THE WRONG BAND

There was a day when Lance thought the phone would ring but it never did. He wasn't expecting a call, but he kept looking at the phone waiting for a call to come. The day passed and nothing happened, but he always remembered the day with an odd vividness.

The biggest band in the world doesn't believe in long vacations. The BACKSTREET BOYS are taking all of two weeks off after the end of their five month tour before going back to the studio to start on their next album. The youngest of the Boys, JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE, confesses he's been planning for this break for a long time. "I have big plans," he says, "really big plans."
-ROLLING STONE, RANDOM NOTES

Lance fiddled with his polyester vest and looked at the dark, empty mall outside the glass doors. Janie came out from the back room and said, "Yo, Lance. We can start closing in five minutes, right?"

Lance looked at his watch, calculated how long it would take to close everything while Janie was jonesing for a cigarette. "Yeah, you got time to sneak off for a smoke. Go, Janie, go." She giggled and snuck out a back door.

Lance looked up as someone came up the stairs from the mall. A guy, he thought, and then he thought, a kid. The boy rubbed his hands together and walked unsteadily towards the counter.

Fuckin' tweakers, Lance thought. It's always the shoes that give away the rich slumming ones. The kid wore faded jeans and a dirty knit hat pulled low over his brow, and it was all cheap and used. But the kid's shoes were top of the line Nikes and not even that dirty.

The boy leaned against the counter and looked down at his hands. "I wanted to see a movie -- there was no one selling tickets."

Lance sighed. "All the movies started an hour ago. We're about to lock the doors."

The boy looked up. "Can -- can I get some popcorn? I want to see a movie."

Lance opened his mouth and swallowed. The boy's eyes were dilated and Lance had been right when he pegged the kid as being on drugs. But the boy was beautiful. Like an angel, Lance thought. Angel walks into a movie theater, he thought, wants to see a movie, there are jokes that start that way and someone had to be laughing at them. He looked at the boy and blinked. "Do I --" Lance blinked again. "Do I know you? You." Lance paused. "You're Justin Timberlake. From the Backstreet Boys."

Justin winced, still looked beautiful and fucked up and looked down. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Fuckin' Backstreet Boys. So, can you let me in the movie? Or give me some popcorn?"

Lance swallowed again. "I can't. Seriously. But," Lance grabbed a medium bag and filled it with popcorn. "I can give you popcorn. It's on the house."

Justin gripped the popcorn with both hands. He looked up again and stared at Lance. "I can pay. I'd rather pay." Justin licked his lips and looked Lance up and down, his glance lingering on Lance's crotch. Lance blushed and thought, whoa.

"Well, we're closing. I mean, in a minute, so it's actually easier for me." Lance smiled. He felt suddenly lighter than air and he could almost hear some kind of click in his head. When he came out to his parents, his mother had warned him about picking up strangers, looked nervous as she stumbled over the words. But here was a stranger worth ignoring his mother's admonitions. He put his hands on Justin's and said, "I'm about to get off work. If you want to skip the movie, maybe we could get dinner or something?"

Justin's eyes opened wide. Lance inhaled sharply. He'd made a huge mistake. Drugs do crazy things to people and make their eyes wander, Lance thought, panicked. However momentarily right it had seemed to ask Justin fuckin' Timberlake out for dinner, whatever after-effects of two years of inhaling popcorn fumes had had on Lance's mind, it had clearly been a horrible idea. Then Justin smiled, the kind of charming, wide smile Lance had seen on a hundred posters in girls' rooms over the last four years. "I'd like that," Justin said. Justin looked at Lance's vest and his nametag. "I'd like that, Lance." Score one for ignoring Mom, Lance thought.

Janie came back, smelling of smoke. Lance looked over his shoulder at her. "Hey, Janie, I'm gonna leave now. Is that okay?"

Janie grinned. "You're the sorta boss. Go ahead."

Lance let go of Justin's hands. He said, "Wait a sec," and walked as fast as he could to the back room to get his backpack. He hoped to walk faster than Justin realizing what he'd said yes to. "I've gotta change. I hate these stupid uniforms."

As Lance walked around the counter to the bathroom, Justin trailed behind him, picking at the popcorn. "I've worn worse, dude. Stupid ass costumes, fuck, like you wouldn't believe." Lance grinned over his shoulder, wondered what drugs Justin had taken that made going out with guys he met in Nebraska movie theaters make sense.

Justin followed him into the bathroom and sat down in front of the stall where Lance was changing. Lance looked down at his clothes and sighed. He hadn't exactly planned to be taking out Justin Timberlake after work. He sighed again and pulled on his faded jeans and his orange t-shirt. He looked down at the stupid design, which hadn't seemed so stupid when his acapella group had chosen it two years ago. Justin was still sitting in front of the stall, eating popcorn and mumbling to himself.

Lance opened the door and looked down at Justin. Justin grinned at him again. "You look better," Justin said. "Orange is a good color for you, man."

Lance knew he was grinning like an idiot. He glanced in the mirror for two seconds and then back down at Justin. "Where do you want to eat? There's not much open right now, you know, Tuesday night in Lincoln."

Justin staggered up. "I don't know, but anything's fine. Just, you know, dark and places where no one will see me and stuff."

They walked to the parking lot and Lance thought Justin would wince at Lance's ten-year-old Honda but Justin just smiled and got in. He immediately turned off the radio. He looked over at Lance and grinned nervously. "Let's just talk. Tell me where you're from and shit."

Lance drove to a crappy diner near campus and babbled about growing up in Mississippi and going to the University of Nebraska. He rambled about his little acapella group after Justin pointed at his t-shirt when they got to the restaurant. Justin hunched over in his seat after they ordered.

"Look, Lance," Justin said and then trailed off. Lance looked down at his hands. This, he thought, is the big brush off. Justin fuckin' Timberlake had realized he'd been picked up by some stupid dork with a business degree and a boring office job who worked at a movie theater for extra cash and the chance to meet boys. Justin looked up and took Lance's hands. "Lance, here's the thing. I'm -- I'm running away."

Lance frowned. "You're -- I don't understand."

"I'm running away," Justin said urgently. "I don't want do this anymore and Lou and all those fucks, they'd never just let me quit. So I'm running away. I ditched my fucking bodyguards and I've been planning this for, like, months. I've got money," Justin gulped and patted his back pocket. "I'm running away. I won't do this shit anymore." He grabbed Lance's hands again. Lance thought, Lou who? What the fuck did a pop star have to run away from?

Lance looked up as the waitress put down their food and huffed away. Lincoln wasn't exactly a place where boys held hand in restaurants. Lance hoped no one else in the restaurant could see them. Justin ignored the waitress and his food and started up again. "I know it sounds crazy. But, dude, I'm running away from this and I need -- I need a place to stay tonight."

