs him tight and he falls asleep in her lap in the car.

He sleeps in the next day but after that he spends all day with his mother. He drives her to her appointment, check up and tests, and waits for her in the lobby. She comes out tired and pale and he half carries her to the car. It's exactly where Justin wants to be.

A week later, Lance comes by for lunch. "I have to be in court today." Things got delayed from the three weeks Lacey talked about last time because of the plea bargaining.

Justin nods. "I know. Lacey called. She says she doesn't need me."

"I'm pleading."

"For your life?" Justin grins.

"Guilty. Guilty to three misdemeanors. Instead of all the shit they charged me with." Lance doesn't smile at all.

"Do you already know what you're getting?"

"The joy of a plea bargain." Lance plays with his fork and ignores the mashed potatoes and peas Justin made for him. "Uh, probation for a year, twenty thousand dollar fine, one hundred and fifty hours of community service and, for shit and giggles, an anger management course."

Justin sits back. "Seriously? That's fucking harsh. Is that what most people get?"

"No. Most people don't get shit for a first offense bullshit assault charge. But I'm famous and I'm on tape." Lance frowns. He eats a bite of the mashed potatoes.

"Do you have to pick up trash on the highway or do you just get to visit sick children?"

"Well, you beat people up and the state of Tennessee doesn't like you hanging out with kids." Lance eats more mashed potatoes and doesn't touch the peas. "On the other hand, seniors. Seniors get to fend for themselves around me."

"Oh, cool. Senior citizen stuff." Justin smiles. He really can't stop.

"Yes, four days a week, six hours a day at a state run senior citizens home. And on the fifth day I deliver food to housebound people. Another six hours. I'll be done in five weeks." Lance looks up. "Why are you smiling?"

Justin grins. "Doctor's appointment today."

"Yeah?" Lance smiles. "Starts with an r?"

"You know it." Lance raises his hand and Justin slaps it. "Remission, baby. Not completely out of the woods, but definitely, absolutely, much better."

Lance says, "That's fantastic."

Justin says, "You have to be in Memphis for five weeks?"

"Six." Lance carefully separates his peas from the mashed potatoes.

"You wanna stay here? I mean, pity you don't own some property around here --"

"We do." Lance sighs. "We have this, it's a building downtown. We bought it when the builders went into bankruptcy. There's this white elephant of a luxury condo on the top floor. I'm gonna live there until I'm done and then we'll subdivide it, make it something we can actually sell."

"Oh, cool." Justin watches Lance eat. "You want me to come to court anyway? Like, you know, support you? Also, man, you could have just told me you don't like peas or something."

Lance looks down. "The mashed potatoes are more comforting." Lance crushes the peas with his fork. "I would, it would be nice. My parents are flying in, too. You know, because my mom's so excited about seeing me sentenced in court. I mean, I bet she'll take a lot of pictures and put them in a scrapbook."

Justin pats Lance's hand. "Dude, it's okay. She knows, she knows you're sorry and she knows how it's not something you'd ever do again." Justin can't even exactly believe Lance did it a first time. They used to get pissy with each other, years ago, all of them and sometimes punches were thrown but not Lance. And in the grip of tour fever, never so cold and vicious. Justin doesn't think about it because it's a little scary.

Lance nods. "Yeah. I guess, I guess mostly, it's just, she's never really been disappointed in me like this." He keeps his eyes on his mashed potatoes. He only eats a few more bites. Maybe Lance thinks it's a little scary, too.

*

Justin goes to see Trace at the bank. He can't believe Trace has an office and a job. Trace waves him to the chair and spreads his arms. "Look at my office, dude!"

"It's great." It is nice. Justin knows Trace only got the job because of Justin's dad, but Trace has kept the job, so that doesn't really matter anymore. "What's up, man?"

"So much shit, man. You know, I'm trying to get Marah to let me have Lara, you know? Because I think, Candee needs her sister. And me and Cherise can totally give her a better home than Marah." Trace leans forward and taps the planner on his desk.

Trace has two kids. He never seemed to care that much about Lara, but after Candee was born and Trace decided to marry Cherise, he's changed his mind. Justin thinks it's a really good thing. But he misses having Trace around. He nods at the right points in Trace's long narrative about lawyers and support payments. Then he says, "Man, you think you'll ever, you know, take a break, come out with me again, on the road and stuff?"

