One "why didn't we see this coming" side effect of the public drama is last week's increase in sales for all the Backstreet Boys records and a similar spike in sales for merchandise featuring the full group. "Catalog sales are nice," one insider who worked on the last album said. But no one knows when the band will get back in the studio. No one knows what their core demographic is going to think about their pretty boy now exposed as some runaway druggie. Whatever happens, it's a major blow to Jive and TransCon right now since they both had this new album pegged for release in three months.
-ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY, News & Notes<

Chris started mucking around in court trying to get the charges thrown out and trying to get an answer from TransCon about letting Justin quit.

Lance realized this would all take a lot longer than two weeks. He called his neighbor and told her she'd need to keep Joanne maybe a lot longer. He called both his bosses and thought "old bosses" in his head. The manager at the movie theater said, "I thought you were just gone for a week or two. I don't get it."

Lance thought about saying, "He fucks like a champ and he's hotter than anyone I've ever met. And he wants me." He discarded that idea. He thought about saying, "He gets this look in his eyes like he's completely lost and I know it sounds weird, but along with the fucking part, I just want to make him feel better." He settled on, "I like Orlando. I'm thinking of staying."

He said all of it to his mother, kept her phone on for an hour talking about Justin. She was very quiet at the beginning and didn't say much at the end, but she said, "Sounds like you maybe love this, this, uh, boy. So you should do what you think is right, honey."

He got a job as an office manager in the mornings and started taking paralegal classes to help out Chris. Chris had a paralegal who helped him out, but the motions were already overwhelming. Other lawyers were suddenly interested in taking up Justin's case, but Justin just hung up on them.

The paralegal class Lance found was only for eight weeks, not the full program, so he could learn things and not be committed. Joey lived off an insurance settlement from an industrial accident that hurt his leg a few years ago, even though his leg was fine now, and worked occasionally at odd jobs. JC still worked sporadically singing backup vocals or recording jingles and painted houses the rest of the time.

JC's house was too small for him, Justin and Lance, and Joey decided he was tired of paying rent on some dive he barely slept in. JC rubbed his forehead and looked at Lance and Justin and said, "Okay." Lance wasn't sure what he meant until two hours later when they were driving around looking for a place that would fit all four of them. Chris met them for lunch and said he needed to move out of his condo. And it happened that quickly, Chris bought the smallest and cheapest house in a gated community and they all moved in together. Justin and Lance shared one of the bedrooms, Joey and JC took the other, and Chris converted the dining room into his bedroom and home office.

"We're like a boyband," Joey said. "Except for the singing and the dancing and making money."

Justin snorted and objected to the making money part of the description. Chris scowled at all of them. "We're not a boyband, fuckwad, we're a gang."

Justin was still trying too hard but he tried too hard with everyone and with more subtlety. He nodded even when he didn't completely understand the things Chris told him, and waited until he was alone with Lance to ask if Lance could explain what he'd missed. He tried to actually clean things around the house to make things easier for JC. He didn't run as much as he wanted to make things easier for Joey. And he was all over Lance as soon as Lance got home, like he had decided if he fucked Lance enough, Lance would never leave.

Lance did like Orlando. Bright and hot and he went out sometimes with Joey and JC and Justin and it didn't matter that it was like a double date, no one looked twice. No one ever glared at him or hissed "queer" when he walked by. And he had a boyfriend, a weird, wanted by the law boyfriend who wanted to fuck him all the time and that wasn't really so bad.

Joey ran with Justin and actually did protect him from some of the press and the occasional fan. Justin was bored, he complained to Lance. Justin felt safer now that he had a lawyer to protect him and he had nothing to do. Lance rolled his eyes and bit back a comment about how he'd been working all his life and wouldn't have minded have nothing to do but sit around and be supported by three of his friends. But he knew Justin couldn't exactly get a job at McDonald's. A week after the arrest and a week of whining to Lance, Justin sat in the kitchen and bugged Joey while he cooked. "Dude, seriously, you could teach me to cook."

Joey shook his head. "These are Fatone family secrets, Justy, no fucking way. Man, take a fucking class or something."

JC almost squealed and ran out of the room. Justin made a face. "Joey, your boyfriend is weird."

Joey grinned. "Your boyfriend is from Mississippi, man. And Nebraska. That's weird." Lance rolled his eyes and munched on bread. Lance didn't qualify as weird in this house, not at all.

JC ran back in and waved a circular. "Justin, you totally can! Community college classes! Look, they have cooking and languages and all this cool stuff."

Justin grabbed the circular and started flipping through it. "This does look kinda cool." Lance tried to picture Justin hunched over a textbook, studying, and tried to suppress a laugh. Justin barely had the patience to figure out a public bus schedule.