Lance swallowed again. Justin's hands were warm and sweaty and wrapped around his with a strong grip. "You're not a minor, anymore, you -- you're twenty, right? You can just quit." And the rambling burst of paranoia from Justin probably explained why someone like Justin Timberlake would go anywhere with someone like Lance.

"You have no idea, man. I can't just quit. Look, just." Justin let go of his hands and rubbed his forehead. "I'm not normally all tweaked. But I had to get -- I was afraid. So I just took a little. So I'm not like some druggie, you know." Justin picked at his food and looked up at Lance. "I like you, seriously. So, you know, if you can just point me towards, like, some cheap motel. But give me your number."

Lance smiled. He felt like an idiot again, but it had worked the first time. Lance decided he was old enough to try something a little wild, like letting crazy people sleep in his apartment. Especially really hot crazy people. "You can stay with me. I've got, my place is right near here. It's fine. You don't need to pay or anything."

Justin grinned. "I had totally planned to put out, yo. Orange is so your color."

Lance took a drink of his coke and tugged at his hair. He decided Justin was the good kind of crazy. "Thanks. I -- you don't have to, uh, put out or anything."

Justin grinned wolfishly and leaned forward. "Dude, I want to." Definitely the good kind of crazy.

Between dinner and dessert, Justin began to cry. "Dude, it's nothing. It's the stuff I took."

Lance glanced around the restaurant, but the place was basically empty. Two waitresses and a busboy sat in a booth by the kitchen, smoking cigarettes and laughing loudly. One of the waitresses had curly red hair that she wore piled on the top of her head. Lance thought she was pretty, but not as pretty as Justin. "Are you sure? Like, I don't want -- you shouldn't be leaving and all that if it makes you cry, man."

"Honestly, Lance." Justin wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Seriously. I want this. Now, take me home and fuck me." Lance thought, crazy. He's crazy. And then again, there wasn't a part of Justin that wasn't beautiful and Lance thought, fuck it.

It was cold in the parking lot and Lance's car was at the far end, away from streetlights. Justin backed Lance against the driver's side door, his breath hot on Lance's neck, and he tickled Lance's stomach through the orange shirt. Lance thought about the last time he had sex, in a dorm room with Huskers sheets on the bed, with a clarinet player. She'd lit candles, but they'd smelled like chocolate, and Lance had known he was gay when they'd finished. Lance knew it again when Justin's fingers grazed Lance's jeans. Lance leaned forward and his lips met Justin's. They were full and soft and wet, and when Lance's tongue slipped past Justin's teeth, Justin tasted like lemonade. He rubbed Justin's ear and laughed.

"What?"

"I was just thinking, you know." Lance liked how the shadows made Justin's features sharper. "Like, how many girls would kill to be me?"

Justin tugged at Lance's waistband. "You mean a gay assistant manager of a movie theater in Nebraska?"

"Well, it got me a date with you, didn't it?"

"It'll get you more," Justin growled. "It'll get you a lot more if we can get out of here."

In Lance's living room, he tried to undress Justin, but Justin pulled back. He slipped out of his sweatshirt, and then raised his eyebrows at Lance. Lance tossed the orange shirt onto the couch, and then pulled off his pants. Justin kicked his shoes across the room and soon stood naked before Lance. "Where's the bedroom?"

Lance showed Justin the way and ducked into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, and then looked at himself in the mirror that was above the sink. "Son of a bitch," he said, laughing, and covered his face with his hands. Lance squealed, giddy and breathless, and found that he couldn't stop smiling when he looked in the mirror again. "Okay, dude, condoms. Just find the condoms." He did and allowed himself one more giddy shiver before going to Justin.

He found Justin sitting on the bed. "Who's this?" Justin asked, petting Lance's cat.

"Joanne." Lance sat beside Justin and scratched the cat behind its ears.

"You named your cat Joanne?"

"I got her from a shelter. She already had a name."

"That's cool." Justin curled his fingers around Lance's. "Does Joanne like to watch?"

Joanne, it turned out, was indifferent, and curled up on the floor when Lance pushed her off the bed. He heard a purring sound when Justin entered him, but he wasn't sure if he was making it, or if it came from Justin, or the cat.

Lance had been seventeen the first time he had sex with a man. It had been his first time having sex with anyone; in fact, it was his first time past second base. The first guy he'd been with had been gentle and Lance had enjoyed it, but he'd initially chalked the experience up to adolescent experimentation until the last girl he'd slept with. He'd had sex with three girls and two men since the first time and it had never felt as amazing as this. Justin sank his teeth into Lance's shoulder, and Lance came as Justin came inside him.

"Dude, oh. Dude." Lance collapsed onto the sheets, around the wet spot.

"No shit." Justin exhaled. "You are so much better than Nick." Lance winced and thought, Nick who?

Then he realized and said, "You're fucking Nick Carter?"

Justin shrugged. "When he's not fucking Howie."

Lance cracked his neck. "Are all you guys gay?"

"I'm not gay." Justin flexed his muscles. "I'm the total male!"

They laughed together. Lance stifled a yawn and looked at the sheets. "Do you want to go to sleep?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm kinda tired."

Lance stood and pulled two pairs of sweatpants from his dresser drawer. He pulled the black ones on and tossed the red ones to Justin. He looked at Justin lying on the bed, casually tracing patterns on the sheets and thought, okay, don't be a little girl here. "You can sleep on the couch. It's a pull-out, and it's way bigger than the bed."

"Whatever." Justin slid the pants on while still lying down. "Thanks again, Lance. For letting me stay. For being so cool."

"It's not a problem." Lance smiled at Justin and meant what he said. "It's okay." He pulled the pillows off the bed and took them out to the living room with a blanket he grabbed from the closet. Justin trailed behind him, carrying Joanne. "She likes you."

"She's a pretty cat." Justin petted her back. "She's awesome, dude."

"Yeah, she's cool." Lance grabbed his shirt off the couch and placed the couch cushions on the floor. Justin placed the cat on top of the cushions, and then helped Lance pull the couch out and make the bed. "Well."

Justin hopped onto the mattress. "Yeah."

"Good night."

"Yeah, okay. Good night, Lance."

Lance reached to turn out the lamp and called for the cat. "Come on, Joanne."

"She can stay out here. I mean, if it's okay with you."

"Whatever."

"You can stay, too."

Lance looked at Justin and thought he looked much younger than twenty. Justin wasn't one of the guys his mother had warned him about, he was maybe just some lost boy who wanted him. He said, "You want me to?" and hoped he didn't sound pathetic.

"Yeah."

