Justin smiled as the saw it was JC’s cell number on the caller id. He picked up the receiver, not even bothering to say hello. “I miss you….get home!” JC laughed. “I miss you, too,” he replied. “And I should be home in an hour, depending on traffic.” “You’ve landed?” Justin smiled again, thinking of JC walking through the airport on his cell. He glanced at the clock. “It’s only four, so traffic shouldn’t be too bad.” He started sorting through the mail left in a neat pile by the housekeeper. “How was the flight?” he asked, stopping at a heavy cream envelope. Must be an invitation, Justin thought. “Not bad. Sat next to Jamie Foxx.” “Really?” Justin loved Jamie Foxx. He laughed at the story JC told of sitting next to the comedian, the phone perched on his shoulder as he opened the cream envelope. Justin frowned as he read the letter. He picked up the envelope, noting there was no return address, but an LA postmark. He blinked, realizing JC was calling his name. “Sorry, what was that?” “I asked what you wanted to do tonight,” JC repeated. “Stay in or go out?” Justin balled up the letter and the envelope, tossing both into the trash. “Definitely stay in,” Justin said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “You’ve been gone for five days, baby. We have got a lot of catching up to do.” “Aw, you’re so sweet, Justin,” JC teased. “So we’re going to have a long talk about what’s going on with my album, your recording, the other guys’, that kind of stuff?” Justin snorted a laugh. “No, we’re going to fuck. All night long. So get your pretty ass here as quickly as possible.” “Yes, sir,” JC laughed. “I promise I’ll be naked before I reach the top of the stairs.” And he was. *** He held the last note until signaled. “That was good, Justin,” a voice called through his headphones. Justin smiled. “Thanks. Is that enough for today, Jimmy?” Though really the one in charge, Justin always deferred to the producer. The man on the other side of the booth nodded. “Sure, no problem, Justin.” Knobs were turned, switches flipped off, and the recording session ended. Justin waved one last goodbye as he left the studio. Twilight was approaching as he made his way across the parking lot to his car. Beeping open the door, his attention was caught by something light stuck under one of the wiper blades. Coming closer to the car, Justin recognized it to be an envelope, just like the one he’d gotten at his house yesterday. He looked around, scanning the area as the reality of the situation struck home. Someone knew he was here. Someone had followed him here. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Justin slipped a finger through the flap and pulled out the heavy paper. How dare you? Recording another solo album already, while JC’s hasn’t even been released? I always knew you were a spiteful and hateful diva, but not to this extent. You deserve everything you get. And I’m going to enjoy giving it to you.” Justin’s finger’s started to tingle and he absently wiped his hand on his jeans. He scanned the surrounding area again, still seeing nothing unusual, nothing out of the ordinary. He dropped the letter to the hood of his car as his hands continued to burn. He rubbed the together, but that only increased the pain. He jumped when something touched his shoulder. “Justin, what’s wrong?” Jimmy the producer asked. “Hands…hurt…” He sank to the ground holding out his rapidly swelling hands. “Don’t…touch…letter.” Justin rocked back and forth, tears of pain streaming down his cheeks. Jimmy was already dialing 911 on his cell. *** To say that JC Chasez was surprised by the sight of Justin walking into the house with bandaged hands and two police detectives was an understatement. Justin smiled through the pain as JC went ballistic. “OH MY FUCKING GOD! What happened to you? How did you get hurt? Where have you been? Why didn’t you call?” He gently led Justin by the elbow to the couch before turning on the detectives. “Who the hell are you?” “JC, relax,” Justin said. “These are police detectives, Kirby and Matthews.” He leaned back onto the couch. “I have no idea which is which.” “I’m Kirby, sir,” the taller of the two said. “Detective Matthews and I have been assigned Mr. Timberlake’s case.” “Case?” JC shouted. “CASE? What case? What happened? Why are you hurt?” “I’m okay, Jayce.” JC knelt in front of Justin and held the younger man’s bandaged hands in his own. “You couldn’t tell by these,” he said accusingly. “Mr. Timberlake, the other letter?” Det. Matthews said. “Oh, sorry.” He waved a swathed hand in the direction of the kitchen. “In there. In the trash.” “For the last time, what’s going on?” JC asked the remaining detective. “Mr. Timberlake received a letter while at the studio. It was placed on his car. The paper the letter was written on was coated with a caustic agent, burning Mr. Timberlake’s