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. Furthermore, I really don't know all that much about James Bass. I don't do boy bands. Then why am I writing this? I don't know, perhaps I'm a little crazy. Comments are welcome at xykos@earthlink.net
Thanks to everyone who wrote to me!
enjoy.
Elaborate Lives Chapter Two
It seems crazy but you must believe
There's nothing calculated, nothing planned
Please forgive me if I seem naive
I would never want to force your hand
But please understand I'd be good for you
I stood outside of Spielberg's offices, alone, waiting for the elevator. Dealing with that man had given me a splitting headache that was slowly turning into a migraine. All I wanted to do was get back to the hotel room and crawl under the covers. Closing my eyes didn't help at all; the florescent overheads bore through the lids, straight to the back of my brain. I stood there, tapping my shoes against the marble floors. Finally, the elevator doors opened in front of me and I stepped in.
"Hold the elevator." A voice shouted out. I hit the button and James ran in. Inwardly I groaned, outwardly I gave him a weak smile. He returned it and with the passing greeting, I closed my eyes again.
After a while James cleared his throat. Irritated, I looked at him. He stood there, leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator, looking at me expectantly. After a while he spoke. "Going down?"
I gave him a confused look.
"The elevator doesn't work unless you press a button, and you're leaning right next to them."
Understanding hit me. We weren't moving. I hit the ground floor and muttered a thanks.
After a few seconds, James spoke again. "So, Alex, is it? What do you want to do first?"
I gave him an irritated look again. What the hell was he talking about. I was crawling into my bed. If we were in any other situation, or if he were anyone else, I might have toyed with the idea of inviting him, but instead I said "What?"
He continued. "I figure we could do the sight seeing thing, if you've never been here before. Or we could get something to eat first, you are looking a little pale. Maybe we should . . ." At that point I didn't something that I would never normally do. I placed my finger against his lips. Instantly I felt a shock, good ole static shock. His head recoiled back; obviously he felt it, too. But call it fate or science or whatever, it worked. He stopped talking.
"You didn't take that pompous ass seriously back there, did you?" I asked.
He looked a little confused, again. His green eyes clouded over a little and his lips lost a little of the smile that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face faltered a bit. I'm sure he did everything the big directors told him.
I continued, "We don't need to spent time to get to know each other."
He looked a little hurt. "But I really want this part. I want you to at least give me a sh. . ." He was interrupted by the ringing of the elevator. We had finally reached the bottom floor. A few seconds later, the doors whispered open and I stepped out, James close behind.
I turned my head to him and said "you'll get the part, don't worry. I won't object." If that was the only sacrifice I had to make to keep my publishing contact, well then, I'll take it. This wasn't a battle that was worth the fight.
James thought otherwise. "What made you change your mind so suddenly? Steven said you were adamantly against me playing this part. What's with the change?"
Now, anyone could tell you that I'm at my worst when I had a headache. The remarks I usually kept bottled up always come flying out. This was not a special case. I reached the revolving door and turned to face James. "Why?" I answered. "Because I would rather kiss a dead moose's ass then waste my time with you." I went out and tried to hail down a taxi. Having no luck, I looked around and glanced back into the building. My anger died instantly. I never saw someone look so dejected before. The smile that lighted up his face was completely gone and it looked like he had tears in his eyes. Well, from what I could see through the window. He just stood there, looking blankly at the door. I took a deep breathe and when back in. He didn't see me, just kept on staring into space. And his eyes defiantly were shimmering. I cleared my throat. He looked around and spotted me. He didn't look angry or anything, just rejected. My god, how fragile were these boy bands anyway? Did they need the approval of every single person, even from someone who wasn't a fan? Obviously they did.
"Hey, James." I stammered out. "Sorry about that. It's just that Spielberg rattled me, made me edgy and now I have a headache and . . ." I rambled a few more excuses before I exhausted my supply. I wasn't very good at apologies. I ran my hands nervously through my thick, brown hair, noticing I still needed that hair cut.
I began again after a pause, realizing James wasn't saying anything. "Look, I'm sure you'll be great for the part. I'm sure you're a great guy to be around, I'm just not in the mood right now, kay?" Finally, a nod, a response. "Great." I gave a half-wave and left again, still feeling low for being such an ass, but now that the karma crisis was over, my migraine took over again. I tried waving a taxi down again, and this time one pulled up.
