Twist of Fate

***Okay, every single author in Nifty had to start writing somewhere. Well, here's my first attempt. I've been a long time reader of the archive, and have learned what I like and don't like in a story. This story is going to focus first on getting to know the personalities of the characters, then friendships, then romance (I LOVE romance... I just hope I can do it justice!), then we'll see where it goes from there. I'm trying to paint a picture for myself and my readers, and I hope that my goal will be accomplished.

As always, this is a work of pure fiction and nothing in the story has any basis in reality in the lives and relationships of the band N'Sync or those involved with the band. Only continue reading if you are not offended by gay relationships and if it is legal to do so where you live.

Okay, that's all. I LOVE feedback, so please drop me a line! -Jeff kaiser_goof@hotmail.com

• • • • • • A Twist of Fate, Chapter 1

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've made our final turn and are now on final approach into San Diego. Thanks for flying our airline, and we hope to see you in the skies with us again soon. Flight attendants, please prepare for arrival."

"Lance? LA-ANCE? Wake up, buddy..." Justin said as he leaned over to wake his slumbering neighbor.

"Wha.. huh? Are we there? Man, my body clock is way off since we got back from Europe. Talk about jetlag!" Lance moaned as he woke up.

"Don't worry about it, man. I'm looking forward to getting off the plane, getting to the hotel, taking a quick dip in the pool, and hitting the sack for a nice nap," Justin said.

"Pool? Did I hear pool? I could use a cool dip!" Joey said from the row behind Justin and Lance.

'Dum dum dum dum... splish splash, I was takin' a bath...' Joey started singing, and JC and Chris quickly joining in. They were having a jolly old time, and Justin just smiled at Lance, who was still struggling to get his eyes to focus from his nap.

"Y'all need to quiet down! It's not like we sing for a living, or anything", Lance joked as he tossed his airplane pillow behind him, hitting JC in the face. They laughed, and eventually calmed down.

Peter, one of the road manager's assistants traveling with the band, leaned over and started talking about getting off the plane. "Okay guys, we can't let our guard down until we're safe at the hotel. We conveniently got the entire first-class section of the plane reserved for us, but we still need to get off the plane and to our transportation. Now, we'll be getting off the plane and going directly to the VIP lounge, where we can proceed to the three Astro mini-vans in the loading area. Roger thought a couple of vans would be less conspicuous than a big black limo pulling up on the curb. Besides, we wouldn't want to spoil our boy wonders, now would we?", he joked as he playfully reached across the aisle and pinched Chris' cheek. This earned him a laugh from the guys. "Do you guys have any special requests or needs regarding the handling of the luggage? I'm going to have some help from the airport staff to get your bags because you guys obviously can't get them, and I want to be sure I get everything", Peter said. Lance responded,

"Oh oh... PLEASE be sure to grab my large black Samsonite with the wheels. I have some notepads with lyrics and stuff, and I'd like to peek through them right when I get to the hotel." Always the workhorse of the group. Well, some things will never change.

"Not a problem, Lance. I'll have the airport staff double-check that it makes it into the luggage van."

BUMP BUMP. The plane landed, taxied to the terminal, and was able to disembark the N'SYNC members and entourage into the terminal without any trouble. Thankfully, their arrival remained a secret, and the guys were good at tossing on the disguises. A hat here, sunglasses there; Justin had even pasted on a fake moustache. It was about the silliest thing the guys had ever seen, but hey... if it works, use it! Peter was leading them through the terminal on their way to the VIP lounge when they guys thought their cover had been blown! Hearing a commotion behind them, Justin and Chris turn around to see a guy running through the crowd, dodging people to get to the group. "Oh great," they whispered under their breath while Joey slightly rolled his eyes. This guy was running straight for the group, and an impending collision was expected. However, he swerved at the last moment and simply bumped Lance on the shoulder as he sprinted by. This caused Lance to lurch forward and fight for balance. The guy simply yelled back, "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

"What the...", Lance said as he was tossed. Lance was ticked, but the rest of the group was relieved that their identity was still a secret. Lance couldn't help but to follow his aggressor with his eyes all the way down the terminal. When he realized that the guy was headed to the bathroom, he couldn't help but smile and giggle as he discovered his predicament. "No problem. I'd have probably done the same thing myself. I wonder who he is?...," he thought as the group was escorted to the VIP lounge.