Joey waved his hand. "Dude, pick one. We'll take it together so I can protect you and shit."

Justin grinned. "Hey, Chris, can I?" Lance figured Justin was still worried about being out on bail and Justin still didn't have a clear understanding what released on 'his own recognizance' meant. Chris nodded and drank his beer. "Sweet. Fuck, there's so much here."

Justin settled on Creative Writing, largely because Joey groaned the most when he brought it up. Lance, Chris and JC were watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer when they got home from class. "How was it, cats?" JC said with a grin.

Justin rolled his eyes. "Dude, no one says 'cats' -- and it was fine."

Joey plopped down on the couch next to JC. "Dude, that teacher was fucking harsh."

Justin started stretching against one of the tables. "I thought he was fine."

Joey said, "So, the guys starts off by saying that the most important thing we all needed to learn was basic grammar. And he's all like, 'for some of you this will be basic review but knowing the state of public education in this country, I firmly believe that many of you will be learning this for the first time.'"

Justin laughed. "And that chick with the red hair was all, 'but I thought this was creative writing!' So the teacher guy said, 'you must know the rules to break them.'"

Joey laughed again. "So, anyway, we all had to write shit and the guy checked 'em and stuff. And then as we're leaving, he pulls Justin aside. So, of course, like Clint Eastwood, I wait discreetly, yet close enough in case I need to spring in action."

Justin grunted. "The teacher guy said he wanted to know where I went to school cause he wanted to write to the boards or something for every English teacher I ever had and get my teachers fired."

JC whistled. "Shit, that does sound harsh."

Justin grunted again. Lance turned around and watched Justin twist himself in some insane pretzel like shape. Justin still managed to say, "I didn't feel like explaining the whole bus school thing or, like, how when Nicky and I would get bored we would just start whining and then we'd have rehearsal and no one cared. And then later, when we were a little older, we'd just fool around instead of studying, cause you know, seriously? I don't think I'm alone in preferring blowjobs to reading, like, Faulkner."

Lance winced and rubbed his forehead. "So," Justin continued, "I just said I moved around a lot. Anyway, the guy told me to buy some book - Strunk and White, right, Joey? - and read it. Then read it again. Then, he said, I should read it again. He said I should carry it with me at all times when I might be tempted to write - even a shopping list." Lance was impressed that Justin could say that and not sound defensive. He was even more impressed that Justin seemed serious about this silly class.

Chris looked up. "Justin, shit, I buy that harsh part."

Justin untangled himself and stood up. "You know, it didn't really bother me. Cause, like, seriously, that's the first teacher I've had since I was ten who actually expected me to do shit. Like, I'm not even getting a grade for this, but he expects me to do shit."

A few days later, Lance was outside getting a smoke when Justin found him. "Fuck, Lance, quit that."

Lance had started smoking sporadically in college because he had a crush on one of the guys in his acapella group. He would follow the guy out at breaks and smoke with him so they could spend time together. Now he smoked with Chris sometimes and at his paralegal classes because his two favorite classmates, two sisters from Mississippi, always took smoke breaks. He needed one that night after an hour of listening to JC and Joey argue about who had stained the couch. The downside of friends, he thought, is they get really fucking annoying sometimes. Lance looked over at Justin, fit and beautiful in the porch light, and thought again that so far, this was worth it. "I only smoke occasionally. What's up, Justin?"

"So, our homework assignment for the class? I'm supposed to bring things from my two favorite authors and, like, talk about why I like them." Justin shrugged.

"So. You don't have any favorite authors, right?" Lance wondered when Justin would give up the class and go back to whining about being bored, and then felt bad for the thought. Justin had thrown himself into the whole thing and had started actually carrying around a little dog-eared copy of Strunk and White.

"Lance." Justin looked out at the lake behind them. "Dude, you think we got photographers on the other side?"

Lance took a long drag. "We had some this morning. They're getting pretty tired of us." Another downside of Orlando. Bright lights, photographers following his boyfriend. Lance took another drag. "Anyway, Justin, I've seen you read. I mean, not books, certainly, but you always read, like, Rolling Stone and Sports Illustrated."

Justin laughed. "Okay, so how much of an idiot would I look like when I'm all like, my favorite author is Rob Sheffield cause he's funny and when he interviewed us he didn't treat me like a stupid head?"

Lance stubbed out his cigarette and threw the butt into the can by the door. "Justin, why not? It's not like he's not a good writer. You like him. And, hey, JC's got a complete set of Rolling Stones from like, since 1989 or something."

Justin leaned over and tugged at Lance's earlobe with his teeth. He whispered, "Dude, brush your teeth and I'll kiss you."

