Chapter Eleven

Wednesday Night, Los Angeles

"Regan, are you honestly trying to tell me that in all the time you two spent together last week, you never gave him a second thought like that?"

"You have such a vivid imagination, Bridg. I can barely keep up with how your mind works. Awe inspiring, really."

"You mean to tell me that you spent all that time together and you never saw what half the female population of the world sees in him from glimpses on TV?"

"Bridget, I don't how many ways I can say this. There is nothing going on between me and Justin Timberlake."

"Okay."

"We live in completely different worlds never mind cities that are separated by thousands of miles."

"I got it."

"I mean, how could anything between me and Justin work? He's a teen idol, for God's sake. I'm a serious dancer with a serious future in Ballet whether it be at ABT or anyplace else. And they'd be lucky to have me, dammit."

"Damn skippy."

"And Justin has a very promising future in music and while you'd think those futures would mesh, they really haven't got a God damn chance in hell of meshing. Then there's Jack. Jack is nice and handsome and lives in New York and plans on being there for a very long time. We make a hell of a lot more sense then me and Justin. Plus, you have to admit this guy is good for me. Hell, he flew all the way out to Los Angeles to soothe my rapidly fraying nerves."

"Uh huh."

" Besides the bottom line here really is that I don't even think I'm the kind of girl Justin would be interested in outside of friendship."

"You are so right."

"What do mean I'm right? Did Justin tell you something?"

An hour and half later, Justin, JC, Grace, and their security pulled up to the Performing Arts Center, 15 minutes behind the other car carrying the rest. It had been a very entertaining dinner watching Justin repeatedly check his watch and fumble with the silverware. Amused glances were tossed around the group as frequently as the curious stares of restaurant onlookers.

Justin exited the car first and absent-mindedly wandered a few feet away from the car while waiting on JC and Grace. As JC moved the get out next, Grace grabbed a hold of his arm.

"Remember what I said, JC, please. No spectacles."

"I promise, Miss Roberts, this is a matter of psychological warfare. No grenades will explode."

"Okay, but I'm trusting you, Chasez," Grace sighed, slightly irked by the way he said "Miss Roberts", like he knew something she didn't. A kind of formal, "Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!"

JC winked at her slyly, and stepped out of the car, subsequently holding his hand out to help her and immediately melting away any irritation she'd just been feeling.

"Can we go now?" Justin inquired, his growing nervousness masked thinly by impatience.

"Okay, Curly," JC nodded. "Let's go in."

Regan wrung her hands anxiously as she paced the distance of her dressing room. She'd just had her ten-minute call and she felt as though she'd faint. Why did Camille have to tell her Jeremy would be there? She had to be perfect. That's all there was to it.

"You have to calm down, Regan," Jack said rising from his seat in the corner and moving toward her. "Your getting yourself worked up over nothing. You'll be perfect because that's the only thing you have in you to be, I know it."

Regan relaxed slightly as his arms snaked around her. "I've just had way too long to think about this and now I've had all the potential disaster scenarios playing in my head in such perfect detail I can barely tell what's real." She leaned her head against his chest and breathed in deeply as his arms tightened around her. "I'm scared, Jack."

"Of what?"

"Of what?" she asked incredulously, pulling back. "What aren't I scared of?"

"No, I'm serious. Really, what is there to be scared of. You told me yourself, your performances in San Francisco ran perfectly. You know you can do this, so just do it."

"You know what I'm scared of, Jack," she ominously, sitting down at the vanity.

"That's what this is all about? Hon, you are in good hands with Aaron Boland. The man is a genius. Plus, he's Mr. Ballet's brother, right? If he trust's him, you should too."

"I hear the words, Jack. I know they make sense but it's not as easy as all that." Regan sighed heavily, raising her eyes to meet his. "But every time you tell me that, it gets a little easier."

"That's good to hear," Jack smiled, crouching down beside her chair. "Like my father, the first 'Dr. Salinger', has always told me, 'If you can't trust your doctor, who can you trust?'"

"Hey kiddo, can I get another cup of coffee?"

"Sure George," the young woman nodded, setting down a plate of french fries on a nearby table. She smiled at young women at the table before moving back behind the counter of the small downtown diner. She adjusted her apron and scooped up the de-caf pot.

"Hey, what's that?" George protested.

"De-caf is better for you, Georgie," she grinned.

"Sully, I'm a big boy. I can have a heart attack if I want to," he kidded.

"Not on my shift, baby," she winked as she finished filling up his cup.

"When are you going to tell me where you got a name like Sully, anyway?"

"I told you, it's just a nickname."

The large man chuckled as he picked up his cup. His back was hunched over the counter and his large frame made him look almost ridiculous sitting on the small stool. "You know what I call caffeine-less coffee, Sully?"

"Useless brown water," the girl drawled out as she had a hundred times before.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm under-appreciated around here," the man scoffed lightly.

