| EIGHT |
| JC sat at the control panel, watching intently as Lance and Joey laid down some backing vocal tracks. He smiled, unable to help himself. Chris was coming back from rehab in a few hours and then he'd lay down his tracks. Justin sat nearby, chatting on his cell phone with some brainless model he'd met in South Beach the previous weekend, and JC shook his head as he heard the idle promises Justin spoke of, 'I'd love to take you to Bermuda' and such shit. JC had to chuckle. He'd given in a bit, not preaching so much about the horniness of his three friends. Lance tossed his headphones down and made a face at Joey, hitting the intercom button. "JC! Are you listening to this shit?" JC snapped his head back. "Huh?" he asked, motioning for them to come back in as he hit the playback button. Lance pushed Joey back playfully. "He's trying to kill me singing that high. I'm not a fucking girl. I don't hit those notes." Joey shugged, grabbing an apple off the table. "If I kick you in the nuts you'll sing that high," he chuckled. JC listened to the playback, shaking his head. It was so hard sometimes to be laid back. He wanted to yell at Joey, he knew better than to hit that range with Lance. But he bit his tounge and didn't say a word, just sighed. It had been weeks since LA, and while he had managed to stay out of the media, rumors still careened about the internet. Justin sat him down one night and showed him, in an attempt to make him feel better. Hell, it made him feel worse. People were merciless. Everything from drugs to AIDS circulated, and JC didn't know what to do, It was drugs, technically, so what could he do? Joey grabbed Justin's phone and danced in small circles, deciding to say hello to the gorgeous model. "When you're ready for a real man..." "You little fuck!" Justin laughed, swiping the phone back. Lance watched with amused eyes as the phone dropped to the floor, the two singers wrestling with one another. He slid in, gracefully, and picked it up. "Hey, it's Lance. Yeah, we met at Justin's house. How's it going?" He winked at JC and sat down, kicking his feet up. JC shook his head. Okay, they weren't perfect, but they were his, and he loved them. They had reformed their team, trying to focus less on women and booze and more on making another hit record. Christ, he hoped they could becasue No Stings Attached was still being hailed as the greatest album of 2000, and quite frankly, he didn't know if they could do it again. He'd thought about the road, and Chris, and what temptations lay ahead. Promoters didn't care, they just wanted to control artists, and drugs were it. Lance would have to curb his sexual appetite. JC rested his head on his elbow and thought maybe he could set him up with his cousin. She was a looker, sweet but appealing. Glancing at Lance, who was asking the model what her bra size was and if they were real or not, he decided against it. Justin squirmed out from Joey's grasp, looking up when the studio door opened and Chris sauntered in. They hadn't seen him since returning from LA, and he was a sight for sore eyes. "Chris!" Lance exclaimed, hanging up on the model, hurrying over to embrace him. "Dude, you look great!" Chris returned the hug before shoving him back. "Not that great, I hope," he teased. "Don't be giving me any of you slag cooties." Lance laughed deeply. "They're not slags Chris, they're friendly fans!" Justin rolled his eyes, stepping in to hug Chris hello. "He's still a funny little fuck, ain't he?" Chris snickered, glad to see his friends. Joey shook hands, back to his usual man self, and Chris looked at JC anxiously, wary of his reception. He hadn't spoken to him and was still so guilt ridden about the whole thing. "JC," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. JC spun around in his chair and smiled, that brilliant smile that few ever saw, and Chris knew he was forgiven. He bit his lip and wandered over. "I'm really sorry, JC and..." "Chris, it's okay. I'm fine. And you look great." He stood up and embraced him tightly, feeling all the pieces fall into place. He knew that they would never be perfect, hell, who wanted that? Not their fans. Justin and Lance cooed teasingly, and Joey lead the charge, jumping ontop of them, tossing them to the floor. Justin gasped underneath the bodies. "Hey!" he shouted, struggling to sit up. Lance laid over him, laughing hysterically. "Hey!" he yelled again. "Does anyone else think we do this way too much?" Joey punched his arm for good measure before checking his watch and standing up. "Oh, man. I gotta get outta here. I have a hot date with a very fine airline attendant." He offered his hand to Chris. "Call me later?" Chris nodded and Joey grabbed his backpack, heading out into the sun. "Lata men!" JC remained on the floor, his thoughts wandering. Damn, but he hoped they could hang on another few years. It would be sad to see N Sync go. THE END |