Date: Sun, 29 Oct 2000 13:43:12 -0800
From: Kimmer <justme@astound.net>
Subject: Playing For Keeps #4 {Kimmer} {MM Celebrity Boy-Band} [4!?]

Disclaimer:   This story is a complete work of fiction.  It implies nothing
about the sexual orientation, beliefs, thoughts or actions of the real members
of NSync.  While it is not a "pure sex" story, if you are under 18 or offended
by male/male relationships, please go away.

A quick personal note to a GREAT friend of mine and a very talented writer:
Evan, thank you for being such a wonderful friend to me.  You are my one
and only Other Half...I treasure your company on those long writing nights,
you make me laugh, you keep me inspired, and you're the only God who can
keep me in line.  I don't know what I'd do without you!! I better never
find out either...Thems Orders, you hear !! Luv ya Twin!! You're the best!

Thanks for all the positive feedback and concerned emails as to ...but rest
assured I am very much alive and well and I have not fallen off the edge of
the world! Which reminds me I would very much like to thank all my readers
for their patience. I apologize for making you wait.

Anyway, any and all feedback is welcome! I'd love to hear what you think.  Send
it to Justme@astound.net.

Now on with the story...FINALLY!!


Playing For Keeps
Chapter 4


"Stop. Stop. STOP!" Darren's voice grew louder with each word spoken,
ending finally in an all out yell.  Abruptly all dancing stopped, the music
mysteriously cut off in mid-verse as if by the hand of God and a eerie
stillness befell the room.  Seven anxious sets of eyes followed the
choreographer as he glided across the wooden floor, his back to them. With
quick, sharp movements he paced back and forth sawing his way to the
solitary chair positioned in the corner of the room.  Ripping the towel
from the back of the chair, an air of trepidation settled upon the group
like a thick blanket; heavy and smothering.  Stealing furtive glances at
each other, the guys knew full well they were all thinking the same
thing. It wasn't psychic energy that brought them to the shared conclusion,
it was two and a half years of previous experience with this man. They
braced themselves: Darren was pissed.

Slowly and with purpose, he used the towel to wipe the sweat from his
hairline. In reality, he needed the time to calm down. Any sweat present on
his forehead was from frustration only; not a vigorous dance workout as
anticipated. When Darren finally turned to face the group, all five young
men snapped to attention, taking in a collective deep breath as if working
as a single organism. Holding it, they waited for the explosion that was
sure to come.  A prophecy Darren fully intended to fulfill.  He began to
speak; loudly at first, but quickly cut himself off remembering that there
were 'visitors' watching.  Lynn Timberlake already had a scowl pasted
across her petite face, and he suspected that if not for Mr. Huxley's
strong hold on her arm, she would be halfway across the dance floor warning
him to "be nice."  He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the thought. This
was his job, his area of expertise, his dance steps they were mutilating
and quite frankly, his ass on the line.  And he resented having to tone
down his teaching style for anyone, none-the-less somebody's "mommy."
Conveniently , the towel doubled as the perfect shield and burying his face
deep inside, he casually twisted his body away from Lynn's maddening stare.
It was more for his own peace of mind than hers. She openly disagreed with
his methods of instruction; a point of contention she'd addressed more than
once with Gabe. And Gabe had therefore addressed more than once with
him. ***A tattle tale was what she was.*** Luckily, even if she noticed the
eye roll, she couldn't possibly guess the reason behind it.  Still, he
wanted to keep the 'attitude,' as she liked to call it, to a minimum.  At
least for now.

"Lance? You mind telling me what in the hell your doing? This is not a new
step for you. You've done this routine for the last 5 months now.  Come on!
This is the easy stuff."  He credited himself for not yelling, but saw Lynn
grimace anyway at the harshness still evident in his voice.  Admittedly, he
wanted to be harsh, if for no other reason than to annoy her.

" I don't know. It's just not clicking with me tonight I guess...I can't
seem to...  ."

" Cut the crap, Lance."

Put plainly "not clicking" was never going to fly.  And Lance knew it.
They all knew it.  There wasn't a soul in that room who couldn't repeat the
'zero tolerance on excuses' rule verbatim.

Every eye in the room fell on Lance, searching his face for a better
explanation. But it was Justin's he turned to, with wide desperate eyes, he
mentally pleaded with his friend to help him come up with an answer and
fast.  Both boys drew a blank. Lance pushed through, slowly, hoping
something would come to him as he spoke, "I just can't...."

Darren cut him off, tired of dancing around the subject.  "Oh for Christ
sake, is it the eye?"

No, it wasn't his eye.  It was his back, buttocks, legs and hips. It was
the need for that tiny pink pill in his pocket.  It was the dark figure
from his nightmares sitting on the side of the room dissecting his every
move.  It was the desire to be anywhere but here and preferably
unconscious.  But it wasn't his eye.  "Yeah, I guess maybe it's bothering
me more than I realized." Sometimes the truth wasn't an option, and
sometimes taking the easy way out was the smartest thing to do. He was
probably imagining it, but Lance swore he could feel Gabe smile.

Darren couldn't help but be annoyed. Watching Lance fumble awkwardly about
the floor tonight, was like watching two full years of late nights, hard
work, and dedication just slip away.  Yet, at the same time, something
about the boy in front of him screamed "broken."  Darren's features
softened, a look of compassion breaking through the hard eyes and stiff jaw
that moments earlier seemed permanently set in stone.  At times like this,
he cursed himself for not developing a better relationship with the blond.
Out of all the Nsync members, he found Lance the hardest to get to know.
He was a nice enough kid, but what did he have in common with a white
country boy from suburbia Mississippi who couldn't even dance?

"We've been at this for what?"  He glanced at his wrist briefly before
realizing he forgot to put on his watch, "Almost..."

"Almost 3 solid hours now!" Joey piped up cheerfully, trying to crack the
icy tension of the room.

"Okay, 3 hours..."  Darren paused, rubbing his eyes as he formulated a
plan.  "Alright guys, I tell you what; lets run this number once more,
straight though from beginning to end." Standing less than a foot away,
Darren opened his eyes and stared, unblinking at Lance, "You think you and
your eye can hold it together long enough for one complete run through?"
This time his voice was soft.  Lance could tell it was a forced softness,
but he appreciated it nonetheless and nodded.

"Good. If we all focus, we can get through this in one try and go home.  So
Justin, you take the solo eight count in the refrain, as for the rest of
you, lets drop the twist for now.  Just go back to doing the leg lift...hit
it on four, lift on six and return to center on eight.  Any questions?"

As the rest of the group shook their heads and claimed their starting
positions, Lance remained statuesque.

"Now what's the problem Lance? Don't tell me there is still something you
don't understand?"  It was difficult to tell if Darren was mocking the boy
or truly just in a state of disbelief.

"Um...no. No problem."  It was brief, barely noticeable in fact, but Darren
caught the cautious look Lance cast toward the observers sitting just off
to his right. And it was just the clue he was searching for.  Suddenly it
was clear, he understood what was going on.  Or at least he thought he did.
Dragging his eyes from Lynn and Gabe, he questioningly stared at Lance,
searching his face for some hint to confirm his suspicions, and found it in
the small embarrassed flush Lance fought to hide.

Okay at least this he could fix. "Hey Lynn?"  Immediately her curly blond
head snapped to attention. "You think you could do me a favor?  I need to
take a minute after practice here to run through the rehearsal schedule
with the guys.  Any chance I'd could talk you into setting up conference
room 2 for me?"

She leapt to her feet, always eager to be of assistance and some what
thankful for an excuse to leave the room. "Yes, of course. My pleasure. "

One down, one to go.  Darren focused on the gentleman sitting next to her.
"I'm afraid some of those chairs are a bit heavy.  Gabe would you mind..."
He stopped in mid-sentence seeing Gabe stand and abruptly follow Lynn out
the door, allowing it to slam shut.  **Alone at last.** Darren had to
admit, even he was glad to see them leave. He launched the towel still
clutched in his hands back in the general direction of the chair.  It
missed completely, but he left it lay.  Turning to face the mirror, he
stood directly in front of Justin and positioned himself to mimic the moves
alongside the group.  His tone was tired yet amiable, "Now, lets try this
one last time. Without the audience. And without the mistakes. Does anybody
have any questions before the music starts?"

This time Lance jumped at the opportunity to answer.  "Nope. Just do it
like we did in Seattle right?"

Darren's eyes popped opened; impressed.  "Yeah...just like Seattle."

With the music starting in the background, he couldn't help but return the
smile he saw spread across Lance's face.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Man, I need more sun."  Leaning over the small oval bathroom sink to
examine his skin, the words came out barely above a whisper.  It didn't
matter really, Justin was simply saying them to himself. Leaving his untied
sweatpants fall low on his hips, he used both hands to pull at the skin
under his eyes. There was no denying it, even for a blond, he looked
abnormally pale. But in reality it was probably a mixture of factors that
led to the pallid skin tone now plaguing the young heartthrob. Among them;
the unforgiving florescent lights harshly illuminating him, a severe lack
of sleep stemming back more than the last two days, and yes, the need for a
tan.  Thankfully, with the rehearsal behind him and Darren's meeting
winding down in the next room, there would be plenty of time in the next
few weeks to unwind, go to the beach, play some basketball and generally
just recoup and hang out.  Surprised to find himself smiling, he stuck out
his tongue, widened his famous baby blues and performed a private 'happy
dance' to the audience of one staring back at him from behind the
mirror. And even though he looked ridiculous, it felt good to be excited
about something again.

Of course the thought of his mother leaving still saddened him, but not
nearly as much as she thought it did. And for that he blamed himself.  He
hurt her this morning. Granted it was partly on purpose, he'd admit that,
but for the most part it was a huge misunderstanding.  Either way, he
wanted to remedy the situation before she left.  And although he didn't
have the faintest idea how he was going to accomplish it, she needed to
know that he was okay with her leaving, and that he would be alright
without her...especially if it meant Gabe would be gone, traveling through
Europe with her.  Justin had yet to confirm it, but it seemed like a safe
assumption, since up to this point, as the boss, he almost always did.  Of
course he would never be able to explain his actions this morning, but
somehow he would make it up to her.  Next time, he would be enthusiastic
and put aside his own self-centered needs. The words that torn at his heart
this morning, now moved; ripping through his brain. **Your being incredibly
selfish...You have no idea how disappointed I am in you right now.** Yes,
no matter what, next time he would make her proud.