SIMULTANEOUSLY ON ANOTHER PLANE...

"Your attention please, this is your captain speaking. We are on approach into San Diego International airport, and should be touching down in about 20 minutes...blah blah blah."

The captain's voice seemed to fade out as I cranked up the volume on my Discman. The disc I was listening to? N'Sync, of course. I really started liking the CD at the beginning of summer, and I'd listened to it on-and-off the whole time. This flight wrapped up a long, multi-aircraft trip from the other side of the country, and I was itching to get out of the plane, grab my luggage, and get home and relax in my OWN bed. For the past three months, I'd been scouting out colleges all over the United States, and my travels had taken me to Washington, Texas, Florida, Virginia, and New York. Was it my idea to look into all these schools? NO WAY! It's mom and dad, thinking they know what's best, sending me all over the country and burning up money on airline fares when I know in my heart I would not enjoy the school I was about to preview. I mean, they did have the money, and they just wanted the 'best' for their little boy. Little did they know that I didn't feel like being their 'little boy' anymore.

I'm Billy. Billy Wilson. I'm nobody special, I guess. I put my pants on one day at a time just like everybody else. I just turned 20, and have two parents, an older sister, a younger brother, a dog, a car, a few friends, and a real strong desire to get out of my town and make something of my life. I live inland from San Diego and I'm in my first year at a local community college where I'm taking music classes. I LOVE music! I dove right into college after high school, and it has been a highlight of my life for this past year. This comes from the kid who barely scraped by in high school and had to beg his teachers to pass him so he could get his diploma on time. I'm learning to hone my piano-playing skills, I've gotten much more involved in choral and solo singing, and have learned to appreciate professional music a lot more. I really enjoy listening to my CD's wherever I go, especially those singers and groups that sing in my range. I know it's silly, and I'm sure there are a million people out there that have the same dream, but I want to become a musician, and make a name for myself based on the talents I have. This is my dream, or at least my fantasy, yet mom and dad seem to want the title "M.D." or "Attorney at Law" to follow my name. How can I tell them that for once, I'd like a bit of a say in how my life proceeds?

BUMP BUMP. My head shot around to look out the window, and I realized that we were landing. It's funny how time can fly when you're caught up in your fantasy. The plane took FOREVER to taxi to the terminal (something about a family of endangered geese crossing the runway and us having to wait), but we finally made it. It then took another eternity before all the first class and midsection coach passengers got off before us steerage folk from the back of the plane could exit. If this wasn't bad enough, I realized I had consumed one too many sodas on the flight, and the inevitable 'pee pee dance' began. I finally got off the plane and FLEW to the restroom to relieve myself. I had never run so quickly! In the process of getting to the restroom, I dodged people left and right, and nearly toppled a group of guys walking through the terminal. "Sorry! I'm sorry!" was all I could say as I yelled behind me on my way to the facilities. Once I made this pitstop, all I needed to do was to pick up my luggage, grab a cab, and get the heck home!

After a few sodas and a twenty-minute rest on the way-too-comfortable couches in the VIP lounge, Pete helped escort the guys to their vehicle. JC, followed by Chris, Justin, Lance, and Joey and entourage proceeded out the back entrance and to the special loading area where their vans awaited. As the guys loaded into the first van and security/PR folks loaded into the second, Pete said to the guys, "Okay, the driver is taking you to the hotel, where they're expecting you with all security precautions. Nobody knows you're in town yet, and let's keep it that way. Don't do anything dumb, especially you, Brain-child!," referring to Justin. Justin had a habit of always getting the band noticed by acting up or being in a general state of goofiness.

