| The Game by destiny "You okay, man?" JC stared over his newpaper at his youngest friend and worried. The kid looked pale, shaky and weak. He'd been like this for weeks now. Recording was slow going, and the rest of the guys were due in later in the day. "Justin? You alright? You got that look on your face again." JC folded up the newspaper and placed it on the small coffee table in the studio's front room. He'd called for a short break when Justin clutched his stomach, worried he was going to vomit. "I'm fine," he replied, rubbing his hand over his face. But he wasn't fine, he was anything but fine. His entire body ached, and his mind wasn't faring much better. He hoped JC would continue to buy his lies, if only for a little while longer. The truth would kill his friend, of that he was sure. Drugs and forbidden love did not rank high on JC's list. Actually, nothing other than music and N Sync ranked anywhere on JC's list. Pushing himself up from the couch he'd sprawled out on, Justin bit back the bile that rose in his throat once again. Swallowing hard, he avoided JC's scrutinous gaze, turning his attentions instead to the pretty young recording engineer that walked through the room. "You all ready to get back in there?" she asked, removing the headset from her head. "The vomit is gone now." She tossed Justin a sympathetic look, wishing he would let her comfort him, she knew exactly what he liked. Her pale grey eyes looked him up and down with the vemon of a snake, and she let her gaze dance over his hard body, thinking of the things she could do with him. Justin ignored the look, a look he knew all too well. A deep blush crept into his cheeks, embarassed that he had tossed his lunch right there in the recording booth. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly at her. "Sorry about that. Too much partying." His explanation was unnecessary, but he felt the need to say something. As soon as the words flew from his lips, JC was beside him, frowning. "Too much drinking," he added, nodding at the girl. The last thing he needed was this woman running to the tabloids leaking some kind of story about Justin Timberlake being a junkie. "Way too much drinking." He stressed it again, just to drive his point home. She grinned at them both before heading from the room. It was too bad Justin had missed her subtle meaning. That was truly a boy she could eat for lunch. Laughing to herself, she returned to her office, already dismissing him. JC eyed Justin carefully. "That was all you did last night right? Just a little too much to drink?" His blue eyes intensified, making Justin uncomfortable. He let out a nervous snort, but averted his gaze just the same. JC would never understand, and Justin just did not have it in him to explain, not today, not when he'd already lost his dignity along with his stomach's contents, and not when his heart pained so badly, he feared it would explode inside. His temples throbbed without mercy, and he purposely didn't rub at them, wanting to paint a picture that JC could approve of. He forced a smile and put his baseball cap on backwards. "Way too much to drink," he lied, thinking of the vile of white powder he'd consumed combined with the bottles of beer that he'd added afterwards. And some pill, he couldn't recall what it was, but it did a number on his stomach, leaving him despondant and afraid for his life. Somehow, God had pulled him through the night, and when he snapped out of it, she was beside him, sleeping soundly, smacked out of her mind as well, naked and shivering. He'd freaked out when the digits of the alarm clock caught his eye, knowing if he was late, JC would come knocking and see the mess. Justin pressed his lips together thinking about it. Shaking his head, he pushed the door open to Studio A. "I'm ready. We have two more tracks before Lance gets here with Joey and Chris. Let's move." JC clapped his hands together, still suspicious of the odd behavior he'd been witness to for some time now. He'd tried to dismiss it, reminding himself that Justin was all of 19, soon to be 20, and just burned out from the intensity of the No Strings Attached tour, along with all the media scrutiny he'd been dragged through in 2000. Anyway, recording was the priority, so any other thoughts would need to wait, at least for now. "I'm ready," Justin called, sipping some cool water from a bottle, then hopping up and down, trying to loosen up. His mind wandered back to the way he left her, alone and still asleep, but breathing. He bit on the inside of his cheek. Since when did he start thinking that was something to be relieved of, breathing. His heart missed a beat and he shook the word from his head. Too many drugs if he was thinking things like that. Too much like Pulp Fiction for his life. He wanted to stop, quit both her and the drugs, but the hold they continued to have on him was too tight, too comforting. His duel life had existed for nearly four months, and he liked it. Frowning slightly, he gulped more water. Didn't he like it? He ran to it as soon as his work with N Sync was done, after a show, an appearance, a fucking after party, where he dutifully danced with random fans and acted like the golden cherub they wanted. Then he'd return to her, and it, and settle in, shunning Lance, and JC and all of them. So far, they hadn't questioned him, so far he was safe. He placed his headphones over his head and heard the song come through. Watching JC for his que, he sighed silently and began to sing, his voice flowing sweetly, thank God, and hit every fucking note he had to. JC had nothing to complain about this time. There was no vomit, no missed marks, nothing. He was dead on, and the smile on JC's face was proof. He noticed Lance enter the studio, Joey trailing, and felt relief. Lance always drew the attention off him with his extracurricular activities, granting him the repreive he so desperatly needed lately. He waved to Lance, tossed his headset to the stool behind him, and headed back to the control room, eager to wrap his parts up and get back to her. "Hey, sounding good," Lance complimented, patting Justin's shoulder. "It's going to be a killer song. I can't get over you wrote it." Justin laughed easily. "Why the fuck not? I have some talent, ya know." Joey opened his mouth to say something smart, thought better of it, and turned his attentions to the magazine laying nearby. JC stood up and stretched, ready to let Justin go for the day, anxious to tell Lance and Joey about the episode earlier, the vomit and the sick look. "You're