Running his hand through his hair one last time, Justin flicked off the
bathroom light and opened the door. Concentrating his attention on
tightening the loose drawstring on his pants, he was looking down when he
stepped out into the hall. A second before he caught sight of the man, he
felt his presence nearby.  There, leaning against the wall directly across
from the bathroom door was Gabe, presumably waiting for the restroom.

Startled, but not necessarily scared, Justin almost smiled as he instantly
fell into the well practiced 'just pretend everything is normal' mode. "Oh,
sorry.  Did you need to get in here?"

"Nope." Gabe returned the 'almost smile,' and with a single eyebrow raised,
a familiar dark haze clouded over the man's eyes. "I'm here for you."

The words echoed coldly inside Justin's head, rolling around, chilling him
to the bone.  **What?  Here?** Instinctively he looked up and down the
hallway. It was empty. Unbelievably it wasn't help he was looking for.
Just the opposite in fact, he wanted to make sure no one heard the ominous
exchange.

Gabe blatantly smirked at his unspoken question.  The kid was an open
book. "Everyone else is in Conference Room 2.  So yes Justin, we are indeed
all alone."

His stomach turned at the vile way Gabe spit out his name.  Defensively
Justin shook his head, "What? Um...no I...I wasn't trying to see..." The
rest of the protest got lost somewhere inside a shallow surrendering breath
.  Denying it was pointless, so instead Justin blinked long and slow;
praying...no begging any god who would listen to make the man in front of
him disappear.  Permanently would be great, but he was willing to settle
for right here, right now.  Opening his eyes he saw God's answer staring
cold and expressionless back at him. To say the least, he was disappointed,
but obviously not as disappointed as God was in him.  Again, his mother's
words haunted him. You have no idea how disappointed I am in you right now.

Taking in his surroundings, he stepped to the side away from the bathroom
door, mindful of a piece of advice he swore he'd never forget. 'Never let
them take you to a secondary crime scene.'  The last thing he wanted was to
be pushed back into that room. A room where he would be alone with this man
and a lock on the door.

He'd heard the advice late one night after a concert in Minnesota.
Entering the tour bus last, he was in the small hallway between the bunks
changing his clothes when he heard Joey and Chris fighting like
five-year-olds over whose turn it was to be 'king' of the remote
control. Pulling a t-shirt over his head, Justin strode casually into the
tiny "living area" using the distraction as the perfect opportunity to
claim the only reclining chair. He plopped down, exhausted.  Frankly, he
didn't care who had the remote or what they watched, he planned to sink
into a deep sleep before the bus even pulled outside the city
limits. Besides no matter who ultimately gained control of the TV, in less
than an hour the bus would be in the middle of nowhere and every channel
would be showing the same thing: Static. Tuning out the pointless argument
between his fellow band mates, Justin leaned forward to manually click on
the television. Content to listen to whatever came on, he eased back into
his chair and closed his eyes.

Two commercials and a public service announcement later, he heard the
scheduled program come on; some women's self defense workshop.  Another
reason fighting over the remote control was pointless...crappy late night
programming.  Initially he paid little attention, focusing instead on the
internal argument raging inside his head as to whether or not he possessed
the strength to actually climb into his bunk or if spending the night in
the chair was a viable option. Then just as the balance was tipping in
favor of moving to his bunk, a single word leap out at him from the TV,
grabbing his attention: Rape.  And although he never opened his eyes or
moved a muscle, never inkled his fascination, his every nerve went on alert
as he strained to hear what the narrator of the show had to say. Granted
his situation wasn't exactly the same; they were talking to girls about
surviving a stranger attack.  But he'd never heard of anyone talking about
boys so that was expected.  And while Gabe officially didn't qualify as a
stranger, he'd lost his standing as a friend at exactly 12:22 pm Monday,
December 29 1997.  The precise moment Gabe first placed his hand on
Justin's inner thigh.

For the next five minutes Justin clung to every word the man said, then
suddenly, Joey succeeded to the throne as the reigning king of the remote
and flipped the channel.

"Hey, don't turn that..." For the first time since sinking into the chair
Justin moved, bolting upright in the recliner. Only to stop his unexpected
outburst the minute he saw the bewildered look on Joey's face.  Flicking
the channel back to the self defense program, Joey watched for all of
fifteen seconds before turning an incredulous stare in Justin's direction.
"Tell me you weren't actually watching this?"

Justin keep his gaze focused on Joey, fearing even the most innocent glance
toward the TV might betray how import the program was to him.  Feigning no
interest, his rebuttal was brisk and a little to urgent, "Huh? Me? No. What
I said was 'I was turning in.'" Without waiting for a response, he
dismissed himself quickly and crawled up into his bunk. Okay so he didn't
get to watch as much as he would have liked, but what little he did manage
to catch seemed to ring true: *If ever accosted by a stranger, do whatever
it takes to remain where you are or best yet escape to safety.  But never
let them take you to another location. You have a better chance of
surviving a gunshot while trying to escape thru an empty parking lot, then
you have against even a bare hand, if the attacker has you alone, in
surroundings he controls, for as long as he wants.*

Justin certainly couldn't imagine a scenario where gunshots would come into
play in Gabe's sick equation, but it held remarkably true that his 'alone
time' with Gabe was always much worse when they took place in his office or
home.  As compared to those few incidents in more public places like
Justin's make shift dressing area, his hotel room or even that one time in
the limousine.

And so, as the bus gently rocked him to sleep, the words of the narrator
replayed themselves like a broken record in Justin's head. By the time the
deep, even breathing of slumber took over, the words were forever engraved
in the cortex of his brain...just waiting for a moment like the present to
leap forward and try to protect him.  So if that narrator, that voice in
his head said staying in the hall was the safest way to avoid Gabe's touch,
so be it. At this point, he'd try anything.

Justin thought about just walking away and leaving Gabe standing there
alone. But the resolve and nerve that only hours before resonated through
him like a building storm as he stood between Gabe and Lance, was
inexplicably absent. Where he summoned it from in the first place, and
where it was buried now, remained a mystery. What he did know for certain
was that the thunderous sound inside his ears was not produced from that
same storm, but was instead his heart jack hammering against his
chest. With great care, he crossed a single arm in front of his upper body,
half expecting to see the beating organ burst through his ribs and land in
a bloody tangled mess at his feet.  He hoped Gabe couldn't hear it.

But it wasn't the pounding chest or the shaken tenor of his voice that
betrayed his fear; it was the way his right hand automatically began
fidgeting with his pants leg.  A nervous tic so prominent, even his fan's
recognized it.  Gabe reveled in the moment.  Soaking up the fear exuded
from the boy in front of him, he callously stared him down, completely
silent.  He could easily stand here all night.

He knew Justin couldn't.

"So...you wanted me for something?"  His voice was tentative, dreading
almost anything the older man might say.

Gabe struggled not to laugh out loud.  He loved to win, in fact he thrived
on it, but truthfully this game was getting almost too easy. Like a
predator toying with it's prey, he allowed a long unnerving silence to
continue between them. In all of his 47 years, never once did anything
invoke as much heated pleasure as watching Justin squirm. He wondered if
this youth standing opposite him, pretending to be so brave, could possibly
understand the intoxicating seductiveness he emitted with every twitch and
tremor his body made. Suddenly his passion filled reverie was interrupted
by a faint high pitched chuckle that could only have come from Chris, as it
penetrated the solid oak door off to Gabe's left. Although the laugh faded
quickly in the open hallway, Gabe faltered momentarily as he monitored the
conference room door for any signs of movement. The door remain motionless.

**What the hell? It might be fun to push just a little further.** Gabe
gradually scrolled his eyes across the young Adonis before him. Beginning
innocently enough with Justin's youthful face, his hungry eyes moved down
his chest and passed the tight young stomach muscles, quenching themselves
fully. Finally settling on the forgotten, half tied drawstring hanging down
from Justin's waistband, his ravenous gaze lingered purposely before
returning to the now flushed 18 year old face looking away from him.

"Oh, I want something alright."  Moving away from the wall, Gabe absently
wet his lower lip and took a single step in the blond's direction.
Mirroring him, Justin took a half step backward before remembering how
wrong that move could be.  Fighting his every impulse Justin stood planted,
unmoving, as he watched his long time tormentor approach.  Again he glanced
toward the safety of the conference room door only fifteen feet away,
dreading the idea that any minute someone might walk out into the hall and
witness this lurid exchange.

It amused Gabe to watch him panic like this, but unfortunately now was not
the time or place.  "Relax Justin." Even if the words were soothing, his
tone was not. "What I WANT is for you to come and pick up your cell phone
from my office."

"Huh?"

"Your not asking me to repeat myself, are you?"

"Uh no...my phone..." He stammered,. "You have my cell phone."  **So that's
where it went.  It must have fallen out during...** His mind refused to
finish that thought. In all the hustle and bustle of cleaning up after his
birthday party, Justin assumed it got misplaced.  He'd meant to ask his
mother about it, but with things so tense between them, he had yet to
broach the subject. Besides wasn't she the one always warning him to be
"more responsible" with his stuff?  The last thing he want to announce was
that he'd lost his phone...for the third time.

"Very good Justin.  And here's what your going to
do... Pick...it...up...tomorrow."  Gabe over enunciated each word and spoke
very slowly mocking Justin as if he were too stupid to understand
otherwise.  Then continuing on, his speech pattern returned to normal. "Be
there between three and four tomorrow afternoon, understand?"

**All too well.** Justin's eyes and heart sank in unison as though
connected by a single, heavily weighted string. Examining the muted gray
and blue checked carpeting beneath his feet, he tried to think of an
excuse.  "I don't know...I think mom made plans for us. Something about
going out of town. So I'm not sure I can." It wasn't exactly a lie.
Spending a little time with her was on the top of his priority list, he
just wasn't sure it was still on the top of hers.  "Um...maybe I could send
JC over to get it? I'm sure he wouldn't mind..."

