A week later, and J.C and I were on a plane to Orlando. J.C. had told me all about everyone. This guy, Chris Kirkpatrick, was singing with a couple of other guys for a long time. So he finally decided to start a band. J.C. got a call from one of his buddies on the MMC. This guy, Justin Timberlake, is only sixteen, but he has a great voice. Chris then called another guy, Joey Fatone, who worked at Universal Studios with him. Finally, Chris told Justin he needed a bass voice, so Justin called his old vocal coach. He recommended a guy who shared the coach with Justin. James Lance Bass, or just Lance. They all were flying to Orlando to have a demo tape made. I was in charge of the session, which is needless to say, pretty cool. I was hoping Mrs. Ford would let Jordan come, but she wanted her to finish school. That was disappointing, but we promised to keep in touch with each other.
“Caryn, we’re going to be landing soon. You might want to fasten your seat belt.”
“Nah. The little no smoking thingy didn’t come on yet. Besides, what could happen if I don’t?”
“You’ll fall out of your seat and onto me. Then you’ll crush me!”
I gave him an astounded look, followed by a play punch.
“Jerk.”
“Excuse me miss, but the no smoking signal is on. Please fasten your seatbelts.”
“Oh! Sorry!” I was blushing. J.C. leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“Told ya so!”
“Oh shut up!” I pushed him out of the way, and fastened my seat belt. We had a rather bumpy landing. When we exited the airport, I was hit with air as thick as glue! The intense moisture made the air so heavy, I could almost feel it on my skin.
“There’s our ride,” J.C. pointed to a black limo squatted at the end of the row of cars. J.C. waved his arm in the air, and the limo came our way. J.C. pushed me in first, then he followed. Three guys sat staring back at me.
“Um….hi, I guess.”
The three guys waved at me. J.C. pointed to the guy in the far corner who had sort of long black hair, and braces on his teeth.
“This is the criminal mastermind behind us. This is the Chris Kirkpatrick.”
The boy smiled and showed his silvery teeth.
“How’re ya doin’? You must be Karen, or Caryn…or whatever.” J.C. pointed to the next guy.
“This is the ‘baby,’ Justin Timberlake. He’s right around your age, Care.”
Justin waved, and smiled. His teeth were free of metal, and were a pearly white. He was cute.
“Hey, wuz up? I’m Justin.”
“J.C. , how could you say something like that. We’re not babies! Be nice!”
Justin gave me another beautiful smile. I gave him one right back.
“Finally, we have Joey Fatone. He’s a cool cat from New York.” The last guy by the other door waved. He was extremely interested in something outside. “Hi.”
“Oh yeah…..um….hey.”
“Would it be rude of me to ask what you are looking at?” “Depends. I’m just bored, that’s all.”
“Oh. Hey where’s Lance Bass?” I asked even though it was none of my business. Chris answered from his conversation with Justin.
“Bassy Boy will be in tomorrow. He has some things to work out at home.” He turned to J.C. “We better get to the hotel. It’s getting late, and our demo session is tomorrow.” Chris faced me. “We are going to put you in rooms according to age. Joey and me in one room, Caryn, Justin, and J.C. in the other. How does that sound?”
“Fine Chris.” Fifteen minutes later, and we were in our rooms, ready for bed. I was the last to fall asleep. I had jet lag. Bummer.
“Caryn…Care come on! It’s time to get up.” I opened my eyes to see J.C. looking straight at me. “I have a really big surprise for you.”
“What? What is it?”
“You mean who. You’ll see in a little while. Now let’s go!”
I jumped right out of bed and got dressed as quick as I possibly could. We all piled into the limo and headed off. We got to the “studio” in ten minutes. The “studio” was actually an old abandoned warehouse. It was unbelievably hot in there. Lance was waiting for the rest of the guys to arrive. Justin and Lance’s moms were there too. They were there to supervise because Lance and Justin were underage. Lynn Timberlake was a very nice woman. Now I could see whom Justin got it from. The boys all piled into the old both, and began warming up. J.C. and the rest of the group had stuck me with the job of naming the band. I had no idea what to call them, and even if I did, my ideas always suck. In a few minutes, Justin poked his head out of the both, smiling.
“Hey ma, how did we sound?”
“You sounded great Justin. I guess you could say you’re pretty well in sync!”
I bounded off the couch and over to Justin.
“Justin!” I cried, “Your mom’s a genius!”
“What?”
“In sync! Guys can be in sync.”
“Yea, but that’s gay to just spell it all out.”
Justin picked up a pad of paper and scribbled something down on it.
“This is ho we’ll write it,” Justin held up the paper to Chris (who had just exited the booth as well) and me. It had five letters scribbled on it:
*NSYNC