done, J. Tomorrow at nine okay?" He watched for some comfirmation in those dull blue eyes, eyes that sparkled at one time, eyes that the old Justin would have set in defiance, refusing to leave the studio until everyone was done. But now, they just darted about randomly, and when he was given the okay to leave, paused only long enough to grab his bag, yell goodbye, and dash from the room. Lance chuckled. "That boy is antsy." JC sighed heavily, twisitng his seat around to face him. "You have no idea. He's not himself. Somethings up, guys. I have no idea, but he threw up before, and he looks like death. Something isn't right, not at all." Lance tilted his head, thinking. "Come to think of it, he acted odd the other day. I invited him in for the New Years Eve party and he said no, but it was the way he said it. He said he had better things to do than waste his time with me and my asshole ventures. At the time I chalked it up to post holiday depression or some shit, but now that I think about it..." Joey tossed the magazine down. "And he did look pasty. Did he party last night?" JC nodded, spinning in his chair. "He said he was out drinking. Hey, he doesn't have a girlfriend, does he?" Lance shook his head, looking over at the empty studio. "He hasn't mentioned anyone in particular. My sister said she saw a pic of him in one of those supermarket rags with what's his name's cousin. Fuck, from the Backstreet Boys, the one I refuse to say his name for fear my mean Mississippi temper will come out and...." Joey chuckled at the drama. "Kevin, you mean Kevin. Man, Lance, you need to get you an acting career. Shit, you've been working!" "And fuck you," Lance grinned, happily. "Yeah, well, Kevin. His little cousin and Justin were at a club, but he hasn't said word one to me about anyone." JC frowned, fiddling with some controls. "Well, maybe we need to do some checking up on the kid. He's not right, and whatevers bugging him is serious enough for him to look like that and ditch the studio." Back at his house, Justin let himself in, hurrying to the bedroom. She was up, staring blankly at the big screened television on the far wall, still naked excpt for the top sheet wrapped around her. "Hey," he said, keeping himself in the doorway. He made a promise on the way home, no more drugs, not a taste, not a sample, nothing. He watched her hands work feverishly cutting the powder on a hundred dollar mirror he'd purchased in Spain the year before, with it's intricatly carved designs around the egde of it. She glanced behind her, to him. "Baby, come here. I called Rick, got more. I exchanged your earring, the diamond one, the one you don't wear much anymore. I hope that's okay. You didn't leave me any money, and I had nothing else to barter with. Oh, baby, I'm so glad your home. Come here. I'm freezing." Her words spewed a mile a minute, and she looked so fragile, so innocent sitting there, and Justin tried to remember just how the drugs had gotten so out of control, to such astronomical amounts. She'd used since he met her, but not like this, never like this. Hiding the fact he was in love with a rivals relative was bad enough, but the drugs, they were harder to hide. His life had taken a dark turn, one that he was starting to feel ashamed of. "I can't," he stammered, his eyes burning painfully in his head, his temples shooting pain through them, punishing him for the night before. "You come to me. Put that down and come to me." It wasn't as much of a request as a plea. There had to be a way to keep her and get rid of it. He didn't know if he had the strength, but if she was willing, he thought just maybe he could make it too. She stared at him, her big eyes widened at the idea. "Why? No, you come here." She produced a small straw and snorted the powder through it viciously, pinching her nose and gazing up at him. "Come on, I got enough for us both." She extended the straw to him, and Justin felt his knees grow weak. It was so tempting, she was so tempting. Closing his eyes, he spread his feet further apart, hoping to keep them planted firmly. "I'm not doing that anymore," he explained, his voice wavering slightly. "I quit. I got sick at the studio and I just can't. The new album will be coming out in the spring, and I need to be ready. I know it sounds far away, but it's not, and JC, shit, he's already looking at me like I'm not right." She silenced him with a finger to her lips, standing and letting the sheet fall from her body. Scooping some of the white powder up, she moved to the bed, her eyes never leaving his. Laying down, she sprinkled the powder in a line from between her breasts, past her belly button, to the small triangle of hair between her legs. Justin's mouth went dry as he watched the scene. He hated her so much for tempting him with two things he felt powerless against, sex and that white powder. The combination killed him, shot a dagger into his will power and dragged him into his bedroom slowly. Her eyes locked with his, taunting and teasing him until he was kneeling on the bed next to her, his face buried in her warm skin, sucking the powder from her body while discarding his clothes with his hands. When the powder was gone, and he was naked, he plunged into her, anger and frustration giving way to false love and lust in it's drug induced glory. If he thought it was going to be easy to just "quit" he underestimated it, 100%. She crawled from the bed when his breathing regulated, sure he was in a deep sleep. The game continued, and she threw his discarded shirt over his head for warmth as she padded down the steps to the kitchen, where she was sure he wouldn't hear. Picking up the phone, she dialed quickly, grabbing an apple and biting into it, wiping the dripping juices from her chin. "It's me," she said cooly, swallowing the sweet fruit. "Yeah, he's still hooked." Pause. "I got it under control. He threw up at the studio, and he thinks JC is suspecting somethings up." Pause. "I understand we don't have much more time, but he's got nothing." Pause. "He's in love with me and the drugs, so keep sending them, and I'll do my job." Pause. "You know, Kevin, I think I'd like to up the anty. I want more money. I'm sure you'll see to that, right?" Pause. "Don't be like that, cous'. I'm doing you the favor, fucking up the hottest group so you can slide in." Pause, giggle. "Call me later. He's passed out now. Bye." Replacing the reciever, she grinned evilly, tossing the core of the apple in the trash. The game was almost over, and it had been as easy as taking candy from a baby. |