| JC sat nervously on the plane, his hands gripping the arm rest with pure fear. Throughout the flight, he'd taken the liquor offered to him with thanks, downing shot after shot until his body grew numb, and his mind fuzzed. Lance had called once, just to be sure he was clear on the plans. He knew he shouldn't have been indulging in alcohol, but he needed something, dammit, to calm him down. It was either that or screwing the pretty airline attendant in the restroom, which shortly after take off, she'd invited him to do. Now, he stared at his laptop, the plans carefully spelled out for him. Lance left no stone unturned, and JC was glad he'd chosen to lead this band of merry men into the forest. JC knew for shit sure he couldn't be as strong as Lance was being. Then again, Lance didn't have to fly all these miles to work his way into the life of an N Sync fan who's father stole millions from them. No, Lance could just sit in the make shift commando center and issue orders. The plane began it's desent, and JC's stomach rolled violently. He feared he would vomit, right there in his seat. Grabbing the barf bag, he leaned his head down, just in case. "Everything alright Mr. Chasez?" He nodded, not bothering to look up at her. He just wanted this to be over. "We'll be landing in moments. Can I get you something?" JC waved her away, afraid to look up, fearful that the bile rising would expell. He knew Lance would be disappointed in him, as he had work to do. With one hand, he fastened his seat belt, and took deep breaths. Finally, he regained his composure, sitting up slowly. The airline attendant was still there, a concerned look crossing her sultry features. She placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled. "We have club soda in the back. Maybe that would help?" "No, thanks," he grumbled, leaning back. "I'll be fine once we land." He knew she was expecting more, but right now, he had bigger fish to fry, and would have gladly paid money for anynomity. Once she was gone, JC wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, wishing just one of his group mates had decided to come with him. While he couldn't be positive, he sensed some kind of danger brewing in Los Angeles. Out the window, he saw the city appearing through the clouds and thought of the last time the group had been there to perform. Back then, he'd marveled at the city, as he always did, in it's understated granduer, it's best of both worlds. You had the ocean and the big city, movie stars and amusement parks. He'd even considered moving out there, leaving the comfort of Florida for the more exciting life California would promise. Blinking hard, he suddenly realized he had no money to move at all. He might be able to save his home, but it would be tough. Reality was a rough thing, and he mashed his teeth together, resolving to do his part, without drinking his way through it. The air conditioned airport sent shivers down JC's spine, but the chill felt good, refreshing. He strode through the airport with his glasses on, hat pulled down low on his head, praying to God no one stopped him. Lance told him to be as inconspicuous as possible. He kept his eyes ahead, unused to traveling with no security, or the rest of them. Absently, he wondered what it was like to be Joey right now, able to drink the night away, and pass out for most of the day. Yeah, Joey had it easy. He just laid back and let the rest of them worry. JC hadn't checked any luggage, so he headed out into the muggy warmth of the LA air. Even here in the middle of the night, it was stuffy, and he hailed a cab, heading off to stake out the house before checking into his hotel. He pulled his wallet out and stared at the fake id he'd gotten in the Carribean. The picture wasn't bad, he decided. It was a "JC on heroin" look. He stifled a sour laugh and put it away. He gazed out the window at the passing city, it's lights twinkling brightly, stray visitors wandering about mixed with the dirty underbelly of the city, the hookers and john, drug dealers and buyers. It was surreal, a side he rarely saw when on business. He imagined he was one of them, all his money gone, sitting on a steet corner singing for food. Shuddering at the very idea, he snapped his attention to the streets. The cab took a turn and headed into a posh gated community with it's million dollar homes. As he checked each home, he grimaced when he found it, the home that his money had most likely helped pay for. "Can you slow down a bit?" The cabbie obliged, having nothing better to do, not many people needing rides at this time of night. JC studied it hard, capturing each section of it for storage in his mind to relay to Lance later on. When he was satisfied, he asked to be brought to his hotel. It was not