Elaborate Lives

Disclaimer: I do not know N Sync. This is a purely fictional story created in the recesses of my warped mind. Any similarities with actual people is merely coincidental. Unfortunately, I had to cast some of my favorite actors in unflattering roles. While I don't believe that this is how they really act, I put it in because it worked with the story line. Ah, the joys of fiction. Comments are welcome at xykos@earthlink.net

enjoy.

Elaborate Lives Chapter Four

We all lead such elaborate lives

Wild ambitions in our sights

How an affair of the heart survives

Days apart and hurried nights

Seems quite unbelievable to me

I don't want to live like that

Seems quite unbelievable to me

i don't want to love like that

I just want our time to be

Slower and gentler, wiser, free

The ringing phone woke me up. I glanced at the clock; it was 8 in the morning. People weren't supposed to be functioning this early in the day, I thought angrily as I got up, stumbling to the phone.

"What's wrong with the script now, Steven?" I didn't bother asking who it was; I knew the only person who called me nowadays was Benny and Spielberg. And Benny knew from experience that I would rip him a new one if he woke me up at 8 in the morning.

"Nothing's wrong with the script, Alex. There's a location problem. I thought you did your research before you wrote the damn book."

I sighed, irritated. "What are you talking about?"

"There's no path from the Pali, Alex. No trail. What the hell are we going to do with that scene now?" Anger was creeping into his voice.

"There's a path. Trust me." I rubbed my eyes, weary of this conversation already. It was going to be a long day. "Have your scouts ask the locals, not the tourists or the tour groups. The locals will show them the path.

A pause. "Fine."

"Anything else?"

"Not right now, but we need to touch up the script when you come back to L.A. tomorrow."

I sighed. I didn't want to go back to L.A. I wanted to work on my book. I wanted to stay in Colorado. I wished I never met Steven, never agreed to do the movie. "Fine, Steven. See you tomorrow." With that I hung up and stumbled back to my bed, knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep but I didn't feel like doing anything else.

My flight arrived late, so I had to rush to get to Dreamworks. I entered the main lobby and impatiently waited for the elevator, my overnight bag clutched in my hand. I didn't have time to get to the hotel and freshen up. Steven was furious about the delay, blamed the plane leaving Denver an hour late on me. The elevator arrived and I entered, hitting the 12 floor. I closed my eyes as the cart moved silently. I felt the beginning of a headache coming on. Hopefully this meeting wouldn't take too long. A loud ding caused me to open my eyes. The doors whispered open and I entered another lobby, with the same receptionist from before sitting at the desk. She smiled.

"They're waiting for you through the second set of doors on the right, Mr. Goodman," she stated. Looking at me, she noticed the bag in hand. "You can leave that here with me. I'll watch it for you." I thanked her as I handed my bag to her and headed towards the room.

Entering, I was surprised at how many people were there. They were broken into clusters of people, whispering among each other, waiting for me. As I entered, the conversations stopped; I felt twenty pairs of eyes turn toward me, eyeing me critically. I probably looked like a slob to them. I remember the last time I was inappropriately dressed and searched the room for James. I found him sitting quietly in a corner, alone. My eyes caught his; he gave me a quick smile which I returned and he returned to reading the script. I felt a little uneasy seeing him again, since the last time we meet was a moment that I wanted to forget.

The tension between James and I was the least of my concerns, though. I heard Steven shout out "So, the prodigal son has decided to join us." Everyone laughed and I blushed, looking at the floor. Steven appeared, looking only mildly irritated and began to introduce me to the cast.

"Glen, I would like you to meet . . ."

"It's great to finally meet you. I loved `Sunset Blvd.' so . . ."

"Josh, call me Josh."

"You were great in Speedway Junky. That one of my . . ."

"Ms. Ricci, I can't believe it. You're one of my favorite . . ."

The meet and greet session lasted about half an hour as Steven paraded me in front to the principle cast of my movie. With each knew hand I shock and each phony smile I received and gave back, my headache began to worsen a little. By the time we reached the end of the line I had a migraine, the pounding behind my eyes made me physically ill.