hands.” “A letter?” JC looked from the detective to Justin and back. “What did it say?” “Stupid crap,” Justin hedged. JC ignored Justin and continued to stare at Det. Kirby. “The letter expressed displeasure in the fact that Mr. Timberlake was recording a new album while your album hasn’t been released.” JC blinked. “What? My…what does my album have to do with yours?” JC asked Justin. “Nothing. I told you it was stupid stuff,” Justin said again as the other detective returned, holding a plastic bag containing an envelope and paper. “You’ve gotten more than one?” JC asked Justin. “And you didn’t tell me?” Justin reached up to pet JC, pausing when his hand twinged. “I got it yesterday. Didn’t think anything about it, really. You know we get weird letters all the time.” “But not to your house, Justin,” JC scolded. “And not on your car.” He rose from the floor and sat on the couch next to Justin. “Forgive me, please. Sit down.” The detectives sat in chairs next to the couch. “What does this one say?” JC asked, indicating the letter Det. Matthews “JC…” JC ignored him. “The letter?” The detective maneuvered the letter in the plastic until it was legible. He cleared his throat and started to read. “You fucking bastard! How could you? Are you so threatened by JC’s talent that you had to sabotage his album? And don’t even try to deny it. You have Jive so far up your ass they’ll do anything you asks. It makes you look pathetic, really. But you’d better fix this, and fix it quick. Or you’ll be sorry.” JC turned to Justin, his lips white with anger. “You didn’t think I’d be interested in that? That it wasn’t important?” “JC…” JC cut him off. “We’ll talk about that later.” He turned to the detectives. “What now?” “We need to ask you both some questions,” Det. Kirby said. “Have you received any letters similar to these?” he asked JC. JC shook his head. “Not here, but I haven’t been to my house in about a week. There could be something there.” “If there is, don’t touch it, please,” Det. Matthews said. “Have either of you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around?” Both men shook their heads. “You employ bodyguards, right?” Both nodded. “But you didn’t take one with you today?” the policeman asked Justin. Justin shrugged. “I usually don’t just to the studio.” “And who knew you’d be at this studio?” Justin thought a moment. “JC. My mom. Trace. Johnny. Jimmy. He’s the producer.” JC gave the detective last names. “Can we continue this tomorrow?” he asked, seeing Justin wince with pain as he moved his hands again. The detectives exchanged a glance. “Yes, sure.” They rose and JC walked them to the door. “You have an alarm system?” JC nodded. “Good. We’ll send a car by every so often, too.” “Thank you,” JC said. He closed the door behind the detectives, throwing home the deadbolt and setting the alarm. He walked back into the living room and stood over Justin. “How could you not tell me about this?” JC demanded. “The letter was sent here…to your house, Justin. That’s not just some overzealous fan!” Justin laughed silently. “JC, I have no idea what ‘overzealous” means,’” he said, his bandaged hands making quote marks in the air. JC started pacing. “It means way too interested in what we do, standing outside the hotel, stuff like that.” He stopped in front of Justin, hands on hips. “But this is much worse. This person knew where you were! This person HURT you, Justin!” “I know, Jayce,” he said agreed. “And believe me, I’m scared about it. But I can’t help now that I didn’t tell you. Honestly, at the time, it didn’t seem important.” Justin sighed, dropping his head back on the couch and closing his eyes. The bandaged hands were lying gingerly on his thighs. He felt JC sit down next to Justin and he opened his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Justin said softly. “Oh, baby,” JC cried, pulling Justin into his arms. “I’m sorry, too. I can’t believe…” He kissed Justin’s head as it lay on JC’s chest. “I don’t understand how someone could hurt you.” “It’s not that bad,” Justin fudged. “Justin…” Justin sighed. “Okay, it’s bad. My hands hurt like a mother fucker.” JC rose from the couch, pulling Justin along with him. “Let’s get you into bed,” he said, guiding Justin up the stairs. “I hope the doctor’s gave you some good drugs.” Justin threw a smile over his shoulder. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll share…” *** It had been wonderful, seeing Justin squirming on the ground like the worm he is. The light from the monitor cast an eerie glow, lighting the posters and dolls and other paraphernalia surrounding the computer. Fingers flew over the keys, keeping the rest of the world informed about JC…telling anyone who’d listen about JC…and even those who won’t listen, and still think Timberlake is the best… But they’re wrong. They’re very, very wrong.