"Yes, daddy," was Justin's patented response.

"Hey Pete, don't forget about my suitcase," Lance reminded.

"You bet. I'll see you guys at the hotel after I get all the luggage. We'll chat sometime tonight when Roger gets in later about our plans for our time here in San Diego." The door shut, and the van started rolling. Almost immediately, all the guys started chatting about what they were going to do when they got to the hotel-everyone except Lance. He sat quietly, still thinking about his little bump in the terminal and that guy as he ran towards the bathroom. Lance could only giggle and think.

Exiting the bathroom, I felt like a great weight had been lifted from me. Well, more like 'dropped', but I think you get the idea. I tossed my backpack with Discman over my shoulders, placing my earphones on and catching the beginning a capella "ahhh's" of 'Sailing'. I hummed the melody to myself as I sailed peacefully down the terminal towards the luggage turnstiles.

Pete and the airport staff rolled three large luggage carts into the turnstile area. Lucky for them it was a slow season for flying, and therefore the airport wasn't very busy. Searching for the flight information, he found it displayed on a sign with other flights 'TURNSTILE 2.... AA Flight 203, AA Flight 2382'.

"Flight 2382... that's us," Pete said to the airport folks as they proceeded to turnstile 2. Looking for the guy's pseudonyms on the luggage tags, the staff began pulling bags from the turnstile as Pete checked them off on the clipboard. Justin... Joey... Chris... Joey... Pete... security guard... Chris... Lance... JC... Justin... the bags piled onto the cart quickly, and Pete had a hard time keeping track of them. Finally, they were done. Pete and his assistants began rolling the carts towards the exit when he glanced to the turnstile and noticed a large, black Samsonite suitcase with wheels. 'Oh crap,' Pete thought as he rushed over and grabbed the luggage. 'Can't forget this!'.

'Mmmmm mmm mmm mmm'... The song ended as I walked into baggage claim. I began scanning the displays, trying to find my flight number, when I finally found it on turnstile 2. 'TURNSTILE 2.... AA Flight 203, AA Flight 2382'. 'Cool. AA Flight 203. That's me.' I started walking towards the turnstile but had to pause and allow three VERY full carts of luggage to pass. 'Man, that must belong to a sports team or something,' I thought as I proceeded to look for my bag on the turnstile. One time around, three times around, five times around. I've seen the same baby seat, the same duffel bag, the same garment bag now half a dozen times, but none of them were mine. Well, maybe I got the wrong turnstile! Let's check... 'TURNSTILE 2.... AA Flight 203, AA Flight 2382'. Hmmm... this is not a very good way to finish a trip like this.

My eyes began to get beady and the smile on my face faded as I approached the airline skycap next to the turnstile.

"Excuse me, I can't seem to find my luggage," I said to the skycap as politely as possible.

"Well, did you look on the turnstile?" he retorted.

"Um, YEAH, I've been watching the SAME luggage pass me six times, and haven't seen my bag," I snapped, wanting to tell him where he could REALLY shove that stupid-looking hat on his head.

"Well, I can't really help you. You'll have to talk with the folks at the airline desk over there." He pointed across the baggage area to the American Airlines service desk.

"Gee, thanks Einstein" was my response as I quickly turned and walked, not letting him see me roll my eyes. I'm not usually like this. I'm actually a very nice, polite person. My parents taught me good manners, however they sometimes go by the wayside when I have to deal with complete morons with the IQ of a tablecloth.

I approached the counter, took a deep breath to prevent myself from biting the agent's head off, and blurted out my predicament. "I hope you can help me out, because I need a hand here. I've been on a plane for what seems like a week, and I just want to go home. BUT, here's the kicker-my luggage is nowhere to be found on the turnstile, and it has everything in it I need." I handed the agent my ticket stub and claim ticket, just hoping she would be my luggage savior.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I can understand how frustrated you must be!" (There IS a kind soul in the world!) "Why don't I try to track the luggage and see if it even got on the plane. First, can I get a description of the bag?"