the type of place he was used to, by a long shot. The neon sign buzzed annoyingly with two letters out. He paid the cabbie and strolled inside, stepping over a drunk. At the front desk, a woman sat, cracking her gum, reading the latest Enquirer. JC hoped to God he wasn't in it. While he'd changed his appearance, someone who was a fan, or had a sharp eye would clearly see the N Syncer in his blue eyes. The alcohol was slowly working it's way out of his system, and he took a deep breath to clear his head. "Can I help ya?' the woman asked. JC tried not to notice her two front teeth were missing, and the friz of red hair atop her head reminded him of a bad Macy Gray impersonation. "Yes, I have a reservation. John Barker." He tried to keep his voice steady, deeper than normal. JC could feel his underarms break out in a sweat and squirmed under his jacket uncomfortably. She tossed the paper down, and checked the registry. "Yeah, here ya are. Kinda late ain't ya?" She snapped her gum loudly, making JC cringe. Not only did she have bad manners, but her body odor was positively offensive. "Sorry bout that," he said evenly. "Anyway, what do you need for check in. I'm kinda beat." She looked him up and down, licking her lips a bit. He wasn't a bad looking kid, a bit younger than she usually liked, but a strong body hidden under that baggy shirt and jeans. "Looking for any company tonight?" she leered, rubbing her hand between her breasts suggestively. JC's eyebrows cocked, and he surpressed a laugh. Instead, he bit his lip, shaking his head. "I don't swing that way, ma'am, sorry." It was quick, the only thing he could think of not to offend her. If he wanted to stay here incognito, he might be able to use her help. Blowing her off just wouldn't be a smart move, and actually taking her up on the offer, well there was no way in hell that was happening. "Oh yeah?" she questioned, frowing a bit. "You look straight nuff to me." JC just shook his head, wishing she'd get on with it already. He was dying to call Lance, go over the plans. "Hmm," she continued, holding her hand out. "Need some ID." He handed it over, along with $40 cash. She checked him in without another comment, and handed him a key. "#3, upstairs and to the left." JC nodded his thanks, taking the key and hurrying off. She watched him go. "Shame. Cute ones are always gay." She returned to her Enquirer, already forgetting him. JC opened the door to the small room, scrunching up his face at the awful smell that met him. He hoped to hell he got their money back, and then some, for all the shit he was putting up with. The bed was small, and lumpy. A cracked mirror hung lopsided over a porcelin sink which had seen better days. Behind a collapsable door, he found the toilet, black mold stains surrounding the rim. "Fuck me," he hissed, not caring to touch anything. Lysol was going to be the first thing he bought in the morning, a lot of it. He sighed and took out his cell phone, anxious to talk to Lance and reveiw things before morning's light broke. "Hello?" Lance's deep voice whispered across the line. "It's me," JC said, pacing. "You sleeping?" "Hell no. Justin is though. He fucking cried himself to sleep, JC. I didn't know what to do for him. I hate this." JC grimaced. "Oh, you cannot possibly be hating life more than me right now. If you could see this dump...holy shit. I'm waiting for the cockroaches to attack me." Lance chuckled a bit. "That bad, man?" "Oh yeah. I know we needed a dump, but this is worse than a dump." He paused, and narrowed his eyes, thinking he'd seen some little critter run across the floor. Shaking his head, he sighed. "Anyway, I found the house. I'm going there first thing in the morning to find her." "Good, good. And we're having a public appearance tomorrow. It's staged, but made to look casual. We'll be at a bar on the beach. Media has been alerted we're on the island. It's already getting nuts with fans scouring for us." JC snorted. "What about me? Where are you saying I am?" "Sick, but on the island. Resting." Lance inhaled sharpley. "Okay, now, you know what to do right? When you meet her, charm her, get her to trust you..." "I think I got it. I gotta tell you, dude, I'm scared shitless." JC rubbed his eyes, weariness and stress causing them to throb. "I know, Josh, I know. But you're our only hope here." Lance knew they were all lucky to have such a strong friendship, one that could get them through this. "We'll do it. We will." The words comforted JC a bit, and the two friends chatted a while longer before hanging up. JC looked woefully at the bed, deciding not to sleep in it. Instead, he pulled up a chair in front of the window and watched the sun peek through the early morning dusk, replaying his obligation in his mind. |