The next day Joey, Lance and Justin looked through JC's Rolling Stones. Joey started talking about JC's latest job. Lance looked up from flipping through an issue with Blind Melon naked on the cover. "Shit, Joey, how long you guys been together?"

Joey grinned. "Six years almost. We started dating after the Mouse thing crapped out." JC walked in and looked at the magazines scattered around the floor. Joey looked up at him and wagged his head. "Isn't that right, snookums?"

JC scowled. "Guys, those were in order. When you guys are done, can you put them back?"

Lance looked at the stacks of magazines. "JC, these weren't in order."

JC grinned. "Okay, but I kept meaning to do that. So you guys should do that, as payment for borrowing them." JC stamped out.

Lance giggled. "Shit, Joey. He's such a spaz."

"Well, the first two years, I thought it was all endearing. He's cute. The next two years, I was all completely annoyed. And the two years after that, it was endearing now. It's kinda hot, I swear."

"Joey, aren't you up for another two year flip back to annoying?"

"No, cause at this point, whenever he's all a fucking spazz, I get all, fuck, he's always been a spazz and it's comforting and hot at the same time." Joey looked over at Justin. Justin was running his finger over a photograph. Lance thought the group photo had to be one of the last photo sessions Justin had done before he ran away, judging by the length of Justin's hair.

"Justin," Joey said quietly. "Happy memories of days gone by?"

Justin clasped his hands together. "After this session, I snuck back to wardrobe and stole two of those razor things - the ones they use to trim threads and shit. And I knew I could get booze whenever I wanted, so, like, later that day, I stole some of Brian's tranquilizers. That was, like, my first plan. You know, like they say for birth control, go for multiple methods to make sure you get it right."

Justin swallowed and kept looking at the picture. "And the part where I got bogged down -- see, I didn't want some maid to find me, after. Cause that would be all traumatic or, you know, worse, she'd take a picture to sell and my parents would see 'em, or my brothers. Cause, ideally, I wanted to make sure it was Lou. Or Kevin. But it was hard to work out so one of those two would be the first ones in." Justin kept looking down and rubbing his hands together.

Lance grabbed Justin's hands. "Hey, Justin. I, uh, I'm really glad you went with plan B." Justin hugged him with a tight grip, and leaned his head against Lance's shoulder.

Joey stood up and mumbled something about checking the perimeter. Justin muttered, "Fucker, leaving us all this work." Justin sighed. "Fuck, I'm such a downer."

Lance sighed. He looked at the photo. Justin was smiling and even after all this time, Lance couldn't see anything in his eyes. Maybe they airbrushed all that out somehow. Against Lance's shoulder, Justin made a noise and pulled away. He rubbed his eyes and closed the magazine. "Okay. Nothing in this one."

Britney giggles when she talks about her days on the Mickey Mouse Club. She points out a picture on the wall and says, "That's Justin, and he's so young there!" She giggles again and it's girlish confession time. "My first crush and my first kiss." She's diplomatic when asked if it was any good. "I'm sure he's gotten better," she says. Then her cell phone rings and it's the Boyfriend, Nick Carter. She sinks into a chair and curls her hair around one finger, laughing at some things he says, cooing at others. She puts down the phone and looks serious. "Funny," she says, "Nick calling just as we were talking about Justin?" And she's that kind of professional, despite the cooing and giggling, she doesn't say anything else about what's going down between her first crush and her current one.
-ROLLING STONE, Profile of Britney Spearrs

After six weeks, something finally happened. Chris came home and did a little dance in the hallway. "Dudes! Finally! The dicking around phase is OVER!"

Justin looked up grinning. "Dude, they caved?"

Chris frowned. "No. Dude, no. But it's good news. Swear, this is good news. They're suing your ass for breach of contract and all sorts of other shit."

Justin's face fell. "How is that -- that's good news?"

Chris sat down in front of Justin. "I will explain every bit of this to you in detail, Justin. But know right now, this is good. No more of this crap where I kinda whine to TransCon about how you want to leave and they bullshit me. Now they're suing us, we sue back and we can get all the documents and contracts we want. This is seriously good."

Justin looked down at Chris. "They're suing me?"

"Yeah. Don't worry."

Chris filed a counter-suit and suddenly there were depositions, and Chris and Lance would be up late at night, debating arguments and counter arguments. Lance looked up once or twice and realized he'd been in Orlando for longer than he planned. He was living with his boyfriend in his boyfriend's lawyer house and he should have been planning for what would happen after the lawsuits were resolved and his real life resumed. Then he thought that he'd been planning for contingencies all his life and this one time, he'd let things happen. He said that to his mother and she sighed, asked him again how he felt about "that boy." Lance corrected her and said, "Justin" and she sighed again. "Think about what you're doing," she said, "think about who you're hitching your wagon to."