Trace shrugs. "Maybe. It would be totally cool, man." Trace tugs at his tie. "But it's like, you know, that's stuff easier for you. It's what you do. I do this now and I've got Cherise and Candee and Lara. It's like, it was super cool, man. But."

"No, that's cool. I wouldn't want take you away from all this." Justin grins.

Trace smiles. "I like all this. I didn't think I would, but you know, if this all being grown-up means, I can handle it."

Justin nods again. They make plans for dinner, for Trace to come by with all his girls to see Justin's mom. Lots of plans.

*

Justin goes over to Lance's condo for the first time three weeks after Lance is sentenced. There's next to no furniture. A big bed in the bedroom that Justin can see from the living room, a couch, bookcases. Nice entertainment center, of course. Justin slaps down the paper on Lance's couch. "You saw this, right?"

Lance frowns. "Yes. I made the paper. Two seconds after they took that picture, that old lady threw up on me." Lance stretches out his shirt and just looks at it. Justin notices two stains without even looking hard.

"So. But you're meeting people, right? Learning and growing?"

"It's not a fucking Lifetime movie, Justin. There's no bright shiny 'oooooh, look at the famous millionaire learn all about life.' I go there, I schlep things, I get ordered around, I play cards with old people. And then once a week I push carts and try to avoid oxygen tanks. It's really, it sucks."

"How's the anger management course?" Justin grins at Lance.

"Oh, it's great. I loooooooove it. It sucks, Justin. This whole thing sucks." Lance sighs. "Also, JC called and he asked Julie to move in with him or something. He's so whipped on her. So, how's your mom? Pretty great now, huh? She looked good yesterday. Like, really good. Like, we're touring Germany good." Lance grins.

"You scoping out my mom, Bass?"

"No. I'm just saying." Lance takes the paper and tosses it on the floor.

"You gonna just leave that there?" Justin stands up and puts the paper on Lance's dining table.

"I wasn't. I was going to pick it up." Lance looks at his shirt. "Four people threw up on me today."

Justin stands by the table and wishes Lance had more chairs. He says, "My mom is feeling a lot better."

Lance nods. "It's good."

"Yeah. She's decided to take up gardening."

"Good for her. My mom loves it." Lance gets up and walks to his bedroom. Justin follows him and watches Lance strip off his shirt and throw it in a laundry basket. Lance looks up. "Look, I know it's not my business anymore because our contract is over and done, but, are you, um, are you writing? Do you have some time off planned? I was just thinking today about that. In between four different people eating wheat who shouldn't have."

"Yeah. That's the thing. My mom's decided to take up gardening. She's just, she's feeling her age, I think, and recovering from being so sick. She says she doesn't want to be my manager anymore." Justin sits down on Lance's bed. The bedroom has no furniture besides the bed. Not even an end table.

"She's only forty-five, forty-six. That's not so old."

Justin looks down at his hands. "She doesn't want to travel, she doesn't want to work the hours. I think, you know, she was really sick. She wants to be home now."

"Oh." Lance sits down next to Justin. "Well, you still have Johnny."

Justin nods. "But. Uh. Did you have plans? I thought, this worked out well. We could, you know, do it permanently. You, managing me. I'll be a lot easier to work with now."

Lance looks away. "Huh. I wasn't expecting that."

"We can do up a new contract. You know, you can get more money. Whatever. Up your percentage." Justin bites his lip. He really thought Lance would jump at the chance.

Lance stands up. "Yeah. We could. I guess. I hadn't really thought about it. I haven't been making many plans lately. I mean, I don't have anything on the horizon. I guess, I'm trying not to be too optimistic."

"Dream big, you've got me now. You're really good at managing me. You rock at it."

Lance is looking out the window. Justin can see the whole city from here and it's pretty at night. Lance says, "I am good at it. But. You know, I'm not your mom or Trace or Johnny."

"Well, yeah. But we work together well. I didn't think you wouldn't want to do it."

Lance shrugs. "It's just. I guess it's not what I pictured doing. I'm just surprised." He turns around and smiles. "You'd up my percentage?"

Justin grins. "Yeah. Well, you have to talk to my lawyer and you have to talk to Johnny. But we can make it worth your while."

Lance sits down next to Justin and grips Justin's knee. "Oh yeah, we'll do all that. And you and me are gonna work some magic, you'll be a really big star. Bigger than now. It'll be good."

Justin nods. "It will be."

Part 2

Back to Stories