Playing for Keeps

Disclaimer: This story is a complete work of fiction. It implies nothing about the sexual orientation, beliefs, thoughts or actions of the real members of NSync. While it is not a "pure sex" story, if you are under 18 or offended by male/male relationships, please go away.

A quick personal note to a GREAT friend of mine and a very talented writer: Evan, thank you for being such a wonderful friend to me. You are my one and only Other Half...I treasure your company on those long writing nights, you make me laugh, you keep me inspired, and you're the only God who can keep me in line. I don't know what I'd do without you!! I better never find out either...Thems Orders, you hear !! Luv ya Twin!! You're the best!

Thanks for all the positive feedback and concerned emails as to ...but rest assured I am very much alive and well and I have not fallen off the edge of the world! Which reminds me I would very much like to thank all my readers for their patience. I apologize for making you wait.

Anyway, any and all feedback is welcome! I'd love to hear what you think. Send it to Justme@astound.net.

Now on with the story...FINALLY!!

Playing For Keeps Chapter 4

"Stop. Stop. STOP!" Darren's voice grew louder with each word spoken, ending finally in an all out yell. Abruptly all dancing stopped, the music mysteriously cut off in mid-verse as if by the hand of God and a eerie stillness befell the room. Seven anxious sets of eyes followed the choreographer as he glided across the wooden floor, his back to them. With quick, sharp movements he paced back and forth sawing his way to the solitary chair positioned in the corner of the room. Ripping the towel from the back of the chair, an air of trepidation settled upon the group like a thick blanket; heavy and smothering. Stealing furtive glances at each other, the guys knew full well they were all thinking the same thing. It wasn't psychic energy that brought them to the shared conclusion, it was two and a half years of previous experience with this man. They braced themselves: Darren was pissed.

Slowly and with purpose, he used the towel to wipe the sweat from his hairline. In reality, he needed the time to calm down. Any sweat present on his forehead was from frustration only; not a vigorous dance workout as anticipated. When Darren finally turned to face the group, all five young men snapped to attention, taking in a collective deep breath as if working as a single organism. Holding it, they waited for the explosion that was sure to come. A prophecy Darren fully intended to fulfill. He began to speak; loudly at first, but quickly cut himself off remembering that there were 'visitors' watching. Lynn Timberlake already had a scowl pasted across her petite face, and he suspected that if not for Mr. Huxley's strong hold on her arm, she would be halfway across the dance floor warning him to "be nice." He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the thought. This was his job, his area of expertise, his dance steps they were mutilating and quite frankly, his ass on the line. And he resented having to tone down his teaching style for anyone, none-the-less somebody's "mommy." Conveniently , the towel doubled as the perfect shield and burying his face deep inside, he casually twisted his body away from Lynn's maddening stare. It was more for his own peace of mind than hers. She openly disagreed with his methods of instruction; a point of contention she'd addressed more than once with Gabe. And Gabe had therefore addressed more than once with him. A tattle tale was what she was. Luckily, even if she noticed the eye roll, she couldn't possibly guess the reason behind it. Still, he wanted to keep the 'attitude,' as she liked to call it, to a minimum. At least for now.

"Lance? You mind telling me what in the hell your doing? This is not a new step for you. You've done this routine for the last 5 months now. Come on! This is the easy stuff." He credited himself for not yelling, but saw Lynn grimace anyway at the harshness still evident in his voice. Admittedly, he wanted to be harsh, if for no other reason than to annoy her.

" I don't know. It's just not clicking with me tonight I guess...I can't seem to... ."

" Cut the crap, Lance."

Put plainly "not clicking" was never going to fly. And Lance knew it. They all knew it. There wasn't a soul in that room who couldn't repeat the 'zero tolerance on excuses' rule verbatim.

Every eye in the room fell on Lance, searching his face for a better explanation. But it was Justin's he turned to, with wide desperate eyes, he mentally pleaded with his friend to help him come up with an answer and fast. Both boys drew a blank. Lance pushed through, slowly, hoping something would come to him as he spoke, "I just can't...."

Darren cut him off, tired of dancing around the subject. "Oh for Christ sake, is it the eye?"

No, it wasn't his eye. It was his back, buttocks, legs and hips. It was the need for that tiny pink pill in his pocket. It was the dark figure from his nightmares sitting on the side of the room dissecting his every move. It was the desire to be anywhere but here and preferably unconscious. But it wasn't his eye. "Yeah, I guess maybe it's bothering me more than I realized." Sometimes the truth wasn't an option, and sometimes taking the easy way out was the smartest thing to do. He was probably imagining it, but Lance swore he could feel Gabe smile.

Darren couldn't help but be annoyed. Watching Lance fumble awkwardly about the floor tonight, was like watching two full years of late nights, hard work, and dedication just slip away. Yet, at the same time, something about the boy in front of him screamed "broken." Darren's features softened, a look of compassion breaking through the hard eyes and stiff jaw that moments earlier seemed permanently set in stone. At times like this, he cursed himself for not developing a better relationship with the blond. Out of all the Nsync members, he found Lance the hardest to get to know. He was a nice enough kid, but what did he have in common with a white country boy from suburbia Mississippi who couldn't even dance?

"We've been at this for what?" He glanced at his wrist briefly before realizing he forgot to put on his watch, "Almost..."

"Almost 3 solid hours now!" Joey piped up cheerfully, trying to crack the icy tension of the room.

"Okay, 3 hours..." Darren paused, rubbing his eyes as he formulated a plan. "Alright guys, I tell you what; lets run this number once more, straight though from beginning to end." Standing less than a foot away, Darren opened his eyes and stared, unblinking at Lance, "You think you and your eye can hold it together long enough for one complete run through?" This time his voice was soft. Lance could tell it was a forced softness, but he appreciated it nonetheless and nodded.

"Good. If we all focus, we can get through this in one try and go home. So Justin, you take the solo eight count in the refrain, as for the rest of you, lets drop the twist for now. Just go back to doing the leg lift...hit it on four, lift on six and return to center on eight. Any questions?"

As the rest of the group shook their heads and claimed their starting positions, Lance remained statuesque.

"Now what's the problem Lance? Don't tell me there is still something you don't understand?" It was difficult to tell if Darren was mocking the boy or truly just in a state of disbelief.

"Um...no. No problem." It was brief, barely noticeable in fact, but Darren caught the cautious look Lance cast toward the observers sitting just off to his right. And it was just the clue he was searching for. Suddenly it was clear, he understood what was going on. Or at least he thought he did. Dragging his eyes from Lynn and Gabe, he questioningly stared at Lance, searching his face for some hint to confirm his suspicions, and found it in the small embarrassed flush Lance fought to hide.

Okay at least this he could fix. "Hey Lynn?" Immediately her curly blond head snapped to attention. "You think you could do me a favor? I need to take a minute after practice here to run through the rehearsal schedule with the guys. Any chance I'd could talk you into setting up conference room 2 for me?"

She leapt to her feet, always eager to be of assistance and some what thankful for an excuse to leave the room. "Yes, of course. My pleasure. "

One down, one to go. Darren focused on the gentleman sitting next to her. "I'm afraid some of those chairs are a bit heavy. Gabe would you mind..." He stopped in mid-sentence seeing Gabe stand and abruptly follow Lynn out the door, allowing it to slam shut. Alone at last. Darren had to admit, even he was glad to see them leave. He launched the towel still clutched in his hands back in the general direction of the chair. It missed completely, but he left it lay. Turning to face the mirror, he stood directly in front of Justin and positioned himself to mimic the moves alongside the group. His tone was tired yet amiable, "Now, lets try this one last time. Without the audience. And without the mistakes. Does anybody have any questions before the music starts?"

This time Lance jumped at the opportunity to answer. "Nope. Just do it like we did in Seattle right?"

Darren's eyes popped opened; impressed. "Yeah...just like Seattle."

With the music starting in the background, he couldn't help but return the smile he saw spread across Lance's face.

"Man, I need more sun." Leaning over the small oval bathroom sink to examine his skin, the words came out barely above a whisper. It didn't matter really, Justin was simply saying them to himself. Leaving his untied sweatpants fall low on his hips, he used both hands to pull at the skin under his eyes. There was no denying it, even for a blond, he looked abnormally pale. But in reality it was probably a mixture of factors that led to the pallid skin tone now plaguing the young heartthrob. Among them; the unforgiving florescent lights harshly illuminating him, a severe lack of sleep stemming back more than the last two days, and yes, the need for a tan. Thankfully, with the rehearsal behind him and Darren's meeting winding down in the next room, there would be plenty of time in the next few weeks to unwind, go to the beach, play some basketball and generally just recoup and hang out. Surprised to find himself smiling, he stuck out his tongue, widened his famous baby blues and performed a private 'happy dance' to the audience of one staring back at him from behind the mirror. And even though he looked ridiculous, it felt good to be excited about something again.

Of course the thought of his mother leaving still saddened him, but not nearly as much as she thought it did. And for that he blamed himself. He hurt her this morning. Granted it was partly on purpose, he'd admit that, but for the most part it was a huge misunderstanding. Either way, he wanted to remedy the situation before she left. And although he didn't have the faintest idea how he was going to accomplish it, she needed to know that he was okay with her leaving, and that he would be alright without her...especially if it meant Gabe would be gone, traveling through Europe with her. Justin had yet to confirm it, but it seemed like a safe assumption, since up to this point, as the boss, he almost always did. Of course he would never be able to explain his actions this morning, but somehow he would make it up to her. Next time, he would be enthusiastic and put aside his own self-centered needs. The words that torn at his heart this morning, now moved; ripping through his brain. Your being incredibly selfish...You have no idea how disappointed I am in you right now. Yes, no matter what, next time he would make her proud.