"Oh, I don't think mommy dearest will be needing you tomorrow." Gabe never
bothered to elaborate.  "Don't bring Lance. Don't even tell him your
coming, is that clear?" He paused as another quick wave of indiscernible
voices echoed forth from the meeting.  "Now let's see that pretty smile of
yours.  We wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, would we?"  Thinking
the question was a redundant one, Justin moved eagerly in the direction of
the Conference Room, until Gabe grabbed him by the wrist and spun him back
around, practically dislodging his shoulder.

"WOULD WE?!" Okay, maybe it wasn't redundant. The demanding fierceness in
Gabe's voice left Justin shell shocked and unsure of what he was supposed
to say. Experience taught him that sometimes even the obvious answer could
provoke this man. Every muscle in his body tensed, reflexively anticipating
the worst but he managed to look Gabe in the eye.

"No." It wasn't a question, but it certainly wasn't a statement either.

Loosening his grip on the boy's wrist, Gabe admired his own hand as he used
it to gently caress the side of Justin's arm. Even through a long sleeve
shirt, the warmth emitted by the boy's flushed skin consumed him. With a
light squeeze of the young developing bicep, Gabe removed his hand. But
instead of letting the singer leave, he reached out tenderly to stroke the
side of Justin's face.

**If he couldn't touch Lance's face... **

The boy closed his eyes, knowing exactly what his promoter's hands would
feel like on his skin.  Starting at the temple, his fingers slid slowly
down the ashen cheek, paused briefly aside the jaw bone, then continued to
glide lightly forward until they were positioned under Justin's chin.  With
his eyes held closed, Justin felt his head being tilted upward.  Then he
jumped slightly, startled by the sensation of Gabe's thumb lightly tracing
the outline of his lower lip.

Touching Justin like this in the middle of the hallway was a risky move,
one Gabe knew better than to try too often.  But there wasn't a person in
that conference room, save Lance, who didn't consider Gabe beyond reproach
and he knew it.

"Open your eyes."  Gabe's husky voice was soft but commanding, and not
something to be questioned.  Justin's eyelids fluttered open, revealing
brilliantly translucent blue orbs and something more: Hate. With his face
close enough to Gabe's to feel his acrid breath he tried to turn his head
away. But Gabe dug his fingers in deeper under his chin; forcibly
correcting his behavior, demeaning him.

"Good boy...now like I said, let me see that oh so innocent smile everybody
loves."

Fighting the tension in his bottom lip, Justin coerced a weak smile, hoping
beyond reason that Gabe would approve and release him.  It seemed to
work. However instead of letting go, Gabe casually wrapped his arm around
Justin's shoulder and escorted him to the safety of family and friends.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Standing in the doorway with Justin at his side, Gabe scanned the loosely
scattered group, finally settling his attention on Lynn Timberlake.  Deeply
engrossed in an one-on-one conversation with Darren, she nodded her head
almost nonstop as if indicating agreement with whatever he was saying.  Yet
her face held an aggressive, belligerent expression directly contradicting
such body language.  To date, Gabe found pushing her buttons an easy task.
But something told him to be very careful when dealing with this woman. It
was probably the element of protectiveness; the mama lion, he saw lurking
behind her eyes. And even analyzing her now, he couldn't help but wonder
which movement, the nodding or the facial expression, portrayed her true
feelings.

Employing the traditional clearing of the throat, he announced both his and
Justin's return to the room.  Even with Justin standing right beside him,
he spoke slightly louder than normal hoping to capture everyone's
attention; Lynn's in particular, "So Justin, I assume your mother told you
the good news?"

Suddenly a hush fell over the room; all heads turning to face Lynn. She
spun around and stared at Gabe, ignoring Justin and effectively cutting off
any attempt of his at a response.

"Well...I...um..." She stumbled, forgetting the conversation that only
moments before held her spellbound.  There, picturesquely framed in the
wooden doorway stood two of the most influential men in her life. Her
beautiful little boy, who seemingly overnight left his baby shoes behind to
begin the tumultuous journey into manhood, and Gabe, more than her
employer, he was a generous and caring friend who was nothing if not
supportive. He was a god send really.  Somehow he'd taken on the role of
father figure for both of them: Someone Justin could turn to when he needed
the things a "mom" just couldn't give or understand, and someone she
depended on for advice and the occasional shoulder to cry on. So far he
seemed to excel at both roles.  Even now she couldn't help but be comforted
by the way Gabe had one arm cradled protectively across Justin's shoulders.

Oddly enough ever since their meeting this afternoon, he acted more eager
about her promotion than she did. Of course he meant well. He was excited
and wanted to share that excitement with everyone.  Still, she couldn't
help but curse him under her breath. She wished desperately that he had not
broached the subject.  Not like this.  She wanted Justin to hear it from
her.  And judging from his reaction this morning, and the uneasy expression
he was currently trying to hide; this was probably bad timing.

 "No actually.  I haven't had a chance to speak to Justin about anything
yet." She breathed deeply, slightly exasperated, "But Gabe, I think it
might be better if we discussed this later. Don't you?"  And with that last
statement, she saw confusion wash over her son's face.

"Nonsense Lynn. We're all family here."  He pulled the uneasy Justin closer
to him giving the appearance of a friendly hug. "Right Justin?" Then,
grinning like a Cheshire cat, he pleaded, "Please. Let me be the bearer of
good news."  While everyone else looked on, clinging anxiously to Gabe's
every word, Lance turned away. He knew the game of cat and mouse too
well. Gabe was toying ruthlessly with his chosen victim and if Justin's
stomach wasn't churning right now, Lance's was doing enough of it for the
both of them.  He witnessed them enter the room together, he saw the timid
look Justin tossed him, and he knew the embarrassment of having someone
else in the room know your secret. Out of respect to his friend, he refused
to watch the spectacle unfolding in front of him.

Justin fixed his eyes cautiously on his mother, clinging to the hope that
this weird exchange might actually turn out good, even though he truly
doubted it. Whenever Gabe grew smug, his life usually took a turn for the
worse.  For the first time her soft, yet apprehensive eyes locked onto his
own.  He sensed her uneasiness as she anticipated his reaction to this new
development; whatever it was. Lynn said nothing but the slight shrug of her
shoulders told Gabe to continue.  Not that it mattered really, he had every
intention of playing his hand to the fullest.

"As you all know, I'm incredibly impressed by the dedication, initiative
and skill Lynn has demonstrated throughout the building of our little group
here.  Frankly, without her, there may never have been an Nsync. So it's
with that in mind that I've decided it's time to cut her loose. She needs
some room to grow, to see what she can do, if you will."  He paused for
effect. Justin used the silence to break away from his mother's stare, his
attention turning briefly to Lance who faced the window.  "As of 2 o'clock
this afternoon the group Mayflower is now officially under the sole control
of our very own, Ms. Timberlake!"

Justin wasn't sure what he felt. But shock and pride were at the top of the
list. So was fear. And it quickly encompassed him, taking precedence over
everything else. Fear of saying the wrong thing yet again, and fear of what
Gabe might expect as payment in return for making his mom so happy. Pushing
that last thought from his mind, he tried to concentrate on giving her what
she needed.  His happiness.

Justin's eyes shot in his mothers direction, she was watching him.  He
forced a smile but his voice remained unsure. "Is that true mom?"

A small, embarrassed smile spread across her face.  But it was Gabe who
answered the question.  "Of course it's true."

A loud high pitched scream filled the room and immediately all the energy
in the room seemed to be coming from Chris.  He began frantically jumping
up and down while hugging Lynn at the same time, almost knocking her
over. "Oh Ms. T, this is awesome, you so deserve this!"  Falling into
Chris' arms, Lynn giggled like a teenager as he picked her off the ground
and twirled her around the room. "Just think, someday I'll be able to say,
'I knew you when!'" Justin watched, taking it all in, expressionless.

It was JC who promptly rushed to her rescue.  "Jeez Chris, take a
tranquilizer or something would ya?" He was only half kidding.  After
allowing her a moment to gain her bearings, he leaned into her, gathering
her small frame in his long arms, "Really Lynn, this is so incredible! I
couldn't be happier for you."

"Thank you Josh." She reached up and kissed his cheek, "I must say, I'm
really very excited about the whole thing, but I couldn't have done it with
out all of you."

"Hey keep that on the down low!  Abegay is right Erehay." Relying on his
best Pig Latin, he motioned with his head and eyes toward Gabe, as if
trying to keep a secret, "He might just take the job back if he thinks we
had anything to do with it!"  Joey came up behind her and wrapped the both
of them in a bear hug. A loud collective moan escaped as the three of them
became enmeshed together.

"Break it up...Break it up. I still have some control here, and I won't
have you crushing the life out of the poor woman the night before she
leaves." Gabe's deep strong voice bounded from the doorway, but his body
remained where it was, holding Justin.  "Don't worry Lynn, even if these
five losers had anything to do with it, I'd still promote you.  If only to
steal you away before their bad influence corrupts you completely."

Suddenly a light went off in Justin's head and he turned a hate filled eye
in Gabe's direction.  Almost daring him to deny that this whole promotion
scheme was a complete set up.  Now it made sense.  This is what Gabe meant
by "Mommy dearest won't be needing you tomorrow." And that was why he
waited two days before telling him about his phone.  It was a fucking plot!
Get her out of town quickly, and get him alone. **Damn it!** What it also
meant was Gabe was NOT leaving for Europe. Justin was sure of it. How was
he going to avoid this man, his promoter and all around "good guy" to
everyone else, for three solid weeks?  He would only be able to come up
with excuses for so long...

His mind raced.

With JC and Joey finally backing off, it was Lance's turn to congratulate
her. He held back, uncharacteristically avoiding contact. "He's right you
know, without you we wouldn't have any of this You always believed in
us. Always pushed and fought to make our dreams come true.  Mayflower is
incredibly lucky to have you, I hope they know that."  As usual his voice
was soft, deep and articulate.  Maybe it was his chivalrous southern
demeanor, or simply the closeness in age to that of her own son, but Lance
held a truly special place in her heart.