"Don't be ridiculous, George," she asserted. "Your caffeine habit is putting me through college."

"Ha ha," George said dryly, glancing up towards the T.V. that was suspended by an iron bar in the wall. The game wasn't back yet and he shook his head ruefully at the screen. "Would ya look at these guys," he laughed lightly.

Sully turned and craned her neck to see the screen. A sad smile spread across her face as she saw the faces staring back at her. "Yeah, what about them?"

"Set for life, those kids are. Good idea, good marketing, good voices, good moves, and lot of money put behind a bunch of good-looking kids who are in the right place at the right time. Ya know, my little girl loves them. I got her tickets to see them the last time they came through Chicago but, you know, my ex said she was too young and I'm sure I've told you how hardheaded she can…"

George went on about his ex-wife as he did night after night but she didn't even hear him anymore. A wistful look passed over her features as she leaned forward against the counter. She'd broken down about six months ago and tried to get through to his cell phone but it had been disconnected. She knew if she tried it wouldn't have been that difficult to get in touch with him but after the brief moment of weakness in which she'd dialed the all-too familiar number, she thought about how angry he must have been with her. She knew how betrayed she would have felt if he'd just dropped out of her life when she needed him. But he wasn't like that. He was always there for her; trying to protect her. He was so fiercely loyal it made her heart ache each time she thought about the way he must have felt when he realized she was gone and wasn't coming back.

But most of all, she wondered what he was doing at that precise moment.

Justin's knee bounced up an down, before Bridget's hand flew over and stopped it. Her stare let him know damn well he was annoying the hell out of her. He straightened in his seat and her hand retreated to join her other in holding Mike's. He undid a second button in his white button-down shirt and discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on his khakis pants.

The show was an exhibition put on by the Studio Company that was mainly for dance students and ballet buffs who couldn't get their hands on decent tickets to the more upscale professional shows. It consisted of several vignettes from different ballets, of which Regan's was last.

Justin didn't like ballet. He could appreciate the time, effort, and skill that went into what was laid out before him on stage, but when all was said and done, ballet bored the living crap out of Justin Timberlake. That combined with his anxiety about telling Regan all of the things that have been floating around in his head for the past weeks, made the previous hour and forty-five minutes torturous.

To make matters worse, this wasn't him at all. Girls didn't make him nervous. If he was interested, he went for it. That was another thing. He prided himself on his confidence. It was his passport through any difficult situation he found himself in. His lack of it in the case of this particular girl made him that much more insecure.

Suddenly the din of applause surrounded him and what he could muster of his concentration was brought back to bare on the show in front of him. He clapped as enthusiastically as anyone but chuckled a bit to himself as he caught Joey out of the corner of his eye, dozing off. He promptly delivered an elbow to his friend's rib to which Joey straightened up and started applauding as though never having missed a beat.

"She's next, man," Justin whispered.

"Thank God," Joey breathed, nudging his young friend.

The curtain dropped momentarily to allow for the previous scene to be stripped off the stage. When it rose again, the stage was practically bare and Regan was center stage in a low-bow pose. The lighting was a dim, fiery hue that made the stage seem to almost breath in anticipation. The music seemed to rise out of the silence rather than simply begin. Regan's partner appeared in the far right corner of the stage, silent and purposeful. Then she started to move.

Justin's heart clenched in his chest as he watched her. Every move was more graceful than the last. He couldn't figure out if she only appeared to be perfect because of his infatuation with her that was growing by the minute or because she was just that good. His eyes drifted to the off-stage area that was fairly visible from their box seats. He could see Camille standing off to the side, smiling brightly, and he knew that she really was just that good.

Before he could bring his eyes back to the action on stage, he noticed someone standing next to Camille but couldn't quite make out the face. There was a shadow covering the upper facial features of a man that was uncomfortably familiar. As the lights on stage brightened, the shadows were cast off and Justin's mouth went dry.

"Son of a bitch," he mumbled under his breath, just load enough to catch Bridget's ear.

"What?" she asked, her eyes following his line of sight, finally finding who he was staring at. "Well, God damn it," she spat irritably under her breath before reaching around Mike to tap JC on the shoulder.

"Yeah?" he whispered.

"Look," she nodded.

"Wha-" he started, following her subtly pointed finger. "Oh…" he said in understanding. "Just perfect," he growled under his breath as his eyes moved to Justin to see his reaction.

Justin sat, his eyebrows scrunched together as if her were in deep thought- or physical pain. JC couldn't decipher which. Dejectedly, Justin moved his eyes back to Regan, and his face softened considerably.

Ten minutes later, Regan's scene was in its resolution and the crowd was on the edge waiting to applaud. As the final notes dwindled, the crowd was up on it's feet, Justin & company more prominently than others. They cheered loudly and Regan shot them an embarrassed smile as she and Demitri took their bows. The curtain went down but ascended a final time with the entire company on stage. They took a collective curtain call before the deep purple velvet dropped for the last time.

