| Realize by destiny Joey didn't see it coming. He could have never seen it coming. His life was satisfactory, not great, not perfect, but satisfactory. He had the gig with N Sync, a budding acting career and a pretty damn good fan following. But her, he never saw her coming. Her with the short black hair and big green eyes. Her with her tongue pierced and her tribal tattoo band on her left arm. Her with the smart ass comments and fearless nature. Her who had managed to get him to finally buy that Harley he'd been eyeing and pierce his eyebrow even though Lance told him it wasn't in style anymore. Her who encouraged him to run two miles a day and eat only egg whites and no meat. Her who showed him the magic of tantric sex and amyl nitrate. Now he was sitting in JC's living room in LA wishing she was with him. JC warned him not to bring her, told him she wasn't welcome there. Now he was fidgeting with the buckle on his new leather jacket feeling like a kid who'd been caught shoplifting. Now he was getting angry as accusations began to fly around. "You're looking like a goddamned freak, Joe" "You're not playing as a team" "She's poisoning you" "We can't have her on tour with us this summer you know" "I hate her" It was the last one that stuck him like the fine point of a hypodermic. "You hate her?" he asked slowly, turning to stare at Justin with fire in his brown eyes. "You fucking hate her?" Lance interjected quickly. "I think he means they don't exactly get along. You know, Joe, how they go at it everytime they see each other." His eyes begged Justin to simmer down, quite his temper, at least fucking try. Joey tilted his head with pursed lips. "Is that what you meant Justin? Hmm?" Justin frowned a little as Lance kicked his foot in warning. "Yeah, it's what I meant." "Liar. You all lie." Joey jumped up waving his hand around. "You don't care that I'm happy. You all covered Justin's ass for fucking months while he dated Britney. You all made nice with her for fucking ever because of him." "Except you," Justin reminded him angrily. "You wore your 'Spear Britney' shirt over and over again even though you fucking knew it drove me nuts. You didn't care then." "But I lied for you, Justin. I fucking told reporters you were just friends. I put up with her sneaking around our hotels and tour bus. I fucking moved my shit from the bathroom so she could have a shelf. I fucking wore goddamned headphones when you fucked to give your privacy. That was me, asshole." Justin's cheeks flashed red. He punched the pillow next to him and got up, storming from the room. Chris raised his eyebrow, hating the way this was progressing. "It's not that any of us hate her, exactly. We sure as shit don't get her, or you since you've been with her. That's all. We didn't get when you blew off the studio to go on a road trip with Harley guys twice your age, or when you got your eyebrow done, or when you videotaped yourselves having sex and left it in the VCR of the bus for all of us to find." Joey hated them all right now. She'd warned him that they would try to edge him out. She told him the way it was, the reality of life, of N Sync. She was right, dead on. They wanted him to conform to their pop image or...well, he was still waiting to see what they'd do. He shook his head angrily. "So, what you're saying is I'm a freak who won't be allowed to see my girlfriend while on tour, is that it?" JC sighed. "You're not a freak, Joey. That's not even it. I don't give a fuck if you pierce your whole head. It's not about image, it's about playing as a team. And you're not holding up your end of it." Joey pulled his jacket off, feeling warm. His cheeks flushed as he glared at JC. "All right. So I blew off the studio. Did you need me there?" He looked at Lance, then Chris, then back at JC. "Did you? DId you need my vocals that day? Did you even use Lance that day or did he just sit there with his thumb up his ass like usual?" Lance's eyes grew wide with hurt. "What's that supposed to mean?" he spat. "My thumb up my ass? I input. I..." Joey held up his hand. "Not what I meant. I meant this group is JC and Justin. And occasionally Chris. I sit around at the studio drinking coffee until my bladder wants to explode and watch JC and Justin sing. I watch them do playback after playback and twiddle my thumbs. Maybe I play a game of cards or get my gameboy out. But that's the extent of it." "Is that what this is?" Chris wanted to know. "You want more vocals because just say it and you can do more. You have a great voice, Joe and...." "Save it!" Joey hissed. "Save it." He stood up. "She was right about all of you. She said this was an unfair group. She said at least the Backstreet Boys all get vocal parts in their songs. She said you'd just try to make me sit in silence." He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "She was right. She's at least got balls to speak the truth unlike you. You're all phonies and I wish I'd never met any of you." He flung the door open and stormed out, slamming it twice as hard as he exited. JC jumped up and grabbed his glass of water, hurling it against the wall. "FUCK!" he shouted as the glass shattered, spilling to the floor. Lance cringed as it flew by. He was still stunned over this latest outburst. "What do we do now?" Chris shrugged, stepping over the water and shards of glass to find Justin. "We wait I suppose." "Wait? That's your plan?" JC growled. "That sucks. We can't wait. We have a trillion things to do for this tour and we need him." "No we don't," Justin said calmly, appearing from the kitchen. "We'll just plan it without him and if he shows, he shows. If not, he's out." "You're not serious," Lance said quickly. "C'mon, guys, he's just pissed or whipped or whatever. We've all been there." "No, we haven't," Justin said wryly. "We've never let a woman interfere with N Sync and the plans we made for ourselves all those years ago. You all think I like being the fucking cherub virgin of this group? You think I like not being able to go anywhere without a fucking camera in my face? You think I like being Greg Brady all the goddamned time?" His eyes flashed with resentment and hate. "I don't. I just want to sing and dance and have fun. I don't want people knowing what brand of underwear I own." Lance rolled his eyes. "Dramatic are we?" "Fuck