Running his hand through his hair one last time, Justin flicked off the bathroom light and opened the door. Concentrating his attention on tightening the loose drawstring on his pants, he was looking down when he stepped out into the hall. A second before he caught sight of the man, he felt his presence nearby. There, leaning against the wall directly across from the bathroom door was Gabe, presumably waiting for the restroom.

Startled, but not necessarily scared, Justin almost smiled as he instantly fell into the well practiced 'just pretend everything is normal' mode. "Oh, sorry. Did you need to get in here?"

"Nope." Gabe returned the 'almost smile,' and with a single eyebrow raised, a familiar dark haze clouded over the man's eyes. "I'm here for you."

The words echoed coldly inside Justin's head, rolling around, chilling him to the bone. What? Here? Instinctively he looked up and down the hallway. It was empty. Unbelievably it wasn't help he was looking for. Just the opposite in fact, he wanted to make sure no one heard the ominous exchange.

Gabe blatantly smirked at his unspoken question. The kid was an open book. "Everyone else is in Conference Room 2. So yes Justin, we are indeed all alone."

His stomach turned at the vile way Gabe spit out his name. Defensively Justin shook his head, "What? Um...no I...I wasn't trying to see..." The rest of the protest got lost somewhere inside a shallow surrendering breath . Denying it was pointless, so instead Justin blinked long and slow; praying...no begging any god who would listen to make the man in front of him disappear. Permanently would be great, but he was willing to settle for right here, right now. Opening his eyes he saw God's answer staring cold and expressionless back at him. To say the least, he was disappointed, but obviously not as disappointed as God was in him. Again, his mother's words haunted him. You have no idea how disappointed I am in you right now.

Taking in his surroundings, he stepped to the side away from the bathroom door, mindful of a piece of advice he swore he'd never forget. 'Never let them take you to a secondary crime scene.' The last thing he wanted was to be pushed back into that room. A room where he would be alone with this man and a lock on the door.

He'd heard the advice late one night after a concert in Minnesota. Entering the tour bus last, he was in the small hallway between the bunks changing his clothes when he heard Joey and Chris fighting like five-year-olds over whose turn it was to be 'king' of the remote control. Pulling a t-shirt over his head, Justin strode casually into the tiny "living area" using the distraction as the perfect opportunity to claim the only reclining chair. He plopped down, exhausted. Frankly, he didn't care who had the remote or what they watched, he planned to sink into a deep sleep before the bus even pulled outside the city limits. Besides no matter who ultimately gained control of the TV, in less than an hour the bus would be in the middle of nowhere and every channel would be showing the same thing: Static. Tuning out the pointless argument between his fellow band mates, Justin leaned forward to manually click on the television. Content to listen to whatever came on, he eased back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Two commercials and a public service announcement later, he heard the scheduled program come on; some women's self defense workshop. Another reason fighting over the remote control was pointless...crappy late night programming. Initially he paid little attention, focusing instead on the internal argument raging inside his head as to whether or not he possessed the strength to actually climb into his bunk or if spending the night in the chair was a viable option. Then just as the balance was tipping in favor of moving to his bunk, a single word leap out at him from the TV, grabbing his attention: Rape. And although he never opened his eyes or moved a muscle, never inkled his fascination, his every nerve went on alert as he strained to hear what the narrator of the show had to say. Granted his situation wasn't exactly the same; they were talking to girls about surviving a stranger attack. But he'd never heard of anyone talking about boys so that was expected. And while Gabe officially didn't qualify as a stranger, he'd lost his standing as a friend at exactly 12:22 pm Monday, December 29 1997. The precise moment Gabe first placed his hand on Justin's inner thigh.

For the next five minutes Justin clung to every word the man said, then suddenly, Joey succeeded to the throne as the reigning king of the remote and flipped the channel.

"Hey, don't turn that..." For the first time since sinking into the chair Justin moved, bolting upright in the recliner. Only to stop his unexpected outburst the minute he saw the bewildered look on Joey's face. Flicking the channel back to the self defense program, Joey watched for all of fifteen seconds before turning an incredulous stare in Justin's direction. "Tell me you weren't actually watching this?"

Justin keep his gaze focused on Joey, fearing even the most innocent glance toward the TV might betray how import the program was to him. Feigning no interest, his rebuttal was brisk and a little to urgent, "Huh? Me? No. What I said was 'I was turning in.'" Without waiting for a response, he dismissed himself quickly and crawled up into his bunk. Okay so he didn't get to watch as much as he would have liked, but what little he did manage to catch seemed to ring true: If ever accosted by a stranger, do whatever it takes to remain where you are or best yet escape to safety. But never let them take you to another location. You have a better chance of surviving a gunshot while trying to escape thru an empty parking lot, then you have against even a bare hand, if the attacker has you alone, in surroundings he controls, for as long as he wants.

Justin certainly couldn't imagine a scenario where gunshots would come into play in Gabe's sick equation, but it held remarkably true that his 'alone time' with Gabe was always much worse when they took place in his office or home. As compared to those few incidents in more public places like Justin's make shift dressing area, his hotel room or even that one time in the limousine.

And so, as the bus gently rocked him to sleep, the words of the narrator replayed themselves like a broken record in Justin's head. By the time the deep, even breathing of slumber took over, the words were forever engraved in the cortex of his brain...just waiting for a moment like the present to leap forward and try to protect him. So if that narrator, that voice in his head said staying in the hall was the safest way to avoid Gabe's touch, so be it. At this point, he'd try anything.

Justin thought about just walking away and leaving Gabe standing there alone. But the resolve and nerve that only hours before resonated through him like a building storm as he stood between Gabe and Lance, was inexplicably absent. Where he summoned it from in the first place, and where it was buried now, remained a mystery. What he did know for certain was that the thunderous sound inside his ears was not produced from that same storm, but was instead his heart jack hammering against his chest. With great care, he crossed a single arm in front of his upper body, half expecting to see the beating organ burst through his ribs and land in a bloody tangled mess at his feet. He hoped Gabe couldn't hear it.

But it wasn't the pounding chest or the shaken tenor of his voice that betrayed his fear; it was the way his right hand automatically began fidgeting with his pants leg. A nervous tic so prominent, even his fan's recognized it. Gabe reveled in the moment. Soaking up the fear exuded from the boy in front of him, he callously stared him down, completely silent. He could easily stand here all night.

He knew Justin couldn't.

"So...you wanted me for something?" His voice was tentative, dreading almost anything the older man might say.

Gabe struggled not to laugh out loud. He loved to win, in fact he thrived on it, but truthfully this game was getting almost too easy. Like a predator toying with it's prey, he allowed a long unnerving silence to continue between them. In all of his 47 years, never once did anything invoke as much heated pleasure as watching Justin squirm. He wondered if this youth standing opposite him, pretending to be so brave, could possibly understand the intoxicating seductiveness he emitted with every twitch and tremor his body made. Suddenly his passion filled reverie was interrupted by a faint high pitched chuckle that could only have come from Chris, as it penetrated the solid oak door off to Gabe's left. Although the laugh faded quickly in the open hallway, Gabe faltered momentarily as he monitored the conference room door for any signs of movement. The door remain motionless.

What the hell? It might be fun to push just a little further. Gabe gradually scrolled his eyes across the young Adonis before him. Beginning innocently enough with Justin's youthful face, his hungry eyes moved down his chest and passed the tight young stomach muscles, quenching themselves fully. Finally settling on the forgotten, half tied drawstring hanging down from Justin's waistband, his ravenous gaze lingered purposely before returning to the now flushed 18 year old face looking away from him.

"Oh, I want something alright." Moving away from the wall, Gabe absently wet his lower lip and took a single step in the blond's direction. Mirroring him, Justin took a half step backward before remembering how wrong that move could be. Fighting his every impulse Justin stood planted, unmoving, as he watched his long time tormentor approach. Again he glanced toward the safety of the conference room door only fifteen feet away, dreading the idea that any minute someone might walk out into the hall and witness this lurid exchange.

It amused Gabe to watch him panic like this, but unfortunately now was not the time or place. "Relax Justin." Even if the words were soothing, his tone was not. "What I WANT is for you to come and pick up your cell phone from my office."

"Huh?"

"Your not asking me to repeat myself, are you?"

"Uh no...my phone..." He stammered,. "You have my cell phone." So that's where it went. It must have fallen out during... His mind refused to finish that thought. In all the hustle and bustle of cleaning up after his birthday party, Justin assumed it got misplaced. He'd meant to ask his mother about it, but with things so tense between them, he had yet to broach the subject. Besides wasn't she the one always warning him to be "more responsible" with his stuff? The last thing he want to announce was that he'd lost his phone...for the third time.

"Very good Justin. And here's what your going to do... Pick...it...up...tomorrow." Gabe over enunciated each word and spoke very slowly mocking Justin as if he were too stupid to understand otherwise. Then continuing on, his speech pattern returned to normal. "Be there between three and four tomorrow afternoon, understand?"

All too well. Justin's eyes and heart sank in unison as though connected by a single, heavily weighted string. Examining the muted gray and blue checked carpeting beneath his feet, he tried to think of an excuse. "I don't know...I think mom made plans for us. Something about going out of town. So I'm not sure I can." It wasn't exactly a lie. Spending a little time with her was on the top of his priority list, he just wasn't sure it was still on the top of hers. "Um...maybe I could send JC over to get it? I'm sure he wouldn't mind..."

