Author's Note:
This isn't my first attempt at writing or posting to Nifty, but it's my first attempt at anything for the boy-band area. I have to admit it took me a long time to actually read any of the stories in this area. I made some assumptions about the genre that took a bit to get over. Once I did though, I couldn't stop. I think some of the best writing on Nifty is in this area, and so I finally decided to join the ranks of some of my favorite authors and post. Any comments or encouragements would be appreciated. I'm more than willing to accept criticism or suggestions, but please no flames.
Disclaimer:
This story is pure fiction. I don't know any of the guys from `N Sync and my writings should in no way imply anything about their sexuality. Please do not post this story with out first receiving my permission.
Story Notes:
Sorry Guys, I guess I should have taken a moment or two more to edit the last chapter. Dylan was 19 when Chad was born. This means he's 22 now, not 18.
Right for Me -- Chapter 2 ____________________
The windows on the jeep were tinted, which gave me a few seconds to process what I'd just discovered. And come to a decision. They didn't want me to know JT was Justin Timberlake, fine. I began a mental checklist of what I'd need to do to get everything moved to Colorado as I reached across to un-strap Chad. Shaking him gently I began the process of waking him up.
"Hey, Little man. We're here. Come on buddy wake up."
He was usually easy to wake up, one of those rare people that can go from dead to the world to brimming with life in a second. He didn't disappoint this time either. Opening his eyes, he turned to look at me, and smiled his special smile. The one that said, "I love you." It was heart touching and blinding, and it always brought a smile to my face, and a tug to my heart.
Picking him up, I hugged him to me, nuzzling him, and breathing in deeply that little boy smell that was part soap, part outdoors, and part a mystery, but stirred feelings of protectiveness on an unconscious level.
Raising his head to look at me seriously, Chad said, "Potty, Dylan!"
Laughing at him, I tosseled his hair and reached for the door, "Ok, little man, let's get you inside."
Stepping out, my decision about how to deal with Timberlake firmly in mind, I headed toward the house, intersecting the welcoming committee.
"JT?" I asked hesitantly, beginning my own deception.
"Hey! Yep. Welcome to Florida, bud."
"Thanks," I said smiling as I reached forward to shake the hand he was offering. "I hate to be rude, but little man here is in a bit of a rush, bathroom emergency."
"Oh," Justin said as he moved to lead us in the house quickly. "Let's take care of that and then we can get your stuff un-loaded and I'll give you the grand tour."
"There were a ton of people who wanted to meet you today, but I managed to hold them off until tomorrow. I thought you and Chad might be a bit tired still after that long drive. I wanted to give you a day at least to get settled in before the cavalry arrived."
"Appreciate that J. This last leg of the trip seemed to last forever. I didn't think we'd ever get out of Georgia. It might have been better to have just shipped everything and taken a plane. It would have been much simpler, and I could have bought a Jeep down here."
"Tough trip, then?" he asked as he led us down a hallway to the restroom.
"Most trips with a three year old are tough," I answered laughingly. Excusing ourselves, I closed the restroom door and helped Chad take care of business. While there, we took the time to freshen up. Get some of the grime and grittiness long road trips seemed to attract off.
I'd managed to calm down a bit, and decided Heather and Justin's decision to keep his identity secret wasn't some grand evil scheme. They had said he was famous. They had mentioned his issues with trust, and the problem he had with potential friends using him for his fame and money, so I'm not sure exactly why it was I was feeling betrayed.
I put the move to Colorado on the back burner, deciding to give this a chance and find out what their motivation were, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to stick with my idea of not recognizing Justin, his music, or that he was a pop superstar. I wondered how long they would try to keep his secret, probably until the boys from `N Sync started making an appearance, I finally concluded.
Opening the restroom door, I saw that Justin and Jesse had left. Retracing my steps, it didn't take me long to find my way back to the living room, where I found them waiting patiently for us.
"Sorry about that," I apologized as Justin noticed we'd entered the room.
"Don't worry bout it. Would you like the grand tour before we grab your luggage?" He asked smiling broadly.
"Sure," I said gesturing for him to lead the way.
"Well this is the living room," he said smirking broadly. Glancing around I noticed the high ceilings, wooden beams, and that the ornate fireplace that had been hinted at on the outside was featured prominently in this room. The furniture was very tasteful, but a wonderful creamy white; and I instantly worried about sticky fingers and little boys. There was a beautiful full scale black grand piano beneath a wonderful bay window. It seemed to soak up the sun that streamed through the window, inviting those who observed it to caress its keys.