Lynn held out her hands to him, and he moved in to take them, but instead,
overcome with emotion, she pulled him into a long silent embrace. Even with
her petite body, Lance struggled, somewhat unsuccessfully, to hide the pain
the hug caused him. Fortunately, from his current angle, only the two
people standing in the doorway could see his contorted expression. But
Justin seemed lost somewhere in his own thoughts; oblivious to the boy in
his mother's arms. Gabe on- the-other-hand winked at him.

Easing up slightly, Lance released the pressure of his embrace and
thankfully she followed his lead by doing the same.  Once again, she placed
her hand flush against his cheek, just below his left eye. With her gaze
held steadfast on his face, she spoke, "JC?  Why don't you take Lance
home."  Darren began to protest, but again, without moving her eyes, she
cut him off invoking her sweetest Tennessee charm. "Darren has done such a
beautifully thorough job planning the upcoming rehearsal schedule, I can't
imagine what else we'd need to cover?  So if I'm not mistaken, this meeting
is pretty much over.  Correct?"

Darren made one final comment before surrendering control. "Just remember,
I've bumped the next rehearsal up a few days. Mark your calendars; two
weeks from Wednesday."

"Well that's it then!" Lynn smiled warmly at the boy who's face was still
in her hands.  "Now go home and take care of this gorgeous green eye, will
you?" Lowering her motherly voice, she added for his ears only, "And don't
worry about the dance moves, I thought you looked wonderful."  A faint
smile crossed his face.

JC let a loud yawn escape, not even bothering to stifle the piercing whine
it produced. "No argument here." Gathering his revised three page itinerary
sheet from the table in one hand, JC absently patted the outside of his
pant's pockets with the other; feeling for his keys. Nothing.  He wasn't
surprised. He didn't remember feeling them bouncing around during rehearsal
either.  Thank god, since with the mood Darren was in, he surely would have
ripped into him like he did Lance.  His eyes followed the length of the
wide center meeting table, he scoped out the floor, he even gave the
bookshelves lining the far wall, a wall he never went near, the once over.
Still no sign of them.

"Well this is ridiculous..." he mumbled, unaware of his new found status as
the center of attention.  He spun in one direction and then the other,
pulling out chairs, looking under papers, rechecking his pockets.
Aggravation taking hold, he spoke a bit louder but still to himself. "...I
KNOW I had them when I came in here."  Bending over for a third and final
inspection of the floor he gave up, concluding he must have left them
somewhere in the dance studio.  Standing up he moved toward the door, "Give
me a sec, Lance.  I can't find my..."  Suddenly he stopped, noticing
everyone in the room watching him and smiling.

He threw his hands out annoyed at their obvious lack of concern. "What?!"

Lynn, smirking, merely pointed a single finger behind him.  There stood
Chris, a set of keys dangling from his index finger and a sly grin, the
kind that shows every pearly white in a person's head, plastered across his
face.

In an exaggerated huff, JC quickly ripped them from his hand. "HOW do you
do that?"

"I told you. I once roomed with a magician back in my Universal Studio
days." Chris said matter- of-factly, still grinning.

JC rolled his eyes and moved up behind Lance. "Hope you roomed with an
Olympic speed walker too, cuz you, funny boy, can walk home."  Giving Lance
a light shoulder shove toward the door, they both exited the room. But not
before Lance purposely walked directly between Gabe and Justin, forcing
Gabe to remove his arm, successfully freeing his friend.

Once they were gone, Lynn scolded,"That was mean, Chris."

"Yeah, I know." He winked at her. "But man I love pushing his buttons. He's
just too easy when he's tired! Did you see how frantic he was, searching
everywhere..." Again he laughed, reliving the moment. "Hey J, speaking of
getting home, you think..."

Justin had quickly put distance between himself and Gabe, and was now
standing beside the table collecting the handout Darren gave them
earlier. "Well yeah!  I brought you here, I sorta assumed I'd be bringing
you home."

"Actually Joey and I were thinking of hitting a few clubs. You know,
getting an early start on this whole R & R thing.  Word is a new one opened
in the warehouse district.  Simply Serious or Seldom Serious or 'Hey babe,
let's get Serious' something like that. So...we were thinking...?"

"You want my car."  Normally they'd ask, probably beg, him to come
along. But as an underage kid, with his mom in the room, it went without
saying he wasn't going anywhere.  "No problem, you can just drop me off on
your way."

Justin watched as Chris and Joey tossed each other a quick, hesitant
look. "What?"

Joey spoke up first. "Okay, one more favor...you think you could catch a
ride with your mom or Gabe?  I need to run by my apartment before going
out, and being it's on the other side of Orlando and all...."

Justin was silent for a moment before letting out an uneasy, "Oh."

They hadn't expected that reaction. "Hey if it's a problem, J, we can
figure something else out..."

"No, no it's just..."  Justin fought to keep his voice neutral, but before
he could finish, Gabe jumped that the unexpected opportunity.

"You know, I have to pass by that way anyway, so Lynn if you need to finish
up any loose ends before leaving, I'm more than willing to give Justin a
ride home."

"Why thank you Gabe, that would solve..."

"Ah...NO!"  This was just the type of situation Justin was trying to avoid,
these casual arrangements that left him alone with Gabe.  "Actually Mom, I
don't mind waiting. If it's alright, I'll just ride home with you."

Justin felt his mother's confused eyes judging him, judging his
motivations.  **It's not MY motivations you need to worry about, Mom.** He
turned to her and smiled, trying to put her at ease. "Hey, can't a guy want
to spend some quality time with his 'mommy' without everyone thinking he's
a freak?"

Chris, standing across the table from Justin turned dead serious. "Just so
you know, Justin, we thought you were a freak long before this whole mommy
issue came up."

The minute the words registered, Justin let out a "Ohhh...your going to pay
for that one" and lunged at him. He missed as Chris managed to eek passed
him almost knocking over the table. Balling up one of his agenda sheets,
Justin shot it at Chris as he ran for the door.  It bounced off the back of
his right shoulder and hit Joey in the chest.  Then, without retaliation
both boys were gone, only the laughter trailing them down the hall
remained.

Gabe picked up the crumbled sheet of paper from where it landed in front of
his feet and gently tossed it at Justin.  "Not bad kid, two for the price
of one."

Justin said nothing, but the smile left behind from his brief attack on
Chris and Joey lingered.

Lynn giggled, happy to have her son back.  "Okay, Jellybean.  I'd love your
company tonight.  But are you sure you wouldn't rather be home, doing
something more exciting than hanging with your dear old mom?"

"Nope. Can't think of a single thing."

"Okay then, it's a date! Sorry Gabe, seems my company is more sought out
than I thought.  But thanks so much for the offer."

"No, I understand. Time for a little mother son bonding eh?"  He turned,
parted his lips in a warm smile and looked Justin dead in the eyes, "I'm
sure I'll be seeing plenty of him while your gone anyway.  Right now, he
needs to enjoy your time while he still can."

_______________________________________

"Seven ball in the side pocket."  Alex Callaway backed away from the pool
table, allowing the slightly taller, lankier gentleman to step passed him.
Watching him lean smoothly across the intricately carved pool table, Alex
already knew he would make the shot, and probably the next two.  Just like
he knew everything else about the man he called his best friend; Shane
McCaffrey. They met while doing time in Sister O'Hara's third grade class
at the St. Joseph's Catholic School for Boys.  They became friends while
discovering just how much fun shooting spit balls at little Andrew Hurley
could be.  Mixing the two: Sister O'Hara and little Andrew Hurley is what
gave them fairly permanent seats in after school detention and a lifelong
bond that no one could break.

"Your really going to go through with this aren't you?" Shane carefully
replaced his cue stick on the large rack that graced the far wall.  It too
had the same intricate carvings on it as those of the pool table. Purchased
as a set in Britain; Alex bought them as yet another gift.  But this one
was not for himself.

Alex followed his lead, and replaced his own cue stick before replying.
"Of course."

"And everything is in place?"

Moving to the large polished brass rail that ran the length of the bar,
Alex set two glasses down in front of himself.  He poured seltzer water
into one and vodka, straight up, in the other, then as an after thought
dropped ice into both. He remained silent, allowing the crackling of the
cubes to fill the room.  With a drink in each hand, he moved opposite where
Shane now sat and handed the vodka to him. "You know that stuff will kill
you someday."

"This is your poison, Alex, not mine.  To me, it's the remedy."

Falling back into the soft leather chair across from his friend, he took a
long drink, savoring the water that had become his savior five years
earlier. He swished it just as one would fine cognac; a old habit he had
yet to break.  "Remedy?  To what exactly?"

"To whatever I want or need to fix.  No problem to big, no issue to small."

Alex scoffed slightly at the man's over simplified appreciation of what
alcohol could do to for you. "You'll excuse me if I don't agree."

" I always have before."  Shane goaded him smugly before again returning to
the conversation at hand. "So?"

Alex shot him a confused look, clearly lost by the new direction of the
conversation.  Shane rolled his eyes feigning annoyance at his friend's
lame ability to keep up with his train of thought.  "So... Somehow you
actually managed to organize this scheme of yours?"

Reaching down to the briefcase that sat stoically at his feet, Alex placed
it on his knees, snapped open the top and pulled out large manila envelope.
Shane didn't know it, but that envelope was the one and only item
inside. It was same envelope that the private detective delivered to him
just this afternoon.  "When have you ever known me to scheme?  I make
promises to myself...to others...and I keep them, no matter the cost."
Without opening it, he placed it on the coffee table in front of Shane.

Lifting his gaze from the envelope to his friend, Shane immediately
recognized the pain that haunted his eyes.  "These are the photos?"

Alex simply nodded, returned the empty briefcase to the floor and took
another sip from the glass now in his hand.

"And your certain about this? You've thought out all your options, employed
all your resources and this is how you want to proceed?"

"I've planned too long.  The time has come for him to go down, Shane." Alex
said the words without looking at his friend, concentrating instead on the
pure clean water as it danced in his glass. Finally he looked up and
pointed in the direction of the envelope once more, "Do you want to see
them?"

"No."

For a minute both men sat quietly looking at each other; comfortable in
there friendship and the silence now sitting between them. Alex was the
first to speak. "I don't know what I'd do without you and Hillman, you know
that right?  You've been my friends and constant support system for so long
now."

Shane was quick to correct him, "I don't support you on this, you
understand that right? What your doing is wrong and you know it."