"Oh, I don't think mommy dearest will be needing you tomorrow." Gabe never bothered to elaborate. "Don't bring Lance. Don't even tell him your coming, is that clear?" He paused as another quick wave of indiscernible voices echoed forth from the meeting. "Now let's see that pretty smile of yours. We wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, would we?" Thinking the question was a redundant one, Justin moved eagerly in the direction of the Conference Room, until Gabe grabbed him by the wrist and spun him back around, practically dislodging his shoulder.

"WOULD WE?!" Okay, maybe it wasn't redundant. The demanding fierceness in Gabe's voice left Justin shell shocked and unsure of what he was supposed to say. Experience taught him that sometimes even the obvious answer could provoke this man. Every muscle in his body tensed, reflexively anticipating the worst but he managed to look Gabe in the eye.

"No." It wasn't a question, but it certainly wasn't a statement either.

Loosening his grip on the boy's wrist, Gabe admired his own hand as he used it to gently caress the side of Justin's arm. Even through a long sleeve shirt, the warmth emitted by the boy's flushed skin consumed him. With a light squeeze of the young developing bicep, Gabe removed his hand. But instead of letting the singer leave, he reached out tenderly to stroke the side of Justin's face.

**If he couldn't touch Lance's face... **

The boy closed his eyes, knowing exactly what his promoter's hands would feel like on his skin. Starting at the temple, his fingers slid slowly down the ashen cheek, paused briefly aside the jaw bone, then continued to glide lightly forward until they were positioned under Justin's chin. With his eyes held closed, Justin felt his head being tilted upward. Then he jumped slightly, startled by the sensation of Gabe's thumb lightly tracing the outline of his lower lip.

Touching Justin like this in the middle of the hallway was a risky move, one Gabe knew better than to try too often. But there wasn't a person in that conference room, save Lance, who didn't consider Gabe beyond reproach and he knew it.

"Open your eyes." Gabe's husky voice was soft but commanding, and not something to be questioned. Justin's eyelids fluttered open, revealing brilliantly translucent blue orbs and something more: Hate. With his face close enough to Gabe's to feel his acrid breath he tried to turn his head away. But Gabe dug his fingers in deeper under his chin; forcibly correcting his behavior, demeaning him.

"Good boy...now like I said, let me see that oh so innocent smile everybody loves."

Fighting the tension in his bottom lip, Justin coerced a weak smile, hoping beyond reason that Gabe would approve and release him. It seemed to work. However instead of letting go, Gabe casually wrapped his arm around Justin's shoulder and escorted him to the safety of family and friends. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Standing in the doorway with Justin at his side, Gabe scanned the loosely scattered group, finally settling his attention on Lynn Timberlake. Deeply engrossed in an one-on-one conversation with Darren, she nodded her head almost nonstop as if indicating agreement with whatever he was saying. Yet her face held an aggressive, belligerent expression directly contradicting such body language. To date, Gabe found pushing her buttons an easy task. But something told him to be very careful when dealing with this woman. It was probably the element of protectiveness; the mama lion, he saw lurking behind her eyes. And even analyzing her now, he couldn't help but wonder which movement, the nodding or the facial expression, portrayed her true feelings.

Employing the traditional clearing of the throat, he announced both his and Justin's return to the room. Even with Justin standing right beside him, he spoke slightly louder than normal hoping to capture everyone's attention; Lynn's in particular, "So Justin, I assume your mother told you the good news?"

Suddenly a hush fell over the room; all heads turning to face Lynn. She spun around and stared at Gabe, ignoring Justin and effectively cutting off any attempt of his at a response.

"Well...I...um..." She stumbled, forgetting the conversation that only moments before held her spellbound. There, picturesquely framed in the wooden doorway stood two of the most influential men in her life. Her beautiful little boy, who seemingly overnight left his baby shoes behind to begin the tumultuous journey into manhood, and Gabe, more than her employer, he was a generous and caring friend who was nothing if not supportive. He was a god send really. Somehow he'd taken on the role of father figure for both of them: Someone Justin could turn to when he needed the things a "mom" just couldn't give or understand, and someone she depended on for advice and the occasional shoulder to cry on. So far he seemed to excel at both roles. Even now she couldn't help but be comforted by the way Gabe had one arm cradled protectively across Justin's shoulders.

Oddly enough ever since their meeting this afternoon, he acted more eager about her promotion than she did. Of course he meant well. He was excited and wanted to share that excitement with everyone. Still, she couldn't help but curse him under her breath. She wished desperately that he had not broached the subject. Not like this. She wanted Justin to hear it from her. And judging from his reaction this morning, and the uneasy expression he was currently trying to hide; this was probably bad timing.

"No actually. I haven't had a chance to speak to Justin about anything yet." She breathed deeply, slightly exasperated, "But Gabe, I think it might be better if we discussed this later. Don't you?" And with that last statement, she saw confusion wash over her son's face.

"Nonsense Lynn. We're all family here." He pulled the uneasy Justin closer to him giving the appearance of a friendly hug. "Right Justin?" Then, grinning like a Cheshire cat, he pleaded, "Please. Let me be the bearer of good news." While everyone else looked on, clinging anxiously to Gabe's every word, Lance turned away. He knew the game of cat and mouse too well. Gabe was toying ruthlessly with his chosen victim and if Justin's stomach wasn't churning right now, Lance's was doing enough of it for the both of them. He witnessed them enter the room together, he saw the timid look Justin tossed him, and he knew the embarrassment of having someone else in the room know your secret. Out of respect to his friend, he refused to watch the spectacle unfolding in front of him.

Justin fixed his eyes cautiously on his mother, clinging to the hope that this weird exchange might actually turn out good, even though he truly doubted it. Whenever Gabe grew smug, his life usually took a turn for the worse. For the first time her soft, yet apprehensive eyes locked onto his own. He sensed her uneasiness as she anticipated his reaction to this new development; whatever it was. Lynn said nothing but the slight shrug of her shoulders told Gabe to continue. Not that it mattered really, he had every intention of playing his hand to the fullest.

"As you all know, I'm incredibly impressed by the dedication, initiative and skill Lynn has demonstrated throughout the building of our little group here. Frankly, without her, there may never have been an Nsync. So it's with that in mind that I've decided it's time to cut her loose. She needs some room to grow, to see what she can do, if you will." He paused for effect. Justin used the silence to break away from his mother's stare, his attention turning briefly to Lance who faced the window. "As of 2 o'clock this afternoon the group Mayflower is now officially under the sole control of our very own, Ms. Timberlake!"

Justin wasn't sure what he felt. But shock and pride were at the top of the list. So was fear. And it quickly encompassed him, taking precedence over everything else. Fear of saying the wrong thing yet again, and fear of what Gabe might expect as payment in return for making his mom so happy. Pushing that last thought from his mind, he tried to concentrate on giving her what she needed. His happiness.

Justin's eyes shot in his mothers direction, she was watching him. He forced a smile but his voice remained unsure. "Is that true mom?"

A small, embarrassed smile spread across her face. But it was Gabe who answered the question. "Of course it's true."

A loud high pitched scream filled the room and immediately all the energy in the room seemed to be coming from Chris. He began frantically jumping up and down while hugging Lynn at the same time, almost knocking her over. "Oh Ms. T, this is awesome, you so deserve this!" Falling into Chris' arms, Lynn giggled like a teenager as he picked her off the ground and twirled her around the room. "Just think, someday I'll be able to say, 'I knew you when!'" Justin watched, taking it all in, expressionless.

It was JC who promptly rushed to her rescue. "Jeez Chris, take a tranquilizer or something would ya?" He was only half kidding. After allowing her a moment to gain her bearings, he leaned into her, gathering her small frame in his long arms, "Really Lynn, this is so incredible! I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thank you Josh." She reached up and kissed his cheek, "I must say, I'm really very excited about the whole thing, but I couldn't have done it with out all of you."

"Hey keep that on the down low! Abegay is right Erehay." Relying on his best Pig Latin, he motioned with his head and eyes toward Gabe, as if trying to keep a secret, "He might just take the job back if he thinks we had anything to do with it!" Joey came up behind her and wrapped the both of them in a bear hug. A loud collective moan escaped as the three of them became enmeshed together.

"Break it up...Break it up. I still have some control here, and I won't have you crushing the life out of the poor woman the night before she leaves." Gabe's deep strong voice bounded from the doorway, but his body remained where it was, holding Justin. "Don't worry Lynn, even if these five losers had anything to do with it, I'd still promote you. If only to steal you away before their bad influence corrupts you completely."

Suddenly a light went off in Justin's head and he turned a hate filled eye in Gabe's direction. Almost daring him to deny that this whole promotion scheme was a complete set up. Now it made sense. This is what Gabe meant by "Mommy dearest won't be needing you tomorrow." And that was why he waited two days before telling him about his phone. It was a fucking plot! Get her out of town quickly, and get him alone. Damn it! What it also meant was Gabe was NOT leaving for Europe. Justin was sure of it. How was he going to avoid this man, his promoter and all around "good guy" to everyone else, for three solid weeks? He would only be able to come up with excuses for so long...

His mind raced.

With JC and Joey finally backing off, it was Lance's turn to congratulate her. He held back, uncharacteristically avoiding contact. "He's right you know, without you we wouldn't have any of this You always believed in us. Always pushed and fought to make our dreams come true. Mayflower is incredibly lucky to have you, I hope they know that." As usual his voice was soft, deep and articulate. Maybe it was his chivalrous southern demeanor, or simply the closeness in age to that of her own son, but Lance held a truly special place in her heart.

Lynn held out her hands to him, and he moved in to take them, but instead, overcome with emotion, she pulled him into a long silent embrace. Even with her petite body, Lance struggled, somewhat unsuccessfully, to hide the pain the hug caused him. Fortunately, from his current angle, only the two people standing in the doorway could see his contorted expression. But Justin seemed lost somewhere in his own thoughts; oblivious to the boy in his mother's arms. Gabe on- the-other-hand winked at him.

