Part 1


"I'm sorry sir. You're just not what we're looking for right now."

"I don't think I heard you correctly. What did you just say?"

"That we didn't accept your job application and that--"

"Yeah, THAT'S what I heard wrong! What do you MEAN you don't accept my job application?! Do you have any idea who I've choreographed for in my past jobs?!"

"Yes, we know. It was in your resume."

"Then what the hell is the deal?"

"There is a lot of controversy surrounding you right now, Mr. Robson. And sadly, we do not need this controversy to slide on to Miss Loren because of it."

"What contro-- Oh God. You mean that bullshit about separating Justin and Britney?! Is THAT all you care about?! I didn't even--"

"We do not know the background on this, and we cannot afford to waste anymore of our time or of Miss Loren's time trying to figure it out so you can get a new job, Mr. Robson. I'm sorry, but I hope you understand."

"Yeah. I understand just fine. So when you come crying back to me I'm not gonna bother to reply you hear me?"

It was a rainy Tuesday morning in New York City, and Wade Robson had just failed at getting a new choreographing job after "past incidents", as they were neatly called. He had heard about a new pop-singer by the name of Amy Loren who needed a choreographer so she could work on moves before her debut CD came out, but he wasn't wanted. They didn't want to deal with the "past incidents". And it pissed Wade off.

He angrily stomped down the linoleum floored hallway in the direction of the elevator, his mind filled with rambling thoughts filled with hatred. This was the third time his involvement with *NSYNC and Britney Spears had knocked him down, which didn't make sense to him. Working with such high quality people should have gotten him a job day one, or so he thought. But the managers of debuting stars didn't want their charges to be put together with the one that supposedly brought an end to "America's favorite couple".

Upon reaching the elevator, Wade reached out, pressing the button hard. He wanted to get out of the building as soon as possible. He felt gypped, like everyone cared more about his relationships between his past jobs than they cared about himself and his abilities. As the silver elevator doors pulled themselves open, Wade felt a new sense of anger and hatred grow within him. It wasn't directed at anyone exactly, it was just there, building with each step he took, even more so as he entered the elevator.

He turned around, so he was now staring out the space between the open elevator doors. Eyes narrowed, hands fists at his sides, eyebrow twitching every now and then. He couldn't take another disappointment. He needed a job temporarily, or even as a part time, until he got his plans for his own album straightened out. He thought he could do it, after all, he had written many songs with Justin on their Celebrity album, so it seemed to work. But it also seemed that more people saw him as just the backup help for *NSYNC's success. They didn't see him as a singer, or a songwriter even though the CD booklet itself stated that Wade co-wrote songs with Justin. They didn't even see him as a choreographer, even though he was. He obviously was. They just saw him as Wade Robson, helper and one of the many assistants to *NSYNC. These thoughts made Wade's blood boil in anger.

As the silver doors slowly began to advance toward each other and close Wade off within the elevator, Wade realized he was angry at someone inparticular. He had to think of it, and it all came crashing down on him as his anger intensified. It was that kiss. That kiss he shared with Britney at that party thing MTV had for her, he couldn't even recall the name or details of it anymore. But that kiss and the headlines and gossip that followed ruined his career. And that wasn't Britney's fault. He did become fond of her and wanted to see more than just her smile, but he couldn't. He couldn't because Britney was Justin's, not his. And that angered him more. So one would think that him separating the two would make him happy. It didn't, it should have, but it didn't. It made his job-life a disaster, nonexistent. And it was all because of one person, according to him.

"Damn you, Justin Randall Timberlake," spat Wade through clenched teeth as the elevator doors came to a close. "Damn you."

***

Orlando, Florida. JC was currently at his house, lazily throwing some clothes from his closet into a suitcase that lay wide open on his bed. He was going to spend the next week with Justin, because Justin had off from the tour from Friday until the Friday after. It was all Justin's idea, to be hotel-sharing again, or something of the sort. It didn't exactly make sense, but Justin wasn't giving JC much of a choice. It was either come over or die.