"It's lovely, JT, but I bet it's a nightmare to keep clean."
Justin followed my eyes as I looked at the two boys and grinned at me in agreement. "Yeah, this is the `adult' room. Actually we don't use it much. Come on, I'll show you the family room. That's where we spend most of our indoor time."
Leading the way, Justin did take the time to point out some of the house's less significant rooms, at least as he saw them, rooms like the kitchen, dining room, and a study. The kitchen was a chef's dream, and it took him a moment to break my trance as I drooled over the gadgets and gizmos he had scattered within. There was an actual restaurant style stove and dishwasher in evidence, and I thought with some satisfaction that cooking in this room would be a real pleasure.
I noticed a grandmotherly type woman working at the stove, but since we were doing more of a running tour, I didn't have time to speak with her. I suppose subconsciously I realized she was cooking, but it was easy to dismiss. I should have paid more attention to her; it would have given me some forewarning.
I was almost as impressed with the study as I had been the kitchen; actually the entire house had been very impressive. I made noises of appreciation over his taste in literature. I had no idea if he had actually ever read any of the books lining his shelves, but it was certainly an eclectic mix: Shakespeare to Stephen King, it would be very hard not to find something to enjoy there.
Finally, we entered the family room and I thought right away that it would become Chad's favorite. It was a combination entertainment room, game room. There was the obligatory big screen TV, with all the electronic accoutrements that completed a state of the art system. The sound system was impressive, with speakers' recessed and hidden through-out the room. And if there was a game platform invented it was proudly displayed.
Racks of CD's, DVD's, and Game's were alphabetized in rows of techno color jewel cases that lined shelves along one wall. There were a couple of comfortable looking recliners, and I could easily imagine the game tournaments that must have taken place.
The expression, 'boys and their toys', might have been created for that room. There was also a pool table, air hockey, ping pong table, and a nerf basketball court. It was obvious that the room was an addition to the house, it was immense, but each area seemed to have its own space which allowed for areas of intimacy.
Whoever the architect and designer were, they had done an amazing job. One area flowed into the next, with clear reasonable boundaries, but the openness one first encountered when entering the room was tastefully maintained.
All of this was ignored by Chad and Jesse, because the room also was created with `little boys and their toys' in mind. A full scale play area had been designed. Toys of every description and size were scattered, along with areas that would foster the children's creativity. Finger-paints, chalkboards, and children books were on display. It was a losing battle trying to stop Chad as he squealed with delight and ran for a nearby toy.
Smiling at Justin with a bit of self deprecation, I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. "I think they've decided it's time to play," I said a bit of humor evident in my voice.
"Yea, looks that way, let's leaves them to it for a bit while we get your things inside and up to your rooms." Motioning for me to follow him, Justin led me back down the hall. Stopping at the kitchen, again, he entered this time and introduced me to the woman who was busily setting out glasses of milk and plates of cookies.
"Helen this is Dylan Carlton, I told you he and his brother would be living here. Dylan this is Helen Adams, grandmother to everyone, and the real boss of the house," he said winking at me mischievously.
"Now there'll be none of that, Justin," she admonished humorously as she pointed a chocolate milk covered spoon at him. "Don't you be thinking you're too old to turn over my knee," she harrumphed. Glancing at me and smiling broadly she continued, "Welcome home, Mr. Carlton, I hope and Chad will be happy here."
I nodded my head graciously at her and said, "Thanks, Mrs. Adams, I'm sure we will be, and please, call me Dylan."
"Of course dear, and you call me Helen or Bubbers, everyone does!"
"Bubbers?"
"Jesse started it, I don't know why, that boy must have decided I looked like a Bubbers, and it's stuck ever since," she explained.
"Ok," I agreed hesitantly.
"Helen," Justin said interrupting us, "Dylan and I are going to get their things out of the car, could you keep an ear out on the two monsters?"
"Harrumph," she exclaimed! "Monsters my eye. I'll just be taking them home with me if you're gonna be calling those cuties monsters!"
"Of course I'll keep an eye out for em. I was just fixing to take them some milk and cookies anyways. The two of you scoot and let an old woman get back to work."
Since I'd sent most of our things ahead of us, there were actually only a couple of suitcases to bring in. Pulling them out of the back, I turned to Justin and asked, "Where should I park the Jeep?"
"If you follow the drive around to the other side of the house, you'll see a garage. Just pull it there for now. We'll get you a garage door opener and you can use one of the bays after this."