Easing up slightly, Lance released the pressure of his embrace and thankfully she followed his lead by doing the same. Once again, she placed her hand flush against his cheek, just below his left eye. With her gaze held steadfast on his face, she spoke, "JC? Why don't you take Lance home." Darren began to protest, but again, without moving her eyes, she cut him off invoking her sweetest Tennessee charm. "Darren has done such a beautifully thorough job planning the upcoming rehearsal schedule, I can't imagine what else we'd need to cover? So if I'm not mistaken, this meeting is pretty much over. Correct?"

Darren made one final comment before surrendering control. "Just remember, I've bumped the next rehearsal up a few days. Mark your calendars; two weeks from Wednesday."

"Well that's it then!" Lynn smiled warmly at the boy who's face was still in her hands. "Now go home and take care of this gorgeous green eye, will you?" Lowering her motherly voice, she added for his ears only, "And don't worry about the dance moves, I thought you looked wonderful." A faint smile crossed his face.

JC let a loud yawn escape, not even bothering to stifle the piercing whine it produced. "No argument here." Gathering his revised three page itinerary sheet from the table in one hand, JC absently patted the outside of his pant's pockets with the other; feeling for his keys. Nothing. He wasn't surprised. He didn't remember feeling them bouncing around during rehearsal either. Thank god, since with the mood Darren was in, he surely would have ripped into him like he did Lance. His eyes followed the length of the wide center meeting table, he scoped out the floor, he even gave the bookshelves lining the far wall, a wall he never went near, the once over. Still no sign of them.

"Well this is ridiculous..." he mumbled, unaware of his new found status as the center of attention. He spun in one direction and then the other, pulling out chairs, looking under papers, rechecking his pockets. Aggravation taking hold, he spoke a bit louder but still to himself. "...I KNOW I had them when I came in here." Bending over for a third and final inspection of the floor he gave up, concluding he must have left them somewhere in the dance studio. Standing up he moved toward the door, "Give me a sec, Lance. I can't find my..." Suddenly he stopped, noticing everyone in the room watching him and smiling.

He threw his hands out annoyed at their obvious lack of concern. "What?!"

Lynn, smirking, merely pointed a single finger behind him. There stood Chris, a set of keys dangling from his index finger and a sly grin, the kind that shows every pearly white in a person's head, plastered across his face.

In an exaggerated huff, JC quickly ripped them from his hand. "HOW do you do that?"

"I told you. I once roomed with a magician back in my Universal Studio days." Chris said matter- of-factly, still grinning.

JC rolled his eyes and moved up behind Lance. "Hope you roomed with an Olympic speed walker too, cuz you, funny boy, can walk home." Giving Lance a light shoulder shove toward the door, they both exited the room. But not before Lance purposely walked directly between Gabe and Justin, forcing Gabe to remove his arm, successfully freeing his friend.

Once they were gone, Lynn scolded,"That was mean, Chris."

"Yeah, I know." He winked at her. "But man I love pushing his buttons. He's just too easy when he's tired! Did you see how frantic he was, searching everywhere..." Again he laughed, reliving the moment. "Hey J, speaking of getting home, you think..."

Justin had quickly put distance between himself and Gabe, and was now standing beside the table collecting the handout Darren gave them earlier. "Well yeah! I brought you here, I sorta assumed I'd be bringing you home."

"Actually Joey and I were thinking of hitting a few clubs. You know, getting an early start on this whole R & R thing. Word is a new one opened in the warehouse district. Simply Serious or Seldom Serious or 'Hey babe, let's get Serious' something like that. So...we were thinking...?"

"You want my car." Normally they'd ask, probably beg, him to come along. But as an underage kid, with his mom in the room, it went without saying he wasn't going anywhere. "No problem, you can just drop me off on your way."

Justin watched as Chris and Joey tossed each other a quick, hesitant look. "What?"

Joey spoke up first. "Okay, one more favor...you think you could catch a ride with your mom or Gabe? I need to run by my apartment before going out, and being it's on the other side of Orlando and all...."

Justin was silent for a moment before letting out an uneasy, "Oh."

They hadn't expected that reaction. "Hey if it's a problem, J, we can figure something else out..."

"No, no it's just..." Justin fought to keep his voice neutral, but before he could finish, Gabe jumped that the unexpected opportunity.

"You know, I have to pass by that way anyway, so Lynn if you need to finish up any loose ends before leaving, I'm more than willing to give Justin a ride home."

"Why thank you Gabe, that would solve..."

"Ah...NO!" This was just the type of situation Justin was trying to avoid, these casual arrangements that left him alone with Gabe. "Actually Mom, I don't mind waiting. If it's alright, I'll just ride home with you."

Justin felt his mother's confused eyes judging him, judging his motivations. It's not MY motivations you need to worry about, Mom. He turned to her and smiled, trying to put her at ease. "Hey, can't a guy want to spend some quality time with his 'mommy' without everyone thinking he's a freak?"

Chris, standing across the table from Justin turned dead serious. "Just so you know, Justin, we thought you were a freak long before this whole mommy issue came up."

The minute the words registered, Justin let out a "Ohhh...your going to pay for that one" and lunged at him. He missed as Chris managed to eek passed him almost knocking over the table. Balling up one of his agenda sheets, Justin shot it at Chris as he ran for the door. It bounced off the back of his right shoulder and hit Joey in the chest. Then, without retaliation both boys were gone, only the laughter trailing them down the hall remained.

Gabe picked up the crumbled sheet of paper from where it landed in front of his feet and gently tossed it at Justin. "Not bad kid, two for the price of one."

Justin said nothing, but the smile left behind from his brief attack on Chris and Joey lingered.

Lynn giggled, happy to have her son back. "Okay, Jellybean. I'd love your company tonight. But are you sure you wouldn't rather be home, doing something more exciting than hanging with your dear old mom?"

"Nope. Can't think of a single thing."

"Okay then, it's a date! Sorry Gabe, seems my company is more sought out than I thought. But thanks so much for the offer."

"No, I understand. Time for a little mother son bonding eh?" He turned, parted his lips in a warm smile and looked Justin dead in the eyes, "I'm sure I'll be seeing plenty of him while your gone anyway. Right now, he needs to enjoy your time while he still can."

"Seven ball in the side pocket." Alex Callaway backed away from the pool table, allowing the slightly taller, lankier gentleman to step passed him. Watching him lean smoothly across the intricately carved pool table, Alex already knew he would make the shot, and probably the next two. Just like he knew everything else about the man he called his best friend; Shane McCaffrey. They met while doing time in Sister O'Hara's third grade class at the St. Joseph's Catholic School for Boys. They became friends while discovering just how much fun shooting spit balls at little Andrew Hurley could be. Mixing the two: Sister O'Hara and little Andrew Hurley is what gave them fairly permanent seats in after school detention and a lifelong bond that no one could break.

"Your really going to go through with this aren't you?" Shane carefully replaced his cue stick on the large rack that graced the far wall. It too had the same intricate carvings on it as those of the pool table. Purchased as a set in Britain; Alex bought them as yet another gift. But this one was not for himself.

Alex followed his lead, and replaced his own cue stick before replying. "Of course."

"And everything is in place?"

Moving to the large polished brass rail that ran the length of the bar, Alex set two glasses down in front of himself. He poured seltzer water into one and vodka, straight up, in the other, then as an after thought dropped ice into both. He remained silent, allowing the crackling of the cubes to fill the room. With a drink in each hand, he moved opposite where Shane now sat and handed the vodka to him. "You know that stuff will kill you someday."

"This is your poison, Alex, not mine. To me, it's the remedy."

Falling back into the soft leather chair across from his friend, he took a long drink, savoring the water that had become his savior five years earlier. He swished it just as one would fine cognac; a old habit he had yet to break. "Remedy? To what exactly?"

"To whatever I want or need to fix. No problem to big, no issue to small."

Alex scoffed slightly at the man's over simplified appreciation of what alcohol could do to for you. "You'll excuse me if I don't agree."

" I always have before." Shane goaded him smugly before again returning to the conversation at hand. "So?"

Alex shot him a confused look, clearly lost by the new direction of the conversation. Shane rolled his eyes feigning annoyance at his friend's lame ability to keep up with his train of thought. "So... Somehow you actually managed to organize this scheme of yours?"

Reaching down to the briefcase that sat stoically at his feet, Alex placed it on his knees, snapped open the top and pulled out large manila envelope. Shane didn't know it, but that envelope was the one and only item inside. It was same envelope that the private detective delivered to him just this afternoon. "When have you ever known me to scheme? I make promises to myself...to others...and I keep them, no matter the cost." Without opening it, he placed it on the coffee table in front of Shane.

Lifting his gaze from the envelope to his friend, Shane immediately recognized the pain that haunted his eyes. "These are the photos?"

Alex simply nodded, returned the empty briefcase to the floor and took another sip from the glass now in his hand.

"And your certain about this? You've thought out all your options, employed all your resources and this is how you want to proceed?"

"I've planned too long. The time has come for him to go down, Shane." Alex said the words without looking at his friend, concentrating instead on the pure clean water as it danced in his glass. Finally he looked up and pointed in the direction of the envelope once more, "Do you want to see them?"

"No."

For a minute both men sat quietly looking at each other; comfortable in there friendship and the silence now sitting between them. Alex was the first to speak. "I don't know what I'd do without you and Hillman, you know that right? You've been my friends and constant support system for so long now."

Shane was quick to correct him, "I don't support you on this, you understand that right? What your doing is wrong and you know it."