Opening the door, I shouted "The Hyatt on Sunset, please," before getting in. I slammed the door shut and the driver began to pull away. I glanced over to the building's lobby, hoping that James wasn't still looking rejected. But he wasn't there; the lobby was filled only with people in suits running to and fro, hoping to make the deal, to kiss someone's ass. `Hollywood' I thought bitterly as I closed my eyes yet again, praying that the ride would be a quick one.
A knock on the door startled me from my sleep. It was completely black; I couldn't see the hands that were rubbing my weary eyes. The sleep helped enormously. The pressure in my head was still there but a lot milder. But I could think again. And the first thought that popped up was "Who is it?" Why was someone knocking at my door.
"Room service, sir."
How the hell did room service get called? I've been dead to the world for at least five hours. I wearily got up and stumbled to the door. I debated shouting again, but that was the stupidest way to have a conversation - through a door, shouting at each other. It took less energy to just open the door, and I'm all for expending less energy. I got to the door, opened and . . .
"James, what are you doing here?" Was this guy stalking me now? Is this what celebrities do for fun? James was standing there, pushing a room service cart, dressed in a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans, a cream colored shirt and a grin on his face. Well,' I thought, at least he's smiling again.'
"Room service, sir," he repeated. "Where would you like the cart?" I motioned inside, more amused than anything else. I stepped aside and he came threw the doorway. "There's no step here, is there? I can't see."
I forgot to turn on the lights. My eyes had all ready adjusted to the blackness that I hadn't noticed. I flipped on the lights and James pushed the cart to the middle of the entry way. He locked the cart wheels and turned to face me, holding out his hand.
It took me a moment to realize he was waiting for a tip. Giving him a quirky smile I decided to play this game. I reached down, ready to grab my wallet when I noticed I was in my boxers. My clothes were lying on the chair next to the bed. James looked me up and down, having the time of his life embarrassing me to death. I felt my face flush red hot, but not to let my embarrassment get the best of me, I said, "Why, Mr. Bass. I usually wait until the third date to take off all my clothes. You must have really wooed me off my feet."
It was his turn to blush. James quickly glanced down towards the floor, averting his eyes away from me. A little too quickly. I began to wonder, but dropped it almost immediately. Now was not the time for a Hollywood fling, even if it was feasible. I went over to the dresser and grabbed my favorite pair of sweats, not bothering with a shirt. It was my room, and I hated wearing clothes, anyway. If he was embarrassed by it, he could leave. Anyway, he all ready saw much more than that; being topless should be no problem.
"So, James, would you like to join me? I hate to eat alone." Now that the migraine was gone, I became much more social. James started to attract my eye, and I decided it might be nice to get to know him.
He looked up, a grin on his face. "I thought you'd never ask." Weird response. Maybe . . . but no.
I went over to the cart and lifted up the lid. Pizza. My favorite food. Looking to see what the topping where, my gray eyes gleamed with amazement. "How did you know I was a vegetarian?"
James gave me a little grin. I noticed how his face lit up with each smile, the eyes radiating an inner glow. "Oh the joys of being famous. People tell you everything. What room people are staying at and what food they eat."
I was touched. He went through all that trouble to please me after I'd been such an ass. He must really want that part. Or something else? `Stop it' I scolded myself.
"So," I asked, "want to watch a little T.V. while we eat? Talk? Music?"
Lance gave me a nervous look. "How about we watch a movie?"
I was surprised. I was sure he would want to talk about the movie and his part. "OK. What movie?"
Another nervous look, accompanied by a jittery laugh. "How about `On The Line?'"
I had never heard of that movie. Being up for anything, though, I said sure. Eerily, James had a copy of the movie with him and stuck it into the DVD player. I brought over the food to the sofa and glanced at the screen, the movie already playing. A paper airplane flew through a high school gym (great, a high school movie) a landed . . .
"James," I asked. "Is that you?" No reply. "I think that's you." I turned to him, amused.
He was more nervous then I ever saw him. His eyes wouldn't look up at me. "Well," stammering, James got out his planned agenda. "if you watch this and tell me what you think about my acting ability, well. . ."
"Fair enough." I decided to end his agony and watch the movie. Hopefully, it wasn't a long one.
