| Lance returned from a horrendous afternoon of endless media, ridiculous questions and an insane autograph sessions. His wrist was cramped from signing so much, and he sported a small, red scratch just under his collarbone compliments of a 14 year old with talon nails. JC glanced at the rundown of the VMA's reading off the checklist as they headed down the hall to their respective rooms. "So, we need to be outta here by six thirty. That allows for limo traffic and shit." Justin yawned, leaning on Lance's back. "What parties are we going to?" he asked. Lance shrugged him away. "You can't even stay awake now," he chuckled. "How you gonna party?" Justin pouted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Oh, hell, I can wake up. Don't worry. Ten minute cat nap and I'm on it." Chris sighed. "No cat naps for you. You forget to wake up. Joe, go with him will ya?" "Why me?" Joey cried, stopping to retie his sneaker. "You stay with him." JC rustled his papers in an attempt to command attention. "Guys, I don't fucking care what you do until six thrity, but ya'll best be ready by then." He eyed them intentely, poking Lance. "Sharp." Lance darted away from JC. "I hear you," he snapped, searching his pockets for his key card. "Jesus, JC, how many times you gonna say it?" "Until you learn it," he spat, sauntering off to his own room. Lance shot him the finger as he walked away, making Justin and Joey laugh. "Six thirty," Justin saluted, breaking out into a fit of overtired giggles. "God, Lance, don't be late. He may cut your balls off and eat em." Chris groaned at the imagery presented. "Justin, damn, why you gotta talk like that?" He covered his own groin area and shuddered. Lance rolled his neck back. "Okay, so six thirty. See you then." He inserted his card and pushed the door open. It was unusually quiet, and the lights were off. "Livvy?" he called, moving inside. He flipped on the lights, spying a letter on the table. Rubbing his temples, he headed over and picked it up. Meet you at the VMA's Love Liv. Lance shrugged and flipped on the television, anxious to see any mention of N Sync and the impending awards show. He lost himself in mundane things for a few hours until it was time to dress. Another shower and he plucked the outfit chosen by the dressers from the closet, placing it on carefully. The last thing he needed was to get a spot on it. Exactly six thirty and he was out in the hall, checking his watch, waiting for the others. As they appeared one by one, they joked easily about the show, the performance, and the afterparties. "Where's Livvy?" JC asked. "She said she was going to meet me there," Lance replied, adjusting his sleeves. "What's it to you anyway? You're the one who wanted it that way, right?" His sarcasm was met with a scowl. "That's right, Lance, because you can't go around thinking with your dick." The words flew so fast, so regretfully, that JC bowed his head. Lance felt the anger flare in his cheeks, he felt his fist ball up, and Joey's hand on his shoulder, holding him back. "Not now, guys," he scolded them. "JC, apologize." "Sorry," he muttered, brushing past them to the elevator. "Prick," Lance hissed. Joey let him go and they continued onward to the VMA's. ***************************************************************************************************************************************************** "I don't see her," Lance complained, standing on tip toes as the five of them made their way down the red carpet. "Where is she?" His bodyguard had his hand on the small of his back, ushering him along as their publicist waved in odd hand gestures for them to talk to various media outlets. "Would you look for her?" he asked the looming man behing him. "Just keep your eyes open while I do this shit." The bodyguard nodded silently, peering out from under his sunglasses for signs of Olivia. Lance smiled as he answered questions. Yes they were recording the new album, no he wasn't sure of the release date, yes they were happy to be performing tonight, no he couldn't spoil the surprise. On and on, endless cameras, endless celebrities waving his way. Where the hell was she? His stomach rolled sickly as he imagined all sorts of unpleasant thoughts. Once inside, he scoured the building for her, racing down the aisles and out in the hall, darting backstage and glancing about. He called her cell phone and left a message on her voice mail. "Liv, it's me. It's almost time for the show to start. Call me. I hope you're all right." Justin touched his arm. "No luck?" he asked. Lance shook his head. "No. J, where could she be?" He was becoming frantic, unsteady and pale. Justin panicked. "Lance, calm down, man. Come on. She's probably stuck in the mad traffic out there." Justin didn't like the look in Lance' s face, the pasty gaze he knew all too well. "Focus, man. " Lance nodded numbly, gulping several breaths of air. "Okay, I'm fine." JC rounded them up to take their seats. Lance followed Justin, his eyes still scanning about everywhere. Something wasn't right. The hairs on his arms stood up, and a the back of his neck tingled. Olivia was not coming, for one reason or another. He blocked out most of the show, tapping his foot nervously as his hand lay in the empty seat next to him. Finally, Justin persuaded everyone to move down one, erasing the reminder. "N Sync, you're up." The MTV stage hand gathered them up, escorting them backstage to prepare. Lance ran the steps once he was dressed, mostly to take his mind off Olivia and her failure to show. He knew something had been wrong, the tears, the desperate looks, the words, all of it. "Fuck!" he screamed, causing Joey to drop his drink. "What?" "Nothing," Lance whispered, biting his lip. The performace went off without a hitch, and Lance had to continually glance at Justin, just to be sure he was stepping the right way, in formation the correct way, keeping his timing together. The applause was deafening, and Lance stood there, exhausted and sweaty, shaking from the unwanted adreneline rush, wondering where Livvy was, and why she bailed. ****************************************************************************************************************************************************** Olivia sat in her home in Mississippi, watching the performance amidst boxes. She sat cross legged, her eyes plastered on Lance and his dead on dancing. When it was over, she cried. "You did it," she whispered to the television, then continued to pack. She'd had the head shots done, signed a contract, and was moving to NY immediately. She had only been home an hour or two and decided there was no use procrasinating. Boxes of her life needed to be packed, once again, to head off and start her new life. Olivia disconnected her phone, sure he would be trying her any minute. She cancelled her cell phone and hoped she could get out of Mississippi before he returned, just sift out of his life without a backwards glance. Sighing, she continued to shove her life away, carefully wrapping a portrait of her with Lance in several layers of newspaper. ****************************************************************************************************************************************************** "What the fuck?" Lance growled as he stepped into the limo after the show. He was mad, really pissed off. Anger had broken through his worry and he slammed his hand against the limo window. "You wanna go to the hotel first?" Chris asked. "No, fuck that," Lance hissed. "I wanna get drunk." Joey exchanged looks with Justin. "You sure, man?" he questioned. "I mean, maybe something happened." Lance shook his head defiantly. Olivia was fine, he was sure. She was just punishing him for some reason. "I said no." The parties were plentiful, and Lance amazed everyone, downing drink after drink, not caring what it was. "I's drunk," he giggled to a busty blonde who was rubbing his back seductively. Justin ran from the other side of the room. "He's not himself tonight," he apologized, tugging Lance free. "Man, you're gonna fuck it all up," he muttered. "Why? You want to hurt Olivia just because she bailed on you?" Lance narrowed his eyes, swiping another beer off a passing tray. "S'okay," he slurred. "Ish okay." Justin took the beer from him, handing it to a passing waiter. "You're going back to the hotel now." "Fine," Lance pouted. He didn't feel well, and knew he was acting childish and immature. But he was hurt she hadn't shown, and he had a sinking feeling inside that things were changing in the universe, and he was completely helpless. Justin took Lance's room key, buzzing the door open and helping Lance in. He deposited his friend on the bed and looked around, noticing all Olivia's stuff was gone. A loud snore came from behind him, and he sighed, covering Lance up and creeping out. Olivia was gone, but where, and why? |
| FATES 18 |