Taking in a deep, frustrated breath, Alex Callaway stood up abruptly. In one swift move he bent over, placed his now almost empty glass on the coffee table and scooped up the envelope; ripping it open. In less than five seconds he found the picture he was after and thrust it in his friend's face, his fury taking over, "Oh please! Just look at this...look at it!! In all likelihood, most days this kid wishes he was dead anyway. I'm just going to help make his wish come true that's all. Hell, I'm fucking Santa Claus!"

Shane remained calm. Pulling the photo away from his face, he turned it upside down, leaned forward and set it on the table. Placing his elbows on his knees, he motioned with his right hand for Alex to take a seat, then used both hands to cradle his own chin. Watching his friend slump down before him, Shane couldn't help but feel extreme sadness overtake him: Sadness for the curly haired kid in the picture, sadness for the pain Alex suffered so many years before, Sadness for the revenge that filled his heart and Sadness for the new pain he was forced to suffer through now.

But before Shane could say a single word to comfort his friend, a steady knock assaulted the door.

"Come." Alex called out, his frustration still evident in his tone.

The large door glided open smoothly, almost as if on rollers and in walked Hillman. He took three small steps inside the room and stopped. "Sorry to disturb you Sir, I realize it's very late, but Clyde just informed me that 'your guest' is upset. Crying as I understand it and quite adamant about seeing you. He even through the food Camilla brought for him across the room. I fear he will not eat until he has been allowed to see you."

"Fine Hillman. Tell Clyde to do his best to keep him calm and I'll be right there."

Hillman began his retreat from the room, but stopped and addressed Alex once again, "Sir?"

"Yes Hillman?"

"Dare I inquire as to how long this might go on?"

Alex stood and moved toward the bar, taking a moment for himself. The room fell quiet, the two other men seemingly disappearing into nothingness as Alex retreated deep into his own thoughts. Finally released from his trance, he set his glass next to the bottle of seltzer, walked up to his assistant and sighed. "Until it over Hillman. Until it's all over."

Before leaving he turned his attention to Shane. "Wait here." Then remembering who he was talking to, he replaced the order with a gentle request, "Please. Please wait. I won't be gone long."

Shane nodded and watch the door shut behind his friend. Suddenly another wave of sadness washed over him: Sadness for that boy stuck all alone and scared somewhere in an upstairs bedroom.

With that, Shane McCaffrey took a large gulp of vodka; going for the "fix" only this remedy could provide.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ring! Ring!

The boy stirred slightly, before easing back into the stronghold of sleep.

Ring! Ring!

"Ah hum, coming..." This time the sound brought Justin just close enough to consciousness to elicit a response. Not the right one, but a response just the same. Still, he made no attempt to move.

Ring!

"Ugh! What do you want!" Stuck in that groggy state of new sleep, he angrily rolled over and found himself plummeting to the floor. His arm hit the coffee table in a loud thud. "Ow, shit!"

He pushed himself up into a sitting position on his knees, slightly stunned. He must have fallen asleep on the couch Those last minute preparations had taken his mother a bit longer than he expected, and truth be told he was bored out of his mind the whole time, but it beat the alternative. Suddenly the phone rang again, and Justin jumped for it.

"Yeah? And this better be good!" His mother hated when he answered the phone this way, actually anything other than the obligatory, "Hello," was deemed very inappropriate. But as he saw it, it was a very private, unlisted number. The odds of it being someone other than family or a close friend were remote to say the least.

"Grumpy much?" Justin recognized Lance's low voice immediately.

"What? Miss me already?" Justin taunted, somewhat surprised by the late night phone call. Especially from Lance who he would have bet good money was fast asleep already.

"In your dreams."

"We'll never know now will we?" Justin pulled himself back onto the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

JC made it home alright, didn't he?"

"Yes dad. He came home, cowed down on some left over Lo Mein that I still not convinced was bacteria free, put on his jammies, brushed his teeth and is now tucked safely in bed. Snoring...." Justin rolled his eyes upward in the direction of his bedroom, as if Lance could actually see him, "Loudly."

Lance ignored the sarcasm, his mind somewhere else. "Did he mention the phone call I got?"

Dead silence.

"Justin?"

"Ah...yeah, still here. By phone call do you mean..."

"No. No. No. Not that. GOD it's nothing like that! Sorry."

"It's okay, I just assumed...." Justin relaxed and let out a breath he never even realized he was holding. "So what's so important about this phone call that you'd call me at this time of night?" he narrowed his eyes trying to bring the digital numbers on the VCR into focus. "Did something happen?"

"Actually, it's a good thing really. Stacy called, she tried to reach me yesterday but, well...anyway...she called tonight and announced that she's, get this... engaged!"

"Your kidding? Damn, JC never said a thing! So Ford finally popped the question huh? Oh man, that's great. I bet your mom's on Cloud Nine right about now!"

"I suppose. I didn't actually talk to her."

"So when's the big date?"

"You know, I never asked! But Granddad is in town, so their planning a little engagement party, celebration thing and she wants me to come home for it."

"When's that?"

"Right away...I really wasn't planning on going home, especially with..."

"You should go." Justin said flatly, cutting him off.

Lance fumbled a bit, taken aback by Justin's sudden interruption. "I don't know...I don't want to leave you here if..."

"You should go, Lance." The vision of his friend laying across his back seat assaulted his memory once again. "You need to go"

"Justin I can't. What about Gab..."

"He's not going to be here." At this point he would have said anything. Whatever it took to make up for delivering his friend to Gabe on the night of his party. Even if Lance claimed Gabe already knew he was there, he felt responsible. He should have lied to protect his friend. So this time he would.

"Well that's a relief. Wait J...Why would he still be going to Europe with your mom? He's not her boss anymore." He paused waiting for Justin's explanation. Then, when only his friend's tight swallow breaths reverberated across the line, he prodded, "Right?"

Sitting in the darkened room, Justin knuckles whitened steadily, his grip on the phone increasing proportionately to the depth of the lie he was telling. Until finally, with the phone trembling so much it was banging out Morse Code against the side of his head, he was forced to move the receiver away from his ear just slightly. Words evinced with anger spewed forth; "Because the sick bastard's a dominating, money loving, power hungry, control freak, that why."

A pained, yet knowing silence befell the line. Neither of them needed to say a thing. Justin's words spoke for themselves and temporarily both young men were lost in a whirlwind of agonizing, private memories. For Justin it could have been two hours or two minutes that passed, but a small sound somewhere outside of his subconscious brought him back to the kitchen, saving him from the next tortuous memory. "J?....You still there?"

He nodded.

"Justin?"

Remembering he was on the phone, he shook his head breaking apart the thick fog that veiled his thoughts, and replied. This time verbally. "Yep. Right here. Sorry." Again he paused. "So you'll be leaving right away tomorrow then?"

"I don't know, probably...I'll check on flights in the morning and take the first one to Mississippi." The last word came out a jumbled mess, overtaken in a huge yawn. The pill Lance so eagerly swallowed the minute JC left, now taking affect.

"Good. Make sure and tell Stacy I said 'congratulations!' and tell Ford I said 'About damn time!' Okay?"

Lance laughed, "I will."

Before hanging up, the conversation moved briefly to the meeting from earlier. Lance never asked him about what happened in the hall with Gabe, and Justin knew he never would. At times he wished they could be more opened with each other. He wasn't sure the words would form even if he tried, but there were times when he just really wanted to talk to somebody; and he really needed that somebody to be Lance. Tonight however they skirted the issue and discussed the changes in the schedule. Justin could have cared less, but for some reason going over their upcoming agenda, committing it to memory, finding ways to tighten it up always preoccupied Lance. It was just a guess, but Justin suspected the order and predictability of keeping a schedule appealed to Lance. It prevented surprises, and he'd recently developed a bitter dislike to surprises. By the sheer definition of the word, you can't control them. That's the point. And that's what made them so potentially volatile.

After hanging up the phone, Justin cautiously maneuvered through the dark house. From the bottom of the stairs, he could see a small lamp burning in the entry hall. Clearly his mom's doing. Chris would likely sleep at Joey's tonight, if he slept at all, but should he wander back home she wanted him to at least make it into the foyer okay. What happened after that was another story completely. More than once he'd found Chris asleep in the hall, on the kitchen floor, slumped over the coffee table and one time curled up in the middle of the stairway.

Ascending the stairs to his bedroom, Justin laughed to himself wondering where he might find Chris come sunup. Reaching the forth step, he caught sight of the dim light under his mother's bedroom door as it fell dark, and it hit him...

Mom is leaving.

He continued, rising two more steps before absently touching the tender area under his arm...

Lance is leaving.

Halting slightly at the top of the stairs, he bit his bottom lip and looked down, his feet following the wooden planks of the floor boards to his bedroom door. There, the only remaining birthday decoration still hung. A banner taped to his door wishing him a happy eighteenth birthday...

Gabe is staying.

A delicate ray of moonlight sliced through the blackness in his bedroom, illuminating the space in a stillness that normally calmed Justin. Tonight, however he crawled directly into bed, forwent the removal of his clothing, leaned against the headboard, and pulled his legs up tight against his chest. The stillness of the night did nothing to quell the insidious chill of panic rising within him. He pulled the blankets up, enveloping himself inside, yet the cold remained. Two years ago, panic and fear were brought on by elements created in the outside world. But now, they had taken up permanent residence somewhere inside his very being, invading him like a parasite, easily summoned. And the idea of being left here alone to face Gabe without the distraction of Lance or the safety of this mother, awoke the panic beast in him even faster than usual.