Taking in a deep, frustrated breath, Alex Callaway stood up abruptly.  In
one swift move he bent over, placed his now almost empty glass on the
coffee table and scooped up the envelope; ripping it open.  In less than
five seconds he found the picture he was after and thrust it in his
friend's face, his fury taking over, "Oh please! Just look at this...look
at it!! In all likelihood, most days this kid wishes he was dead
anyway. I'm just going to help make his wish come true that's all.  Hell,
I'm fucking Santa Claus!"

Shane remained calm.  Pulling the photo away from his face, he turned it
upside down, leaned forward and set it on the table.  Placing his elbows on
his knees, he motioned with his right hand for Alex to take a seat, then
used both hands to cradle his own chin.  Watching his friend slump down
before him, Shane couldn't help but feel extreme sadness overtake him:
Sadness for the curly haired kid in the picture, sadness for the pain Alex
suffered so many years before, Sadness for the revenge that filled his
heart and Sadness for the new pain he was forced to suffer through now.

But before Shane could say a single word to comfort his friend, a steady
knock assaulted the door.

"Come." Alex called out, his frustration still evident in his tone.

The large door glided open smoothly, almost as if on rollers and in walked
Hillman. He took three small steps inside the room and stopped.  "Sorry to
disturb you Sir, I realize it's very late, but Clyde just informed me that
'your guest' is upset.  Crying as I understand it and quite adamant about
seeing you.  He even through the food Camilla brought for him across the
room.  I fear he will not eat until he has been allowed to see you."

"Fine Hillman.  Tell Clyde to do his best to keep him calm and I'll be
right there."

Hillman began his retreat from the room, but stopped and addressed Alex
once again, "Sir?"

"Yes Hillman?"

"Dare I inquire as to how long this might go on?"

Alex stood and moved toward the bar, taking a moment for himself. The room
fell quiet, the two other men seemingly disappearing into nothingness as
Alex retreated deep into his own thoughts. Finally released from his
trance, he set his glass next to the bottle of seltzer, walked up to his
assistant and sighed. "Until it over Hillman.  Until it's all over."

Before leaving he turned his attention to Shane. "Wait here."  Then
remembering who he was talking to, he replaced the order with a gentle
request, "Please.  Please wait. I won't be gone long."

Shane nodded and watch the door shut behind his friend.  Suddenly another
wave of sadness washed over him: Sadness for that boy stuck all alone and
scared somewhere in an upstairs bedroom.

With that, Shane McCaffrey took a large gulp of vodka; going for the "fix"
only this remedy could provide.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ring!  Ring!

The boy stirred slightly, before easing back into the stronghold of sleep.

Ring!  Ring!

"Ah hum, coming..." This time the sound brought Justin just close enough to
consciousness to elicit a response.  Not the right one, but a response just
the same. Still, he made no attempt to move.

Ring!

"Ugh! What do you want!" Stuck in that groggy state of new sleep, he
angrily rolled over and found himself plummeting to the floor. His arm hit
the coffee table in a loud thud.  "Ow, shit!"

He pushed himself up into a sitting position on his knees, slightly
stunned.  He must have fallen asleep on the couch Those last minute
preparations had taken his mother a bit longer than he expected, and truth
be told he was bored out of his mind the whole time, but it beat the
alternative.  Suddenly the phone rang again, and Justin jumped for it.

"Yeah? And this better be good!" His mother hated when he answered the
phone this way, actually anything other than the obligatory, "Hello," was
deemed very inappropriate.  But as he saw it, it was a very private,
unlisted number.  The odds of it being someone other than family or a close
friend were remote to say the least.

"Grumpy much?"  Justin recognized Lance's low voice immediately.

"What? Miss me already?"  Justin taunted, somewhat surprised by the late
night phone call.  Especially from Lance who he would have bet good money
was fast asleep already.

"In your dreams."

"We'll never know now will we?"  Justin pulled himself back onto the couch,
rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

JC made it home alright, didn't he?"

"Yes dad. He came home, cowed down on some left over Lo Mein that I still
not convinced was bacteria free, put on his jammies, brushed his teeth and
is now tucked safely in bed.  Snoring...."  Justin rolled his eyes upward
in the direction of his bedroom, as if Lance could actually see him,
"Loudly."

Lance ignored the sarcasm, his mind somewhere else.  "Did he mention the
phone call I got?"

Dead silence.

"Justin?"

"Ah...yeah, still here.  By phone call do you mean..."

"No.  No. No.  Not that. GOD it's nothing like that!  Sorry."

"It's okay, I just assumed...."  Justin relaxed and let out a breath he
never even realized he was holding.  "So what's so important about this
phone call that you'd call me at this time of night?" he narrowed his eyes
trying to bring the digital numbers on the VCR into focus.  "Did something
happen?"

"Actually, it's a good thing really.  Stacy called, she tried to reach me
yesterday but, well...anyway...she called tonight and announced that she's,
get this... engaged!"

"Your kidding?  Damn, JC never said a thing! So Ford finally popped the
question huh? Oh man, that's great. I bet your mom's on Cloud Nine right
about now!"

"I suppose.  I didn't actually talk to her."

 "So when's the big date?"

"You know, I never asked! But Granddad is in town, so their planning a
little engagement party, celebration thing and she wants me to come home
for it."

"When's that?"

"Right away...I really wasn't planning on going home, especially with..."

"You should go." Justin said flatly, cutting him off.

Lance fumbled a bit, taken aback by Justin's sudden interruption. "I don't
know...I don't want to leave you here if..."

"You should go, Lance." The vision of his friend laying across his back
seat assaulted his memory once again.  "You need to go"

"Justin I can't.  What about Gab..."

"He's not going to be here."  At this point he would have said anything.
Whatever it took to make up for delivering his friend to Gabe on the night
of his party.  Even if Lance claimed Gabe already knew he was there, he
felt responsible. He should have lied to protect his friend.  So this time
he would.

"Well that's a relief.  Wait J...Why would he still be going to Europe with
your mom? He's not her boss anymore."  He paused waiting for Justin's
explanation. Then, when only his friend's tight swallow breaths
reverberated across the line, he prodded, "Right?"

Sitting in the darkened room, Justin knuckles whitened steadily, his grip
on the phone increasing proportionately to the depth of the lie he was
telling. Until finally, with the phone trembling so much it was banging out
Morse Code against the side of his head, he was forced to move the receiver
away from his ear just slightly. Words evinced with anger spewed forth;
"Because the sick bastard's a dominating, money loving, power hungry,
control freak, that why."

A pained, yet knowing silence befell the line. Neither of them needed to
say a thing. Justin's words spoke for themselves and temporarily both young
men were lost in a whirlwind of agonizing, private memories.  For Justin it
could have been two hours or two minutes that passed, but a small sound
somewhere outside of his subconscious brought him back to the kitchen,
saving him from the next tortuous memory.  "J?....You still there?"

He nodded.

"Justin?"

Remembering he was on the phone, he shook his head breaking apart the thick
fog that veiled his thoughts, and replied. This time verbally. "Yep. Right
here. Sorry." Again he paused.  "So you'll be leaving right away tomorrow
then?"

"I don't know, probably...I'll check on flights in the morning and take the
first one to Mississippi."  The last word came out a jumbled mess,
overtaken in a huge yawn. The pill Lance so eagerly swallowed the minute JC
left, now taking affect.

"Good. Make sure and tell Stacy I said 'congratulations!' and tell Ford I
said 'About damn time!'  Okay?"

Lance laughed, "I will."

Before hanging up, the conversation moved briefly to the meeting from
earlier.  Lance never asked him about what happened in the hall with Gabe,
and Justin knew he never would.  At times he wished they could be more
opened with each other.  He wasn't sure the words would form even if he
tried, but there were times when he just really wanted to talk to somebody;
and he really needed that somebody to be Lance. Tonight however they
skirted the issue and discussed the changes in the schedule. Justin could
have cared less, but for some reason going over their upcoming agenda,
committing it to memory, finding ways to tighten it up always preoccupied
Lance. It was just a guess, but Justin suspected the order and
predictability of keeping a schedule appealed to Lance. It prevented
surprises, and he'd recently developed a bitter dislike to surprises.  By
the sheer definition of the word, you can't control them.  That's the
point. And that's what made them so potentially volatile.

After hanging up the phone, Justin cautiously maneuvered through the dark
house. From the bottom of the stairs, he could see a small lamp burning in
the entry hall.  Clearly his mom's doing.  Chris would likely sleep at
Joey's tonight, if he slept at all, but should he wander back home she
wanted him to at least make it into the foyer okay. What happened after
that was another story completely.  More than once he'd found Chris asleep
in the hall, on the kitchen floor, slumped over the coffee table and one
time curled up in the middle of the stairway.

Ascending the stairs to his bedroom, Justin laughed to himself wondering
where he might find Chris come sunup.  Reaching the forth step, he caught
sight of the dim light under his mother's bedroom door as it fell dark, and
it hit him...

**Mom is leaving.**

He continued, rising two more steps before absently touching the tender
area under his arm...

**Lance is leaving.**

Halting slightly at the top of the stairs, he bit his bottom lip and looked
down, his feet following the wooden planks of the floor boards to his
bedroom door.  There, the only remaining birthday decoration still hung.  A
banner taped to his door wishing him a happy eighteenth birthday...

**Gabe is staying.**

A delicate ray of moonlight sliced through the blackness in his bedroom,
illuminating the space in a stillness that normally calmed Justin. Tonight,
however he crawled directly into bed, forwent the removal of his clothing,
leaned against the headboard, and pulled his legs up tight against his
chest.  The stillness of the night did nothing to quell the insidious chill
of panic rising within him. He pulled the blankets up, enveloping himself
inside, yet the cold remained. Two years ago, panic and fear were brought
on by elements created in the outside world.  But now, they had taken up
permanent residence somewhere inside his very being, invading him like a
parasite, easily summoned.  And the idea of being left here alone to face
Gabe without the distraction of Lance or the safety of this mother, awoke
the panic beast in him even faster than usual.

