| "Now that the tour is winding down, what do the holidays and the new year hold in store?" Lance tapped his foot, glad that Justin and JC were being asked the bulk of the questions. He was still tired from lack of sleep, and this was the fourth interveiw of the day. He'd voted that they break up and each take one, that way they'd be done quicker, but contract stipulations had them all scheduled. Holding the microphone, he stared off to the side, lulled by the drone of the screams coming from outside the studio. Their fans, he loved them, loud screams and all. Humming softly, he tried to think about where he wanted to take Mya. New York had so many great places, and the city would hide his identity better than most towns. Although they'd met almost an hour north of NYC, it wasn't that far. He could get a limo and they could spend the night on the town. Chris elbowed him, leaning in. "Man, stop humming. It's coming through on your mic." Lance lowered the microphone immediately, and snapped his attentions back to the interveiw. Justin was carrying on and on, and seemed in a better mood this morning. Thank God. His foot still jiggled and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, pausing only to scratch his nose. Ho, hum. Come on already. Talk faster. One more interveiw and we're done. Hurry up already! A smile danced across his face as he thought of Mya. As soon as they were safley in the van, he was going to call her. Yeah, a limo ride to the city, dinner, then hanging out. Good plan! He blinked as a fan rushed toward them, right for him, clawing her arms around his neck and squeezing tight. He dropped his mic, and stumbled backwards, unprepared for an audience member to attack so quickly. Damn, if he was only paying more attention. Within seconds, security was upon her, dragging the crying girl back. Lance looked at her, so distraught, and glanced at the rough hands of the men holding her. "Hey!" he cried, stepping forward. "Go easy!" The men scowled at him, after all, who was he to tell them how to do their jobs? They were protecting him, and as far a they were concerned, he was lucky they were there. Lance frowned when they continued their assault. He bolted toward her, suddenly feeling very brave. "I said, let her go!" Joey and Chris watched in horror as Lance left the interveiw area headed for trouble. JC hopped off his stool and handed Justin his microphone, hurrying after his friend. Lance reached the girl and grabbed her hand, pulling on it. "Let go!" he demanded, seeing the red marks on her flesh from the men. The girl whimpered in pain, and Lance gritted his teeth. "Now!" The audience watched in amazement as JC flew to Lance's rescue. The men let go of the girl, as per the producers directions, and shook their heads. "You okay?" Lance asked her, checking her arms. She nodded, and JC looked around. "Come with us," he stated, leading her to the interveiw area. He sat her on his stool and continued, much to everyone's shock. Looking into the camera, he smiled. "We want our fans to be safe, wherever they are." Lance nodded, feeling his heart soar. How many times had he watched as security roughed up fans, all in the name of their saftey. Personally, he thought they had some kind of power trip going and got off on hurting young girls. Grabbing his mic, he leaned over to her. "You alright?" She nodded again, and forced a smile. Lance chuckled. Love was doing something to him. Something good. Mya laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Although she'd arrived home hours ago, sleep would not come. Her mind lay divided, thinking about Lance. For the first time in so long, she felt like she may have a chance with a great guy, someone who was kind, and funny, not afraid to take a chance, and gorgeous. Rolling onto her stomach, she listened as her housemate slammed around downstairs. The clock revealed the time as eight am, the time her housemate usually got up to get ready for work. "Dammit!" the yell came from the kitchen and Mya buried her head in her pillow, stifiling a laugh. One thing her friend was bad at and that was anything connected with the kitchen. Feeling sorry for her, Mya climbed out of bed and headed down, pausing to slip on her slippers. "Corey! What are you doing down there?" she called, as a loud crash shuddered through the downstairs. Entering the kitchen, she found her friend surrounded by pots and pans laying at her feet. Growling angrily, she shook her head. "Where the fuck is the coffee?" Mya raised her eyebrow, and laughed. "Not there!" Quickly, she flung open a cabinet on the other side of the room and proceeded to make some coffee. Corey kicked the pans aside and slumped down in a chair, bending over to tie her boot. "So, how did your date go last night?" she asked. Mya bit her lip as she filled the coffee pot. How she wanted to scream great! He's amazing. But that would do no good. Instead, she shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Not my type." "Oh, pop stars aren't your type huh? Rich, horny guys aren't your type?" Corey snorted with disgust. "Please," Mya sighed. "The last thing I need is a relationship. Especially with some 21 year old who is as famous as he is." Sitting down, she tightened the belt around her bathrobe and stared out into the morning fog wistfully. "For heavan's sakes, they had a bomb scare last night." Waving her hand in front of her, she forced a smile. "Not my idea of a good time." Corey laughed at the thought, hating celebrities of anykind. "Well, what do you expect? I told you so." Standing up, she grabbed her mug and stood by the coffee pot, waiting impatiently for it to finish brewing. Mya sighed again. She had to call him, and soon. Breaking the date was the only logical thing to do. |