The only real good news, no matter what Chris said, was that Chris managed to get the charges dropped. They went out to celebrate that.

A week before, JC and Joey'd traded in their cars for a used Jeep. "It's red," JC told them. "And it's got room for all of us." And so they all piled into the Jeep and JC drove for an hour, to Leesburg. On the way there, Lance rolled down the window so he could smoke.

"This is a good thing," Chris kept saying. "Good, you guys."

"Chris is like Johnny Cochran." Joey grinned.

Justin let his arm rest on the back of the seat. "Seriously?"

"Well, no." Chris leaned close to Justin and stage-whispered, "I'm white."

They laughed, all of them, and Lance tossed his cigarette butt out the window. These were his friends, and he loved some of them, and the ones he didn't, he liked pretty well. He thought about that and smiled, and felt happier than he had in a long time.

It turned out the only bar in Leesburg was a gay bar. But they served alcohol and played music, and after three shots, Chris quit complaining that the only women around were men in drag. He started singing, "Friday morning at nine o'clock, she is far away..."

Justin grinned into his beer bottle. "Dude, stop it."

"He gets like this," JC said, his hand on Joey's knee. "He either sings or starts crying about how he's almost thirty and single."

Chris gulped his pink squirrel. "Waiting to keep the appointment she made, meeting a man from the motor trade..."

"He's almost thirty?" Lance raised his eyebrows and reached for his screwdriver.

"It's a scary world, dude." Joey kissed JC, deeply. "Let's dance."

Chris leaned across the table and smacked at Justin's arm. "You're the girl in the song, you know. Something inside that was always denied, man. That's you. That's this whole thing. That should be our battle cry!"

"Battle cry, huh?"

"No, no, fuck that shit. I'm gonna write a book with this is over, like Vincent Bouillabaisse or whatever his name is, that Manson dude, and I'm calling it 'Something Inside That Was Always Denied: The Justin Timberlake Story'." Chris finished his drink. "That's what I'm talking about."

Justin laughed. "Johnny Depp could play you, man."

"You really think so?" Chris grinned.

"Sure, dude. You have the same cheekbones." Justin ruffled Lance's hair. "Dance with me."

"Oh, Justin, baby, no."

"Come on, Lance!" Justin stood up, bouncing. "We can here, you know, without having to worry about getting our asses kicked."

Lance sighed. "People will kick my ass when they see how badly I dance."

Chris shook his head. "Dance with the one that brought you!"

"I dance like an idiot."

"Come on!" Justin took Lance's hand and pulled him out of his chair. "We're celebrating!"

Lance rolled his eyes, but followed Justin onto the dance floor. They were playing some Whitney Houston and George Michael duet, all sexy voices and Lance grinned a little. Lance saw JC and Joey dancing a few feet away. JC was already sweating, his forehead glistening under the lights, his head rocking, his hips moving against Joey's. Lance tried to emulate JC's movements, but Justin was doing his own thing. He did moves like back in Lincoln and took Lance's breath away. Lance stopped trying to dance, stepped away and just watched Justin.

"He's in his element."

Lance turned and saw Howie Dorough standing behind him. "Shit."

"You have to get him out of here." Howie spoke quietly. "Nick is here. He's here. You need to go, now."

Lance made eye contact with Joey, and then tilted his head to Howie. Joey whispered something in JC's ear and they grabbed Justin. Lance said, "Why did you tell me that?"

Howie looked around nervously. "I won't tell any of the guys."

"Thanks." Lance brushed past Howie. Chris was still sitting at the table. By the time they got outside, Joey had the Jeep pulled up to the front door.

"Son of a bitch." Justin said it over and over, shaking his head.

Lance reached for Justin. "It's okay."

"Are you stupid, Lance? Like, seriously, are you a dumb fuck?" Justin lips pulled back from his teeth. "It's not okay, fucker. It's so not okay. It's the goddamned antithesis of okay."

Chris looked at Joey. "Antithesis?"

"We do vocab work in class." Joey glanced in the rearview mirror. "C, we're not being tailed, are we?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Joey shook his head. "Did you just ask me that?"

JC crossed his arms. "I'm not a private dick, Joey."

"But you're quite the sex machine," Chris giggled.

"What's funny, runt?" Justin turned in the seat and pointed a finger at Chris. "What the fuck is funny?"

Chris swatted Justin's finger away. "I'm busting my ass for you, dude. Don't fucking try this shit with me."

"Fuck you, Kirkpatrick."

Joey sighed. "Don't make me stop this car."

"Fuck you, too, Joey." Justin leaned back against the seat. "What am I going to do?"