Lance killed the lights. He crossed the room in the dark, stumbling over Justin's shoes and his own jeans. When he made it to the couch, Justin took his hand and helped him under the covers. They curled up back to front, with Justin's arm around Lance all night, and their fingers intertwined until morning.

Lance woke when he heard the alarm from his bedroom. Justin was still asleep. Lance shook his head and tried to quantify how surreal last night had been. Fuckin' Backstreet Boys, he thought. Lance had always liked their videos, six guys and the dancing and great songs. Great harmonies, he thought. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of Justin behind him. He had all the albums. He'd gone to one of the shows on the last tour, sitting back in the middle somewhere. He almost giggled and decided asking for an autograph would be somewhat inappropriate. And bragging to his mother would be probably be equally wrong, too, not that his mother would jump and down anyway if Lance started saying he'd finally got laid and the sex had been incredible.

Justin stirred and made a noise. "Umm," he mumbled. "Do you, like, have to go to work or something? Is the theater open now?"

Lance turned and rubbed Justin's face. "Yeah. Remember. I said last night -- I have another job. I work at this office. I'm the admin person. I should." Lance sighed. "I should be going."

Justin closed his eyes. He bit his lip. He sat up and ruffled his hair. "I guess -- fuck, it's early. I'm never up now. I gotta go, right?"

Lance sat up and rubbed Justin's shoulders. "No. You know, if you want to stay here today, it's fine."

Justin turned his head around, looking shocked. "Seriously?"

Lance laughed. "Seriously. Like, I think I'm safe from you stealing my stuff. It's okay."

Justin kissed him deeply. He broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against Lance's. "You are, seriously, like, my favorite person in the world."

When Lance left for work, Justin had already fallen asleep again. Lance pulled up the covers and tucked him in, pressing the spare key into Justin's hand. He wrote his work number on the dry erase board by the phone.

Justin called him at two in the afternoon. "Dude. I just woke up."

"You got some monster sleep deficit working there, man."

"I do. You have no fucking idea." Justin yawned and said goodbye.

Justin called again two hours later. "Uh, are you coming home? Or what?"

"Or what, Curly. I work at the movie theater tonight and tomorrow night and again on Saturday." Lance leaned back in his chair and waited for Justin to tell him that he was skipping town.

"Oh. Um, I could maybe meet you there. Or something. I like movies." Lance leaned forward and smiled. He started giving Justin directions to the mall and which bus to take. Justin made a noise and had Lance repeat them. He had Lance repeat them again and describe the bus. Lance coughed and Justin snapped, "Dude. I've never taken a fucking public bus in my life. I don't want to be all lost and shit on some damned bus. Tell me fucking again."

Lance coughed again, debated what was the good kind of crazy, anyway. Justin made a noise and said, "Sorry, sorry. Sorry. It's okay, I'll figure it out. Do, uh, do you have a cell phone?"

Lance gave him the number and wished him luck. "Bus drivers are there to serve, Justin, just ask him when you get on. And you don't have to switch buses or anything."

Lance was training some new idiot freshman from the college on the register when Justin showed up. He looked hot, Lance thought, and then blushed. Justin had changed into cleaner clothes, tight jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, and wore a red bandanna on his head, covering the curls. He looked like as young as the freshman next to Lance, except much hotter. Much. Lance patted the kid on the arm and told him to wait a sec.

"Hey, you." Lance grinned as he walked over to Justin. Justin smiled like he'd won the lottery and leaned forward, kissing Lance on the cheek.

"I did it. I don't have this bus thing mastered, but here I am." Justin looked down for a second, hugged his messenger bag close to him. "Uh, I wanted to ask you. Thanks for letting me stay, and stuff."

Lance cocked his head, glanced back at the idiot on the register trying to make change. He looked back at Justin. "How long are you in town, Justin?"

Justin's eyes darted from side to side and he shuffled his feet. "I dunno -- I guess a week?"

"Assuming you haven't turned my apartment into a meth lab, it's really okay, if you want, you can stay with me. If that's what you're asking." Lance tugged at his vest and tried to meet Justin's eyes.

"Seriously?" Justin hugged him hard, and then kissed his nose.

Lance broke off the hug and said, "It's fine. Barring the meth lab thing." Lance used his free tickets so Justin could watch some action thing. When it was done, Justin sat in the lobby and read Sports Illustrated until Lance was ready to go. When they got home, Justin fucked him again, languid and slow and they slept on the pull out bed again.

The next day was the same except Justin didn't snap at him when he asked about the bus and he watched a teen gross out flick instead of an action movie. After the rush from the first evening showings of the movies, Janie leaned against the counter and raised her eyebrow. "Lance? Hello, what's with the hot boyfriend? Where'd you find him?"

Lance glanced at the new idiot, noticed his frown. Lance leaned against the back counter. "I found him here. And I don't know about the boyfriend part, but --"

The new idiot made a face and walked away. Janie rolled her eyes. "He's hot. You go home with him. That's all good." And Justin was hot. Hot and great in bed and sweet. And definitely weird. Probably crazy. He'd be a brat, like with the bus and then suddenly snap out of it, beg for forgiveness for nothing more than a show of temper. Lance kept waiting for Justin to wise up and decide to go home to being a pop star. Lance's mother called that night, like always, and Lance left out the news that he'd found a stray pop star to fuck and take care of for a week or so.

Friday night Lance actually had off. He came home from work and found Justin watching TV. Justin had had only his messenger bag stuffed with some clothes with him, and now he was wearing Lance's jeans, too large in the waist, hanging off his hips a little. Justin was giggling at a Golden Girls rerun. "I fucking love this show! Shit. Golden Girls rock."

Lance sat down next to him. "Yeah, but I've seen this one three hundred times."

Justin giggled. "I haven't. So, be quiet." When it was over, Justin leaned against Lance's shoulder. "Uh. I need to go use the pay phone by the bus stop. I gotta call my mom."

Lance started to ask why Justin didn't just use his phone, but he decided to wait. They walked down to the pay phone and Lance heard Justin's half of the hurried conversation.

"I'm fine. I haven't been kidnapped. I'll call you later. Don't worry about me." Justin leaned against the phone booth for a second, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Then he turned back to Lance. "Let's, uh, let's not go to the movies, let's stay in. Is that okay?"

They ate Chinese take out on the living room floor and then Justin put on a CD, a girl singing in Spanish with a fast rock beat. He stood up and danced a little. "Dance with me, pretty boy."

"Uh, no. I don't dance." Lance watched Justin sway and started to get hard just from watching. Even Justin's casual dancing was fluid and sexy.