off," Justin spat back. "Fuck off cuz you get it too. Lance aren't you sick of being nice all the time? I mean, Christ, your the nicest one of all of us. You never bite at the fans, or yell or kick." "Not true and we're talking about Joey here, not me and not you." Lance picked some lint from his shirt and sighed. "This is about Joey. This is about Joey's crisis here. You can't always make it about you, Justin." Justin shook his head angrily and slumped down in the couch. "Fine, whatever." Chris debated going after his friend. He'd watched Joey transform from a simple fun loving guy to a virtual recluse. "This isn't helping," he stated, stooping to pick up the glass which was slowly embedding in the carpet. JC snarled. "What would help, Chris, huh? You want we should kidnap him?" Lance's eyebrows knitted together in thought. "We could," he said softly. "We could go to the compound and lock ourselves in there with him and just spend time alone." He bit his thumbnail hoping that wasn't the stupidest idea he'd ever had. Chris smiled a bit. "Yeah. Like an intervention." He stood up and disappeared to dump the glass in the trash. "You pinheads seem to forget he doesn't want an intervention. You forget he wants to be with her," Justin reminded them, hugging a pillow to his chest. "No one wants an intervention, J," Chris called out. "Interventions are surprises that and the people don't get a choice." JC bit the inside of his cheek and placed his hands on his hips. "Fuck this. We're not dragging his ass to the compound. No fucking way. This shit is gonna be settled tonight." He reached for the phone and dialed Joey's number, waiting as the voice mail picked up. Chris and Lance watched nervously as Justin continued to pout. "What are you doing?" Chris asked. JC held up his finger as he took a breath to speak. "Joe, this is JC. You have one motherfucking hour to get back here to my house or I'm calling our lawyer." Lance jumped to his knees, swiping at the phone from the couch. "You're insane," he barked, missing by mere inches. JC slithered out of the younger man's reach. "One hour, Joe. One hour." He clicked the phone and threw it at Lance. "I'm sick of pussy footing around, Lance. I am." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Joey has a mental loophole and he's either in or out." Chris lowered his eyes as JC flew by him and out the door. Justin smirked. "About time someone told Joey where it's at." "Shut up Justin," Lance said, leaning over the back of the couch in desperation. ********************************************************************************************** "Baby, did you hear the message JC left for you?" Her green eyes were wide and dark with rage. "Did you?" Joey sat on his motorcycle staring into the horizon. He hated fighting with them, despised the pit that sat lumped in his gut everytime he had words with the men he used to call brothers. He rubbed his eyebrow gently letting his fingertips run over the cool steel that sat embedded in his skin. Maybe they were right. Maybe he was moving out of the team a little too fast. Hell, he hadn't meant to do that. He just wanted a little freedom, a bit of time to figure out who he was and what he wanted. He sure as shit didn't want to continue giving half of himself to a group that didn't appreciate or want him. "Joseph!" Her voice was shrill and he blinked at her. She was stoned, again, and ranting. Her petite frame was pacing around the asphalt while her hands flapped wildly. "They wanna play? They'll play all right. Joey," she said, moving between his legs. "You're going to go back to that house with me and quit. Tell JC to take his goddamned attitude and fucking balls and choke on it." Joey laughed as he brushed a stray piece of black hair from her eyes. "What? No. I'm not quitting." He dismissed the idea instantly. He was met with a forceful shove that caught him off balance. He teetered to the side quickly so he wouldn't knock his bike over. "What's with you?" he gasped as she jumped on top of him, flooring him. Joey stared up at her in shock. "What the fuck?" Her eyes had changed. They were dark and possessed and he winced as she lashed out with her nails, raking him across the cheek. "Get off me," he grunted, lifting her off him in one fluid move. "What the hell are you on?" She blinked up at him from the gravely road. "I'm on you, Joe. And you're mine. You don't need them don't you see?" Joey stood up and brushed the dirt from his jeans. "God, it's not for you to decide." Suddenly, he had perfect clarity, perfect understanding. "I make rules for myself. I do." He pointed at himself for emphasis. "I'm with you because you're fun, and you're sexy and you make me explore things I never would otherwise." He held out his hand to her. She spit on his hand and rolled away from him. "Fuck you Fatone." Pulling herself up, she studied him. "Go back to your pretty posse then. Go on and become some kind of pop soldier. Go live your life in a goddamned bubble and be ignored. Sit in the back with a dazed look on your face and nod like a machine. Let JC and Justin rule the fucking roost and you just be!" Joey growled as he grabbed her arms twisting them behind her and kissing her roughly. "So that's the way it is huh? You're bailing?" She jerked away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yup. You go back to N Sync, I'm walking. And I garenfuckentee you that you will never, ever be as alive as you are when you're with me. I promise you that." Joey shrugged, letting her fall away. He drew his sunglasses from his jacket and covered his brown eyes with them. "Wanna ride somewhere?" "Pussy," she mocked, kicking dirt at him. "Fucking whipped ass pussy." "You got a filthy mouth, ya know that?" He chuckled as he grabbed for his cell phone, dialing JC back. "I'll be there in ten," he said simply, hanging up. He used his foot to release the kick stand and sighed. "Sure you'll be all right out here?" "Go little boy. Poof, be gone." Joey wrinkled his forehead at her. The tiny girl who had given him what he needed at exactly the right time in his life. He was Joey Fatone. He didn't need a woman, women needed him. He saw, he took, he left. "See ya around," he grinned, gunning his new Harley and speeding off. N Sync may be a tough pill to swallow, but it was his, well, one fifth anyway. |