"Yeah, it's a large black hardcase with plastic handle and wheels."

"What brand?"

"Samsonite."

The elevator door opened, and five moist young men walked out, trying desperately not to drip on the nice carpeting. The guys had just taken in a well-deserved dunk in the drink, and now had the opportunity to just chill out for the rest of the afternoon. Joey and JC were in a tug-of-war (more like a wrestling match) for one of those hotel towels.

"...hey, give that back! It's not MY fault you forgot your towel!" JC said.

"Oh right, I 'forgot' it! I LEFT mine down at the pool 'cause it got soaked when you cannon balled from the side!" Chris and Justin started cracking up as they observed this civil war for the towel.

"Well... it's not my fault that you tossed your stuff so close to the pool. All is fair in love and soakage, dude!" JC snickered as he finally snapped the towel back from his bandmate. Joey just wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered while waddling over to his and Lance's room.

"Lllll..aa..nce, open the door. It's frickin' freezing out here." Lance just laughed as his friend sounded like a familiar movie character as he shook in the hall.

"Who are you, Dr. Evil or something? Besides--cold? I don't feel it. I'm quite comfy in my nice, terrycloth robe, myself," Lance poked fun as he showed off his outfit.

"I'm gunna open up a can of bootie-whoopin' on you if you don't get that door open RIGHT NOW!" The threat was enough to get Lance to quickly slide the key through the knob and swing the door open. Joey did a pathetic Tarzan impression as he raced into the bathroom and turned on the water for what would prove to be a long shower.

Lance just shook his head and smiled as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. Glancing around the room, he noticed two queen beds on the right side, a small kitchenette with refrigerator, table and chairs on the left side, and a couch facing a small entertainment center further into the room. Past the 'living area' was a sliding glass door leading to a small balcony. Lance unconsciously nodded his head in approval. Lance never was one for glamour and glitter. He was raised to appreciate the blessings God gives us, and not take them for granted. The band had found success, and this room was the perfect place to relax and enjoy a few days of well-earned vacation-after the concert, of course. Glancing over to the beds, he noticed that the hotel staff had delivered his and Joey's luggage. 'Darn it, I wish I had been here to tip them,' he thought as he picked up his large, black suitcase and placed it on the bed. He just made a mental note to tip the bellhops as soon as he saw them.

CLICK. One latch opened. CLICK. The other latch opened. Separating his suitcase slowly, Lance peeked into the depths of his luggage, only to find... everything exactly as he had left it-perfectly ordered and completely organized. Lance began pulling small stacks of clothes, fetching himself some white boxers, a pair of cargo shorts, and a navy blue polo shirt. Lance had rinsed off in a shower by the pool, and decided he would really clean up as evening approached. He proceeded to shed his robe and toss it on the bed, glancing at himself in the mirror. Seeing himself wearing nothing but his board shorts, a small smile crept onto his face. Lance had always been a bit self-conscious about his bare chested appearance, but had recently enjoyed weight lifting with the rest of the guys in their spare time. Lance was pleased to see some results becoming apparent in his body. He flexed his left arm, reaching across with his other hand to feel the ball of muscle developing in his bicep. 'Grrrrrr,' Lance jokingly growled at himself as he bore his teeth and shook his head. Smiling at his wild-side, he put his hands on his hips and leaned back, showing off the emergence of some definition in his smooth, naturally tanned abs. He turned around a few times to look at his shapely, yet soft-edged back. Pleased with the show, he shed his shorts and glanced down. 'Water must have been really cold,' he muttered with a smile as he quickly pulled on his boxers and shorts. Just as Lance was pulling on his shirt, the door to the bathroom opened and Joey emerged from a cloud of steam, wrapped in a towel. He was drying his hair with another, smaller towel.

"I am Superman, here to save the day."

"Yeah right, Joey, more like Mighty Mouse," Lance snickered.

"You know what, you're really asking for it, Scoop!"