Justin grabbed his hand and pulled him up. "I had this choreographer once, he told me dancing is just fucking with clothes and no penetration. And I know you can fuck." Justin giggled and grabbed Lance's ass. "Dude, just move when I do." And that was easy enough, so Lance let Justin lead him around the living room and call it dancing. The music wasn't so loud, but Lance kept expecting his neighbors to come up and complain about the noise, complain about Lance finally getting a life. Lance kissed Justin's neck and thought, complain away.

"So this counts as dancing since, you know, clothes and no penetration?"

Justin giggled again. "Well, so he said. But he wanted to fuck me, so, he may have just been saying that. I mean it didn't work, I didn't fuck him."

"He wasn't cute?" Lance pulled back, smiled at Justin.

"Uh," Justin rested his head on Lance's shoulder and Lance couldn't see his eyes. "I wasn't interested, really, I mean, I was fourteen." Lance tried not to shudder. He stopped dancing.

"He was hitting on you? When you were fourteen?" Lance bit his lip, tried to see Justin's face.

Justin pulled away and walked over to turn off the CD. "Yeah, whatever. I mean -- it was nothing." Justin turned back around and wore a wide grin. "You wanna do something else now?"

Lance sat down and rubbed his knees. "What do you wanna do?"

Justin kept smiling and sat down in front of Lance. He reached for Lance's belt and said, "I have an idea."

Lance shook his head. He moved to the floor and kissed Justin. "You first." Justin blinked and Lance pulled down Justin's jeans and underwear. Justin fell back against the floor, making small noises as Lance sucked on his cock. Justin's hands clawed at Lance's head as he came, his hips thrusting up and Lance gagged a little as he tried to swallow.

"Sorry, sorry." Justin rubbed Lance's face and kissed him, face pale. Lance mumbled it was okay and kissed Justin back. It was okay, it was nothing. Justin put his hand on Lance's crotch. "You can fuck me, let's do that now."

Lance said, "Is that what you want?" Justin blinked again. He ran his hand down Lance's cheek and stared at him for a moment.

"It is. Of course it is." Justin pulled Lance back to the bedroom. Lance thrust again and again and watched Justin arch his back, his eyes screwed shut. "Fuck, Lance," he muttered. "I'm not gonna break," Justin said, pushing back against Lance.

Lance dipped his head and kissed Justin's neck. "I don't think you're gonna break," Lance said. And it was a little weird, because clearly Justin had done this before and it was all hot and tight, but Justin kept his eyes closed and didn't make any noise. Lance came and panted a little while he stroked Justin until he came, too. Justin turned his head away. Lance rubbed Justin's cheek and felt Justin shudder a little. "Hey, are you okay? Was that okay? Is something wrong?"

Justin shook his head and got out of the bed. "It's fine, it's fine. That was great. Let's uh, we should sleep on the couch bed, right?" Lance followed him into the living room and made up the bed.

"Justin, my ego can take it. Was something wrong?"

Justin got under the covers and pulled Lance down next to him. "Nothing's wrong. You're great. Great. It was just different. Different in a good way, seriously, just different like that. I've done that before, you know," and Lance nodded, he believed that part. Justin kept talking, wrapping around Lance and talking to his shoulder really, "I've done that a lot, but mostly with Ni-- with one guy and he was different. It was good." Justin kissed Lance's shoulder and didn't say anything else before he fell asleep.

The next morning, Justin woke up before Lance and when Lance got out of the shower, Justin had already put the couch together and was trying to make coffee. Justin had even made an attempt at cleaning up, which for Justin meant making piles of things that needed to be cleaned up, dishes waiting in the sink, sheets waiting by the couch. Lance had put on half his uniform for work and he ran a hand through his hair. "Justin," he said, "seriously. I'm seduced, I like you. You can chill, you know?"

Justin bit his lip and looked up. "Huh?"

Lance walked over and started the coffee. He grabbed Justin's shoulder, rubbed a little. "I mean I like you. You don't have to keep trying so hard. You can, uh, if you want, you can stay here for the week or whatever. I'm not gonna throw you out or whatever for some little thing. I like you. You don't have to be all," Lance smiled because Justin looked scared. "You don't have to be whatever, okay?"

Justin bit his lip again and watched the coffee machine humming. "How should I be -- should I, uh..."

Lance leaned back against the sink. "Okay, the point here is you -- I don't want you to feel like you should anything. I mean -- I feel like, I want you to just be comfortable, okay? Don't try so hard, dude, I like you. I like you fine."

"You like me, huh?" Justin almost smiled.

"Sure. You're funny, you're sweet, you're good in bed. You're a little weird, a little off, but still, very likable."

Lance left out "hot" or "beautiful," because he'd started to become sort of used to that part of Justin. Justin's beauty had almost receded to the background, as Lance knew him better.

He noticed more the way Justin could sing along with every song on the radio. Justin made stupid jokes while they watched TV, stupid voices and he laughed at his own jokes. Lance liked listening to Justin talk about movies, and it seemed like Justin had seen every movie to ever hit HBO. Even though Justin was definitely weird and actually gasped at the surprise endings on Law And Order, turning to Lance and saying, "Shit. I did not expect that, man." Lance had explained that Law and Order always had a twist, and told some silly story about a drinking game they'd had in college, betting on what the twist would be this time and Justin had just nodded and said, "I've never seen the show before."

So one more weird thing to realize, Lance thought, that it had only taken two days for Justin's beauty to become something that he didn't quite notice, except occasionally. Like right then, as Justin looked up at Lance, his eyes dark under the long lashes, and Justin said, "You like me. Got it. So I shouldn't do the dishes?"

Lance laughed. "Please do the dishes. But, you don't have to or anything."

And Justin nodded and stared at the cereal bowls with little semicircles of congealed milk in the bottom. He blanched and said, "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't, though." Lance kissed him and went off to work.

Lance still worried a little about Justin's freak out from the night before, but when he got home they fucked the same way and Justin came loudly, smiled and kissed him afterwards, so he figured it was just a thing and Justin would tell him if it bothered him again.

Backstreet Boys Nick Carter, AJ McLean and Howie Dorough (left) attended Carter's girlfriend Britney Spears Orlando concert. The Backstreet Boys are going back into the studio next month. "Just a few things to make perfect before then," McLean said.
-PEOPLE Magazine, Star Tracks

Tuesday morning, and it had been a week so Lance wasn't surprised when Justin looked up from his cereal and said, "Lance. I gotta do something."

Lance said, "Okay. You're moving on, or, uh, the running away thing?"

Justin looked down. "The running away. Yeah. Yeah. I need to check my email somehow. Without them knowing where I checked it from. And I need to figure out what the fuck to do next."

Lance swallowed once and didn't burst out grinning. He was a little proud of that and he raised an eyebrow. "Them?"

