Greetings to you all. Yes, I know this installment is a bit shorter, but it came to my usual style of ending rather quickly. I knew that if I didn't post it up right now, you won't get a new installment until a week later that was 80K in size! Even though I try to use myself for the psyche of Mark, he's diverging a bit more from me. Actually, what's diverging a LOT more is the reality/fantasy thing. Ha! Like I ever went on tour with them...oops! Sorry...disregard that. Oh well, so I foreshadowed a bit! Please, remember, e-mail me! I must say a thank you to one Jake who has stayed in contact with me! I love you man!
OK, and here are the boring, various disclaimers. This is a FICTIONAL story involving the band NSync, specifically member Lance Bass. I do not know NSync in any way, shape, or fashion with the exception of what I can get off of fan pages, their official site, various interviews, and the like. I do not know the sexual orientations of any members, although a guy can dream, can't he? :-) I do not claim to know the personalities of any member of Nsync either, and all reactions are the product of one deranged author.
If you're part of Nsync, please e-mail me! If you're not, e-mail me anyway!
Iff (test your math/science terminology here!) you are offended by homosexual relationships, or are under 18 or the legal age in your area, or your local laws/customs do not permit the reading of such material, then don't continue, even though this section contains no sex. GASP! Yes, I'm not one for writing porn stories. This is (hopefully!) a real story with emotions beyond passion. If those rules apply to you, then don't get caught reading this if you do decided to go on and read it.
Although I have cut out my inspiration's paragraph, I'm still acknowledging ScottyT and Darren LeVanelle for inspiring me to write a non-sex based story. And also a thanks to all my real-life friends who are never going to read this for giving me the driving force behind the writing! I love you guys!
Every Little Thing I Do
Chapter 3
By Mahka
I awoke the next morning, groggy, to the blare of the morning show on the radio. They were busy talking about how last night's Nsync concert went, taking calls from dazed girls. I sat bolt upright in bed. Nsync! Lance! I wasn't sure if it had been a dream or not, my head was so foggy. I could've sworn it had been real, but only a look into the guest room and bath room would tell.
I rolled out of bed after a quick look at the clock. 9AM. Grr...just 8 hours of sleep. Mind you that I would give anything to get 8 hours during the school year! I just felt that summer was the time of 10+ hours of sleep per day. I crossed the short distance between my bed and door, and yanked it open, allowing light to fill the room. I looked across the hall toward the guest room.
Nothing. The bed was made, there were no bags on the floor. No watches or other odd pieces of jewelry on the night stand. My thoughts ran rampant. I could have SWORN it was real! Yes, I had met Sarah yesterday for coffee at the mall. I did buy No Strings Attached - the CD was sitting by the radio. I remember knocking someone over, the anguish and excitement of seeing a star. I stepped around the corner into the bathroom. Nothing by the sinks, no gels or toothbrushes that weren't mine. The towel rack held just one towel - mine. The hamper was full of clothes, mine, but contained no extra towel. No! I thought. I couldn't have possibly dreamed up something so...so REAL, full of emotions and conversation, color and sound.
I heard the typical radio coming from the kitchen, blaring oldies. My mother always had oldies on, and I was always changing channels to a more modern station, or as my mother called it, noise. I heard an occasional "clink" as silverware hit flat ware or a bowl. I decided to head downstairs and find out what had happened and why I was awake so early. No way could a dream have made me wake up at 9, especially since I had set the alarm. I headed down the stairs, my pajamas swooshing around me. I LOVE pajamas...they're so loose and comfortable. I turned the corner looked into the kitchen, and stopped.
Lance was sitting at the breakfast table, dressed in a t-shirt and khakis, eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes. I knew what he was eating because the box stood on the table. So it WASN'T a dream! My mind turned a few times, did a few jumping jacks to wake up, went for a swim, and sat in the sauna before it returned to me.
"Mornin'," he said in between mouthfuls of the sugary stuff. Personally, I love Frosted Flakes. Nothing like sugar to get your day going.
I quickly recovered from my shock, pretending that I had never doubted that he was staying at my house. "Morning. You cleaned out your room."
"Yeah. I figured I was going back on the bus today, and besides, I'm used to doing quick packs. You develop that skill when you spend months on the road." He continued to shovel the cereal into his mouth. His mouth. His mouth was the most perfect shape, with lucious lips just begging to be kissed. I remembered a Real World episode from New Orleans where one cast member was talking about another room mates's lips, and they showed a little collage. I felt like I was going through the same thing.
"Oh, by the way, sorry about the fact that we have no bread. You can't have your french toast." Thank God I had done SOME research into each member!
"That's ok. Even though it's my favorite food, it's nice to have something else for breakfast every now and then. All those magazines and interviews make it seem like I have french toast every single day for breakfast! And all the hotels know it too, so each morning they prepare french toast for me. Tours are the worst. Same food, boring food."
