Beginnings
“I told you it was a bad idea ten years ago, Justin. Nothing that’s happened since then has changed my mind any. You really want to start things up again, dude?” Chris is itching for a fight, Justin can tell. He tries for an honest, reasonable discussion anyway.
“I don’t know! Yes. I think. And it wasn’t a bad idea ten years ago.” It wasn’t, and it still rankles that Chris has always thought it was.
“Right. Because look how well it turned out. For all of us.” Chris glares and waves a French fry at Justin.
“That’s not fair, Chris.” It’s so much more complicated than that.
“I told you it could fuck things up, and it did.” That’s an old refrain, one Justin’s heard a million times. Chris jabs his French fry angrily into one of the half dozen little white paper containers of ketchup that are lined up in front of him.
Exasperated, Justin shoves his plate away. “Bullshit. That’s not the only reason-” he starts.
“It’s one of the reasons it took us so long to do this again,” Chris interrupts. There’s no arguing with that, because Chris has his ideas, and they’re fixed in his head and there’s no changing them. Justin tries anyway, because that’s what he does.
“That’s not how it is.” His voice is calm, although he doesn’t feel very calm. Most of the time, Chris stays away from this, mostly out of love, Justin thinks, and he appreciates it. But sometimes he brings it up, and then they rehash basically the same conversation they’ve been having for over ten years. Ever since Chris first figured out that there was more to Lance helping Justin with his math homework than an aptitude for algebra.
“Oh, yeah? Remind me to skip the meeting when we talk about the buses for this tour.” Chris shoves his plate away too, and leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
Justin hasn’t thought that far ahead. He hasn’t thought about buses, and who’s riding with who. Unless they each want their own bus, he imagines it’ll be like before, Joey and Lance on one bus and Justin on the other with JC and Chris. There were reasons they did it that way before, but some of those reasons no longer exist, at least not to the extent they used to. Lance, at least, isn’t hiding anymore. Justin likes to think he isn’t, either, although that resolve has yet to be put to a practical test.
Now there are new reasons to keep Lance and Justin away from each other, and Justin hates that.
Chris lets out a frustrated sigh and leans forward again. “I thought you were done with this, kiddo.” He peers seriously at Justin. “I thought you’d moved on.” He looks down at the napkin he’s got wadded up in his hand. “Even if Lance hasn’t.”
Justin feels that same spark of hope he experiences every time it’s brought to his attention that Lance hasn’t moved on, not at all. He despises himself for how much he’s come to depend on Lance’s obvious unhappiness for his own sense of optimism. But it’s what made him start hoping again. Hoping, and trying to think what to do about it.
Justin shrugs. “There’s dealing with things realistically, accepting things as they are, and then there’s really and truly moving on.” He stares earnestly at Chris. “There’s a difference, man.”
“I gotta be honest with you, Justin. I don’t know if I can watch you two tear each other apart like that again. If that’s what’s gonna go down here, if this tour’s gonna be a repeat of the last one…” Chris looks away, off into the distance. After a moment in which neither one of them says a word, Chris shakes his head. “I’m not the only one who can’t do that again, J.”
Justin blinks away the sudden hot sting of regret burning in his eyes. “What, you think I can?” he asks fiercely. He swallows hard and manages to compose himself. After a pause, during which Chris stays blessedly quiet and doesn’t look at him, Justin says, “Maybe it’ll be a new start. Maybe we can…” he trails off. He’s not ready to say any of this out loud, not even to Chris. Maybe especially not to Chris.
“Yeah, and maybe pigs ‘ll fly,” Chris mutters, but he lets it drop and they finish their lunch in silence, then head to the Compound for a preliminary meeting about mounting a new NSYNC tour.
~~~~~
There was a buzzing in Lance’s ears, sort of fast and rhythmic, and he thought maybe it was his heartbeat or something, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t really hear anything over it. His hands shook and he felt around, searching until he found Justin’s hand, and held on, down low on the seat between them, where no one could see. Joey was breathing too fast, his face pale, and JC was shaking so hard his hair was trembling. Chris’s lips were moving, like he was muttering to himself. Lance closed his eyes and waited.
Adam had reviewed the different possible outcomes with them about a million times and Lance was positive he knew what they all meant, but when the judge said she was denying the injunction, he had to look over at Justin to make sure that it was a good thing.
It was. Justin grinned from ear to ear, his eyes dancing, and it was all Lance could do not to lean in and kiss him right on the mouth, right in the middle of the courtroom. Joey slumped back in his seat, and now it looked like he wasn’t breathing at all. JC’s eyes all but disappeared into his smile as he shook Adam’s hand, and Chris let out a “whoop” that made them all laugh. Lance was weak with relief, and he couldn’t make his legs work well enough to get him on his feet.
“Oh, my God, Justin,” Lance breathed, and Justin beamed happily at him, and then Lance felt himself being lifted to his feet as pandemonium broke out all around him. There was a surge of parents, and he caught a glimpse of Lou’s face, dark and angry. Too bad. Lance didn’t have to care about Lou anymore. They were free.