As I walked around to get back in the Jeep, I noticed the other buildings on the property and turned to ask Justin about them. He was already headed back to the house, so I filed my question away to ask later. The garage was impressive as the house, with four double doors framed nicely with the same impressive brick work that had been used on the house. There was also a basketball court here, and remembering some of the things I'd read about Justin, I figured it wasn't just for show.
Walking back to the front of the house, I stopped to pick up the luggage that Justin hadn't grabbed and headed back indoors. Although he hadn't shown us our rooms yet, I figured by process of elimination they were upstairs. That was the only place he hadn't shown us.
I made my way tentatively down a hallway, slowing when I heard a muffled voice. Approaching quietly, I realized Justin must be on the phone.
"Yeah, he's been here about an hour now."
"No, he seems really nice."
"He hasn't said anything so I'm not sure if he knows who I am or not."
"No, he didn't ask what Helen's job was."
"Yeah, I know I'll have to explain it to him soon."
"Fuck Josh, I don't know! I just thought we could get to be friends and shit first before the fame and crap got in the way."
"Yeah, Yeah, I know. I'll tell him ok?"
"Listen, I better get off, he's probably looking for me."
I'm not proud of the fact I stood there and eavesdropped. But I defy any of you to suggest you wouldn't have done the same. This not knowing what was going on was kind of fucked up, and this conversation sort of helped clear up some of the questions I had floating around in my head. And it made me feel guilty enough that I decided it was stupid and immature to be playing these games and I was going to let him know I knew who he was.
"Justin," I said confronting the issue head on, "how long am I suppose to pretend I don't recognize who you are?"
"Shit!" he exclaimed.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but it really seems pointless to keep up this charade. I'd have to have been living under a rock not to recognize Justin Timberlake when I met him. If my knowing who you are is going to be a problem, let's get it dealt with now."
"It's not a problem really," he said sighing. "Come on let me show you your room and we'll talk."
Pointing out the restroom that separated his room and the next, he opened the door and gestured for me to precede him into the room. The room was cluttered with the boxes I'd shipped ahead, but even with the disorganized mess they created, I could tell the room was as tastefully furnished as the rest of the house. The full size bed looked comfortable, and for a minute I considered asking Justin if we could postpone our discussion while I took a nap. The colors where warm and inviting, shades of autumn, with rich golds, reds, and browns.
Placing the luggage near the walk in closet, I turned back to Justin, "Thanks Justin, this room is as impressive as the rest of your house. It's obvious a lot of care and thought went into decorating."
"I have Chad set up to share a room with Jesse. We can move him to another room if you want, and we definitely will as they get older, but I thought for now it would be easier for them to bond if they shared," Justin said as he moved to sit in a chair that had been placed under the windows to catch the sun.
Leaning back against the wall, I folded my arms and searched Justin's face. I'm not sure exactly what it was I was looking for, maybe some sense of what he was thinking. "Will we still be staying? It seems you have this entire situation worked out. But most of your criteria seem to be predicated on the fact that I not know who you are. How long should I pretend that I haven't recognized that you're Justin Timberlake?"
"I realize you have trust issues, Justin. I mean I do get that. And I'm not saying those issues aren't valid. But starting a friendship within a framework of deception just seems to me to be a recipe for disaster. Who is Helen? Why were Chad and I really invited to stay here? What's really going on Justin?"
Sighing deeply, Justin rubbed his eyes for a moment. He looked tired as he slumped back in his chair and examined me. "You know," he began, "I own a couple of your paintings."
I looked at him in confusion, not sure exactly how that was relevant to the conversation. Nodding in acknowledgement, I waited for him to continue. "When did you figure out who I was?" he asked.
"When we first arrived. As soon as I saw you."
"Most of what we told you was the truth, Dylan. It wasn't that we were trying to lie to you exactly. I just wanted us to get a chance to get to know each other without any preconceptions. I was hoping I could be your friend, not Justin Timberlake."
"I don't think anyone that doesn't live our life can really understand what fame does to you. It warps you a little. People telling you what they think you want to hear, not necessarily what you should. Pretending to be your friend, when what they're really interested in is record or movie deals. You become jaded after awhile."
"Your perspective changes and you begin to look at everyone suspiciously. You begin to see ulterior motives in every conversation. And you begin to examine and second guess every interaction you have with people you think are your friends."
"I admit not telling you who I was, asking Heather to not tell you, was completely selfish of me. But I was getting desperate."
"I wasn't lying when I told you I wanted Jesse to have as normal a life as possible. Unfortunately, my celebrity status has been fucking with that. Parents are forcing their children to play with and be nice to Jesse because of who I am. It's not healthy for him, it's not healthy for them, and I haven't known how to fix it."