Thru the darkness he searched the room, settling his eyes on the sleeping form of his long time friend; envying the peaceful look on his face. How many times had he almost told JC everything? There was that late night when JC sacrificed his own sleep to keep Justin company during a particularly harsh bout of insomnia; Or the day they spent laughing and riding the new Spiderman attraction over and over at Universal Studios; Or the weekend he spent camping with the Chasez family and he'd woke them all up by screaming out during a dream; Or even that brief ride in a Boston hotel elevator when he told himself that on the count of three he would just blurt it out. But he never did.

Now watching JC's chest rise and fall in a rhythmic flow much slower than his own heart beat, he debated telling him once again. So many times he'd played out the conversation in his head. What he dreamed would happen was JC would hold him and tell him everything would be okay and that from now on he would be safe. What he feared would happen was JC would be angry. And not at Gabe, but at him. Angry that he'd allowed this to happen, angry that he'd been so weak, angry that the group would fall apart and worst of all...angry that he would make up such a horrible lie about the man everybody loved. Justin couldn't face that second possibility, and that's what keep him silent.

Without removing his eyes from JC, he formulated a plan.

I need to leave. I need to leave, right now.

Suddenly it hit him. Throwing back the covers, he sprang from the bed and ran downstairs. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number he'd known since he was six and paced as he waited for the familiar voice. "Hiya Jonathan, it me. Yeah I know it's late, but I have a huge favor to ask you. Any chance I can still take you up on that offer to come hang with you for awhile?....What? Um... yeah everything's fine" Jonathan could probably tell he was lying, but being the friend he was, Justin knew he'd take him at his word. "Mom just has to leave town for a few weeks, so my schedule suddenly freed up and I thought what the hell, maybe I could still come up and grace you with my presence for a couple weeks" He laughed at his own cockiness, confident in the fact that his friend would also find it funny, and not offensive. "Oh god that's great! Thanks so much..." Relief washed over Justin, and the vice grip tension he'd felt all day seemed to lift slightly. With Jonathan's voice sputtering a mile a minute, excited at the prospect of catching up on all the cool shit they'd been missing, Justin began planning out the next morning. He'd pack tomorrow, let JC and Chris know where he was going; they could fill everyone else in on the details, and he'd begin his long drive back home. To Tennessee, to his best friend, to safety.

Right after he picked up his cell phone.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

3:47pm

Justin looked at the dim numbers illuminating from the dashboard once more before turning off the engine. Right on time. Instead of relaxing into the drivers seat, he remained rigid, his hands locked tightly around the top of the steering wheel as if the car was still in motion. He turned and looked at the front door of the small office building.

He told himself to wait. Just wait five more minutes. For some reason it seemed that the closer he arrived to four o'clock the better. It was not an argument based in fact and he really had no idea why he even believed such a thing, but something inside him told him he was right. He didn't argue. But he did start the internal "pep talk" he always waged inside his head before any encounter with Gabe.

**You can do this. Just walk in, get the phone and leave. And if 'anything' else starts, just say no. Say no and leave. It's that simple. **

Yep. That was the prep talk. Basically. And no mater how many times he said it to himself or heard Lance repeat it in some form or another, he always knew it wasn't "just that simple." And this time it was really hard, this time he was alone.

3:52pm Times up.

Justin's fingers ached slightly after releasing them from the steering wheel, finally allowing blood flow back into his joints. He left the security of his car and walked quickly into the building before he could change his mind and back out.

Sheila was surprised to hear the door opening this late in the day. She tossed a quick glance at the calendar. There were no more appointments scheduled. Looking up she caught site of a familiar face.

"Oh Justin, it's you! What a pleasant surprise! How are you today darlin'?"

"Hey! I'm fine, I guess. I haven't seen you in sooo long, how have you been?"

"Just got back to town from a well deserved and much needed vacation, thank you very much! So you know I'm good." She tossed him a warm smile as she pulled her purse out from under her desk and flicked off the computer in front of her. "Speaking of going out of town, did your mom make it out of town okay?" "Yeah, her flight left early this morning." Justin kind of scrunched his face and shook his head, "I never even heard her leave."

She nodded in understanding, "So why would such a handsome young man as yourself being hanging around this drab office so late in the day? Shouldn't you be out doing something fun? Especially with no mom to boss you around."

"I'm here to see Gabe. I don't suppose he's left for the day already?"

She looked in the direction of his office door. "Oh no. No way! You know that work horse, he'd be here all night if I didn't threaten to turn on the alarm before leaving. Here's a little hint for ya sweetie, if you ever want to make yourself irreplaceable, be the only one in the building who knows the alarm code...works every time!" She winked at him and he laughed. He loved this lady, from the first time he'd met her, he loved her.

God how nervous he'd been that first day, sitting next to the guys in this very same waiting room. With his palms sweating, heart racing, and his voice still hoarse from fighting off the last bits of a cold, he couldn't sit still. No matter how many times his mother urged him to sit down, he just couldn't. This could be their big break, their dream come true and he didn't want to blow it. They were meeting THE Gabe Huxley and it scared him to death. Gabe wasn't the biggest name in the industry, but he had the respect and power needed to make them stars. After getting up for the fifth time, using the excuse that he needed a drink, he decided not to sit back down, but opted instead to pace in the hall. Just as his very annoyed mother was about to fetch him, haul him back to the waiting area and glue his butt to the chair, Sheila waved her down. Whatever she said to her caused his mother to return to her seat. And the next thing Justin knew Sheila was standing in front of him, smiling.

"Nervous, huh?" She said the words like she'd been in his place a hundred times before and understood it completely.

He felt his face heat up in a bright red blush. "Yeah. Just a little bit."

She nodded sympathetically. "Hey, you want to know a secret?"

He looked at her questioningly, a bit confused. "Uh, sure."

She looked up and down the hall way, like a spy searching for any unwanted eavesdroppers in the area. Justin followed her lead, doing the same. Not that he had any clue what or who he was looking out for...

She leaned in and said softly, "Mr. Huxley has already seen you perform."

"What?!" Justin yelled somewhat loudly, then hushed himself, "When?"

"I saw you boys singing at the coffee house on Amberly Row. You were incredible. All of you." She winked at him. And that little gesture instilled more confidence in him than he'd felt in a long time. "So I grabbed Mr. Huxley and forced him to come see you. The minute he heard you sing, he wanted to meet you."

Justin couldn't help but smile. "Really? Your serious? He liked us?"

"Yep. So you have nothing to be nervous about, understand?"

Justin could only nod. Stunned. This just might happen for them. Maybe they were going get their dream after all.

"Now go sit down before your mother has a heart attack, okay?" She placed her hand on his shoulder and guided him back to the waiting room.

Right before they reached her desk, Justin stopped and turned to her, "Thank you so much for getting us this audition."

"Justin I didn't get this audition for you. Your talent wowed him all by itself." She squeezed his shoulder and returned to her desk. A second later a small beep went off somewhere near Sheila, and she stood formally, "Ms. Timberlake? Mr. Huxley will see you now."

As the woman lead the group of young men passed her, Sheila caught Justin's eye once more and silently mouthed, "Welcome to our family...now go knock him dead!"

It was that same feeling of calm and reassurance he wished she could give him now. But this was beyond even her abilities and he knew it.

"I'm leaving for the day, Justin, but feel free to stop by Gabe's office." She took out a small silver key from her purse, locked the desk and then headed for the front door. "He's on a phone call right now, but I'm sure he'd love to see you."

From where he stood Justin could just make out Gabe's door at the end of the hall. Quietly he said, "Thanks," and began walking in that direction.

He got to the door fast, much faster than he wanted to. Standing in front of it he could hear Gabe's voice, it was mumbled, barely even discernable and didn't carry far out into the hall, but it was clearly Gabe talking. A quick thought passed through Justin's head, 'I wonder how sound proof these walls really are?' With that he raised his hand to knock, but stopped cold. His hand frozen in the air. There in the solid brass name plate, he caught his own reflection. It was like see himself in one of those mirrors at a fun house, all distorted and warped. But what shocked him was that it wasn't really his face he was seeing. Sure it looked like him, his hair, his nose, his skin but staring back at him, implanted on his own face, was the sore beaten eye that belonged to Lance.

That was all it took. He knew he couldn't go through with this. Looking toward the waiting area, he thought he heard the front door close, but he couldn't be sure. He didn't want to chance a run in with Sheila. She would question his leaving so soon. So dropping his hand back to his side he quickly moved down the hall and without further thought, exited out the back door.

Seeing that broken image of Lance mirrored onto himself, that projection into the future, confirmed Justin's fears...and his weaknesses. He could never take the kind of "attention" Gabe gave Lance. Never.

And so he ran. He left his cell phone behind and he ran.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was getting colder. Justin pulled out a hooded DNKY sweatshirt from his duffle bag, and skillfully snaked his way inside before the light could turn green. Already, in his hast to leave town, he'd messed up. How did he forget to pack a jacket? Orlando may have been in the mid eighties but with each mountainous mile his Mercedes put behind him, the altitude rose, the temperature dropped and the snow drifts grew deeper. Cranking his neck forward to look out the window, he saw the dank gray clouds swallowing the world around him, casting a darkness that even early in the day made it necessary to use your headlights. The radio warned of the possibility of rain, and lots of it. Although from the chill that now passed through Justin and the sight of all the clean white snow on the roads, surely the weather guy was wrong...more snow maybe, but rain? Seemed unlikely.