James had fallen asleep during the movie, his head resting on my shoulder. To tell you the truth, I almost did, too. Lots of cheese, but it was amusing in it's own quirky way. Deciding not to wake him, I occupied myself by looking through the DVD extras. I loved watching that stuff; the extras sometimes making an unbearable movie watchable. Not that "On The Line" was unwatchable, it just wasn't for me. A little too teeny bopper for me. But I saw some potential. Given the right part and some good direction, he could become a great actor. I was debating watching the movie again with the audio commentary when I felt him stirring.
James sat up, green eyes glossy with fatigue, his brown hair matted down on one side. He gave me a quick smile. "Did I fall asleep on you?"
"Yeah, but don't worry about it. I'm told I make a great pillow." I pointed toward the empty pizza box lying on the floor. "Too many of these I guess. Makes for great cushioning."
He gave me a quizzical look. "What are you talking about, Alex? You're in great shape." He saw me shake my head, ready to reply but he cut me off. "I can't believe you think you're fat. I mean, you look awesome, that's what at. . ." All of a sudden he stopped talking and shut up, turning bright red.
I, however, didn't notice. I didn't take praise very well, so I tuned out when people started dishing it out. I hated how I looked, too many beauty marks for my taste. My nose was overly large and the thought of the pizza congealing around my waste, forming a spare tire sickened me. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the uncomfortable silence in the room. After a while, James changed the subject.
"So, how'd you like the movie?" he inquired, nervously tapping his foot against the coffee table.
I looked at him. He wouldn't meet my gaze. "Truthfully?" He nodded. "It was drivel. But you were good, considering the material," I added, noticing his crestfallen look. He looked at me, hopeful, as I continued. "I figure, you were sticking to the image of *N Sync and a teeny bopper piece of crap was produced. Since you're clearly interested in my story, you're ready to branch out. Smart move, considering that you're fan base doesn't go out past the shallow end of the pool."
A smile appeared on his face. "So you think I should drop the *N Sync act?"
I looked at him, confused a little. "Isn't it dropped, all ready? You guys haven't been together since Justin went solo."
"Well, technically, we're still together," he answered. "Me and the guys are just taking a break from each other."
"The guys and I." I said, smiling.
"What?"
I cleared my throat. "The guys and I are taking a break." I felt bad at correcting him right when we were bonding, but bad grammar was the biggest pet peeve of mine. Guess it comes from being a writer, from majoring in English, from nit picking.
He decided not to comment, so I continued. "Two years is quite a long break."
"Yeah, well, things happen," he replied, gloomily. I decided to change course, figuring this road wasn't leading any where.
"I didn't know you wanted to be an astronaut."
He looked a little surprised. "How'd you know about that?"
I pointed toward the T.V. screen. "It was in your bio."
"Oh," he smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, it's always been my biggest childhood dream to go to space. That's why I jumped at the chance to join the Russian team."
"And I thought you were just being another celebrity."
Again, a confused look crossed his face. "Being a celebrity?"
"You know, `look at me. I'm rich and famous and I can do anything'."
Giving me a weird stare, he waiting a few seconds before replying. "You're not a big fan of celebrities, I take it?"
"What makes you think that?" I asked, sarcastically. "I LOVE famous people. Just love them to death!"
James began to laugh and after a while, I joined him. I was loving the time spent with him. I usually didn't connect with people this fast. I didn't have very many close friends, just a handful that I trusted and thought of as my extended family. James and I, however, clicked right away; something that's never happened to me. After what seemed like a lifetime, the laughter began to subside. He looked at me with a look I haven't seen before. Determined, confident. I wondered what brought that on. Like he came to some decision right then and there, and decided to act on it.
"There are some advantages to being famous, you know," he said softy. A sly look appeared on his face.
"Yeah, what's that?" I asked. I peered into his green eyes, mesmerized. Careful, Alex' I thought. You're falling for a straight guy.' I thought my infatuation was pretty obvious, but James was oblivious.
"Well, we can do things and go places that most people could never do. I could never have gone to space without being in *N Sync first. And the people I've met. There's amazing people out there with amazing personalities that I've got to meet because I was famous for a while."
"OK, I give you that." I said, half listening to him, trying to calm my emotions. "Who's the most intriguing person you've met, and why?" That question should buy me some time.
"Easy," he stated. He looked right at me, leaned close and whispered gently. "You. You by a landslide."
And before I could form an answer to that from my startled mind, he moved in, kissing me.
To be continued . . .