Now that the injunction had been denied, they were all slated to gather in a room with the lawyers and work out an agreement that meant they were free of Lou, free to stay with Jive, free to keep their name.
The lawyers for both sides arranged to break for an hour before they reconvened in front of the magistrate to hammer out the details of the settlement. Lance, Justin, Chris, Joey and JC had already sat down with Adam and their parents and decided what they wanted, what they were going to ask for, and what they would settle for. Lance paid close attention to how it was done this time, not missing a trick. They had all learned a great deal, and that was one thing Lance knew he should thank Lou for.
He probably wasn’t going to be doing that anytime soon, though. No one who had spent any time around Justin in the past three months would be tempted to feel grateful to Lou for anything, Lance thought. He would never forgive Lou for putting that sad, betrayed expression in Justin’s eyes.
JC was hungry, naturally, and Joey said he could eat, too. Lance was surprised to find his own appetite, which had been missing in action lately, was back with a vengeance. Justin and Chris nodded in agreement.
“We can eat afterwards, honey,” Lynn suggested, looking at her watch. “We can go out and celebrate.” Justin shook his head. While the rest of them all thought that sounded like a good idea, Justin was obviously determined to have things his way, right this minute, like he was declaring his independence to the world, or at least to his mom.
“No, I’m hungry now. Seriously? Maybe Big Mike could go get something for us, sandwiches, you know, or something.” He almost sounded demanding, and Lance looked at him in surprise. Justin didn’t usually demand. He was polite, he cajoled, he could send people scurrying to do what he wanted with just a smile and some Southern charm. He rarely demanded. Lynn and Chris frowned almost simultaneously.
But Lance understood. They’d spent the past four years doing what they were told, and going in whatever direction they were pointed, having very little control over much of anything in their lives, from their schedules, their clothes, and their music, to their girlfriends and their favorite colors. Justin was reacting to that, reacting to the loosening of the reins, and he wanted something to eat now, and he didn’t think that was really too much to ask. Lance looked at the faces surrounding him, the faces of his best friends. Joey and JC were smiling at Justin, and Chris had lost his frown. None of them thought it was too much to ask.
And Lance saw when Lynn got it, too, and her face softened, and she said with amused appreciation, “Okay, baby, let’s find you some food.”
Justin laughed then, and although Lance knew things weren’t going to change completely, the sound made him glad. They had a new record contract, and though they still had to record, and do promo, and they had an image and a fan base to satisfy, still, Lance felt like a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders when he listened to Justin laugh, standing in the corridor of the courthouse where they found a new beginning.
~~~~~
The sense of déjà vu is almost more than Lance wants to deal with. Sprawled on couches somewhere deep in the Compound, discussing tour dates and venues and preliminary set-lists, and it’s just all too weird.
Besides, it’s way too premature to be doing this, Lance thinks. They haven’t finished recording the album yet, and how can they possibly start planning a tour without knowing how well the album is going to sell and what kind of venue they can fill? The whole thing is so fraught with the possibilities of embarrassment and hurt feelings and comparisons best not made in polite company that sometimes Lance wonders what they were all smoking when they agreed to do this. What makes any of them think that this isn’t the worst idea in the history of the world?
“We don’t know what size venue we’re looking at yet, right?” he asks. No one else seems willing to voice this stuff out loud, but Lance is already the group’s designated buzz-kill, so he might as well live up to everyone’s expectations. It’s all he says, just a few quiet words, but they all know what he means.
“Way to be positive, Lance,” Joey says gruffly, and JC frowns over at him from his position on the opposite couch, scrunched between Justin and Chris.
“Lance has a point, man.” JC’s done both large and small venues in his solo career, and if anyone knows about the vagaries of timing and the fickleness of fortune, fate, and record companies, it’s JC. When his second CD was finally released, it surprised everyone except JC by doing very well. That time around, he toured with Christina and they filled arenas during the spring and summer of 2007.
“I think we can at least assume arenas, yeah?” Johnny says calmly. Lance knows approximately ten clever sayings about people who make assumptions, all of them a play on the word ass, but he shrugs and lets it go. JC shrugs, too, but now Lance knows he’s not the only one second-guessing things a bit.
They decide to hold off on discussing a specific start date. Lance knows Jive was hoping for a Christmas release for the CD, but that’s not going to happen, and once again, he wonders what everyone is smoking, and where he can get some. It must be some good shit, because it makes people actually think things like maybe NSYNC can manage to record an entire album in five months. Only very powerful hallucinogens could make anyone think that.
So, a spring release is the most probable scenario, with a tour in the summer and fall of 2009. Lance ruthlessly squashes down the flutter of excitement he feels at the idea of touring again. It’s been so long, and although their last tour didn’t end under the best of circumstances, (and isn’t that the understatement of the century), there’s a part of him that’s missed this terribly. That’s the part of him that agreed to do it once more, because he wants so badly to belong to something again.