JC cleared his throat. "Okay, I'm about to wade in, hip-deep. What's the big deal? We got you out of there. Nothing happened, cat. No harm, no foul."

Lance looked at the dashboard, throat burning. Beside him, Justin's leg bounced up and down.

"If Howie hadn't said something," Justin growled. "I'd be dead right now."

"Fucking Christ, Justin!" JC turned around in the passenger seat to look at Justin. "Lou isn't a hit man! He's not going to hire somebody to take you out! You're all ego, man."

Justin lunged forward before Lance knew what he was doing, and he was halfway in the front of the Jeep before Lance and Chris could pull him back. "You little pussy," Justin said, flailing. "I'll kick your ass right here!"

Joey pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a gas station. "Son of a fucking bitch! Justin! Settle down, fuck." He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sick of your ass."

Justin laughed. "You're sick of my ass?"

"Shut up!" Chris slammed his hand against the seat in front of him. "Just...okay, we should calm down. You, Justin. Calm down."

"Calm down? Yeah. Okay." Justin smacked the window. "And you," he said to Lance. "Why aren't you, like, defending my honor?"

"The last time I opened my mouth," Lance said quietly. "You called me a dumb fuck. And frankly, Justin, I don't think you have much honor left."

Justin held Lance's gaze for a moment, and then broke it. "Fuck this." He clambered over Chris and threw the door open. "I'm walking."

JC rolled down his window and Joey leaned over. "You asshole. Get in the car."

"No!" Justin threw up his arms and began walking towards the highway. "I'm walking."

"You don't know the way!"

"Walking!"

"You're such a diva!" Chris called. "Work it, queenie."

Justin walked the highway because there were no shoulders on the road, and the Jeep followed close behind with the high beams burning. "It's a low-speed chase," Chris said a mile down the road.

JC leaned against the window. "This is fucking ridiculous."

Lance tossed up his hands. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Clip him," Chris suggested. "You know, just a little, but enough that he can't walk and has to get back in the car."

"Yeah, that's good." Joey rolled his eyes. "Let's run over Lance's boyfriend."

"Don't put that shit on me," Lance said. He lit a cigarette for himself, then one for Joey. Another few miles down the road, JC turned on the radio. It was playing a Backstreet Boys song featuring a Justin lead, and Joey quickly turned it off. JC fell asleep with his head in Joey's lap, but Lance was wide-awake when Justin stopped at another gas station and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"If you're getting Chinese," Chris hollered out the window. "I want pot stickers."

"I'm calling a cab, motherfucker." Justin glared at the Jeep. "What's our address?"

"You don't know the address?"

"I'm not good with that kind of shit, okay?" Justin rustled through a phone book at the pay phone. "Just tell me because my ass is not walking for another eighteen hours."

Chris sighed and told him and soon, a cab arrived and Justin climbed inside. Joey followed it to make sure Justin did go home. They pulled into the driveway behind the cab. They all got out before Justin did, but all he said to them was, "Pay this guy. I'm out of money." He disappeared into the house and locked the bedroom door, so Lance slept by himself on the couch.

In the morning, Justin apologized. He apologized individually to each of them, he hung his head for days and he autographed all of Lance's Backstreet Boys CDs and sold them to a local store to pay back Lance for the cab fare. Lance couldn't bring himself to tell his mother about the whole nightmare, she already seemed to have a pretty low opinion of Justin anyway.

Lance walked out of his paralegal class two weeks later and saw someone sitting on Lance's Honda.

"It's the corn-fed boyfriend, right? I mean, I hope I'm not sitting on the wrong fucking car." Nick Carter, in leather pants and black t-shirt sat on his car trunk and idly tossed an empty beer bottle near Lance's feet.

"I'm from Mississippi. Corn-fed isn't really accurate." Lance stopped a few feet away and crossed his arms. He could see Nick's bodyguards standing behind his car.

Nick rubbed his forehead. He pushed his greasy bangs out of his eyes. "Look, I could give a fuck. I want to see him."

"Call him. Talk to his lawyer. Come by the house, it's not like where we live is such a secret." Lance shivered and tried not to show it. He wanted back to the real world.

Nick looked up at the sky for a moment. He jumped off the car and walked over so he stood a few inches from Lance. He was tall, taller maybe than Justin and bigger -- not all lean muscle like Justin at all. "I don't want to do any of those things. I want to talk to him. I want you to tell him. I want him to call me." Nick pressed his palm against Lance's chest. "I really need to talk to him."