He tossed one more shirt on the bed, and decided to go make himself something to eat, but then the phone rang. He rolled his eyes with a smirk, having somewhat of an idea on who it would be. He stumbled over to the phone that was on his nightstand tiredly, and picked up the phone, placing it on his ear. "Hey Justin."

"Huh? How'd you know it was me?"

"I've got skill. How are you enjoying your week off?"

"God! I'm bored. I mean, I'm happy I get to sleep and shit, you know? And Christina's still sleeping I think. But hey, I'm not you. I don't fall asleep like the dead or anythin'. I do get bored after a while."

"Aw, muffin."

"Don't muffin me! Say, how are things with you? I'm sorry I haven't been able to call as often.. Things have been hell!"

"Yeah I could tell! I saw that MTV Making the Tour thing."

"God, you didn't."

"What was that Justin? 'Hell no! Can I jump from here?' And here I am thinking you were fearless!"

"Jayce!"

"Haha, sorry man. But that was cute, I admit."

"Of course.."

"I can sense that pout from here."

"Tch! -- Hey you didn't answer my question. How are things with you?"

There was a short pause. Justin fidgeted around in his seat, fingers twirling themselves in the spiral telephone cord. "Jayce?"

"Sorry, my breakfast was done, I had to go downstairs to get it."

"Breakfast? Josh. It's almost two in the afternoon."

"Hey. I can have breakfast in the afternoon if I want."

"That's 'cause I had to wake your ass up!" There was a pause as both men laughed. "Awh, Lord. I miss ya, Josh. Now answer my question or you're gonna sense more than a pout!"

"Damn," a pause, killed by JC's laughter. "All right, I suppose."

"All right? All right?! How's that CD coming along, man? Talk to me here, aren't you even gonna give me a taste of what's on it?"

"Nope! Sorry, you'll just have to wait."

"C'mon, JC! That's not fair!! They're givin' me three, four different dates for that thing to come out. I'm your best friend! Best bud, remember? I know dirt about you the paparazzi would LOVE to hear..!"

"No, Just! Don't pout and whine your way through this. I want it to be a surprise."

"Why?? Don't make me bring up those mouse ears again, Josh!"

"Oh man, that's low."

"You with your bouncy '90's hair. Man, girls were having sex with you in their dreams."

"Justin!"

"But those clothes.. Damn it was like you got dressed with a blindfold on!"

"Hey. You should not be talking. Poka-dotted, oversized shirts and suspenders. Remember those?"

"Don't go there JC."

"Then we're even."

"Fine! -- NO!! Tell me about your album! Pleeeeeeease? Jayceeeeeeee..!!"

A pause. Followed by a loud sigh. JC could see Justin's bright, blinding smile through the phone rather easily. "You win. When I come down to see you this weekend I'll give you an idea. A SMALL idea. TINY idea."

"Yay! I love you Joshua!"

"Since when do you call me that? Never do that again. ESPECIALLY not in a high pitched girly voice, that scared the crap out of me."

Laughter. "Okay, okay. It freaked me out too, I admit. But I'm happy. You better not break your promise! I'll be watching you."

"How?"

"You're one for logic, aren't you?"

A yawn.

"Aw. Still tired aren't we, Just?"

"Yessss.. I'm sorry. I'm usually more crunk than this."

"Oh God not that again. Listen, I'll let you get some sleep then."

"Awwww, don't hang up! I lurve youuuu!"

"..What did I say about that voice?"

More laughter. "All right, all right. You're no fun, Jayce. Is it all right if I call you back when I wake up?"

"You know that's fine with me. Why are you even asking? You call at least every hour."

Justin beamed with pride even as JC laughed. "Of course! I call Chris every other night at 3am sharp just to piss him off. I'd call Joey too, but he went up and got engaged on us."

"You sound like it's terrible."

"Poor Lance!"

JC couldn't reply, his laughter wouldn't let him.