"And of course you already know Mr. Bass." Steven said.

I looked up and saw James standing in front of me, not quite looking at me. Three weeks had passed since we last saw each other, but the hurt was still there in his eyes. I wondered again for the millionth time whether I had made the right decision.

"Hello, James," I said softy. Steven had left us and the rest of the cast had fallen back to their social circles. James and I were alone, and I kind of liked it, uncomfortable as it was.

James looked at me then, taking me in, as if we were long lost lovers torn apart years ago and finally meeting each other again. His eyes spoke volumes to me, but he said nothing.

I sighed again. I had caused the anguished look upon his face, and I couldn't bear it. I spotted a chair and gratefully sank into it. Lance sat next to me, still staring intently.

"You have another headache." His observation startled me. I looked at him, surprised.

"How'd you know?" I asked.

He grinned at me. "I recognize the look on your face. The look that says you're going to kill the next person who talks to you, the person who asks you a question, the person who offers to show you around the town."

I grimaced at his statement. I had forgotten about that. Or I had tried to forget it. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to keep the light from entering my eyes. Suddenly I felt a shock coarse through me. I jumped, my eyes flashed opened and saw that James had taken my hand in his. His touch caused a static shock, just like in the elevator three weeks before.

I was wondering what he was doing. He still had my hand in his, oblivious to the people around us. I was about to say something when a terrible pain entered the hand he was holding. James began to pinch the skin between the thumb and index finger, rubbing the area with his pinched fingers. It took all of my energy from crying out loud.

After a few moments, the pain began to fade to something a little more tolerable. It was then that I noticed my headache begin to subside dramatically. I stared at him, awestruck. He glanced at me and quickly looked away, blushing a deep red.

"What'd you do?" I asked, thunderstruck.

He continued to rub my hands he explained. "I picked this little trick up while touring in Asia a couple years back. It's kinda like an acupuncture thing. This point here," he glanced at the spot he held, "is connected to the nerve endings in your head, or something like that. It really works wonders, doesn't it?" He looked into my eyes, giving me a small smile. Before I could reply, a voice brought us back to the real world.

"Well, if you two love birds are ready, well go ahead and start the read-through." Steven smirked and the rest of the cast began laughing. James and I looked at the crowd around us. Amazingly, though, he didn't drop my hand like it was filled with the fires of hell. He stopped rubbing, patted the back of my hand and gently released his grip. I looked at him, astonished. This was so weird, the reaction being so different then the one from the restaurant.

James gave me a shy smile as he stood up. The crowd began to disperse, not caring about us. James held out his hand, offering to help me up. "Baby steps, right?" He asked quietly. I was touched that he was doing this. I accepted his hand, and as I stood, I wondered what this would lead to.

I decided then and there that I hated actors. I hated movies, I hated Hollywood. Why did I ever agree to this? The book was good enough for me. I never wanted fame or money. I took pleasure in writing a good story; one that people actually wanted to read. I loved books. They let the mind expand. The author has a vision and puts it down on paper, but that vision then becomes a mute point. If I described a tree and ten people read that description, I would get ten different trees. Books did that to people. made them think for themselves. Made them picture the scene, the players. Feel the wind and smell the summer air. Movies took that away from the masses; I think that's why America loves the movies. They didn't have to imagine too much for themselves, they didn't have to think too hard. And the people involved in making the movies were the worst visionaries of all.

"Now, when he leaves and I'm sitting by myself, what's going through my head, what's my reaction?"

I looked at Glen for a couple of seconds, not believing the question she asked. Teachers, god bless them, were lying through their teeth when they told children there was no such thing as a dumb question.

"Well, Ms. Close, what do you think is going through your head at that time? You don't really need me to think for you, do you?"

She stared at me evilly. "How dare you, Mr. Goodman. I'm just trying to get the scene right. I have an idea, but I wanted to compare it with yours and what I get from you is mockery? Mr. Spielberg, I will not stand for this."