"Hey, J, don't let him being here throw you. The longer you wait to say something, the easier it will be for him to move in on her."

"I know C," Justin replied, trying to smile. "It just threw me is all."

"So nothing's changed? Still gonna go threw with it?"

Justin took a deep breath before answering. "I'm going to try."

Regan's heart was pounding almost violently as the curtain descended for the final time. A massive din of cheers and congratulations went up among the cast and she threw her arms around Demitri who picked her up and spun her around in his own excitement.

"You did it, Regan," he said through a think Russian accent. "No way does Boland turn you down."

"That's right, baby," Vivian said playfully pushing Demitri aside to give Regan her own hug. "Jeremy Boland can't deny it any longer. You're going up baby, and if he doesn't snatch you up soon, some other company will."

"You're mouth to God's ears," Regan laughed, every one of her nerves still spiked on adrenaline, making her brogue thicker than normal.

After making the rounds through the company, she finally made it of stage to find Camille and Jack waiting for her.

"You really are a star, aren't you, my dear?" Camille laughed lightly before taking Regan into a gentle embrace. "And I will call Jeremy Boland a fool, myself, if he doesn't offer you a spot in ABT before you leave here tonight."

"Thank you Camille," Regan smiled genuinely through tear-blurred eyes.

"I'll call him more than that," Jack chuckled, pulling her close. "You were incredible. I couldn't take my eyes away," he whispered into her hair. "See, I told you. Nothing to be scared of."

"There she is," a booming voice said behind them.

Regan turned around quickly to see the single most frightening sight of her life. The he was: Jeremy Boland in all his glory. It must have been the fact that he held her future in the palm of his hand that made him so awe-inspiring since it certainly wasn't his appearance. He really didn't look like anything extraordinary. He was average height, weight, brown hair, brown eyes. There really was something in his voice, though. It was commanding and resolute in it's delivery. There was purpose in everything he said. This voice certainly wasn't wasted in pleasantries; something Regan was about the learn.

"Miss Costelloe, that was an incredible performance. We were worried that you may not come back from your injury but I'm delighted you did and so quickly. We are starting rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet next week and I'd be very happy if you'd join the Company. When the Studio Tour is over Friday and you're back in New York, come to my office and we'll discuss all the details of your new job. Congratulations, Regan."

And with a hand shake and a formal smile, Jeremy Boland was gone as fast as he'd come. Regan stood, in shock, trying to process what she'd just been told. She turned slowly to see both Jack and Camille's ecstatic faces. A slow smile spread across her once dazed expression. "I'm in ABT," she said softly, trying out the sound of the words. "I'm in ABT," she said a little louder, her smile becoming proportionately wider.

"You're in ABT," Camille nodded, grinning broadly at her young protégé.

With that, the dam broke, and Regan began jumping up an down screaming, "I'm in ABT!" Everyone back stage laughed at her antics and began clapping. She could barely contain herself, flying into Jack's arms and kissing him full on the lips.

Regan, I know we've only known each other a few weeks, but I feel like we've gotten really close in the- no that's retarded. Um, Regan, I know this has been a really exciting night for you but if I could just ask you one thing. What's you're sign? YOU ARE A MORON, TIMBERLAKE! Okay, um, Regan about that night in back of the restaurant… I don't know if you felt what I… God, no! What's wrong with me!? Regan, this morning I woke up with this feeling, I didn't know how to deal with, and so I just decided to myself, I'd hide it to myself, and never talk about it and did not go and shout it when you walked into the room. I think I love you. Hey that's not ba- God dammit, those are song lyrics! Ok how about, Regan-

Mid-mental ramble, Justin stopped short in his tracks as he laid eyes on the only thing that could deter him that night. Regan. Regan and Jack. Regan kissing Jack.

It was as though he'd been sucker-punched in the stomach. As soon as he recovered from the shock, the jealousy began to take over.

"Justin!"

He realized she was bounding toward him excitedly and forced himself to smile.

"Justin, I'm in! I'm in!" she screamed, throwing herself into his arms.

He instinctively caught her tightly, noting how perfectly she fit there. "Whoa, slow down, sweetie."

"I'm in," she breathed, her irrepressible grin contagious. "I made ABT. I start rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet next week."

"That's incredible, Regan," he said with strained enthusiasm. "Congratulations," he added pulling her back into a hug and pressing a kiss into the top of her head.

"Is something wrong?" she asked concerned at his behavior.

"Nah, just tired. Ya know, long day." What have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this.

~*~

:: Lyrics in this chapter borrowed from::

*The Partridge Family: I Think I Love You
*Pet Shop Boys: What Have I Done to Deserve This

~*~

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