| Bug A Boo by Destiny Justin couldn't remember when his life had become a series of midnight telephone calls and red eye flights to her house. He didn't recall the exact moment he'd become a lunatic. His eyes constantly screamed at him and his body pleaded for mercy. Yet she had captured him in an obsessive way. She held him tightly constricting his breathing and sending his soul into despair. She had him by the balls. "What the hell are you doing?" JC screamed as he walked into the tour bus bathroom. "What's that?" Justin stared up at his friend blankly. The bottle of pills tumbled to the floor spilling everywhere. "Fuck JC! Can't you knock goddamnit!" Justin fell to his knees and gingerly collected all the tablets. He slid them back into the bottle hurriedly and ignored the looming presence standing over him. JC grabbed Justin's arm and pulled him to his feet. "What is with you?" he asked softly. "Huh? You have to talk to me." He stared hard into foreign eyes that had once been so familiar. "Justin, come on man. You're acting weird. Talk to me." Justin's nose wrinkled as he gazed past his friend. JC was kind to care, considerate even to ask. The rest of them hadn't asked ... they simply ignored the odd behavior. Justin was beginning to think that no one cared about his erratic behavior. The pills were harmless prescribed for allergies he'd been suffering from. His real pain didn't lie in the bottom of an amber bottle. No ... his real problem lay with the woman who consumed him day after day. "Can you let go of my arms?" he asked, forcing his gaze to meet JC's. "Please?" "I'm sorry," JC said releasing him. "I'm just concerned is all." "And I appreciate it," Justin replied as he stooped to pick up the rest of the pills. "But I'm fine." The lies spilled so easily it frightened him. He was not fine. He was jealous and heart broken ... he was sinking in a world that didn't really care about the boy underneath so long as he could sing and dance and perform like a monkey. No one really cared to hear about the agony that set in his gut each night when he thought of her. No one wanted to hear about the hundreds of times he called her machine or voice mail just to hear her say "Hey! It's me! You know what to do." He sighed and pushed past JC to his bunk. The bunks were narrow and uncomfortable and he'd begged the guys to get a nicer bus this time. Justin thought a nicer bus would make her go away. Justin figured it could erase memories of her traveling with him last tour. He slipped under the blanket and closed his eyes. Sleep escaped him again. Sleep always escaped him lately. She danced for him inside his head every night ... like a slow torture that riddled him with unrest. He would lie very still and almost feel her silken hair brush along his belly ... he could almost smell her shampoo and feel her long fingernails scrape along his inner thigh ... he could just about hear her laugh so deep and rich it warmed his heart ... almost. "Justin, get on up." Lance's southernness always came out when he was alone with the guys. It made Justin ache for home even now ... even when he didn't actually call Tennessee his home anymore. Now it was the house in Orlando and the mansion in California and the sweet little million-dollar cottage he'd purchased in the Caribbean. None of those places was southern. But Lance would always be his reminder of better times. "Justin, you have to get up now. We're here." "Okay," he said miserably as he stretched. The rain cascaded down the tinted bus windows in sheets causing his depression to sink further down inside of him. She had always loved the rain. Justin grabbed his overnight bag as he recalled the time she dragged him out in a thunderstorm to dance in the puddles barefoot. He'd been mortified at first but her smile drugged him and soon his shoes were discarded and they held hands hugging for what seemed an eternity. He'd caught a nasty cold from it but never minded. Each sneeze brought back the sweet memory. Now the rain was harsh and unfeeling. It was damp and cold and unforgiving as he followed Lance down the steps. "Put your hat on," Lance reminded him. Justin sighed and tugged his hat from his bag placing it over his shaved head. He could care less if he got wet. He just wanted to get this city done so he could catch another red eye to see her. The restraining order never entered his mind. "Hey Justin!" Joey called out from the hotel lobby. "You got that fucking whatsitcalled doohickey thingy on you?" Lance let out a deep laugh as he turned to look at Justin. "Damn New Yorkers!" he giggled. Justin rolled his shoulders back to work out a kink. His overnight bag was growing heavier by the day. He dropped it to the floor and sighed as he glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight in her city. She was probably in bed asleep. Justin almost smiled at the sweet image ... until his world clouded over. She wasn't alone anymore. She had a husband now. Twenty-one years old and she was fucking married. His blue eyes stormed over and his jaw clenched tightly as the rolling pain ripped through his chest. It always rolled by at the thought of his missed opportunity. "JUSTIN!" Joey screamed again. "Do you have it?" "What the