"Oh, and you're the only one who can give it to me... my hero!" Lance said, holding his hands together on his chest while fluttering his eyelashes. Joey flung the small towel at Lance, which missed and landed on his clothing stacks. Lance picked up the towel, flinging it back at Joey, missing him and landing in the bathroom. Joey just laughed and grabbed his suitcase, placing it on his bed. He began rummaging through his suitcase, finding some boxers, a pair of jeans and a blue Superman T shirt. Lance continued to organize and unpack his suitcase in the same orderly manner as before.

"Uh oh, NERD ALERT!" Joey said as he noticed Lance's organization.

"And you're one to talk, Mr. I-have-to-wear-the-same-T shirt-three-days-in-a-row-because-I-don't-remember-what's-clean-and-dirty-in-my-suitcase."

"I do NOT wear the same T-shirt three days in a row! I...just...have three T-shirts that look the same!" Joey blushed as he realized some monotony in his Superman wardrobe. He just shrugged and dropped his towel to get dressed. Fighting off instinct in an effort to show some decency, Lance turned his back to Joey and continued unpacking his suitcase.

KNOCK KNOCK. "Lance, you in there?" said the voice on the other side.

"Yeah, be right there, Peter." Walking to the door and glancing around to be sure Joey was decent, Lance opened the door and allowed Peter to come into the room.

"I swear, you guys need a separate bus for all the luggage you bring along! If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a bunch of girls."

"For some of the group, Peter, I'm still wondering about that one," Lance joked.

"Well anyways, I apologize that it took so long, but here's that luggage you asked for." Peter leaned back and produced a black Samsonite suitcase.

"Wait a second, I already have my suitcase," Lance said, glancing over his shoulder and indicating to the bag on the bed with his chin. Peter's eyebrows cocked, and his eyes began to grow as he started to think of the few possible explanations for this situation. Glancing at the luggage tag, his jaw dropped slightly as he said, "I guess you're not 'Billy Wilson' of San Diego, are you..."

"And your name?" the agent behind the counter asked me.

"William Wilson, well... Billy." Only my parents ever called me William, and that's only when I was in big time trouble.

"Okay Billy, let's check to see what happened here..." The airline agent began to work magic on her computer after scanning the luggage tag, entering the luggage description, and typing in my name. I tell you what, modern technology is amazing! She told me how the bag had been placed onto and removed from each of the four aircraft on which I had traveled that day, and confirmed that the bag had been removed from the last plane and scanned before being shipped to the turnstiles. While I was thankful that the bag had made it this far, this information was doing nothing to get my bag back. The airline agent called someone back in the loading area, and the whole area was rechecked for my bag, just in case it had been accidentally set aside. Unfortunately, no luck. I let out a deep, 'I've lost all hope' sigh, and began thinking about everything that would need to be replaced.

"Mr. Wilson, the best thing we can do is fill out a lost baggage report and try to account for all the contents of the bag. Someone from the airline could then contact you regarding appropriate compensation," she said as she handed me about ten forms. "The airline will, of course, continue to look for the bag and try to determine where it ended up!" She was trying to be as helpful as possible, but I know I was just one of many frustrated travelers she would see today. I nodded my head and thanked her greatly for all the help. Picking up the paperwork and shoving it in my backpack, I made one last unsuccessful search through the baggage claim area before heading to the curb to hail a cab.

Surprisingly, I had no trouble hailing a cab. However, based on the luck I had been encountering since I landed, I half-expected the cab to blow out a tire, flip over a few dozen times, and burst into a ball of flames to put the final icing on this day of excitement. No such luck, thankfully. After about a 30 minute drive, I arrived at my house in the suburbs outside San Diego. Stepping out of the cab onto my own property stirred one of the happiest emotions I'd felt in a long time. 'Ahhh, home!' However, this emotion was quickly thrashed as I was forced to pay the cabbie almost $80 in fare. I grabbed my bag, bid the driver good day, and entered my house.

