| ++ NINE ++ |
| Lance watched as Lynne's car sped away. He'd tried his best to comfort her and be respectful of her feelings. Joey had been the hero, however, insisting that Justin's welfare was at stake and he was far better off in Lance's home with friends than home in an empty burned out home. Lynne had agreed, reluctantly and with bitterness toward Joey and his blunt words. "What's JC's ETA?" Lance wanted to know. He fixed a sandwich in the kitchen as Joey watched. "I dunno. Maybe a few more hours. You know JC. He's got Chris with him. The two of them drive like fucking old men so it could be tomorrow if they stop." "Why would they stop?" Lance asked, unscrewing the mayonnaise jar. He applied a liberal amount to the bread. "Does Justin like mayo?" "I think so," Joey answered. He honestly couldn't remember. "Or mustard." "Fuck, Joey. Which is it?" Lance was annoyed, agitated that he spent hours upon hours with Justin and could not remember how he ate his food. "Dammit!" Lance threw the knife in the sink and sank down onto a stool. "What are we going to do?" he cried. Justin padded into the kitchen. "It's mayo," he answered with a smile. "And I have no clue if you like mustard or mayo either." Lance and Joey snapped their heads up. "Did we wake you?" Joey asked with concern. "No. I can't sleep." He sat across from Lance. "Thanks for the sandwich." Lance nodded miserably, unable to even force a grin. "Thanks for everything." Justin reached across the island and took Lance's hand. "I mean it." He squeezed it lightly before grabbing his sandwich. "Are you guys gonna eat too?" Joey smiled. "Hell yeah. As long as you're eating. Lance?" "I guess," Lance replied unenthusiastically. "Mustard." Justin laughed. "Mustard for Lance, mayo for me." He took another big bite surprised at how hungry he was. "I tried to call Brit," he admitted lowly. "I'm scared. I don't know what to say to her." Joey paused halfway to the refrigerator. "Britney? What's she got to do with this?" They heard a car honk in the driveway. Justin sighed, relieved to be off the hook. He didn't even want to speak about what he did to Britney. He barely wanted to think about it. "Who's here?" he asked. "JC and Chris," Lance called out, jogging to open the door. Justin pushed his sandwich away, his appetite gone. It was comforting in a way to have his four closest friends with him. Shame still held a grip on him, shame and fear. He felt like he belonged in a padded room with a straightjacket. He felt as if each step he took dared him to jump over the edge of the world into an eternity of darkness and medication. Shaking his head he reached for a beer. Drinking seemed a perfect escape for him right now. Without a word, he passed Joey and headed up to the bathroom for a long hot shower. He was sure that JC and Chris would need time to be filled in by Lance before passing judgment on their crazy friend. That's just how he saw himself. Crazy. Taking the steps two at a time, he pushed the bathroom door open and turned on the water. He thought about the tour, the fans, all the appearances and money that had rolled in. He thought about the marketing team that was currently working on N Sync sneakers and more merchandise. He imagined all the little girls running out with babysitting money to buy a marionette or UNO cards with his face on it. Suddenly, he felt cold and distant. It wasn't real, none of it. Steam filled the master bathroom and he popped the top off his Corona, guzzling half of it in one spell. He burped loudly and stepped under the spray. Justin honestly didn't think there was enough beer in the state of Mississippi to fix him tonight. Lance let Chris and JC inside. "About time," he huffed. "What took you?" "Ask him," JC sniffed, tossing his overnight bag on the floor. "Ask Mr. 'it's only 65 miles per hour here'." "Ah, fuck you," Chris growled, throwing his hand up. "If you didn't have a fucking weak bladder we could have made it without making a hundred stops." JC shook his head and brushed past Lance to the kitchen. "I'm starved," he said, watching Joey make a huge sandwich. "Get me one?" "Get it yourself man," Joey chuckled. It felt good to be back together, even if circumstances were grave, even if Justin was in need of support and help, and God knew what else. JC rolled his eyes and grabbed the bread. "Lance filling us in or you?" Joey shrugged. "It's bad man. I got here and found him dangling from the balcony. He could have fallen over and cracked his skull. Pft. He'd of been dead." He handed JC the cheese and sighed. "Lance knows everything. I heard Justin go upstairs and the water is running so I'm guessing he's in the shower." Chris followed Lance into the kitchen. JC spun around. "So, what the fuck is happening to Justin? And how the hell do you think we're going to help him?" He didn't mean to sound angry, but if Justin was suicidal he needed professional help, help the four of them were not equipped to give. Lance drew a deep breath, his forehead crinkling with anxiety. "I have no idea. He needs serious help. He burned down his mother's office and tried to jump off my balcony. He's scared and freaked out and I don't think he knows what he's doing." "I say we call a shrink. Get the shrink here to look at him. I think he's got some problems we can't wish away." Chris hopped up on the counter and swiped a piece of ham off JC's bread. "I agree," JC said, adding another piece. "Lance, this is his mental health we're talking about. This isn't just Justin being lonely. Loneliness we could help. Desperation we can't." Joey shook his head. "I say we hang out tonight. Get some movies and beer and talk, hang out like old times. Laugh and see how he is." He looked at Lance for support. "Guys, I don't want to give up on him before we try." JC looked uneasy. He frowned with trepidation. "Come on, JC. The publicity would be murderous if Justin went somewhere. The public would tear him apart.Just give it a try." Lance laid a hand on JC's shoulder. "Let's give it a go. We got nothing to loose." No one heard the dull thud that sounded from the bathroom. No one heard the bottle of beer crash to the marble tile. No one heard Justin's final cry for help. |