Steven now glared at me. "Alex, if you could please treat the people in this room with a little respect and courtesy. She asked a simple question that deserves a . . ."

I stopped listening, concentrating on rubbing the spot James had shown me to keep the headaches away. And this was only the first day of the read through. What I wouldn't give to go back to Colorado and forget this ever happened.

I gathered my things from the receptionist at the end of the day and asked her if there was a computer I could use in the morning. I fortunately emailed myself a copy of the `final' script, and needed to work the actors requests into it. She told me just to find her and she could set me up. I thanked her and headed toward the elevator. I was lost in my dream world, again when a voice startled my back to Earth.

"Rough day, huh?" James' soft voice made me jump back, made me give a little yelp of surprise. He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Sorry about that."

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "Don't mention it."

The doors parted and we entered the elevator in awkward silence. As the doors shut, James gathered courage to speak.

"Hey, are you busy tonight?"

I gave him a skeptical eye and glanced at the paperwork in my hand.

He smiled sheepishly. His perfect teeth framed by perfect lips and two moderately sized dimples. I love it when he smiles,' I suddenly thought to myself. It lights his whole face. Look, his eyes are twinkling. I could fall in love with . . .' I suddenly realized what I was thinking and pushed the thought to the back of my mind. Or I tried too, anyway.

"Well, since you'll be up all night, anyway, want to join me for a cup of coffee? There's a Starbucks down the block from here."

I laughed at his comment. "There's a Starbucks on every corner of every street, James." I looked into his hopefully eyes and thought why the hell not. We could be friends, right? Where's the harm in being just friends? "I would love to have a cup of coffee."

If I thought James's face was lit before, now it burst into a sparkling radiance, his eyes becoming twin emerald suns going supernova. Yeah,' I thought. Friends would be just fine.'

"So anyway, after Justin's record became a semi hit, he decided to take a break from the band. Which meant we were all on a break. I mean, there was no *N Sync without our lead singer, right?" James glanced at me, waiting for some kind of conformation to his statement.

"Whatever you say, James, I'm sure you're right."

He glanced at me with mocking disgust. "I can't believe you don't know who Justin Timberlake is. Were you stuck in the dark ages for the last decade?"

I smiled and finished off my coffee. "Yeah, I think I was. I was writing the book, remember?"

"Oh yeah." I could tell James didn't understand what I meant when I said I was zoning out, but he let it go at that.

"Anyway, we all started our own projects, keeping busy, moving on. Chris has his clothing line that really took off a year ago. Joey starred in `Rent' and kept on doing shows on broadway, winning that Tony last month. Justin has his floundering career that he won't let go of and I went off into space. When I came back, I took acting classes and had been trying to find a project ever since. Plus, I still have Freelance and A Happy Place, although those are pretty much well oiled machines. They don't need much help from me." James took a sip from his coffee, and became silent.

A thought hit me as we sat there. "Weren't there five members? You mentioned four."

James started to laugh. A forced one. "So you do keep up with us. I knew you were a fan." I gave him a shrug. "Well, JC, . . . I really don't know what he's doing now. I don't keep in touch with him." I could tell he didn't want to talk about the subject.

"So, acting class, huh?" James gave me a smile, thankful that I changed the subject.

"Yeah, thought I would at least try to become a good actor." He smiled again at his comment, shook his head and looked at the table.

I laughed. "I'm sure you're great. You convinced me, right?"

"Yeah, well, what can I say. You were an easy win."

I raised my eyebrows. "Yeah, why do you say that?"

He stared at me with a straight face. His eyes bore holes into mine. "Because you were so infatuated with me."

I rolled my eyes and he laughed. At least we could joke around about our past meetings. After a while, I joined him. I'm sure we looked like a couple of idiots, the two of us laughing our heads off in the middle of a Starbucks.

"You know James," I began and then thought against saying anything. I was about to tell him that I did find him attractive when I first saw him, but thought it would be better if I said nothing. Sometimes the doors should stay shut.