He'd chosen to drive to Tennessee instead of flying. Jonathan wasn't actually going to be in Memphis as it turned out. He and his family were planning on spending the next few weeks at their cabin somewhere in the eastern mountains of Tennessee. So even if he had flown, it still would've been quite a drive to get to the cabin. It just seemed to make more sense to take his own car from the beginning. Besides Justin loved driving, especially alone and he rarely got to do it anymore. Yesterday he'd left the life of Justin Timberlake behind. Here, alone in his car he wasn't a part of Nsync, he wasn't anyone's son or friend, he had no teen idol responsibilities, and he didn't have to answer to Gabe in any way. So far it was just what he'd needed. He was feeling more relaxed already. Eventually he'd have to return to the world he'd left behind, have to continue to face the choices he'd made, but for now he was free to let go and pretend that part of this life never existed.

After running out on his appointment with Gabe, he'd spent the good part of the next few hours in a haze, not really thinking about anything. Which was fine by him. Some memories were too tough to deal with, and others, the good ones, were sometimes hard to find. It just seemed easier to play the music loud and drive fast. He drove deep into the night, not even stopping to eat. And it wasn't until his head bobbed for the third time that he forced himself to stop and sleep.

He lucked out in that department. By the time he'd pulled off Interstate 75, the only options for sleeping were a few scattered truck stops, and he checked into the one that looked the cleanest. The Pine Hedge Inn. The nice thing about staying at a truck stop was the likelihood that anyone would recognized him was remote. Very remote. And he would have made a clean break, if he hadn't been insistent about needed more pillows. When the girl from housekeeping, and to be honest, Justin was shocked there even was a housekeeping, came bearing an extra pillow, she screamed the requisite, "Oh my god, it's you!" and proceeded to freak out. He tried to lie his way out of it, telling her she was mistaking him for someone else, but she wasn't buying it. Seems his Mercedes parted outside was a dead give away. He hadn't thought of that...probably not a common site in these parts. But he finally managed to get her to calm down with the promise that if she told NOBODY about his being here, he would leave an autograph in the room for her when he left. She agreed and something about the girl told Justin she would respect his need for privacy.

He checked out this morning, rather unceremoniously and now four hours and a stiff neck later, his need for food was overwhelming.

As the stoplight finally turned green, he reached for the crumpled sheet of directions Jonathan dictated to him two nights earlier. Unfortunately there were a couple of problems with them. First, Justin's handwriting sucked. Even on the best of days it was hard to decipher, and the night he'd jotted these down hardly qualified as one of his better days. So even he was having trouble trying to figure them out. Second, Jonathan never mentioned the road construction or that detour that forced him off the Interstate at least 50 miles ago.

When or how he accomplished it was still up for debate, but somewhere along the way, he'd gone off course. It had been a good twenty miles since he'd seen the last detour sign to point him in the right direction and worse yet, none of the road signs even mentioned the highway. He turned the heater up another notch and as his stomach let out a loud, growling request, he decided he better stop in the next town he stumbled upon. Food and directions being his top priorities.

The small mountainous roads wound aimlessly as they climbed higher, snaking their way thru tall pines and skeleton bare trees. Justin had to go fairly slow, he wasn't all that used to driving to begin with, but when he did get the chance, it was usually in Florida, not on steep windy roads. And never in the snow.

Suddenly without warning, he rounded a small bend in the road and came to an abrupt 'T'. Justin slammed on the breaks, losing control of the car as the back end slid to the right, twisting him slightly. Instinctively turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction, Justin found himself fishtailing thru the intersection. If he hadn't pumped the breaks out of sheer desperation, he would have found himself plummeting down the large, steep gorge less than four feet in front of him. Immediately he turned down the car stereo and for a brief second he just sat there, enjoying the idea of the car being stopped and allowing his heart beat to return to normal. Then, realizing the dangerous position he was in, he backed up, cleared himself from the intersection and out of the way of any oncoming traffic that might appear from around the corner. "Traffic" may have been an optimistic term, however for as far back in the mountains as Justin found himself, a single car may actually qualify as traffic.

Taking in a deep cleansing breath, Justin forced the 'what might have happened' thoughts from his head and took in his surroundings. There in front of him on a old, hand painted wooden post he saw the names of two towns, their arrows pointing in different directions. It was like something right out of the Wizard of Oz and Justin half expected to see the Scarecrow pop out from behind the post and tell him which yellow brick road to take. He squinted through the fog to make out the words on the sign.

Happy Valley or Teardrop Canyon.

Who in the hell named these towns? For a moment Justin pictured himself as the gingerbread man in a life size version of the game Candyland.

He again picked up the hand written directions and studied them. Absently he grabbed a pen from the organizer area along side him and jotted down the names of the two towns in the margin. He searched his mind for any memory of Jonathan mentioning either of these two places. An off hand remark or a reference point, something....anything that would tell him which way to go. But what he got was a big fat 'nothing'. Groaning, he used one hand to crumple the paper into a ball and tossed it in the back seat. He was so lost those directions had a better chance of guiding him to the Eiffel Tower than getting him out of here.

Sighing, Justin took a coin out of the ashtray and tossed it in the air, called "heads I go left," and let it land on the passenger side floor mat. Leaning across the seat he smiled when he saw a face staring back at him. Okay then. Leaving the coin lay, he revved the car into gear and turned left.

Before returning the volume of the radio to normal, he told himself, "Happy Valley it is. Besides how can you go wrong in a place called Happy Valley?" Little did he know, that in less than 90 minutes from choosing that fork in the road, Justin Timberlake would experience exactly how wrong one can go in Happy Valley.

Not more than a mile after making that fateful turn the rain began. It started out light, mostly just a soft mist that covered the windshield like a veil of fine lace. It made the roads a bit more treacherous, and Justin found himself riding the brakes as he descended into the valley. Deeper and deeper the car went and with each mile, the snow standing on the roads lessened. Until only the occasional pile of snow lying hidden in the woods could be seen trying to fight off the onslaught of the rain that threatened to beat it into the ground.

Eighteen slow miles later, with the rain now coming down in thick, harsh sheets, Justin pulled into the town of Happy Valley. Okay, officially it had all the requirements of a town: A white washed church with plenty of stained glass windows looking out over a small cemetery, a gas station that boasted a single red gas pump and an 'Enjoy Coca Cola' sign hanging upside down in the window, an old farm building that had long since been converted to the local tavern and now had five pick up trucks and a large Olds Delta sitting in front of it, and of course a small diner named Jake's Place, with two large front windows strategically placed to give the patrons the best view of all the action going on in town. Justin doubted this came in useful very often. Down the road a ways, he could just make out the forms of a few more buildings and a intersection. He hoped, for the locals sake, that the town actually began somewhere up there.

With his windshield wipers working like to two crazed hands batting the icy cold raindrops from blocking his view, he pulled cautiously in front of one of the diners large windows. Throwing the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, he grabbed his wallet and darted for the cover of the awning that stretched all of two feet out from above the diner door. Without thinking, he turned and hit the automatic lock dangling from his key chain. And with a single 'beep' all four car doors locked. Looking up and down the desolate street, he rolled his eyes at himself. He was in Mayberry USA, probably more apple pie bearing grandma's in town than car thieves. And probably neither in this weather. Still he left it locked and went inside.

A gold bell tied to the spring on the screen door banged loudly, announcing his arrival and causing him to blush slightly when all four of the diner's patrons turned to look at him. The two men seated at the counter wore similar garage style overalls and although there was a stool between them, they appeared to be eating together. The remaining two customers were an elderly couple sitting in what was probably their regular booth. All four wore harden expressions and continued to watch him even as he quickly took a seat in a small booth by the window. At first he thought maybe they recognized him, but something told him they were just curious about the outsider, and maybe trying to establish their territory. He successfully hid the smirk that crossed his lips as he pictured these people marking their territory as a dog would. Don't worry guys, I just want to borrow the place for lunch, it's all yours to keep. It wasn't until he picked up a worn menu from behind the napkin holder and buried his face inside that the last two customers finally turned around to resume eating.

Two minutes later, Justin looked up and saw the waitress standing next to him. She was young, maybe twenty, wore jeans, a oversized brown sweater and had her hair neatly pulled back behind her in a puffy binder of some sort. No make up. Actually the only reason he even knew she was the waitress was the pencil and pad she held loosely in her hands, poised to take his order. Justin didn't remember seeing her when he came in.

"Can I get you something?" She looked down at him while blurting out the spiel so automatic she didn't even hear herself say it anymore.

He decided to concentrate on food first, he'd worry about getting the directions later. "Yeah, I'll take the spaghetti short plate and a coke."

Without bothering to write anything down, she turned and walked behind the counter.

Justin faced out the window, following the zigzagged trails left behind by the rain as it crashed hard into the glass in front of him and slid to the ground. A second later his train of thought was interrupted when a coke was placed in front of him. As he turned to face the waitress, he felt the cold wetness of his hood brush against his cheek. He'd forgotten to remove it. Embarrassed, he pushed it back quickly, murmured something awkward about the rain and ended finally in a "Thanks for the soda." The girl smiled, said nothing, but continued to stand there watching him.

Realizing she wasn't moving, Justin looked up at her questioningly as he wiped his fingers across his nose...just in case. "Is there something wrong?"

"Is that your car?" She tossed her chin in the direction of the window, and although the rain and fog mixture made it almost impossible to see any cars parked outside, he knew which one she meant.

"Um...yeah."

"So your not from around here."

"Car gave it away, huh?" He smiled and took a quick a sip through the straw in front of him.

"No, the fact that there are 127 people in this town and you aren't any of them; gave it away."

Justin was a bit taken back by her response. She was the one who brought up the car and she was the one who asked if he was from out-of-town. But he decided to let it go, opting instead to use the opportunity to ask for directions. Sort of. "Makes sense. Actually, I'm just passing through on my way to Brockton. Any idea what would be the best way to get to there from here?" He was a guy, it wasn't like he was actually going to say, "I'm lost...help me!"