Justin shook his head. "You have no fucking idea. Seriously. Look, you know how many albums we've sold? Like, seventy million worldwide. More than that. And all these fucking tours. We're like, the six of us, we're like worth millions to Lou and all those fuckers at the record company. You know how much money I got?"

Lance shook his head. "Justin." He meant to ask again who the hell Lou was, but Justin just kept talking.

Justin stood up, radiating tension. "I've got about two hundred thousand in the bank. I've been doing this since I was twelve. Eight fucking years and I've got two hundred thou in the bank. And that's not the shitty part. Fuckers let you get away with anything, except not. You know? Like, maybe I want to try and write a song or produce something and it's like, no, no, Infant, don't worry your pretty little head, none of that. Like no dating, not for me and Nick. Like, no swearing in public, practically have me killed for getting tattoos, no -- fuck, Lance." Justin sat down and stared at his cereal. "Like, a few months ago, I was so fucking depressed. I was, like, I was thinking about-" Justin's voice trailed off and he seemed to wilt.

Lance stepped over and rubbed Justin's shoulder. He kissed Justin's forehead. Justin started talking again. "Anyway. And I thought, fuck. I don't wanna -- I just don't want to do this. Not this way. And I fucking tried. I'm all like, Kev, I just need a break. Lou, gimme some fucking time off. Like talking to a wall. A fucking wall. Shit, fuckers made Brian perform when he was all sick with his heart and stuff. We're not allowed that shit. So, I, uh, started planning. They're not gonna let me go."

Lance looked down. Justin was slumped over his cereal and Lance rubbed Justin's head, running his hands through the curls. "Justin. Okay. So what are you gonna do?"

Justin rubbed his forehead. "Well, most of the plan was just the getting away with some money part. Fucking took forever. But I need a lawyer. If I had a lawyer, one my own, I'd be safe. And, can I use your laptop today?"

Lance nodded. "Okay. You can use my phone, if you need to."

Justin shook his head. "No, they'll trace it."

Lance sighed. He kissed Justin goodbye and went to work. At lunch he ate his sandwich at his desk and thought about Justin's rant. Justin was paranoid, clearly, to a degree that was almost scary, and he'd been right to think Justin was a nutcase when they first met. Lance didn't pretend to know anything about the inner workings of the Backstreet Boys but he knew how the world worked. He finished his sandwich. Lance thought maybe he just knew how this world worked and Justin lived in some other world.

In this world, Lance worked until five p.m., at the same job he'd had since graduation where he waited for a promotion that should have come three months ago. Life sucked, he thought, but lucky for him, so did Justin. He walked to his car, grinning. Somewhere right before his apartment, he realized Justin had said he was only in town for a week, and went back to thinking that life sucked.

When Lance came home, Justin was watching TV again, curled in a ball on the couch. "Hey, Lance," he said, smiling.

"Check your email?"

"Yeah. Fuck. Like three hundred messages, all 'where are you? Come home.' I called my mom, man, they know I'm okay. And you can tell, 'cause they haven't said a fucking thing to the press about me being gone. Just, all 'little delay in getting back into the studio.' Fuck. Anyway. You wanna, uh, come to Florida with me?"

Lance swallowed. "Excuse me?" He tried not to be elated that Justin's plans included him.

"I called my friend C. I mean -- we haven't talked in years. But, fuck, he hates Lou and all of them, he tried to do some band thing and it didn't work out or something. He used to like me. So. He knows a lawyer. And the lawyer? Hates Lou, too. So. I gotta get to Florida. I thought we could drive down." Justin got up and mucked around in the kitchen for a second. He walked into the bathroom. "Hey. Can you help me in here?"

"Justin? You need help?" Lance almost laughed.

"Cutting my hair. Dude. Cutting my hair." Justin giggled.

Lance ran his hands through Justin's hair. "I like your hair."

"Well, it's fucking annoying. And it's fucking recognizable. Going into the belly of the beast, man. Fucking Florida." Lance cut off Justin's hair while Justin watched, biting his lip. Then Justin pulled a beard trimmer from a plastic bag and gave himself a buzz cut. Justin stared at himself in the mirror. Lance looked down at all the curls in the bathroom sink and thought it wouldn't be easy to clean that up and keep the drain from getting clogged. In the mirror, Justin looked older and almost scary, like one of the kids that would sometimes glare at Lance as he worked behind the counter at the movie theater and hiss "fag" at him while he got their popcorn. "Fuck. I look different, right?"

Lance hugged him from behind. "You look good."

Justin shrugged. He closed his eyes. "Lou would shit a brick if he saw me now. Come with me to Florida. Lance, please."

Lance took a leave of absence from both of his jobs and packed his stuff for a week's vacation. He decided to bring his photo album, so he could remember what he was leaving behind. He wasn't sure what would happen next, but Justin had asked. He took off from both his jobs, made vague noises about when he would be back. He got his neighbor to take care of Joanne. He looked around, decided he hated his apartment. He gave his thirty days' notice and he and Justin spent a morning packing everything and putting it in storage.

He called his mother and told her he was leaving Lincoln for a while. She asked why and he hemmed and hawed and finally said something about this boy he'd met. She was silent and then she said, "Lance, how well do you know this boy?" He'd never told her about either of the guys he'd dated, never told her about his little crushes even after he'd told her was gay. Even with the small things he did say, she always got that look, the one that seemed to say she'd hoped this phase would pass and she was trying to be supportive but she'd rather not know.

Lance told her he knew Justin well enough, laughed at himself for lying to his mom, and turned her down when she asked if he needed money. Along for the ride, he thought, Justin's crazy and wild ride, so he wouldn't ask his mom to help pay for the ticket.

They stopped at a motel after driving all day, and Justin shoved cash into Lance's hand for the room. When they were in the room, Lance watched Justin put wads of cash into his messenger bag from his jacket. "How much you got there, baby?"

Justin looked back at Lance, his eyes flashing for a moment. Then he looked down at his feet. "About ten thousand. I can't use my credit cards or they'd know where I am."

"So you're paying for gas, right?" Lance grinned. Justin snorted and then nodded.

They drove for fourteen hours the second day and by the time they stopped, Lance could barely keep his eyes open. Justin curled up next to him and kissed his neck. Lance rubbed Justin's head, mumbled, "It's okay, I'm tired. Seriously. It's okay if we don't every night, I swear."

Justin stayed close. "Oh. This is me, uh, trying too hard, right?"

"Well, maybe, but I'm thinking of it like I'm so incredibly hot, you just can't get enough, right?"

Justin giggled. "You are, man, you so are."

They drove until they reached Orlando, somewhere in the suburbs. Justin's sort of friend lived in a barren neighborhood, in a rundown one-story house. Lance parked outside. "You ready, Justin?"