But too late, I perked his interest. "What?" I shook my head. "No, really, tell me."

"It's nothing, really."

"You're not doing that. I hate it when people say it's nothing. Tell me."

I had to figure out something. Scanning my brain, I came across something and I had to smile.

"I'll tell you in another life, when we are both cats," I told him, grinning from ear to ear.

He gave me a confused look. I saw him search his mind, wondering where he heard that line before. I decided to clue him in.

"Vanilla Sky?" He looked even more puzzled. "Tom Cruise, a couple of years back?" Understanding began to dawn on him. "I don't know, sometimes I pull random phrases that caught my ear out at people and see who blinks.

He smiled. "And you do this often?"

I smiled back. "Always."

"Yeah but you still haven't told . . ." He stopped, wondering. after a couple of seconds, he shouted "Grumpy Old Men!"

I looked at him, bewildered. "Hey," I barked. "I'm the random one, here."

He looked at me, understanding crossing his face. "Dead moose's ass. That's from Grumpy Old Men, isn't it."

"Yeah, it is, why do you. . ." And then I remembered our first meeting. My face began to burn, as the blood rushed upward, trying to saturate the skin in my pale checks. "Oh, you remembered that?"

He smiled at me shyly. "I remember everything about you." He turned his eyes downward, falling silent.

`Not quite everything,' I thought. He had forgotten to ask me what I was going to tell him earlier. My ruse had worked perfectly. Having nothing to say, I looked down at the table as well. We sat there in awkward silence.

"Do you folds need anything else? We'll be closing in a couple of minutes." The girl behind the counter called over to us, making James and me jump.

"No, that's all right, we're fine." James shouted, glancing at his watch. He looked at me. "5 `til midnight. Oh how the time flies."

It was midnight? "Oh my God." I whispered. I had not wanted to stay out this late. I had work to do. "I have to go." He gave me a hurt look, and I pointed toward the papers on the table between us. He cheered up slightly.

"I forgot you had work to do. Sorry about keeping you." We both got up and left the coffee shop.

I looked at him. "Don't be sorry, James. I'm not." I grinned at him. "I had fun tonight. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. I'm here to serve." With that, James gave me a mocking bow. I began to laugh. I'm glad we worked out the awkwardness between us and we could become friends. We began to walk to his hotel, which was a couple of blocks from where we were. We walked in silence, both of us comfortable with each other, not needing to fill the silence with idle talk.

"Thanks for walking me to my hotel." James said. "We should do this more often."

"We should." I replied. "It takes my mind off of the whole reason why I'm here, and that's a great, wonderful thing."

We stood there in front of the hotel, not ready to say goodbye, but unable to do anything else. Eventually, a man walked down the street, gave us a weird look and hurried away, glancing at us in fear. We both stared to laugh.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Alex. Goodnight." And with that, James left. I realized then, that it was the first time we didn't part with one of us being angry or hurt. I smiled to myself as I flagged down a taxi. Finally, I had a friend in the business. Someone who I could talk to when I got jaded with Hollywood.

This wasn't such a bad town after all.

"What movie do you want to watch?" James asked me as we ate our lunch at Dreamworks. Thanks to him, the read throughs were getting better. The actors more bearable and Spielberg was a lot less prissy. It was the fourth day of rehearsals and James and I had hung out with each other everyday after work. Now that the script had pretty much all the kinks fixed, my going there was just a formality. I was glad to be around James, and wondered what was forming between us? Could it be more than friendship?

"I don't know. You choose."

He shook his head. "Uh uh. I chose last time, remember?"

Yes I did. I smiled randomly, remembering how he had got me to watch `On The Line.'

"Well, in that case," I said. "It'll be a surprise."

He looked at me, skeptically. As we got to know each other, he learned of my passion for cheesy movies. Ones that everyone hated, like Eyes Wide Shut' and Plan Nine From Outer Space.' In fact, if the movie did well, I tended not to like it, not because I had to be different, but because I hated special effects and blockbuster movies almost always depended on them. James was about to say something, but we were called back from lunch. He shook his head, wondering if he would regret letting me choose.