They start to talk about set-lists, but quickly realize they need to finish this album before they can come anywhere close to making any decisions. “And I don’t even wanna know how we all feel about including the solo stuff,” Lance murmurs gloomily in Joey’s ear.
Joey frowns at him again, and elbows him in the side.
“What?” Lance asks, rubbing his ribs, where a bruise is probably already starting to bloom.
“Jesus, Lance,” Joey whispers with annoyance. “Lighten the fuck up, you ass.” His voice hisses sibilantly in the sudden silence of the room. The others are watching them, not even trying to be subtle about it. Justin looks somber, JC casts Lance a sympathetic glance, and Chris just glares at him with what Lance can only call scorn. Johnny is doing his best to pretend that he’s no longer in the room.
Lance studies Justin for a moment. He looks good, of course, Justin always looks good, but he looks tired. Lance knows that Justin really wants to do this, but the lines around his eyes speak of sadness and regret. There was a time when Lance could make those lines disappear, but these days he’s more likely to be the cause of them.
Lance tries not to care. He certainly doesn’t want to. When he agreed to do this, it was with the understanding that he didn’t have to care.
But, really, when did he become this person, this bleak, grumpy person, spreading doom and gloom all over the place, while everyone tiptoes around him like he’s going to go postal if they say one wrong word? Well, okay, Joey and Chris don’t do a lot of tiptoeing, but still, Lance knows that he and Justin make people uncomfortable when they’re together, and that Lance by himself makes them careful. Seriously, when did he become such a crank?
And Lance feels a sudden rush of grief, grief like he hasn’t felt in years. He hasn’t just lost Justin, who is probably the only person Lance is ever going to love the way he wants to love someone. And he didn’t just lose NSYNC, the way they all used to be with each other. He’s lost his sense of himself as a happy person. He used to be joyful, he knows this. He used to be able to see the light in everything, no matter how dark it looked. He didn’t used to be the person he’s turned into, and he hates the way they’re all looking at him now, full of pity and guilt.
He lurches to his feet, pushing himself upright with a hand on Joey’s knee. “I-I,” he starts. He doesn’t get very far. He clears his throat. “I need to use the bathroom. I-I’ll be back.”
He attempts a weak smile, mostly for JC’s benefit, and ducks out of the room. He’s not the least bit surprised when Joey follows him into the bathroom, pushing the door open as Lance is splashing cold water on his face.
“You know,” Lance says conversationally as he reaches for a towel, looking around the room, “this bathroom is where Justin and I had one of the worst fights we ever had. You remember that one, Joey? You should, man,” he continues, when Joey remains silent, just watching him. “It was about you.”
“That’s enough, Lance,” Joey finally says, in the same voice he uses when Briahna refuses to take no for an answer when she wants something she can’t have.
And Lance looks at Joey, his best friend, standing in the middle of the bathroom that Lance always thinks of as the Dolphin Bathroom. It’s the bathroom where Justin once said so many unforgivable things, screaming insults at him, his anger almost frightening, until Lance shoved him into the wall with such force that the picture of dolphins knifing through the surface of bright blue water, the one that hung over the toilet, came crashing down, the frame cracking in two places, leaving broken glass all over the floor.
Lance has always loved that picture.
And now Joey stands there looking solid and dependable, and at the same time helpless and oh, so guilty, and Lance blurts out, his hand reaching for Joey, “God, Joey, I’m sorry. I’m such an ass. I’m so sorry.”
Joey shakes his head wearily. “Don’t. Don’t be sorry, Lance. Just, please, give us all a fucking break.” His posture is rigid, unapproachable, and Lance lets his hand fall to his side. “And don’t tell me you’re trying, man, because I know you’re trying. And I know it’s hard. But it’s been four months, Lance,” and Joey sighs, relenting and holding out his arms, and Lance gratefully accepts the invitation and lets Joey wrap him up in a warm hug, “and I just thought, I hoped, that things would be, I don’t know, easier by now,” Joey says, mumbling into Lance’s hair.
Lance hides his face in Joey’s shoulder, breathing deeply. He’s well aware of how obnoxious he’s been, but he thought he deserved to be, that he was entitled. He knows it’s not fair, though, not to any of them.
“We’re starting over, man. It’s a new record, a new tour, a new beginning. Just accept it, okay?” Joey pulls back and looks down into Lance’s face. “Okay? Can you do that?”
Lance takes a deep breath and nods. "I'll try." Joey scowls at him. “Okay, okay, I'll try really hard?” Lance lets a shaky laugh escape.
Joey’s smile is like the sun as he opens the bathroom door and pushes Lance out ahead of him. Lance looks back over Joeys’ shoulder at the picture over the toilet. He’d paid to have the picture reframed himself, because in spite of everything that went down in that bathroom, it’s a very cool picture.
~~~~~
Beginnings: a: a rudimentary stage or early period, just starting out b: to bring into being c: to take the first step in a course, process, or operation.