Lance clenched his jaw and looked down at Nick's hand. Nick didn't move his hand and stood up straighter still. Nick grinned and Lance thought he'd never hated anyone more in his life. "Nervous? Sweet little boyfriend nervous? I'm not gonna hurt you. The bodyguards always stop me before I get too crazy. They used to stop the Infant, you know, when he wanted to go blow random sixteen year olds or pull his little diva routine thing. Does he still do that thing? Get all freaked out by stuff and lash out and stuff? It's the advantage of bodyguards. They stop you. You should tell that fat Italian fuck that."

Nick dropped his hand and walked away. He stopped and hugged himself. "Seriously. I fucking need to talk him. He's screwing us all." Nick looked pathetic for a second, sad and child-like and then he was gone, and Lance was even more scared. Lance sat in his car for twenty minutes and smoked two cigarettes before he could drive. He hit the steering wheel and decided some fucking psycho would not scare him. Then again, he thought, as he pulled into the driveway, people who could trump up charges and get Justin arrested could probably cover up Nick Carter beating the shit out of some nobody from Mississippi.

"The thing is, Joey -- it's like, he knew all about us," he said when he got home. Only Joey was home, for no reason Lance understood.

"Dude, they can pretty much afford to hire private investigators. I'd be more scared by the fact he sounds like a fucking psycho. Did Justin really used to sleep with him?" Joey looked down at his notebook and didn't meet Lance's eyes.

Lance rubbed his hands together and longed for another cigarette. "Yeah. They used to fuck and screw around all the time. Like, for the last five years."

Lance told Justin and Chris when they got home and braced himself for an explosion. Chris said, "Yeah, that makes sense. You're suing each other, have a little private confab, my ass."

Justin looked down at his hands. "So I shouldn't? Is that, like, an order?"

Lance felt his stomach lurch at Justin's quiet voice. "Fuck, Justin, why do you want to? He's crazy."

Justin pulled at his fingers. "He's my crazy. I mean -- Nicky's Nicky. I should talk to him."

Chris shook his head. "It's a bad idea. Don't do it. If you do do it, agree to nothing and don't say anything that'll get us screwed when you both get deposed about it."

Chris left the room. Justin kept his eyes on the floor as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Justin, what the fuck?" Lance sat on the floor and still couldn't see Justin's eyes.

Justin hit a single digit and his speed dial did the rest. All he said was "where and when?" and then "fine." Justin looked at Lance and said, "Wanna come?"

"No. I don't think you should go, either. I can't believe you're so fucking paranoid about all this, but you'll go meet Nick fuckin' Carter wherever he tells you to go." Lance stood up and started pacing.

"Look -- I don't wanna randomly run into him. But he wants to talk to me. I don't wanna feel like I'm being stalked and I go someplace and he's there and I didn't know. But this is okay."

Lance stopped in his tracks. He stared at Justin. "But it's fucking okay for him to stalk me? He was waiting outside my fucking class, Justin."

Justin shrugged. "They always check out our dates and shit. I -- seriously, did you not think they would know where you work and shit?"

Lance slammed the door as he walked out. Somewhere in all this, he'd lost sight of Justin being crazy and he'd lost sight of the actual world.

Justin wrote down the time and the place for his meeting with Nick and left it on Lance's side of the bed. Lance looked at the piece of the paper and put it down. He drove to the coffee shop and got there fifteen minutes after Justin and Nick were supposed to meet. He saw the two bodyguards from the other day standing by the alley and walked over there.

When he was ten feet away, he saw Nick and Justin standing facing each other. He stopped. Nick jabbed Justin in the chest. Lance heard Nick say, "We can't fucking work, Justin. You gotta stop this." Lance walked closer and stopped a foot away from the bodyguards. They regarded him casually and then looked away.

Justin shook his head. "Dude, you know why I gotta do this. And I'm not gonna stop. Fire Lou. Then we can talk."

Nick leaned against the wall and rubbed his head. "Fuck. We can't work. Justin, when we can't work, they don't give us money. Justin." Nick sighed. Justin looked down at his feet and looked sad. Nick moved quickly and grabbed Justin's face, kissing him hard. Lance inhaled sharply.

Justin kissed Nick back. The two of them were leaning against the wall in a heartbeat, Nick tugging Justin closer and Justin's hands on Nick's waist. Lance watched as Nick shifted his leg and Justin started grinding his hips against Nick's thigh. The whole thing, Lance thought with disgust, was violent and rough and seemed more like an extension of the previous fight than anything sexual or romantic.

Lance turned away. He crossed his arms and tried to breathe. He closed his eyes and thought when he opened his eyes he would be back in Lincoln and none of this shit would have happened to him. He wanted that, badly. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at AJ McLean. AJ breezed past, another specter in black, and Lance turned and watched him walk up to Justin and Nick.