"I'm pleasantly surprised." James said, yawning a little. "I thought I would hate this movie. JC always tried to get me to watch it, but I hate musicals.

"Ironic, isn't it. I mean, you are a musician." I laughed, smiling at him. He just looked at me.

"But what was the point of the green fairy?"

I smiled. "Well, the drink was known as `The Green Fairy' back then. It really does cause hallucinations, and I guess it was just a representation of the drink and all the evils of falling into decadence."

He glanced at me. "How did you get evil from that?"

"Didn't you notice the fairy's eyes?" He shook his head. "Next time, look at her eyes. They turn red as they fly past her into the seedy underworld."

He gazed at me suspiciously. "What do you mean `next time?'"

I gave him a puzzled look. "I thought you said you liked it?"

"No I didn't." He said, defensively. "I said I was pleasantly surprised. I thought it would totally suck, and it just sucked a little."

I rolled my eyes and hit him with a pillow. "That's my favorite movie, you know."

"I know." he gave me a sad look, as if I was the most deranged man alive. "How could you like that? I mean, come on. That love story was so, so, so cheesy."

I laughed. "Oh, and `On The Line' wasn't?" He gave my a dirty glance. I sighed. "To each there own, I guess." I started to get up and he pulled me back down. I look at him and saw him studying me intently.

"I didn't mean to get you upset, Alex."

"I'm not upset, James. `Moulin Rouge' is a love it or hate it movie. I don't care if you don't like it."

"Yeah, but I wanted to like it so much." He still stared at me intently, looking a little sad with the comment.

"Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"Because," he looked down shyly for a moment. Gathering some courage from somewhere, he looked back at me, determination filling his face. "Because I want to love everything that you do. Because I love everything about you. Because I think I'm falling in love with you." And with that he leaned in to kissed me. Nothing like before. It wasn't forceful, nor did he want anything more. I think he was happy with just the simple kiss. So was I.

This time I didn't push him away.

"Mr. Spielberg, I still don't know why I have to be so heartless. I mean no mother could do that to her child. Can't we do something to better my character? Something, I don't know. Like I could . . ."

I drowned out Glen's words. I was happy today and nothing was going to bring me down. James and I had awoken in each other's arms. I'm glad we got together, and I'm glad he took me seriously when I said to him I wanted to take it slow. I was still wary about where the relationship would head with obstacles in front of us, but I couldn't turn him down again. I had got to know him, learned to love him. I would try to overcome the obstacles.

"Alex? Alex!" Stephen's voice rang out, waking me. I looked around frantically.

"Yeah?" I saw him shake his head and in the corner of my eye, I saw Glen turn red with again. I hadn't been paying attention when she was talking. Shame on me. Glancing over at James, I saw he found my situation to be amusing. I rolled my eyes and giggled to myself.

"Talk with Glen, get her ideas and work them into the story. I want it in a couple of days."

Now I was confused. "But, Steven." I stammered. "Today's the last day. You guys go to Hawaii tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, and you're coming with us. We need you there for any changes we need."

I started to panic. I had to find a way out of this. My book. That's it. "But I need to get back to Colorado. I need to get my book finished for Random House." That should work.

Maybe not. "Then bring it with you."

"But, but." I couldn't think of anything. I saw James looking at me alarmed. All of them were staring at me. "But I don't have a portable computer," I said lamely.

It didn't work. "Then buy a laptop, Alex. I'm paying you enough for you to afford one." steven's response generated a chuckle from the crowd. "What's the problem, Alex?"

I sighed. I had to go, I guess. "There's no problem." I looked at James, and saw the worry in his eyes. I couldn't look at him. I had a new problem to focus on. I looked down at the table, stared intently at the script in front of me.

I was going to Hawaii with everyone else. I was going home.

To be continued . . .