Thru the darkness he searched the room, settling his eyes on the sleeping
form of his long time friend; envying the peaceful look on his face. How
many times had he almost told JC everything?  There was that late night
when JC sacrificed his own sleep to keep Justin company during a
particularly harsh bout of insomnia; Or the day they spent laughing and
riding the new Spiderman attraction over and over at Universal Studios; Or
the weekend he spent camping with the Chasez family and he'd woke them all
up by screaming out during a dream; Or even that brief ride in a Boston
hotel elevator when he told himself that on the count of three he would
just blurt it out.  But he never did.

Now watching JC's chest rise and fall in a rhythmic flow much slower than
his own heart beat, he debated telling him once again. So many times he'd
played out the conversation in his head. What he dreamed would happen was
JC would hold him and tell him everything would be okay and that from now
on he would be safe.  What he feared would happen was JC would be angry.
And not at Gabe, but at him.  Angry that he'd allowed this to happen, angry
that he'd been so weak, angry that the group would fall apart and worst of
all...angry that he would make up such a horrible lie about the man
everybody loved.  Justin couldn't face that second possibility, and that's
what keep him silent.

Without removing his eyes from JC, he formulated a plan.

**I need to leave.  I need to leave, right now.**

Suddenly it hit him. Throwing back the covers, he sprang from the bed and
ran downstairs.  Picking up the phone, he dialed the number he'd known
since he was six and paced as he waited for the familiar voice. "Hiya
Jonathan, it me. Yeah I know it's late, but I have a huge favor to ask you.
Any chance I can still take you up on that offer to come hang with you for
awhile?....What?  Um... yeah everything's fine" Jonathan could probably
tell he was lying, but being the friend he was, Justin knew he'd take him
at his word.  "Mom just has to leave town for a few weeks, so my schedule
suddenly freed up and I thought what the hell, maybe I could still come up
and grace you with my presence for a couple weeks" He laughed at his own
cockiness, confident in the fact that his friend would also find it funny,
and not offensive. "Oh god that's great!  Thanks so much..."  Relief washed
over Justin, and the vice grip tension he'd felt all day seemed to lift
slightly.  With Jonathan's voice sputtering a mile a minute, excited at the
prospect of catching up on all the cool shit they'd been missing, Justin
began planning out the next morning.  He'd pack tomorrow, let JC and Chris
know where he was going; they could fill everyone else in on the details,
and he'd begin his long drive back home. To Tennessee, to his best friend,
to safety.

Right after he picked up his cell phone.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

3:47pm

Justin looked at the dim numbers illuminating from the dashboard once more
before turning off the engine.  **Right on time.** Instead of relaxing into
the drivers seat, he remained rigid, his hands locked tightly around the
top of the steering wheel as if the car was still in motion.  He turned and
looked at the front door of the small office building.

He told himself to wait.  Just wait five more minutes.  For some reason it
seemed that the closer he arrived to four o'clock the better.  It was not
an argument based in fact and he really had no idea why he even believed
such a thing, but something inside him told him he was right.  He didn't
argue.  But he did start the internal "pep talk" he always waged inside his
head before any encounter with Gabe.

**You can do this. Just walk in, get the phone and leave.  And if
'anything' else starts, just say no.  Say no and leave.  It's that
simple. **

Yep. That was the prep talk. Basically.  And no mater how many times he
said it to himself or heard Lance repeat it in some form or another, he
always knew it wasn't "just that simple." And this time it was really hard,
this time he was alone.

3:52pm **Times up.**

Justin's fingers ached slightly after releasing them from the steering
wheel, finally allowing blood flow back into his joints.  He left the
security of his car and walked quickly into the building before he could
change his mind and back out.

Sheila was surprised to hear the door opening this late in the day.  She
tossed a quick glance at the calendar. There were no more appointments
scheduled.  Looking up she caught site of a familiar face.

"Oh Justin, it's you! What a pleasant surprise!  How are you today
darlin'?"

"Hey! I'm fine, I guess.  I haven't seen you in sooo long, how have you
been?"

"Just got back to town from a well deserved and much needed vacation, thank
you very much!  So you know I'm good."  She tossed him a warm smile as she
pulled her purse out from under her desk and flicked off the computer in
front of her. "Speaking of going out of town, did your mom make it out of
town okay?"  "Yeah, her flight left early this morning." Justin kind of
scrunched his face and shook his head, "I never even heard her leave."

She nodded in understanding, "So why would such a handsome young man as
yourself being hanging around this drab office so late in the day?
Shouldn't you be out doing something fun?  Especially with no mom to boss
you around."

"I'm here to see Gabe.  I don't suppose he's left for the day already?"

She looked in the direction of his office door. "Oh no.  No way! You know
that work horse, he'd be here all night if I didn't threaten to turn on the
alarm before leaving.  Here's a little hint for ya sweetie, if you ever
want to make yourself irreplaceable, be the only one in the building who
knows the alarm code...works every time!"  She winked at him and he
laughed.  He loved this lady, from the first time he'd met her, he loved
her.

God how nervous he'd been that first day, sitting next to the guys in this
very same waiting room.  With his palms sweating, heart racing, and his
voice still hoarse from fighting off the last bits of a cold, he couldn't
sit still. No matter how many times his mother urged him to sit down, he
just couldn't.  This could be their big break, their dream come true and he
didn't want to blow it.  They were meeting THE Gabe Huxley and it scared
him to death.  Gabe wasn't the biggest name in the industry, but he had the
respect and power needed to make them stars.  After getting up for the
fifth time, using the excuse that he needed a drink, he decided not to sit
back down, but opted instead to pace in the hall.  Just as his very annoyed
mother was about to fetch him, haul him back to the waiting area and glue
his butt to the chair, Sheila waved her down.  Whatever she said to her
caused his mother to return to her seat.  And the next thing Justin knew
Sheila was standing in front of him, smiling.

"Nervous, huh?" She said the words like she'd been in his place a hundred
times before and understood it completely.

He felt his face heat up in a bright red blush.  "Yeah.  Just a little
bit."

She nodded sympathetically. "Hey, you want to know a secret?"

He looked at her questioningly, a bit confused.  "Uh, sure."

She looked up and down the hall way, like a spy searching for any unwanted
eavesdroppers in the area.  Justin followed her lead, doing the same. Not
that he had any clue what or who he was looking out for...

She leaned in and said softly, "Mr. Huxley has already seen you perform."

"What?!" Justin yelled somewhat loudly, then hushed himself, "When?"

"I saw you boys singing at the coffee house on Amberly Row.  You were
incredible. All of you."  She winked at him. And that little gesture
instilled more confidence in him than he'd felt in a long time.  "So I
grabbed Mr. Huxley and forced him to come see you.  The minute he heard you
sing, he wanted to meet you."

Justin couldn't help but smile. "Really? Your serious? He liked us?"

"Yep.  So you have nothing to be nervous about, understand?"

Justin could only nod.  Stunned.  This just might happen for them.  Maybe
they were going get their dream after all.

"Now go sit down before your mother has a heart attack, okay?"  She placed
her hand on his shoulder and guided him back to the waiting room.

Right before they reached her desk, Justin stopped and turned to her,
"Thank you so much for getting us this audition."

"Justin I didn't get this audition for you.  Your talent wowed him all by
itself."  She squeezed his shoulder and returned to her desk.  A second
later a small beep went off somewhere near Sheila, and she stood formally,
"Ms. Timberlake?  Mr. Huxley will see you now."

As the woman lead the group of young men passed her, Sheila caught Justin's
eye once more and silently mouthed, "Welcome to our family...now go knock
him dead!"

It was that same feeling of calm and reassurance he wished she could give
him now.  But this was beyond even her abilities and he knew it.

"I'm leaving for the day, Justin, but feel free to stop by Gabe's office."
She took out a small silver key from her purse, locked the desk and then
headed for the front door. "He's on a phone call right now, but I'm sure
he'd love to see you."

>From where he stood Justin could just make out Gabe's door at the end of
the hall. Quietly he said, "Thanks," and began walking in that direction.

He got to the door fast, much faster than he wanted to. Standing in front
of it he could hear Gabe's voice, it was mumbled, barely even discernable
and didn't carry far out into the hall, but it was clearly Gabe talking.  A
quick thought passed through Justin's head, 'I wonder how sound proof these
walls really are?'  With that he raised his hand to knock, but stopped
cold. His hand frozen in the air.  There in the solid brass name plate, he
caught his own reflection. It was like see himself in one of those mirrors
at a fun house, all distorted and warped. But what shocked him was that it
wasn't really his face he was seeing. Sure it looked like him, his hair,
his nose, his skin but staring back at him, implanted on his own face, was
the sore beaten eye that belonged to Lance.

That was all it took.  He knew he couldn't go through with this. Looking
toward the waiting area, he thought he heard the front door close, but he
couldn't be sure.  He didn't want to chance a run in with Sheila. She would
question his leaving so soon. So dropping his hand back to his side he
quickly moved down the hall and without further thought, exited out the
back door.

Seeing that broken image of Lance mirrored onto himself, that projection
into the future, confirmed Justin's fears...and his weaknesses.  He could
never take the kind of "attention" Gabe gave Lance.  Never.

And so he ran.  He left his cell phone behind and he ran.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was getting colder. Justin pulled out a hooded DNKY sweatshirt from his
duffle bag, and skillfully snaked his way inside before the light could
turn green.  Already, in his hast to leave town, he'd messed up.  How did
he forget to pack a jacket?  Orlando may have been in the mid eighties but
with each mountainous mile his Mercedes put behind him, the altitude rose,
the temperature dropped and the snow drifts grew deeper.  Cranking his neck
forward to look out the window, he saw the dank gray clouds swallowing the
world around him, casting a darkness that even early in the day made it
necessary to use your headlights.  The radio warned of the possibility of
rain, and lots of it. Although from the chill that now passed through
Justin and the sight of all the clean white snow on the roads, surely the
weather guy was wrong...more snow maybe, but rain?  Seemed unlikely.