hell do you want?" Justin hissed back. "What the fuck is a doohickey thingy? Fucking tell me what you want in human language and I'll motherfucking look for it!" Chris entered through the front door as the outburst erupted. He watched Justin storm toward the elevators. "What's wrong now?" he nudged at Lance. "Joey!" Lance spat. "Joey annoyed him." "I didn't mean to," Joey muttered. "I just wanted..." JC scowled as he finished the sentence, "...the doohickey thingy. We know." Justin felt the tears start their assault on his eyes. He didn't know how he could possibly explain his swollen eyes to the make up lady anymore. Lack of sleep, while it was true, was not the only cause. The endless stream of tears were the real culprit. But he couldn't help himself. All he wanted in life was her and she now belonged to another. The hotel room was dark and almost clinical as he stepped inside. Immediately he unzipped his bag and took out the dozen framed pictures he carried of her. Some were of her alone ... some were of them together. They gave him comfort as he set them up around the room. Then he stripped down to his boxers and lay on the bed clutching his cell phone and laptop. His ritual had begun. The phone rang to the count of ten before her angelic voice picked up. "Hey! It's me. You know what to do." Yep, he knew what to do. Logging onto his computer he chewed on his thumb. His e-mail account came up and he carefully typed her another heart wrenching letter explaining his misery and pure sorrow at losing her. He didn't bother to re-read it before hitting send. A moment later it came back to him. "Fuck!" he growled as he realized it had been bounced. His penchant for spilling his heart out in e-mails apparently filled her box thus returning his newest one. Two minutes later he dialed her number again ... got the machine ... and hung up. Watch check. Two minutes later he dialed her number again ... got the machine ...and hung up. Tears spilled down his face and Justin sniffled loudly. He couldn't control the emotions any more. He wanted to curl up in a bed somewhere and go to sleep and be with her in his dreams. He wanted to end his career and simply relocate near her in the hopes she would fall in love with him once more. He dialed again and his heart stopped when her voice said "Hello?" His mind raced with all the poetry he held inside for her. His heart ached to tell her how much he missed holding her and touching her soft hair. The words jumbled around his tongue as he tried to push them out. "Hello?" she said again, slightly annoyed. "Baby? Baby, it's me," he sobbed. The pause was too long to be positive in nature. "Justin?" she said slowly. "Justin you can't call here you know that." "No, I know," he cried. "I just wanted to hear you. I just..." "Is this you on my machine?" she asked. "All these hang-ups? Are they all you?" Her voice became panicked. "Can I come see you?" he pleaded. "I just want to see you." "Justin, you can't see me anymore, you know that." He sniffled loudly into the phone and managed to choke back a huge sob. "But..." "But nothing. It's over. We've been over this with the therapist. It's not healthy for you to do this to yourself. You have to stop." He wondered when that angelic voice began to turn icy. He wondered why the therapist turned her against him. He wondered too many things for his overflowing mind to hold and when the click sounded in his ear he crashed to the floor. "Justin! Justin get up." Lance's voice was no longer southern and sweet. It was panicked and frightful. "God, please get up." Justin allowed his eyes to flicker open for Lance. "Hey," he said sloppily. "What're you doing here?" Lance knelt back on his heels and wiped his forehead. "I've been trying to snap you out of it for twenty minutes. Damnit Justin!" He moved to Justin's bed and collapsed down on it. Pictures stared at him from every direction causing him to groan. "Ya gotta stop this," he said firmly. Justin crawled over to the bed and rested his chin near Lance's foot. "I love her. She loves me. It's simple really." His insanity creeped Lance out. "No, she doesn't. She has a fucking restraining order against you, man." Lance sat up and stared into vacant blue eyes. "Christ!" Justin just didn't get it. "I hate you!" "Then go! Go away because I don't need you." "You need me Justin! You need me more than you need anything in your pathetic life." "You realize I can have any girl I want? Any one!" "And from what I understand you have!" "You won't leave me. You can't leave me." "Watch me! I've had it with your shit. I've had it with your selfishness and your jealousy. I can't deal with this anymore Justin. I can't." "You'll be back! You will!" The final fight had been almost a year ago. Lance patted Justin's head comfortingly before standing up. "Call your therapist Justin. Call her now." He watched as Justin nodded numbly before walking out the door. Justin pulled up the hem of his shirt and wiped his face on it. No there would be no need for a therapist tonight. Grabbing the phone, he dialed her number again. "Hey! It's me. You know what to do." Click. Dial again. "Hey! It's me. You know what to do." He laughed as he counted two minutes and continued his insanity. |