Justin sighed and looked around. "I don't see anyone. So I guess JC decided not to sell my ass out." He jumped out of the car and Lance followed him.

JC opened the door and just said, "Justin fuckin' Timberlake. You're taller." JC was thin and drawn. His pants were stained with paint.

Justin grinned. "C, you look good." He hugged JC and moved inside.

JC looked at Lance. "Who's this?"

Justin grabbed Lance's hand and dragged him inside. "This is my boyfriend. Lance, JC, JC, Lance. Blah, blah."

Lance followed the two of them into the house. Boyfriend, he thought. JC's furniture was rundown and obviously used. They walked into a back room where JC had an array of home recording equipment scattered around. JC sat down by a keyboard and looked at Justin. "Dude. Please tell me you're serious about this shit, cause I called my friend and I don't want to be dicking around my friends that, you know, actually call."

Justin sighed and looked down at his feet. "Look, Lou always had this thing about, you know, friends outside the group. He was -- I went along with that shit. I'm sorry. I'm totally fucking serious about this."

JC gestured at Lance. "This all his idea?"

Lance laughed and looked down at his hands. Lance Bass, seducer of teen heartthrobs, Yoko Ono come to life. He laughed again. Justin snorted. "Dude, no. I met him in Nebraska. I ran away to Nebraska, all of this was my fucking idea."

JC laughed. "Okay. Fine. Fine. You wanna screw Lou? I'm down with that. You got enough reasons."

Lance raised his hand and said, "Hey, Justin? Help me out here, who the fuck is Lou?"

Justin smiled. "Right. You don't know. Lou is -- he's my manager, sort of. He owns TransCon, TransCon manages the Backstreet Boys, he's the big guy. The guy in charge of my fucking life." Justin looked over at JC and said, "When does your lawyer friend arrive?"

"Chris? He'll be here soon. I called him when I saw your car pull up."

They all looked up when they heard a car. JC looked at the window. "Fuck. I should have told him not come by." JC stood up and walked to the door. Lance watched a tall guy with a goatee bound out the car in the driveway and pull JC into a hug. "Yo, Joey," JC said, laughing, "I got company."

Goatee guy, it turned out, was not the lawyer. It was Joey, JC's boyfriend. Joey seemed happy, bouncing and laughing and Lance wondered what such a merry guy saw in bitter JC. The four of them sat around awkwardly, perched among the recording equipment.

"This feels good!" Joey said with a laugh. "I mean, whatever, I just know I like you guys." Everyone laughed. Then another car pulled up and Chris was there.

Lance hadn't really thought about what an entertainment lawyer would look like, but Chris wasn't it. He was short and seemed to be always moving, even when standing still. He walked into the room and said, "Justin fuckin' Timberlake. My lord."

Justin sighed. "You know, my middle name is Randall."

"Dude, remember me? We did some auditions together, like, when you were shorter than me."

Justin grinned. "Yeah, you had stupid hair, right? And now you're a lawyer?"

"Well, we're not all blessed like you. I tried some things, some things didn't pan out, and I decided to get where I could do the screwing instead of being screwed. Only sing in the shower, Timberlake." Chris stopped smiling. "You want to quit being a Backstreet Boy?"

Justin nodded. He looked serious and resolute. "I don't wanna work for Lou anymore. If that means leaving the band, I'm okay with that."

"Are you sure?"

Justin thought for a second. "Yeah."

"Cause you know, you might end up broke. Really, really broke. With no career. No future."

Justin bit his lip and looked down. He looked at Lance and then back at the floor. Then he looked up and narrowed his eyes. "I don't ever want to work for that fucker again. I'm twenty years old and I want my own fucking life."

Chris nodded. "Okay then. Can you pay me anything?"

Justin reached for his wallet. "I got cash. Five thousand enough to start with?"

Chris grinned. "Works for me, dude."

They moved into the dining room. Joey made pasta and JC brought drinks. Lance just listened and watched. Chris spent two hours going over everything Justin could tell him about contracts and compensation. Lance found it all a little incredible. He knew enough about contracts to know that Justin wasn't making anywhere near as much money as everyone else involved was making. He wondered who else had looked at the contracts before Justin and his parents signed the things. At the end of two hours, Chris shoved his notebooks into his bag and chuckled. "Look, kid, this is so going to suck. Seriously. We may need to sue everyone. Like, including your family."

Justin leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not suing my parents."

Chris stopped smiling. "You signed these contracts as a minor, dude. I don't want to rule shit out."

Justin shook his head. "My parents didn't do anything wrong."

"I just want you to be prepared." Chris grinned again. "Look, we're done for the day. I'm gonna come back tomorrow. You staying here?"

Justin looked up at JC. "Uh."

Joey clapped JC on the shoulder. "Of course you are. Dude, guest room. You and Lance. Gimme a second."

JC turned and looked at Joey. "You don't live here, man, what the fuck?"

Joey laughed. He was already carrying blankets and pillows. "JC. I practically live here. And don't be an ass." JC looked down and smiled.

JC let Joey set them up in a small room where JC seemed to be storing the entire contents of a magazine warehouse. There was one twin bed surrounded by boxes with Rolling Stones falling out of them, and Joey had given them Mickey Mouse sheets that looked old but, thankfully, clean. In bed, Justin turned to Lance and rolled his eyes toward the wall. "They're fucking loud. I mean, wow."

Lance almost giggled as Joey shouted out, "right there, GOD, right there."
 
Lance shrugged. "I kinda thought so, but I figured you'd be used to it. You know, noise. Screaming girls and all that."

"We get earplugs and stuff." Justin leaned back against the pillows. "Did you know that the pitch girls scream at, it can cause you to go deaf?"

"Maybe that's what happened to Rush Limbaugh. Too many screaming girls."

"Huh?" Justin wrinkled his brow. "Who the fuck is Rush Lim--what was it?"

"Limbaugh," Lance laughed. "But never mind. Anyway, the point is that I thought noise wouldn't bother you."

"It didn't used to. I used to like it and stuff, and when I didn't like it, I could tune it out at least, you know? But like, it was nice at your apartment because it was quiet. I could think and stuff, or I could make noise if I wanted to. Now, it's like, I don't have a choice. I mean, what am I gonna do, go out there and tell these guys who are saving my ass to take it down a notch?"

Lance sat up to look at Justin and rubbed Justin's arm. "Dude, it's okay. Really. If it bothers you, go tell them. They're your friends, Justin. You can tell them."

"Nah, it's cool. Like, it doesn't really bother me. But dude, this is a big deal." Justin took Lance's hand and played with Lance's fingers. "Like, huge fucking deal. Nobody's gonna get out of this thing alive."