He'd chosen to drive to Tennessee instead of flying.  Jonathan wasn't
actually going to be in Memphis as it turned out.  He and his family were
planning on spending the next few weeks at their cabin somewhere in the
eastern mountains of Tennessee.  So even if he had flown, it still would've
been quite a drive to get to the cabin.  It just seemed to make more sense
to take his own car from the beginning.  Besides Justin loved driving,
especially alone and he rarely got to do it anymore.  Yesterday he'd left
the life of Justin Timberlake behind.  Here, alone in his car he wasn't a
part of Nsync, he wasn't anyone's son or friend, he had no teen idol
responsibilities, and he didn't have to answer to Gabe in any way.  So far
it was just what he'd needed. He was feeling more relaxed already.
Eventually he'd have to return to the world he'd left behind, have to
continue to face the choices he'd made, but for now he was free to let go
and pretend that part of this life never existed.

After running out on his appointment with Gabe, he'd spent the good part of
the next few hours in a haze, not really thinking about anything.  Which
was fine by him.  Some memories were too tough to deal with, and others,
the good ones, were sometimes hard to find.  It just seemed easier to play
the music loud and drive fast.  He drove deep into the night, not even
stopping to eat.  And it wasn't until his head bobbed for the third time
that he forced himself to stop and sleep.

He lucked out in that department.  By the time he'd pulled off Interstate
75, the only options for sleeping were a few scattered truck stops, and he
checked into the one that looked the cleanest.  The Pine Hedge Inn. The
nice thing about staying at a truck stop was the likelihood that anyone
would recognized him was remote. Very remote. And he would have made a
clean break, if he hadn't been insistent about needed more pillows.  When
the girl from housekeeping, and to be honest, Justin was shocked there even
was a housekeeping, came bearing an extra pillow, she screamed the
requisite, "Oh my god, it's you!" and proceeded to freak out. He tried to
lie his way out of it, telling her she was mistaking him for someone else,
but she wasn't buying it.  Seems his Mercedes parted outside was a dead
give away. He hadn't thought of that...probably not a common site in these
parts.  But he finally managed to get her to calm down with the promise
that if she told NOBODY about his being here, he would leave an autograph
in the room for her when he left.  She agreed and something about the girl
told Justin she would respect his need for privacy.

He checked out this morning, rather unceremoniously and now four hours and
a stiff neck later, his need for food was overwhelming.

As the stoplight finally turned green, he reached for the crumpled sheet of
directions Jonathan dictated to him two nights earlier.  Unfortunately
there were a couple of problems with them.  First, Justin's handwriting
sucked.  Even on the best of days it was hard to decipher, and the night
he'd jotted these down hardly qualified as one of his better days. So even
he was having trouble trying to figure them out.  Second, Jonathan never
mentioned the road construction or that detour that forced him off the
Interstate at least 50 miles ago.

When or how he accomplished it was still up for debate, but somewhere along
the way, he'd gone off course.  It had been a good twenty miles since he'd
seen the last detour sign to point him in the right direction and worse
yet, none of the road signs even mentioned the highway.  He turned the
heater up another notch and as his stomach let out a loud, growling
request, he decided he better stop in the next town he stumbled upon.  Food
and directions being his top priorities.

The small mountainous roads wound aimlessly as they climbed higher, snaking
their way thru tall pines and skeleton bare trees.  Justin had to go fairly
slow, he wasn't all that used to driving to begin with, but when he did get
the chance, it was usually in Florida, not on steep windy roads. And never
in the snow.

Suddenly without warning, he rounded a small bend in the road and came to
an abrupt 'T'.  Justin slammed on the breaks, losing control of the car as
the back end slid to the right, twisting him slightly.  Instinctively
turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction, Justin found himself
fishtailing thru the intersection.  If he hadn't pumped the breaks out of
sheer desperation, he would have found himself plummeting down the large,
steep gorge less than four feet in front of him. Immediately he turned down
the car stereo and for a brief second he just sat there, enjoying the idea
of the car being stopped and allowing his heart beat to return to normal.
Then, realizing the dangerous position he was in, he backed up, cleared
himself from the intersection and out of the way of any oncoming traffic
that might appear from around the corner.  "Traffic" may have been an
optimistic term, however for as far back in the mountains as Justin found
himself, a single car may actually qualify as traffic.

Taking in a deep cleansing breath, Justin forced the 'what might have
happened' thoughts from his head and took in his surroundings. There in
front of him on a old, hand painted wooden post he saw the names of two
towns, their arrows pointing in different directions. It was like something
right out of the Wizard of Oz and Justin half expected to see the Scarecrow
pop out from behind the post and tell him which yellow brick road to take.
He squinted through the fog to make out the words on the sign.

Happy Valley or Teardrop Canyon.

**Who in the hell named these towns?** For a moment Justin pictured himself
as the gingerbread man in a life size version of the game Candyland.

He again picked up the hand written directions and studied them. Absently
he grabbed a pen from the organizer area along side him and jotted down the
names of the two towns in the margin. He searched his mind for any memory
of Jonathan mentioning either of these two places.  An off hand remark or a
reference point, something....anything that would tell him which way to go.
But what he got was a big fat 'nothing'.  Groaning, he used one hand to
crumple the paper into a ball and tossed it in the back seat.  He was so
lost those directions had a better chance of guiding him to the Eiffel
Tower than getting him out of here.

Sighing, Justin took a coin out of the ashtray and tossed it in the air,
called "heads I go left," and let it land on the passenger side floor mat.
Leaning across the seat he smiled when he saw a face staring back at him.
Okay then.  Leaving the coin lay, he revved the car into gear and turned
left.

Before returning the volume of the radio to normal, he told himself, "Happy
Valley it is. Besides how can you go wrong in a place called Happy Valley?"
Little did he know, that in less than 90 minutes from choosing that fork in
the road, Justin Timberlake would experience exactly how wrong one can go
in Happy Valley.

Not more than a mile after making that fateful turn the rain began. It
started out light, mostly just a soft mist that covered the windshield like
a veil of fine lace. It made the roads a bit more treacherous, and Justin
found himself riding the brakes as he descended into the valley.  Deeper
and deeper the car went and with each mile, the snow standing on the roads
lessened. Until only the occasional pile of snow lying hidden in the woods
could be seen trying to fight off the onslaught of the rain that threatened
to beat it into the ground.

Eighteen slow miles later, with the rain now coming down in thick, harsh
sheets, Justin pulled into the town of Happy Valley.  Okay, officially it
had all the requirements of a town: A white washed church with plenty of
stained glass windows looking out over a small cemetery, a gas station that
boasted a single red gas pump and an 'Enjoy Coca Cola' sign hanging upside
down in the window, an old farm building that had long since been converted
to the local tavern and now had five pick up trucks and a large Olds Delta
sitting in front of it, and of course a small diner named Jake's Place,
with two large front windows strategically placed to give the patrons the
best view of all the action going on in town.  Justin doubted this came in
useful very often.  Down the road a ways, he could just make out the forms
of a few more buildings and a intersection.  He hoped, for the locals sake,
that the town actually began somewhere up there.

With his windshield wipers working like to two crazed hands batting the icy
cold raindrops from blocking his view, he pulled cautiously in front of one
of the diners large windows.  Throwing the hood of his sweatshirt up over
his head, he grabbed his wallet and darted for the cover of the awning that
stretched all of two feet out from above the diner door.  Without thinking,
he turned and hit the automatic lock dangling from his key chain. And with
a single 'beep' all four car doors locked.  Looking up and down the
desolate street, he rolled his eyes at himself.  He was in Mayberry USA,
probably more apple pie bearing grandma's in town than car thieves.  And
probably neither in this weather.  Still he left it locked and went inside.

A gold bell tied to the spring on the screen door banged loudly, announcing
his arrival and causing him to blush slightly when all four of the diner's
patrons turned to look at him. The two men seated at the counter wore
similar garage style overalls and although there was a stool between them,
they appeared to be eating together.  The remaining two customers were an
elderly couple sitting in what was probably their regular booth.  All four
wore harden expressions and continued to watch him even as he quickly took
a seat in a small booth by the window.  At first he thought maybe they
recognized him, but something told him they were just curious about the
outsider, and maybe trying to establish their territory.  He successfully
hid the smirk that crossed his lips as he pictured these people marking
their territory as a dog would.  **Don't worry guys, I just want to borrow
the place for lunch, it's all yours to keep.** It wasn't until he picked up
a worn menu from behind the napkin holder and buried his face inside that
the last two customers finally turned around to resume eating.

Two minutes later, Justin looked up and saw the waitress standing next to
him. She was young, maybe twenty, wore jeans, a oversized brown sweater and
had her hair neatly pulled back behind her in a puffy binder of some
sort. No make up. Actually the only reason he even knew she was the
waitress was the pencil and pad she held loosely in her hands, poised to
take his order.  Justin didn't remember seeing her when he came in.

"Can I get you something?"  She looked down at him while blurting out the
spiel so automatic she didn't even hear herself say it anymore.

He decided to concentrate on food first, he'd worry about getting the
directions later.  "Yeah, I'll take the spaghetti short plate and a coke."

Without bothering to write anything down, she turned and walked behind the
counter.

Justin faced out the window, following the zigzagged trails left behind by
the rain as it crashed hard into the glass in front of him and slid to the
ground.  A second later his train of thought was interrupted when a coke
was placed in front of him. As he turned to face the waitress, he felt the
cold wetness of his hood brush against his cheek. He'd forgotten to remove
it.  Embarrassed, he pushed it back quickly, murmured something awkward
about the rain and ended finally in a "Thanks for the soda." The girl
smiled, said nothing, but continued to stand there watching him.

Realizing she wasn't moving, Justin looked up at her questioningly as he
wiped his fingers across his nose...just in case. "Is there something
wrong?"

"Is that your car?"  She tossed her chin in the direction of the window,
and although the rain and fog mixture made it almost impossible to see any
cars parked outside, he knew which one she meant.

"Um...yeah."

"So your not from around here."

"Car gave it away, huh?"  He smiled and took a quick a sip through the
straw in front of him.

"No, the fact that there are 127 people in this town and you aren't any of
them; gave it away."

Justin was a bit taken back by her response.  She was the one who brought
up the car and she was the one who asked if he was from out-of-town. But he
decided to let it go, opting instead to use the opportunity to ask for
directions. Sort of.  "Makes sense. Actually, I'm just passing through on
my way to Brockton.  Any idea what would be the best way to get to there
from here?"  He was a guy, it wasn't like he was actually going to say,
"I'm lost...help me!"