"Hello? Son alert! Cool college guy here," I yelled as I walked in the front door. Silence. "Helllllooo?" I called out, changing the pitch of my voice. Nothing. Not a creature was stirring, not even my kid brother-the rat! As I walked into the kitchen, I found a note written on the dry erase board:

BILLY-

WENT ON TRIP TO TAHOE. BACK ON SATURDAY. HOPE U HAD A GREAT TRIP. $$ FOR FOOD IN ENVELOPE. SCOTTY IS AT THE McGEE'S UP THE STREET. LUV YA, M & D

I thought about how I should feel, and decided I felt happy and relieved. I mean, I could have used my parent's ears to complain about the whole suitcase thing. BUT, they'd have probably wanted me to tell them EVERY detail of my visit to the college and the plane trip. Like I wanted to live THAT again! Besides, they worked hard and deserved the little lovey-dovey vacations they take now and then.

I let out a sigh and walked down the hall to my room. Our house is kinda big compared to others, but not a mansion by any means. It was all one story, but very spread out. Down one hallway were my sister's, my brother's, and my bedroom. My sister was away at school in Denver, so my mom used her room for her sewing. Down the other hallway was the living room, which connected to the outside patio and my parent's bedroom. When I got to my room, I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do about my missing luggage. Noticing something was desperately missing, I sat up and removed my N'Sync CD from my Discman and transferred it to my disc changer in my room. 'I could use visions of THESE sugarplums dancing in my head to get me in a better mood.' I smiled as I hit random play, and leaned back on my bed. "I Want You Back" came on, and I couldn't help but laugh, thinking this song had now become the 'ode to my luggage.'

You're all I ever wanted, you're all I ever needed

So tell me what to do now, 'cause I-I-I-I-I I want you back...

My mind had just started to wander when I heard a 'blip' that caught my attention. I turned my head over to my desk and found that I had messages on my machine. 'Aren't I Mr. Popular', I thought as I got up and crossed to my desk, turning down the stereo in the process. I pressed the play button as I sat down, working my shoes off while the tape rewound.

BEEP. "Hey Billy, it's Sara. We missed you at youth group last week. Did you forget it was your turn to bring snacks? Ummmm, oops! Don't worry, we went out for ice cream, anyways. Call me!" CLICK. OH CRAP. I knew I forgot to tell someone I was going to be on a trip. I made a note to call her ASAP.

BEEP. "Billy-man! It's Ryan. Whazzup? I guess you're on a trip, but we need to hang out when you get back. Maybe catch a movie or swing by Starbucks or something? Page me when you get home. Later on, bro." CLICK. What a good buddy! Ryan and I were really good friends in high school, but unfortunately he moved away after graduation. He's now a 45 minute drive away rather than a 5 minute walk, but we still try hard to keep in touch. With a buddy that's as good looking as Ryan, you definitely find opportunities to hang out. Too bad he's got a girlfriend!

BEEP. "Um, hi... I'm calling for Billy Wilson. This is going to be a bit hard to explain, but, well, I think there was some mix-up at the airport..." My eyes popped open and I sat up in the chair straight as a board, hitting the pause button. What did he say? It was a guy's voice, probably about my age, saying something about the airport. I hit play. "Well, here it goes. I guess I have your luggage. It works out that you and I have the same type of Samsonite luggage, and someone picking up my bags accidentally picked up yours, too. I'm sooo sorry! I'm really sorry! I can't even imagine how you feel right now. Hey listen, I'd like to get your bag back to you ASAP, and I want to make this whole thing up to you... Hold on... PAUSE... Okay, sorry. My name is Lan... uh, James... When you get this message, could you please call me back at...wait ...hold on... oh nuts...I'm sorry..." CLICK.

Hey, I had to stop it somewhere. The next edition will be out soon, so hang tight (unless you hate it, of course). Not to sound repetitive, but I would appreciate feedback-positive, constructive, suggestions-anything. Tell me what you think!

-Jeff Kaiser_goof@hotmail.com