"How is this situation really any different?" I asked.
"I mean you completely orchestrated this for the express purpose of introducing them so they would become `best buds'. Aren't you just as guilty of forcing or scripting a situation as those other parents are?"
"I admit I set up the meeting," he conceded, "but I have no intention of forcing them to do anything. I hope they become great friends. But if they don't, they don't."
"Won't that be awkward? Having us live here if they don't take to each other?"
"Dylan, they're three. I'm sure they are going to get into some arguments, but what are the chances they won't play together, won't become friends? They are going to be friends."
"Which brings us right back to the original question, how is this any different than what those other parents were doing?" I asked.
"Shit! It's not is it? I've just been kidding myself. Fuck!" He exclaimed as he stood up and began pacing.
"Justin, calm down. It's not that bad. Demented and sad..."
"Hey you stole that line from Breakfast Club," he said turning to interrupt me.
"Busted," I agreed as I laughed with him.
"Unfortunately, it's also true. God, how does everything get so fucked up? Dylan, you have to believe me, my motives where altruistic when I came up with this scheme. I really did think it solved both of our problems."
"Why us?" I asked. "I believe you, but why Chad and I?"
"I told you I owned a couple of your paintings. I know this is completely insane, but I can relate to something in your works. Visually, they are how I think music would look if it could be quantified in that medium. I just felt anyone that could do that kind of work was someone I wanted to know. I hoped you would be someone that could understand me and my work."
"Justin, about Jesse, I don't remember ever hearing about a son."
"It's a long story, and I promise, we'll get into it at some point, but let's get this mess cleared up first."
"Ok," I agreed changing the subject. "How did you get Heather to go along with this? How did you and she meet?"
"You haven't pieced together who she is?"
"No, not really. Should I have?"
"Heather Chasez? Sister of Josh Chasez? JC Chasez? `N Sync?"
"Ok, smartass," I said pretending to ignore his laughter, "that still doesn't explain how you got her to go along with this."
"I'm not sure if I can explain it so you can understand. Hell I don't know if I understand."
"Heather has talked about you a lot over the last few years. I know she's your friend, but beyond that, she's also a fan. She's consistently hawking your accomplishments when she's home, keeping us informed of your latest achievements, showing your press clippings from one of your shows. You should seriously consider hiring her for public relations. She certainly has no compunction about bragging about you."
"She was worried about losing you. Afraid that if you moved to Colorado your friendship would fade over time. You know she loves you right? But more than that, she respects you."
"She told me you'd see right through this. She didn't give it a snowball's chance in hell of working. But what did she have to lose? You were already moving to Colorado. The worse that could happen would be that you still moved to Colorado after figuring out we'd manipulated you a bit."
"And you don't need me to cook do you? That's Helen's job isn't it? Does she even know I was scheduled to invade her kitchen?"
Blushing bright red, Justin turned away to look out the window. I felt bad that he was embarrassed, being caught in a lie sucked, but I still didn't know how he figured he'd get away with it.
"No, she just knows you both lost your parents. I guess I just figured I'd be keeping you so busy you wouldn't have time to think much about cooking."
"How'd you plan to do that?"
"I cleared out one of the offices next door to set up a studio for you to paint in. I figured between the boys and painting, cooking would be pushed on the back burner."
"And I wasn't kidding when I said the cavalry would be descending tomorrow. Chris, Joey, JC, and Lance are all planning on showing up in the afternoon to meet you. And my mom is stopping by for lunch."
"Checking up on me to make sure I'm not a mass-murderer," I said smiling at him as I recounted the question I'd asked during our very first telephone conversation.
"Something like that, at least in mom's case. The guy's just wanna meet you. See if you're at all like the person Heather's been describing all these years."
Looking around at all of the unpacked boxes Justin had placed in the room I came to a decision. "Look Justin, I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't like that you and Heather tried to manipulate me. But I guess in a warped sort of twilight zone way it makes sense. So..."
"Ummm... Well, I guess we can give this a try. I'm not sure if Chad and I will be able to fulfill this expectation you seem to have. This may fail simply because you have expectations, expectations that you can't even quantify. But I understand what you've been trying to say. And like you said once before, if it doesn't work out, Colorado is still going to be there."
"Just so we are straight from this point on. No more lies. I don't care which one of us it is. If we can't agree to be honest with each other, then this is a complete bust and Chad and I will just be moving along."
"Deal," Justin said as he rushed over and grabbed me in a quick hug. "Now come on dude. You have to see Chad and Jesse's room. He's gonna love it!"