AJ pulled them apart and sighed. "Infant," he said with a nod to Justin. "Seriously, one of the best things about you running away was not having to deal with your inability to deal with the baby here." AJ inclined his head towards Nick. "Quick note: Nick's got a PhD in stupid ideas. You know it as well as I do." Justin and Nick were panting, looking at each other and then at AJ. AJ grabbed Nick and looked at Justin. "Also, way to make out with the baby here right in front of the boyfriend."

Justin whipped his head around and saw Lance. Their eyes met for a moment, and then Lance turned and walked away as quickly as he could. He had to throw up. He needed to throw up as soon as possible but he'd be damned if he did it in front of the fucking Backstreet Boys. Including Justin. He clutched his stomach and thought they were all fucking aliens. Not angelic, alien. From completely different worlds, he thought. Some strange fucking world where Justin's behavior made sense. Some even stranger world where Justin and Nick's relationship made sense.

Lance fell to his knees on the edge of the parking lot and threw up on the little strip of grass between him and the highway. He heard the blood rushing in his ears and the cars going by. He threw up and told himself he wasn't crying.

He knew Justin was sinking down next to him and he closed his eyes. Lance rocked back on his heels and wiped his mouth.

"Look. Lance, fuck. Nicky is Nicky and we've always had this weird thing." Justin's voice sounded small again.

Lance refused to open his eyes. "Does that translate as sorry in your fucked up world, Justin? Like stealing my CDs to pay me back?"

Justin sighed. He rubbed Lance's shoulder and Lance threw off his hand. "Lance? I'm sorry. Nick -- fuck it. Don't worry about it." Lance snorted. He opened his eyes and looked at the grass. "I mean it. I've known him since I was twelve. Fuck. Just -- it's nothing."

Lance turned to look at Justin and saw he was crying. Lance stood up. His legs were stiff and his stomach ached. He grabbed Justin's hand and pulled him up. Lance said, "Fine. It's nothing. Let's go."

When they got back to the house, Justin went straight to the bathroom. Lance heard the door lock and then heard the shower start to run. He leaned forward for a moment and pressed his forehead against the cool wooden door, but Justin didn't come out. Lance sighed.

In the living room, Chris and JC were playing video games. Lance stepped between them and slumped onto the couch.

"Fuck, Chris, you're such a cheater."

Chris shook his head. "C, how could I cheat at Mario Kart?"

"I don't know, man, but you do." JC tossed his controller onto the carpet and turned to face Lance. "How's tricks, baby girl?"

"If by 'tricks', you mean 'Nick Carter'..."

"Fuck me," Chris said.

Lance pulled one of the back cushions off the couch and used it as an oversized pillow. "You know it."

Chris cracked his knuckles. "What happened?"

"I don't know what the hell went on before I got there, but they were all over each other."

JC walked to the couch and settled with Lance's legs across his lap. "It didn't mean anything. You know that and stuff, right?"

"Yeah, that doesn't exactly make me feel better."

JC drummed his fingers on Lance's shins. "Joey cheated on me once."

Lance saw Chris raise his eyebrows. "Are you shitting me?"

"It was, like, three years ago." JC studied his hands. "There was a guy, you know, that he worked with. This was before he fucked up his leg. And, yeah, for like four months, they were...whatevers."

Chris leaned against the couch that rested along the opposite wall. "I never knew that."

"Nobody did. I never told anybody and the guy didn't even know that Joey had a boyfriend."

Lance sat up a little. "How did you find out?"

JC rubbed his arms and didn't look at Chris or Lance. "He told me about it after it was over. It was just, like, something he needed, I guess, you know?"

"God, JC," Chris said softly.

"I didn't have a lot of choices. I mean, I could be all mad forever and lose this guy who I love, or I could deal with it and forgive him and stuff." He took a deep breath. "So I showed up."

Lance nodded at JC. He pushed himself off the couch and went looking for Justin. He found him in their bedroom, skin still wet from the shower, sprawled across the bed. Justin flipped through pages of Lance's photo album. "You have like fifteen pictures of your cat in here."

Lance folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "Joanne is very photogenic."

Justin closed the album and looked up at Lance, blinking. "You look tired," he said softly.

"So do you," Lance said.

Justin slipped beneath the covers, and then tossed them back. "Come on. Lie down with me."

"Justin..." Lance looked at the bed and his side of it, empty.

"Please?" Lance exhaled and kicked off his shoes. He slid next to Justin and they stayed there, bodies almost touching, for a long time. Lance wasn't sure if Justin had fallen asleep until Lance started to get up. Justin's arm tightened around Lance's waist and he sighed against Lance's neck. "Stay here, please," Justin said quietly.

Lance wiggled away from Justin and sat up, his feet hanging over the side of the bed. Lance said, "Are you unhappy?"