Ah ha! Yay, that made him seem even more human, and I just became more comfortable. My mom apparently had gone out to do some errands, since she wasn't home and her shoes were missing. There was a pause in the conversation as he continued to eat, looking at me.
"So, you going out like that?" he finally said.
"Huh?" I looked down myself. Oops, I hadn't changed yet! I was still clad in pajamas. "Oh, this. No, I'm going to go change now." I turned to leave, but something about Lance had struck me as odd. I turned back to him, looking him over. He gave me an inquisitive look.
"What?" he asked, mouth full of cereal.
I finally noticed it. "Your hair," I replied. He didn't have it spiked up in it's trademark style. Instead, it was parted and combed neatly to one side. I didn't know that his hair was long enough to do that. It looked kinda funny, with random highlights showing through here and there instead of at a uniform height.
"Oh, yeah," he said, swallowing the cereal. "Listen, you go get changed first and I'll tell you when I don't feel out of place all dressed up."
"Ok, fine!" Exasperated, I ran up the stairs, changed, popped my contacts in, got rid of my bed-head, brushed my teeth, all in record time. I ran back down, dressed in shorts and a Hard Rock t-shirt. OK, so I'm a sucker for those things. I like 'em. Lets people know that I've been places. "So wassup with the hair?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen.
He pushed back his bowl, apparently finished.
"Well, I figured that since we're going to spend a good deal of today in public, I ought to change something about me so I don't have to wear sunglasses all day. And I've tested this already...most people don't know it's me when I have my hair down."
"You look good. Reminds me of a friend of mine who graduated two years ago and moved to Virginia this year."
"Oh? Well, I guess it works the other way around too. He ever complain of being confused with me?" He seemed amused about that fact.
"Not that I've heard of. But I don't talk to him all that often. I haven't seen him in a while though...so he may have changed his hairstyle." I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, spoon from the drawer, and the milk from the fridge. I walked over to the breakfast table and sat down in my customary spot, to his left. "But I knew him for two years before he left, and he never did anything to it, except bleach his hair, so I doubt it."
"Ah, cool," he said. We sat making very small talk while I ate. I noticed he kept looking at me, and when I looked at him, he looked away. A bit too quickly for just nonchalance. I decided to keep to myself for now, but vowed to bring it up with him if I noticed it again. Actually, maybe I'd allow it to slide several times first and catch him when it was really obvious. So I'm a coniving little bitch. So sue me! :-)
I polished off my cereal and put everything away while Lance watched. We talked a little more, and I learned about his family and the rest of the group. See? I told you I wasn't one of those stalker fans who knows every last detail! In fact, Lance found it amusing that I didn't know all of those facts.
Around ten-thirty, we finally headed out for the mall again, his bags in my trunk. He figured that he would get picked up at the mall and driven to the venue directly. As we drove, we continued our little chat. As any curious fan would ask, I eventually asked him if he had a special some one out there. He laughed, shrugging it off.
"No, nobody now. I used to have a girlfriend, but it just didn't work out. She ended up breaking up with me."
"Aww, what happened?" I was curious. I wanted to see if it was a legitimate, straight reason, and therefore busting my chances, or if it was a contrived answer.
"It just didn't work out," he repeated. AHA! If he was straight, he would have given me an answer with substance. After all, he had already told me his life story, more or less. How he grew up in a small town, how his parents were supportive, siblings loved him. His heartache when he ended up not finishing high school on the campus because of Nsync. Why couldn't he admit the reason he broke up with this girl? I was about to push it, but decided not to. We only had about a minute left before we hit the mall.
Our talk turned to what he wanted to get. A few more clothes, some gifts for his family. Going by what he had bought the day before, I figured that we would be going into stores that I usually don't go into. Like Abercrombie&Fitch, maybe the Versace or Boss stores, Timberland, and J.Crew. I'm more of a Old Navy guy myself, not one for the big brands splashed across every inch of what I wear. I'm not a walking billboard dammit!
I'm not going to bore you with the details of shopping. We went to all the stores I usually don't visit, including Versace, Boss, and Tiffany&Co. Hmm, either he's a lot richer than I thought or the label was paying for it all. We grabbed lunch at California Café late in the afternoon, about 1:30. We tried to stay out of the public as much as possible and away from places we knew groupies to be, but we still caught some probing glances.
Lunch was simple, the conversation light. I only asked him about the concert and his life as a recording artist. He revealed to me that although the concerts gave him a rush, the rest of the time wasn't all it was cut out to be or how glamorous interviews and stories made out their life.