Somewhere behind them, presumably from the kitchen, a man's voice rang out,
"Order up!"

The girl made no attempt to move, but held his eyes in her own.
"Brockton?" She shook her head.  "There ain't no direct route to Brockton
from here."

"Sara!  I said this order is up!"  Again the mysterious voice bellowed and
this time the girl looked quickly over her shoulder, before returning her
attention to Justin.  And as she did, Justin noticed one of the men at the
counter watching them out of the corner of his eye.

Looking Justin dead in the eye, she lowered her voice and said, "I think it
would be best if you just went to the highway." Then she returned to the
counter leaving him alone with his drink.

He sank back into the booth, frustrated. **Great! Love to! But how do I get
there from here?** This time he kept his eyes on the Coke in front of him,
using his straw to sink the few cubes of ice still floating inside.  Mostly
he was trying to avoid the uneasy glances from the peanut gallery at the
counter.  Although he couldn't see her, he heard Shelly whispering loudly,
maybe even arguing with the two men in overalls.  He repositioned himself
slightly, straining to hear the conversation.  Just as he made out the
words, "not this guy," a plate of spaghetti was dropped in front of him and
he jumped as if the food actually landed on him.  Sara hadn't delivered it,
instead it was brought by an older gentleman wearing a dirty apron, another
person Justin didn't remember seeing, who promptly took a seat across from
him at the table.

"So I hear your looking to get to Brockton?" The man leaned in, resting his
forearms on the table.  He was large, not tall so much as wide with white
hair and a hefty beard to match.  Justin guessed his age to be around
sixty, maybe older.  "Now why in the hell would anyone what to go to
Brockton?"

His demeanor was gruff, but not threatening and although the man and the
question took Justin by surprise, he felt obligated to answer.  "Just
visiting a friend."

"And you ain't ever been to this here friend's place before?"

"Well, it's sort of his vacation home. He gave me directions, but they were
a little...unclear."  Why was he telling him this? Trying to get the man to
leave, he pointed in the direction of the pay phone near the restrooms,
"Maybe it would just be best if I called him."

"Oh sorry, but that phone don't work.  She's been busted damn near two
years now."

"Oh." He wasn't actually planning on calling Jonathan, he didn't even know
if they had a phone at the cabin, but he had hoped to talk to JC.  He told
him he'd have his cell phone with in case anyone needed to reach him. But
now he didn't have it.  Actually, he asked him to come with to pick it up,
but JC wouldn't budge from the music room.

The man's wrinkled eyes watched Justin carefully, assessing him.  After a
short pause the man looked down at the plate of pasta, pointed his finger
and barked, "Well don't let me stop you, go ahead and eat before it gets
cold!  My spaghetti ain't as good once it gets cold."

Why he was suddenly taking orders from this stranger he didn't know, but
without arguing he picked up his fork, tangled a large amount of noodles
within it's prongs and stuffed it into his mouth.

The man in front of him finally smiled, "Good, huh?"  Then he reached out a
thick hand, "I'm Jake by the way.  Owner of this fine establishment."

With his mouth still full, Justin could only mumble a "ah ha" before
swallowing the majority of it without chewing it. Putting down the fork, he
reached out his own hand, "Hi, I'm Justin Tim...er...Justin Timmel."

"Nice to met you." As quickly as it came the smile faded replaced again by
the guff voice, "Now go on and eat...I told you already it ain't as good
cold."

Justin felt strange eating in front of the man, but obeyed anyway.

"I can get you to Brockton from here.  No need to bother your
friend. 'Sides as I see it, he didn't do you so good the first time."  Jake
reached over and pulled a napkin from the dispenser under the window.  Then
turning to the lunch counter, he yelled loud enough to make Justin jump,
"Sara girl, bring me a pen!"

Justin watched her walk slow but casually, almost defiantly in Jake's
direction. Clearly she wasn't afraid of this man. He on-the-other-hand put
another spoonful of pasta in his mouth before Jake could scold him yet
again.

"Okay...you can go now."  Jake snatched the pen from her hand and dismissed
her.  Yet she stayed right where she was, staring wide-eye at him.  Justin
couldn't quite make out what was going on between the two, but clearly she
was trying to send Jake some sort of message.  Disapproval maybe?

"Sara, it's rude to be standin' over customers while their eatin'. Now move
it!"

She gave in and left in a bit of a huff.

For the second time, the man smiled. "Sorry bout that.  Daughters...you
know how it is."

**No, not really.** But Justin decide to leave that one alone.  A silence
fell between the two as Justin ate the remainder of his meal and Jake
proceeded to draw a fairly detailed map to Brockton.  Oddly enough they
both finished at the same time. Jake handed the map to Justin, explained
the route, which seemed simple enough, and then with another handshake he
excused himself saying, "It was nice meeting you young Mr. Timmel.  Maybe
we'll have the pleasure of meetin' up again someday."

"I look forward to it. Oh yeah, and thanks for the map!"

Jake again disappeared into the kitchen, but not before yelling, "Sara,
give the gentleman his bill already...would ya?"

Sara looked over at Justin apologetically, "I'll have it for you in just
one minute, if that's okay?"

"Sure, I'm just going to use the..." He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as
he awkwardly pointed in the direction of the restrooms.

She too blushed slightly, but nodded.

Five minutes later, Justin returned to the booth to find his bill sitting
there.  Taking one last sip of his soda, he pulled out his wallet and
walked to the cash register where Sara met up with him once again.  **Hell,
they got her doing it all.** She said nothing, her attention completely
focused on the two men sitting at the counter.  Justin noticed that they'd
long since finished their lunch, and watching her now, he couldn't help but
wonder if she was afraid of them.  But he quickly pushed it out of his
mind, her dad was right in the kitchen...surely he'd know if something was
going on.  Paying with a twenty, he told her to keep the change and headed
for the door, tucking the map in his pocket to protect it from the rain
still falling in torrents on the world outside.

Pulling his hood back up over his head, he pushed the door open and just as
the bell rang out, he heard her yell out, "Oh wait a minute...I think you
dropped something!"

Confused, Justin turned.  "What?  I didn't have anything...you must be
mistak..."

"Here you go."  She grabbed his hand and force another napkin into his palm
hasitly. "Sorry about that, it looks important.  Good thing you didn't lose
it."  For one split second, she looked hard into his eyes, and he read the
words 'take it' clear as day.  Then she was gone.  And so was he.


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


The minute the screen door closed behind the boy, the two men at the
counter stood up.  Sara ran around the counter, and placed a hand on the
shorter one's chest as if to stop him from leaving, "Don't do this
Darrell!" She was firm almost demanding with the man.  He made no move to
touch her or respond, instead he simply looked in the direction of his
cohort standing alongside him.  She caught the look and followed it
herself.  Removing her hand from Darrell, she grabbed the arm of the man
who looked so much like herself, same eyes, same nose, almost identical
hair color.  Her older brother.  With him she knew to drop the attitude and
keep her place. Besides it would only piss him off and that wouldn't help
anybody.  So instead, she resorted to pleading, "Please Tom, just let this
one go.  He's a kid for Christ sake.  They'll be others."

Frantically, she looked out the window and saw the boy still sitting in his
car.  So did Tom. "He's a kid with a Mercedes.  Sorry, but this is too good
to be true.  Like taking candy from a baby, right Darrell?" He punched his
friend in the arm and let out a loud laugh.  Darrell smirked, leaned across
the counter and grabbed a piece of pie from a circular tray.  Not even
bothering with a plate or fork, he simply shoved it in his mouth.

Sara tossed him a disgusted look, "Your ARE paying for that."

"Wat hev her."  The word came out a jumbled mess, and so did the half
chewed pie that followed, bits of it hitting her in the face.

"God, do you have to be such a pig?" She immediately brushed the crumbs she
could see off of her.  He only smiled showing off the piece of blueberry
stuck between his front teeth.  Trying to ignore him, she again focused on
her brother, "Tom, please!  Just listen to me this one time.  Someone else
will come along soon enough..."

"Not with a Mercedes sis and you know it."  Tom looked at his watch, "Now
STOP whining! We don't have time for this..."

"Sara, let the boys go...they have work to do."  Her father's harsh voice
came from directly behind her and she jumped slightly as he placed a gentle
hand on each of her shoulders, holding her back.

"Daddy..." her voice was pained and he couldn't help but wrap his arms
around her and pull her close.  She buried her head into his chest.
"Daddy...just tell them not to hurt this one, okay? He seems so nice and he
trusted you. Besides they said it themselves, 'like taking candy from a
baby,' so they don't need to get rough.  Not with a baby.  Right?"

Jake patted his youngest daughter on the head, and looked at his son.
"Okay, okay...Tom, go gentle, this one walks.  Got it?"

Tom, still standing in front of his father, rolled his eyes at her girly
hysterics and the power she had over their father.  Then he saw the wink
and piercing stare his father gave him, and understood completely what his
father want him to do.


"Yeah sure dad, whatever you say." His eyes danced with delight, and he
winked back at the older man, "Leave the kid standing... got it."

Then afraid that his sister would turn around and catch the sly grin on his
face he turned quickly and went over to the payphone and dialed.  "Hey
Babe, it's me...put on your prettiest little dress and meet me at Canyon
Cliff in five minutes...that's right, it's time for Happy Valley's very own
welcoming committee to pay another visit."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Running to the car was pointless.  By the time he slipped inside, he had
fallen victim a second time to the pouring rain.  Drenched and cold, Justin
started the car and turned the heater full blast before switching his
attention to the crumpled, now wet napkin Sara placed in his hand.  Opening
it up slowly, eager to see what it said, but careful not to tear it, he
read the words he found scrawled inside:

		       Go to the highway, Justin!!!

Relaxing against the seat, he read the message again.  She wasn't the only
one who thought the highway was a good choice, he did too.  It would be
faster, less windy, have more road signs and leave less room for error in
his map reading abilities.  But he didn't know where the highway was, and
she conveniently didn't included that piece of information in her note.

**A lot of good this does me.**

He pushed her napkin inside the front pocket of his sweatshirt and
retrieved the one her father gave him.  Backing up the car, he pulled onto
the road and took the first right he came to...just like Jake's hand
written map instructed.