"Okay, now, seriously, think about that for a minute."

"With me, I mean."

Lance felt the bed shift behind him and then felt Justin's hands on his shoulders. "I love you."

"That's not what I asked."

"This is the happiest I've ever been in a relationship, Lance," Justin said, his voice still quiet.

"And your only other relationship was with Nick Carter." Lance scooted towards the edge of the mattress; Justin's hands fell away.

"I don't know what you're trying to say, dude."

"You're not stupid, Justin. Don't act like you are," Lance didn't even snarl as he said it.

Lance could hear Justin's hair crinkle as Justin ran a hand over his shaved head. "You shouldn't compare yourself to Nick."

"It's hard not to, after today."

Justin stepped off the bed and walked around to face Lance as he said, "Baby, that's nothing. It was nothing."

"That's what JC said."

Justin held his hands out. "Wait, you told JC?"

"I had to talk to somebody," Lance said frowning.

"Are you a girl? No, you didn't have to talk to anybody," Justin said.

Lance inched over until he was leaning against the headboard. "You don't know what I have to do."

"Oh, fuck, don't be an asshole," Justin said as he frowned like a kid trying to get his sister to shut up.

Lance said, "Wait, wait, wait. You spend the afternoon humping your ex-boyfriend in a goddamned Denny's and I'm the asshole?"

Justin climbed off the bed. "It wasn't a Denny's."

"Yeah, that's the part to focus on."

"Lance, I said I was sorry. You said it was fine," Justin whined.

"See, there's the problem," Lance said as he sat up straight and crossed his legs. "You said that you were sorry, and you know, you probably are. But that doesn't mean that you won't do it again."

"What?" Justin stared at him.

"For a normal person, sure, but that's not how you are. You're used to getting what you want, being able to do whatever the fuck you want, and that's it, you know? You're Justin Timberlake, so you can make it okay by just saying you're sorry. You don't mean a damn word that comes out of your mouth."

Justin's lips reddened. "You think I'm a liar?"

"I think you don't know the difference between what's true and what's not." Lance looked at Justin, then looked away. "You've been doing this for so long, Justin, this game where you tell the media what they want to hear, that you do it to everybody. I want you to be sorry, so you say you're sorry."

"I am sorry!" Justin's voice broke and he swallowed quickly.

"Justin, if I put you in a room with Nick Carter right now, you'd be on each other again." Lance just watched Justin starting to tear up and didn't feel like making anything easier.

Justin shook his head. "No."

"You would, Justin, you would. And I know it."

Justin pulled up his shirt and wiped his face with it. "Fine, you're so fucking smart. What now? I mean, you sound like it's just over now."

"That's because it is." Lance was surprised to hear himself say the words, but he didn't want to take them back.

"No, seriously."

"I need to go, back to Nebraska or Mississippi. Back to Joanne. Away from...this."

"This? Me. You mean, away from me."

Justin's chin was trembling, but Lance's eyes were dry. "Away from you."

"You don't want to go."

Lance watched Justin curl up on a desk chair and Lance said, "Justin, this isn't my life. This has been playtime, one long, fucked-up vacation. It's time for me to go home."

"Then I'm coming, too. I'm coming, too, because home for me, that's where you are." Justin sighed. "And you think I'm a liar."

"I don't think you're a liar," Lance said quietly.

Justin jumped from the chair and stood over Lance, pressing his palms into Lance's shoulders. "Stay with me. Stay with me. I can do better. I can be better. Baby, please."

Their mouths met. Lance realized that Justin still tasted like lemonade. He felt tears on his cheeks, but he wasn't sure if they were Justin's or his own. He pulled back, and Justin sobbed.

Lance maneuvered around him and stepped into the hall. He patted his pockets and found his cigarettes, and went outside. On the deck, he tried to smoke, but the smell made him nauseous. Behind him, the screen door opened and closed, and Lance felt a hand on his back.

"Do you want me to help you pack?"

Lance tossed the cigarette onto the grass. "Thanks, JC."

Later, Lance didn't ask where Justin was, or how JC knew, or how he'd get home. He'd sold his car two days after Nick had sat on it to help with the legal expenses. JC told him goodbye, but Joey didn't say anything. He hugged them both, twice, and Chris took him to the airport.

"I'll pay you for the ticket."

Chris shouldered one of Lance's bags and shrugged. "Justin paid for it. I took it out of that ten grand."

Lance scribbled his mom's number on a piece of paper and pressed it into Chris's hand. "You can give it to the guys, too, if they want to talk to me."

Chris called Lance "kid" and pretended that he wasn't crying. On the plane, Lance closed his eyes, but he couldn't fall asleep.

onto Part 3!

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