"It's tiring to be on the road so much, doing an all-out performance each and every night. We usually try to sleep in as much the day after, but management sometimes schedules these morning shows for us to be on." He made a face. "It's awful getting to bed at 12 or 1 and then getting up at 5 to be in whatever studio for wardrobe and sound checks and all that crap. Our bus? Even though it's decked out, we use it for sleeping more than anything else I think. Unless we had an off day. Those are the best. And then those months we have off. No tours, interviews, album work. We can go home and relax, chill out, have fun. Then we get bored and decide to start another album, and it cycles itself." He laughed at the irony. "Not only that," he continued, "but it gets lonely too. I mean, I love the other guys and their company. Like we've said in many an interview, we're like brothers. But even siblings can only provide so much, y'know? And even though we have a supporting crew, we never really get to know them beyond the professional level since they're in their own little group. I guess we lack friends on the tour. Friends provide a lot of things, more things than you can imagine." He started to look a bit uncomfortable, so I had a feeling he was going to say something that was hard for him to say. Was he coming out now? So soon? I doubted it, and let him continue on his own, keeping my own face neutral.
He drew in a deep breath, and launched into what he was going to say. "Which is why I'm asking you to come with us for the remainder of the tour," and with that, he drew an envelope from his pocket.
I sat in open mouthed shock, staring at him across the table laden with our almost complete meal. Never in a million years would I have expected to go on tour with any performer unless I myself was a performer. I meant as a groupie. This was beyond belief.
Lance placed the envelope on the table, and pushed it across to me. "In there, you'll find a card with your name on it and a lanyard. It's been coded for the highest security clearance so you can get to us without any problems. You can get into any concert free, and go beyond the security lines even during the concert, since we have an open space between the stage and the crowd. You can get into that little space. I just hope you'll accept my offer to join us."
I was still in shock, trying to process everything I had heard. It made sense, at least, logistically. I guess he considered me a true friend, since he made this little offer after his "friends" speech. But I was worried about my own life, my own friends and especially my mother. She couldn't be expected to run the house by herself. Perhaps for a few short days, but certainly not for an entire tour! Plus I had school to worry about, and college application deadlines were fast approaching. At least, it felt that way, although they were four months off. My initial excitement was beginning to fade quickly.
"Well?" he prompted.
"I - I don't know," I finally managed to stammer out, the enthusiasm out of my voice.
"You don't know what?" He started to sound annoyed, and his face was showing it. "What is there to know? I've given you the best ever deal, a chance to tour with Nsync and hang out with us, and ME." He emphasized the "me" a good deal. He looked away, then looked back at me. I guess he saw how torn I was on my face, because his features softened rapidly.
"What is it?" he asked, placing his hands on top of the table.
"I just don't know!" I was on the verge of tears. On one side was the chance of a lifetime, a new friendship. But on the other side was a life, full of old friends. "I don't know what to do. I understand that this is a tremendous opportunity, and I like you as a friend and everything. But you have to understand that if I go with you guys, I also leave behind my own set of friends and family. I know you go through that each time you leave on tour, but I don't have the fame to back me up, and I don't have any other friends on the tour except for you. I'd be a total stranger." For once in my life, I had managed to speak my mind. Lance really was a godsend.
"I understand, so I'm going to let you think about it, k? We're on break over the weekend in New York. But why don't you come down to the concert for at least tonight? The pass is yours no matter what you say or do. Whenever you want to drop by, you'll always be welcome." He looked at me straight in the eyes, which is really quite something to come under. His particular shade of green possessed so much power, that they really were windows into the soul. I saw his own anguish caused by loneliness, his own heartache at not having someone else there to talk to. I felt sorry for him, although I was sure he wouldn't want any pity.
I sat back, taking the envelope. "Thanks," I whispered as I placed it in my own pocket.
We bypassed desert, and Lance paid for the meal. We left in silence, each in our own thoughts. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but I'm sure he damn well wanted me to go on tour if he was giving me such an opportunity after less than 24 hours. I continued in my own little battle, between the glamour of one side and the practicality and emotions of the other.
I continued to take him shopping, neither of us bringing up the subject. Finally 3pm rolled around, and he said he had to leave. He called up the limo, and we waited outside the mall for it to show up. Twenty minutes later, he was putting his bags into the limo.
"Don't hesitate to call, please," he said. "And remember, show's at seven tonight. I suggest getting there at least 30 minutes early. If you want, we'll send out a limo for you." He gave me a hug, and stepped into the car, closing the door behind him. I watched the limo go, and could have sworn I saw him look back as he left.
I vowed to go the concert at the very least, despite the talking that might go on. I had been such a professed boyband hater, who knew what was going on if I was going to an Nsync concert. But the truth was that although I liked the music and dance and show, I loved a certain person, more than I have ever loved someone. I suddenly made up my mind to not only go to the concert, but on tour. And I was going to be damned if I let anything stand in my way.