Justin followed with that, before yawning again. "I will ... talk to youuu.. later! Don't fall asleep 'cause you're too dead to hear the phone when you're asleep."

"I don't think that made much sense, but I won't, I promise. Sleep well, Curly."

"Curly? Josh, wake up, I ditched the curls a long time ago."

"I know. But you've been saying my name in a billion different ways that I needed another nickname for you besides 'Just' and I'm too tired to think of one right now."

"You're--" Yawn. "--terrible."

"Sleep."

"Yes, mommy. Night!"

Although he knew Justin wouldn't see him, he shook his head, chuckling. "Right. Night, Justin."

"..Hey. JC?"

"And here I thought you were tired."

"I was...wondering."

"What about?"

"Uhm.. Could you.. Could you sing something to me?"

"You've gotta be kidding me." A slight chuckle. "I think the last time I sang you to sleep was in Germany."

"Pleeeeeease?" Justin put on the pout for emphasis, knowing JC could tell it was there.

"I hate you sometimes, I hope you know that."

"You could never hate me." Justin smiled, getting comfortable in the bed. He rested his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes, phone still laying by his ear on high volume so he could hear his friend. 'I would never want you to hate me, either,' he thought.

"You're right, I couldn't. Although, come Friday, I'm kicking your ass." JC paused as Justin laughed, then yawned. "Anything inparticular?"

"Something from your album!"

"Nice try, Timberlake."

"Damnit." Justin pulled up the thin, white, hotel blanket to his chin to try to get on 'ultimate comfort' mode. "Something Like You."

Laughter. JC shifted in his seat, pushing the small tray of food over on the table he was sitting by, and took a sip of water. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Besides sleep peacefully."

"You would not. If we were, for some reason, unable to see each other willingly you'd snap. Hell, I'd kill myself," Justin added softly. "Please don't talk like that. Now, sing or die, Chasez."

JC smiled a little, feeling the sincerity in those words. "You wouldn't.

So many times I thought I held it in my hands,
But just like grains of sand
Love slipped through my fingers
And so many nights,
I asked the Lord above
Please make me lucky enough
To find a love that lingers
Something keeps telling me
That you could be my answered prayer
You must be heaven sent I swear

Cause something happens when you look at me I forget to speak.
Something happens when you kiss my mouth my knees get so weak.
Could it be true this is what God has meant for me cause baby
I can't believe that something like you could happen to me
Something like you .."

JC would have continued, but he heard Justin's even breathing coming from the other line. "Sleep well." He placed the phone back on the receiver and stretched his arms out, deciding to head back upstairs to continue packing.

"Nights when you don't call, my life is a catastrophe."

***

Wade had made it back to his hotel room at this point, unsure of what he should do next. He didn't see any other opportunities, so he decided he'd give it another go for his album. He didn't care that most of the world figured it was a rumor and all the shit they were saying about it, it wanted it to work.

He cursed, pulling his watch off of his wrist and throwing it at the window, instantly shattering the glass into tiny pieces. He stood up, cursing once again. "Damnit!" He ran a hand through his messed up, spiked hair, and stood still for a moment, trying to calm down somewhat. His attempts at calming down failed, as a small, smug smile replaced the aggression and the frown his face once had. He had a sort of.. psychopathic idea to finally reclaim, well gain, the fame he had been longing for.

"Revenge," he said, softly, eyes crinkling at the edges as the smile turned into a wicked grin, and he began to chuckle to himself. "He took my fame away from me, whether he realizes it or not, whether he believes it or not. It would then.. be best to take something away from him."

This was all making sense in his mind, but it probably wouldn't make sense to anyone he told it to. Well.. He walked over to his phone, picking it up off of the counter. He flipped the cellular device open, dialing random numbers into the small keypad before placing the device onto his ear, grin still in place. "Hello? Yes, may I please have the number for Lou Pearlman? Thank you, I'll hold."



next

Email: whatweallwishfor@yahoo.com