"Justin --"

"No, seriously. You don't know Lou. He's a crazy, sick fucker. He's gonna be out for blood, Lance. He's hard-motherfucking-core, and he's gonna try to ruin me."

Lance put his palm against Justin's cheek. "You can still get out of this, right? I mean, that's what Chris said. You know that, don't you?"

"I don't want out." Justin squeezed Lance's hand. "When we were at your place, I saw this thing on VH-1, this Behind The Music thing on Leif Garrett. And, like, they spent all this time talking about his management and stuff when he was younger. The Scotti brothers. I remember the name for some reason. The Scotti brothers. Anyway, dude, these guys made him sing that bubblegum shit. He wanted to do his own stuff and harder stuff, honest stuff, right, and they wouldn't let him. That's what I want. Lou's like the Scotti brothers." He paused. "Except sweaty and fat."

Lance laughed and decided that he loved the way Justin's eyes moved. "Yeah?"

"He's pretty gross, dude. But the point, like, the point is that I know I want to do this. I don't want out." He squeezed Lance's hand again. "Do you want out?"

Lance raised his eyebrows. "You're asking me that? Dude, I work at a fucking movie theater and I slave in an office. I had a tiny-ass apartment, and yeah, a pretty cool cat, but that's about it. That's my life." He kissed Justin softly. "I want to be here." Fun so far, he thought. And Justin needed him, he knew that for sure.

"Okay, then." Justin slid down and placed his head on the pillow. Lance settled under the blanket next to Justin until Justin pulled Lance's head over so it rested on Justin's chest. "They're pretty cool guys, you know. C and Joe and Chris."

"I thought they were nice." Lance fiddled with Justin's shirt. "JC seems kinda pissy, though. I don't think he likes me."

"Yo, if he didn't like you, he would tell you. Trust me. Like, that's just how he is. He doesn't mean anything by his attitude, you know. But shit, man, you should have seen him before Joey."

"Joey's cool."

"These guys are great, Lance. My friends. Like, actual, real friends. It's rad." Justin stopped playing with Lance's hair. "Oh, I forgot to ask you. What'd you tell your friends and stuff when you left?"

"Um..."

"I'm hoping that you didn't say you were running off with teen-pop idol Justin fuckin' Timberlake." Justin laughed when he said it.

"Well, I told my mom that I was going out of town for a little bit, you know, and she's cool with stuff. She doesn't ask a lot of questions." Lance wrapped his arm around Justin's stomach. "She asked if I had enough money."

"Moms rock like that." Justin snaked his fingers in Lance's hair again. "It must have kinda sucked for you, you know, to not be able to have people over and stuff when I was at your place." He chuckled. "Cramped your style."

Lance closed his eyes. "Dude. You're gonna think I'm a loser. Shit."

"Yeah, you're a total loser. Massive freak." Justin craned his neck to look at Lance. "What's up?"

"I -- I don't really have friends, dude. Like, the guys I used to sing with in college, I talk to them sometimes, but really, like, I don't have come over and hang out friends. Most of the people I was close to moved away after graduation to get out of Nebraska." Lance blushed.

Justin rubbed Lance's shoulder. "You heard me before, right, when I told JC that Lou wouldn't let us talk to people outside the group? And shit, it's not like I'm super-tight with any of those guys. I mean, I like AJ the most. He's kinda fucked up, but he's fun to hang with. Anyway, dude, other than those loud fuckers in the other room, I don't have friends, either." Justin cleared his throat and tried to talk in a deep voice. "I'm a loner."

Lance laughed and scooted up so that his head rested on Justin's collarbone. He pressed his mouth against Justin's throat. "So this is it, huh? The five of us."

"The five of us," Justin nodded. "We're in it."

"Yeah." Lance rose to his knees and straddled Justin. They undressed each other quickly, flinging shirts and boxers every which way. Lance reached for a condom and some lube in his duffel bag, but Justin batted it away. "Dude," he whispered, hot and thick into Lance's ear. "Sixty-nine."

Lance spread himself out on the mattress. Justin rested on his hands and knees above Lance. Lance arched his neck and hips upward, and he took Justin in his mouth. He heard Justin moan, felt Justin shudder, and then Justin's lips were wrapped around his cock. Lance moved slowly, licked and nibbled with a sense of leisure, but then he was on the brink and worked so that Justin would come, too. Justin came first, but just barely, and they both swallowed. When they caught their breath, they kissed, and then used the condom and the lube.

Justin rubbed his hand over the stubbly growth on his head. "I won't be able to walk tomorrow. We should do, like, stretches or something, to warm up."

"We could get a ballet barre." Lance grinned. "Maybe we could set it up in the living room, you know, so JC and Joey could use it, too."

Justin stuck his tongue out and wrinkled his nose. "Okay, dude, nasty. Like, fuck. I don't want to be thinking about that shit."

"You think they're loud now..."

Justin threw a pillow at Lance, who laughed and threw it back. "I'm going to take a shower, I think, if that's okay."

Justin stuck out his lower lip and batted his eyelashes. "I'll miss you."

"Be strong, Justin." Lance walked to the door. "But hey, where is the shower?"

"I don't know, dude, you'll have to ask JC." Justin looked Lance up and down. "But you might want to put on some pants."

The next morning Justin wanted to go jogging. Lance and JC expressed their concerns about fans or other scary types and Joey said, grinning, "Dude, I'll be your bodyguard. Like Kevin Costner and shit."

JC raised an eyebrow. "You mean like in the movie? Like, Justin's Whitney Houston here? Cause, Joey, I don't like that parallel."

Joey was already lacing on his sneakers. "Uh, sure. Forget Kevin Costner. I'll be like Clint Eastwood in, uh, that movie."

Lance looked up. "In the Line of Fire? He was in the Secret Service."

Joey grinned again. "Shit, yeah. That'll be me. I mean, I look tough, right?"

JC and Lance both nodded, Lance trying not to giggle. Justin shifted from foot to foot. "Can I go running now?"

Joey clapped him on the shoulder and said, "You know it. Run on, Justin, I will protect you." They left.

JC stared out the window for a moment and then grinned. "Justin is in much better shape than Joey."

Lance grinned. "Justin is in better shape than ninety-five percent of the world."

Justin and Joey came back an hour later, Justin slightly flushed and Joey beet red and panting. Justin muttered something about sit-ups and push-ups and went to his room. Joey gasped for a second and leaned against the door. "Okay. I have to get in shape for this bodyguard thing." Joey had just started walking back to the kitchen when Chris knocked.

Chris and Justin had been talking for an hour when JC rushed in the room. "Fuck! Guys!" He waved them into the living room where MTV was on. They all watched the TV as MTV showed a spare room and the other five Backstreet Boys file in.

"What's this, C?" Chris frowned.

