“Thank you, we’re Nsync, we love you all!” Justin bellowed into his microphone. Another day, another concert, another zillion adoring screaming little girls. He walked backstage, amid congratulations and high-five’s toward him and his four band mates. He stepped into the dressing room, completely ready for the warmth of the shower to overtake his sweaty and tired body. He pulled the silver shirt stuck to his torso up and over his head, and threw it on the ground, with intentions to pick it up as soon as his legs stopped feeling like Jell-O. As much as he loved what he did, touring was hard physical work, and was putting a strain on his 18 year-old body. As he was making his way to the bathroom he noticed a stack of letters addressed to him sitting on the dressing table.
“I’ll read them when I’m done,” he said to nobody in particular while he pulled off his pants and stepped into the small shower, turned the hot water on, and stood, head down under the scalding streams until his muscles began to relax. He must’ve been there for a while, because soon, he heard a knock at the door.
“Hey Justin, we gotta book. The hotel in West Palm is 6 hours from here, and we all really need to get a good nights rest.”
“OK Lance, I’ll be right there, just let me finish getting dressed.” Justin hurriedly pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a white tank top, grabbed his clothes off the floor, and shoved them into his bag. He turned to leave, but with a second thought, returned to the dressing table to pick up the letters. He loved to read what his fans thought of him, and the band. The admiration was a little ego swelling at times, but Justin had learned very quickly that fame could come and go in the blink of an eye. He tucked the pile under his arm.
“Well, its about time!” said Lance as Justin finally opened the door.
“Hey man, I needed to beautify myself, OK?”
“No need to tell me, I’ve seen you before beautification. Not a pretty picture for Bop!, let me tell you!” With that Justin proceeded to punch his friend in the stomach, and Lance stopped laughing. They walked together to the end of the hall, braced themselves, and opened the door, exciting screams into the girls standing on the opposite side. Justin and Lance smiled and waved, but walked quickly to the tour bus, where Joey, Chris and JC were waiting.
“So, um, Justin, that was a long shower you took there. Have fun?” said Joey as the driver pulled away.
“Funny, Joe, really funny. I, unlike you, use the shower to get clean, not make a mess.” Justin retorted. He lay back in his bed, and closed his eyes. As soon as he crossed the border from Georgia into Florida, he would feel so much closer to home, and he couldn’t wait to see his mother who would be meeting them after their show in West Palm Beach. He had 3 days to spend doing absolutely nothing before then, and he was planning on catching up on his sleep, and maybe playing a little basketball. B-ball was his favorite sport, and he was pretty good, able to beat the other four at one-on-one easily. In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever lost, and no recollection of it ever came to mind. His mind was wandering, and he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep. He opened his eyes, and saw JC, Lance and Joey sleeping, while Chris listened to Joey’s Discman. With nobody to talk to, he picked up the top letter of the stack. It was bright green and had his name written on it in gold glitter. He ripped the envelope, and read-
Dear Justin-
Wow, if you are reading this, that is so cool! Oh my gosh, I love you and Nsync so much. God Must’ve Spent…is my favorite song of all time! Every time I hear it I think of your beautiful eyes. You are so gorgeous! If I ever met you I think I would pass out! You’re awesome! So if you ever get a chance, could you like write me back or call me to let me know you got this? That would be so cool! OK, here’s my address and phone number…
Samantha Murk
11740 Quinsy Cir.
Alpharetta, Ga. 57863
(770) 561-4874
OK, SO WRITE ME!
Love ALWAYS-
Sam<3
It was the typical fan mail, and the kind he was used to. He would like to call this girl or write her back, but it would be so unfair to the other fans. He tucked the letter back into the envelope, and set it aside. The next letter he picked up was a simple white envelope with his name written plainly in the middle. He opened it quickly, and what was written inside shocked him.
Dear Mr. Big-Shot Timberlake,
So, I hear you think you can play basketball. Well, I would like to see that for myself. If you think you have any skills at all on the court, meet me at Patch Reef Park in Boca Raton on May 3rd. Bring a friend if you want, and we can play a little 2-on-2. But I really wanna beat you one-on-one.
Signed,
A girl with more game than you’ll ever have.
“Wow,” Justin muttered under his breath. He reread the letter several times before it actually sunk in. Someone was questioning his basketball expertise, and not only someone, a girl. He was pissed, and he was ready to show this chick what he could do. The only thing that held him back was the amount of venom in this letter. This girl must know something about him, to know where he was on that certain night, and where he would be on May 3rd, let alone that he plays basketball. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go alone, so he was semi-grateful that she said he could bring a friend. JC, who was sitting closest to him, and snoring, was the next best player of the bunch, although still nowhere good enough to put a dent in Justin’s winning streak. He decided that he would go, and see what happened from there. He folded the letter, and put it in his back pocket, and then attempted to fall asleep, and forget about this girl until tomorrow.