Somewhere behind them, presumably from the kitchen, a man's voice rang out, "Order up!"

The girl made no attempt to move, but held his eyes in her own. "Brockton?" She shook her head. "There ain't no direct route to Brockton from here."

"Sara! I said this order is up!" Again the mysterious voice bellowed and this time the girl looked quickly over her shoulder, before returning her attention to Justin. And as she did, Justin noticed one of the men at the counter watching them out of the corner of his eye.

Looking Justin dead in the eye, she lowered her voice and said, "I think it would be best if you just went to the highway." Then she returned to the counter leaving him alone with his drink.

He sank back into the booth, frustrated. Great! Love to! But how do I get there from here? This time he kept his eyes on the Coke in front of him, using his straw to sink the few cubes of ice still floating inside. Mostly he was trying to avoid the uneasy glances from the peanut gallery at the counter. Although he couldn't see her, he heard Shelly whispering loudly, maybe even arguing with the two men in overalls. He repositioned himself slightly, straining to hear the conversation. Just as he made out the words, "not this guy," a plate of spaghetti was dropped in front of him and he jumped as if the food actually landed on him. Sara hadn't delivered it, instead it was brought by an older gentleman wearing a dirty apron, another person Justin didn't remember seeing, who promptly took a seat across from him at the table.

"So I hear your looking to get to Brockton?" The man leaned in, resting his forearms on the table. He was large, not tall so much as wide with white hair and a hefty beard to match. Justin guessed his age to be around sixty, maybe older. "Now why in the hell would anyone what to go to Brockton?"

His demeanor was gruff, but not threatening and although the man and the question took Justin by surprise, he felt obligated to answer. "Just visiting a friend."

"And you ain't ever been to this here friend's place before?"

"Well, it's sort of his vacation home. He gave me directions, but they were a little...unclear." Why was he telling him this? Trying to get the man to leave, he pointed in the direction of the pay phone near the restrooms, "Maybe it would just be best if I called him."

"Oh sorry, but that phone don't work. She's been busted damn near two years now."

"Oh." He wasn't actually planning on calling Jonathan, he didn't even know if they had a phone at the cabin, but he had hoped to talk to JC. He told him he'd have his cell phone with in case anyone needed to reach him. But now he didn't have it. Actually, he asked him to come with to pick it up, but JC wouldn't budge from the music room.

The man's wrinkled eyes watched Justin carefully, assessing him. After a short pause the man looked down at the plate of pasta, pointed his finger and barked, "Well don't let me stop you, go ahead and eat before it gets cold! My spaghetti ain't as good once it gets cold."

Why he was suddenly taking orders from this stranger he didn't know, but without arguing he picked up his fork, tangled a large amount of noodles within it's prongs and stuffed it into his mouth.

The man in front of him finally smiled, "Good, huh?" Then he reached out a thick hand, "I'm Jake by the way. Owner of this fine establishment."

With his mouth still full, Justin could only mumble a "ah ha" before swallowing the majority of it without chewing it. Putting down the fork, he reached out his own hand, "Hi, I'm Justin Tim...er...Justin Timmel."

"Nice to met you." As quickly as it came the smile faded replaced again by the guff voice, "Now go on and eat...I told you already it ain't as good cold."

Justin felt strange eating in front of the man, but obeyed anyway.

"I can get you to Brockton from here. No need to bother your friend. 'Sides as I see it, he didn't do you so good the first time." Jake reached over and pulled a napkin from the dispenser under the window. Then turning to the lunch counter, he yelled loud enough to make Justin jump, "Sara girl, bring me a pen!"

Justin watched her walk slow but casually, almost defiantly in Jake's direction. Clearly she wasn't afraid of this man. He on-the-other-hand put another spoonful of pasta in his mouth before Jake could scold him yet again.

"Okay...you can go now." Jake snatched the pen from her hand and dismissed her. Yet she stayed right where she was, staring wide-eye at him. Justin couldn't quite make out what was going on between the two, but clearly she was trying to send Jake some sort of message. Disapproval maybe?

"Sara, it's rude to be standin' over customers while their eatin'. Now move it!"

She gave in and left in a bit of a huff.

For the second time, the man smiled. "Sorry bout that. Daughters...you know how it is."

No, not really. But Justin decide to leave that one alone. A silence fell between the two as Justin ate the remainder of his meal and Jake proceeded to draw a fairly detailed map to Brockton. Oddly enough they both finished at the same time. Jake handed the map to Justin, explained the route, which seemed simple enough, and then with another handshake he excused himself saying, "It was nice meeting you young Mr. Timmel. Maybe we'll have the pleasure of meetin' up again someday."

"I look forward to it. Oh yeah, and thanks for the map!"

Jake again disappeared into the kitchen, but not before yelling, "Sara, give the gentleman his bill already...would ya?"

Sara looked over at Justin apologetically, "I'll have it for you in just one minute, if that's okay?"

"Sure, I'm just going to use the..." He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he awkwardly pointed in the direction of the restrooms.

She too blushed slightly, but nodded.

Five minutes later, Justin returned to the booth to find his bill sitting there. Taking one last sip of his soda, he pulled out his wallet and walked to the cash register where Sara met up with him once again. Hell, they got her doing it all. She said nothing, her attention completely focused on the two men sitting at the counter. Justin noticed that they'd long since finished their lunch, and watching her now, he couldn't help but wonder if she was afraid of them. But he quickly pushed it out of his mind, her dad was right in the kitchen...surely he'd know if something was going on. Paying with a twenty, he told her to keep the change and headed for the door, tucking the map in his pocket to protect it from the rain still falling in torrents on the world outside.

Pulling his hood back up over his head, he pushed the door open and just as the bell rang out, he heard her yell out, "Oh wait a minute...I think you dropped something!"

Confused, Justin turned. "What? I didn't have anything...you must be mistak..."

"Here you go." She grabbed his hand and force another napkin into his palm hasitly. "Sorry about that, it looks important. Good thing you didn't lose it." For one split second, she looked hard into his eyes, and he read the words 'take it' clear as day. Then she was gone. And so was he.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The minute the screen door closed behind the boy, the two men at the counter stood up. Sara ran around the counter, and placed a hand on the shorter one's chest as if to stop him from leaving, "Don't do this Darrell!" She was firm almost demanding with the man. He made no move to touch her or respond, instead he simply looked in the direction of his cohort standing alongside him. She caught the look and followed it herself. Removing her hand from Darrell, she grabbed the arm of the man who looked so much like herself, same eyes, same nose, almost identical hair color. Her older brother. With him she knew to drop the attitude and keep her place. Besides it would only piss him off and that wouldn't help anybody. So instead, she resorted to pleading, "Please Tom, just let this one go. He's a kid for Christ sake. They'll be others."

Frantically, she looked out the window and saw the boy still sitting in his car. So did Tom. "He's a kid with a Mercedes. Sorry, but this is too good to be true. Like taking candy from a baby, right Darrell?" He punched his friend in the arm and let out a loud laugh. Darrell smirked, leaned across the counter and grabbed a piece of pie from a circular tray. Not even bothering with a plate or fork, he simply shoved it in his mouth.

Sara tossed him a disgusted look, "Your ARE paying for that."

"Wat hev her." The word came out a jumbled mess, and so did the half chewed pie that followed, bits of it hitting her in the face.

"God, do you have to be such a pig?" She immediately brushed the crumbs she could see off of her. He only smiled showing off the piece of blueberry stuck between his front teeth. Trying to ignore him, she again focused on her brother, "Tom, please! Just listen to me this one time. Someone else will come along soon enough..."

"Not with a Mercedes sis and you know it." Tom looked at his watch, "Now STOP whining! We don't have time for this..."

"Sara, let the boys go...they have work to do." Her father's harsh voice came from directly behind her and she jumped slightly as he placed a gentle hand on each of her shoulders, holding her back.

"Daddy..." her voice was pained and he couldn't help but wrap his arms around her and pull her close. She buried her head into his chest. "Daddy...just tell them not to hurt this one, okay? He seems so nice and he trusted you. Besides they said it themselves, 'like taking candy from a baby,' so they don't need to get rough. Not with a baby. Right?"

Jake patted his youngest daughter on the head, and looked at his son. "Okay, okay...Tom, go gentle, this one walks. Got it?"

Tom, still standing in front of his father, rolled his eyes at her girly hysterics and the power she had over their father. Then he saw the wink and piercing stare his father gave him, and understood completely what his father want him to do.

"Yeah sure dad, whatever you say." His eyes danced with delight, and he winked back at the older man, "Leave the kid standing... got it."

Then afraid that his sister would turn around and catch the sly grin on his face he turned quickly and went over to the payphone and dialed. "Hey Babe, it's me...put on your prettiest little dress and meet me at Canyon Cliff in five minutes...that's right, it's time for Happy Valley's very own welcoming committee to pay another visit."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Running to the car was pointless. By the time he slipped inside, he had fallen victim a second time to the pouring rain. Drenched and cold, Justin started the car and turned the heater full blast before switching his attention to the crumpled, now wet napkin Sara placed in his hand. Opening it up slowly, eager to see what it said, but careful not to tear it, he read the words he found scrawled inside:

Go to the highway, Justin!!!

Relaxing against the seat, he read the message again. She wasn't the only one who thought the highway was a good choice, he did too. It would be faster, less windy, have more road signs and leave less room for error in his map reading abilities. But he didn't know where the highway was, and she conveniently didn't included that piece of information in her note.

A lot of good this does me.

He pushed her napkin inside the front pocket of his sweatshirt and retrieved the one her father gave him. Backing up the car, he pulled onto the road and took the first right he came to...just like Jake's hand written map instructed.