"They said the Backstreets Boys were gonna have a press conference. About Justin!"

Lance had heard Justin go on about Lou for more than two weeks now, and he had only half believed any of it. The press conference convinced him. Lance watched the way Howie looked down at the table the whole time and hunched over like he was about to be shot. Kevin was the only one to speak, a quick statement and they didn't take questions. The Backstreet Boys finally had to admit the delay was because Justin had disappeared. Kevin then said that Justin had stole ten thousand dollars from them and used it to buy drugs. Kevin said, looking troubled, that Justin was an addict, and they just wanted to help him. They wanted Justin to come home. He added, almost as an afterthought, that there was a warrant for Justin's arrest because of the theft of the money.

Justin sat down when the statement was done. MTV started running updates with additional sources and Chris pressed mute. He looked over at Justin and said, "Well. That was kind of harsh."

Justin stared at the screen. Images of him, from interviews and videos flew by, age thirteen and sixteen and nineteen and the banner at the bottom said 'Backstreet Boy Wanted by Law'. Justin said, "It was my fucking money."

Chris said quietly, "They disagree."

Justin shook his head. "Also, I'm not an addict. Ask Lance. And you know what else? The drugs I took that night? When I ran away? I stole them from Nicky."

Chris sighed. "Okay, Justin, let's talk about all this." Chris grabbed Justin's arm and dragged him away from the TV.

Lance watched MTV for another few minutes. He turned on the sound and there was Justin, over and over again. And the press conference. Howie's hands seemed to shake worse each time. Kevin was lying. Or he'd been told lies. Justin wasn't an addict. Lance had never known anyone who was wanted by the law. His hands were shaking like Howie's. He went to the bathroom and washed his face.

"That was some harsh shit, huh?" Joey came in and sat down on the floor of the bathroom.

Lance looked over his shoulder at him. "Is, uh, is Justin okay? I mean, I should do something, I guess."

Joey shook his head. "Chris is all talking to him. It's fine. Dude, it's fine." Joey rubbed his back and left. Lance wondered how Joey knew it would be fine. He heard Justin saying that no one would get out of this alive. He wondered if they'd let him visit Justin in jail.

Two hours later, they had a plan. They sat around the table, picking at more of Joey's pasta and debating questions and answers for Justin's press conference. Six hours later, Chris and Lance drove to the mall to buy a nice suit for Justin. Justin wanted to go, too, but then shrugged. "Guess I'm all wanted man and shouldn't leave, right?" Justin stood at the door and watched them pull away.

Lance started panicking again in the car. "Chris, are they gonna arrest him? How they can do that? He didn't steal anything. He's not an addict. He hasn't done anything since I met him and he didn't go through withdrawal or anything -- this shit is insane."

Chris looked out the window. "Lance, we're gonna surrender tomorrow after the press conference. Then we'll post bail and we'll get the charges thrown out. It's a trumped up charge." Lance was afraid to ask more questions.

They watched all the newscasts that night, even the Daily Show, and heard Justin called any number of things that made Lance wince. Chris took notes on another legal pad and said nothing. Joey went into the basement after the first show and they heard him beating on a punching bag. JC curled into a ball on the couch and bit his nails. Justin just sat and stared. The surprise twists at the end and Lance thought those kinds of things only happened on TV. In the real world, his boyfriend wasn't wanted by the law, wasn't being slandered on MTV and by late night talk show hosts.

That night Justin was incredibly tender in bed, and Lance clung to him after Justin fell asleep. Lance stared at the rise and fall of Justin's chest and tried to pray.

In the morning, after they were all showered and in their suits, Justin leaned against the wall and straightened Lance's tie. "You look hot, man." Justin grinned.

"Thanks. You look good, too." Lance concentrated on keeping his voice even.

Justin shrugged. "What's important is, do I look sane? Well-fed?"

Lance smiled. "You look sane and well-fed. And hot." Justin ducked his head and they got in JC's van.

In the backseat, Justin sat pressed between Lance and Joey. Joey nodded his head and looked around. "Dude, I got your back."

Justin giggled. "Cool."

Joey looked serious. "I'm your bodyguard, man. Gratis." Joey grinned. "I'm kinda psyched. I'm gonna make sure to slap the top of the car when we get out."

Chris turned around. "Dude, they do that when they put people in the car. And then they run alongside it."

Lance started giggling. "Joey, if you think keeping up with Justin is hard -- I mean, I'm just saying. Car is no fun."

They all started laughing, even Joey. Justin rubbed his face and looked grim again. "Guys, seriously, thanks. Y'all are, like, better than I deserve."

Chris turned around again. "Dude, Justin, you haven't seen my bill yet." They all laughed again.

At ten a.m., Justin stood by a cheap desk podium in the hotel conference room where Chris had arranged to have the press conference, and five cameras flashed and two TV cameras filmed, the lucky reporters who'd actually taken Chris's call. Chris sat next to Justin, JC and Joey lingered by the door and Lance stood in the back, watching Justin.

Justin cleared his throat and almost smiled. He spoke quickly, denied he had stolen the money, denied the drug allegations with careful words and generally came off, in Lance's biased opinion, as completely sane. Then he said, "What I want -- the reason I left -- I don't want to work for TransContinental anymore." He paused and looked down. He said quietly, "And that's that. If you have any questions -- before I march off to jail and stuff."

A couple of the reporters grinned. Hands shot up and the questions started. Lance thought Justin handled them even better than the statement. But then again, Justin had done press conferences. He'd been doing them since he was twelve. Some of the reporters called him "Justin" and pressed over and over again about the drugs and the money. The other reporters called him "Mr. Timberlake" and asked about his desire to quit. Lance hated all of them. After thirty minutes, Chris tapped Justin's arm. Lance walked around to the entrance and they shuffled Justin off, with Joey looking back with a scowl in case anyone did something menacing.

They drove to the police station where Chris had arranged for Justin to be arrested so they could get him out quickly. Lance felt numb, battered by the police station, the waiting room, sitting with JC and feeling his tie tight against his neck the entire time. It was eleven pm when they walked Justin back to the van and drove home. Chris looked back at them and said, "Look. We did great today. And you know what? All of this is such a fucking bad move on their part. We are so gonna screw those fucks over in the court of public opinion and in every court I can find. I am personally going to get Night Court back on the air so I can screw them in front of Harry Anderson. Justin," Chris tapped Justin on the chest. "Justin, you can't tell right now, but we're already winning. I swear."

JC smiled and cheered like a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. Justin looked up and rubbed his blackened fingertips. "You're just saying that to psych us up, right?"

Chris nodded and raised an eyebrow. "Did you believe me?"

Justin grinned. "Almost. That was good, man."

Onto Part 2

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