Disclaimer: Don't read this if you are underage, you are in a public place and this isn't allowed, or you find homosexual material offensive. This is a work of fiction and not meant to imply anything about the people mentioned, I am in no way affiliated with NSync or JC Chasez. If you made this far (which you didn't because you just skipped to the story) read on.
Author's Note: I got little feedback from the last chapter, make my day:
e-mail me:
reallybigdreamer@yahoo.com
Chapter 2:
"Hey, this is Carson Daly, what's up?"
I sat in the green room as I watched Carson play to the audience yet again. Suddenly TRL seems to be my life, I watch it whenever I can and I appear on it every time I have something new out.
"We're going to get right into the videos today because we have to chat with the superstar singer/actor Michael and debut his new video. This is Blink-182 making their lowest standing this week at number ten with `Rock Show'."
It's been a week since my hotel fiasco, but things haven't calmed down any.
"Michael?" one of the producers walked in, "you'll be on in about a half hour."
"Terrific," I mumbled.
I noticed the nearby computer, obviously for the bored celebs waiting to go on, and that fit me perfectly. I moved the mouse around and the screensaver kicked off. I clicked the Internet Explorer icon and began to surf the net. I immediately went to Yahoo! to check out my mail. I typed in my username and password and the enter screen popped up.
"One hundred sixty-seven messages!" I exclaimed. "Fuck it." I immediately emptied the Bulk Mail and began to sift through the remaining messages in my Inbox. I found a message from Nick, but it was old so it got deleted with the junk mail.
After a few minutes I finally got the newer, non-junk messages narrowed down to ten. I opened the first one:
Hey Mike! How's it going? I heard you were having an album release bash in New York, sorry I'm in L.A. for the next couple weeks. I'll make it up to you, promise. Later, Brad
Brad Pitt is such a loser. His wife has him whipped real good. I'll have to say that when I go live later. The next one:
Hey, I got the message about your party in New York. You know I'm a West Coast person, but I'll make an exception for this, besides I think I'm doing Letterman that Friday. Can I get your sister's phone number? J/k, lol ... but ... give her mine just in case, y'know? THANX -- MARK
Hmm, I'll reply to this one:
Mark, I though you were on tour with the rest of Sugar Ray. You didn't like break up, did you? I sent Jean your number ... well, no I didn't. Don't you have a girlfriend? What happened to that blonde I saw you with a few weeks ago? What was her name? Jessica? You are such a pussy, call Jean for yourself. You know she wants you. Well, so does Kara, but she's married. Laita, Mike
"Checking your e-mail?"
"Oh, fuck, man don't do that to me!" I said after I had jumped ten feet into the air. Before I turned around to meet him I could smell his cologne and loved it. But not even the cologne's beautiful scent matched what stood before me. This Greek god, that I thought I recognized ... but from where? He stood about six feet tall with dark hair that had been spiked and bleached at the tips. I melted into his blue eyes, but then caught myself staring, apparently he did too.
"Um, hello?" he asked coyly.
SAY SOMETHING!
"Oh ... um ..." I searched for something to say. "I was, uh, distracted for a sec, um, your shirt kinda draws a lot of attention."
DUMB! Could you possibly have been more stupid!
"Thanks," he said flashing a smile that again made my attention dwindle from the conversation. "This is my favorite shirt." He was flirting with me! He had to be, the smile, the way he was looking at me, the body motions...
Well, I did like it, but `draws a lot of attention', what the hell was I thinking? Oh, God, I need to say something again...
"Don't I know you?"
That's great ... if you do know him he'll be crushed that you forgot him. Then again, how could you forget someone like this?
He laughed for a minute before replying, "No, I guess with your busy schedule and all you wouldn't."
He turned to leave. Leave? Stop him!
"Wait a sec!" That's great, real original too, but now what are you gonna say? "I didn't catch your name." Good one. I bet that makes him feel like you remember him, moron.
"I'm Jerry," he laughed before turning to go. Jerry? What the hell kinda name is Jerry? He's not a mouse, and I don't see Tom around...
I sat back down on the computer looked over the message I had typed, but couldn't concentrate. Jerry? I started typing again:
P.S. Do you know anyone called Jerry?
I sent the message and signed out without checking the other messages. A few minutes later the producer popped in and told me everything was ready. I hate live television... Jerry who? I should have asked for a last name, but then he would've thought I didn't know him at all and he seems so familiar.
"Without further ado, whatever that means, I give you the one-named wonder MICHAEL!" Carson yelled.
I walked out and we small-talked before the video started playing, by the time it ended I think that everyone was equally shocked and impressed.
"Wow," Carson said.
"Alright," I started, "you wanna know what the video is supposed to portray, right? Well..."
Well, I did my thing, but decided to ride out show's remaining hour and was pretty tired of the screaming by the time Carson said...
"Well, here's your number one video for Tuesday, we leave you with NSync and `Pop'! Later!"
I watched as the video began to play on the monitors and immediately noticed someone ... JERRY! Jerry was in NSync?
"Thanks man, I..." Carson began to say.
"Who's that?" I pointed to the monitor.
"NSync..." he said and looked at me funny.
"THAT!" I pointed to Jerry.
"JC Chasez, he's a cool guy..." Carson acted like it was a touchy subject.
"You know Jer -- JC?" I asked.
"Yeah..." he was giving me that funny look again, but in his face he looked a bit hurt.
"Sorry, it's just that I saw him in the Green Room and ... well, it's unimportant," I explained, well, half-explained. "Listen, C, I'm having a big bash at a local club, renting the place out for the night to celebrate the new album's release. Wanna come?"
"Sure," he said as he took a piece of paper and wrote something down, "call me here with the details, man."
"Well," I turned the paper over and wrote something else down, "just go there at that time on that day, okay?"
"Will do," he nodded and went backstage.
Jerry? Why the hell did he call himself Jerry? Maybe JC stood for Jerry something or other. Jerry Christopher? No, too corny. Jerry Christian? Even worse. Jerry must be short for Jerald. Hmm, thank God for the net...
That's it for Chapter 2, remember to write me. See you in a week :)