Inside the elevator and back up to apartment, Justin Timberlake paged through his mail. The very last letter looked of importance, and he turned it over to look at the return address. Oh, Lord, this was what he was waiting for.
As he stepped off the elevator, he didn't bother to wait until he got back inside to find his letter opener. He tore the envelope and flipped the crisp paper open.
Justin's feet stopped moving, and he froze in the middle of the hallway. He couldn't believe it. His manuscript had been rejected. He wasn't sure what to do, so he just stood there, staring at the words.
How could they reject him? The book he'd turned in had been his best ever... so now what was he to do?
"Justin? What are you doing standing in the middle of the hall like that?"
Justin looked up from the letter to see his fiancé at their door. He forced a smile. "Nothing," he insisted. "Just got caught up reading a letter."
"Oh, yeah?" Adelyn Brady wanted to know as he walked toward her, cramming the letter back into his envelope and sticking it back at the bottom of the pile. "What was it about?"
"Nothing. They just wanted me to donate to some charity or something," he lied. "How can I give to someone else when I barely have any money myself?" He chuckled, walking past her without even placing a peck on her cheek.
"Justin..."
Justin put the rest of the mail on the table and then looked over his shoulder while he clutched the one letter in his hands. "What?" he said as he looked over his shoulder at her.
She shut the door, but when she turned around, she didn't look happy anymore. "You know you can't lie to me," she told him. "Justin, what does the letter say?"
"It's really not that big of a deal," he assured her, looking away from her gaze.
"Obviously it is if you can't even be straight with me about it."
"Adelyn," he sighed. "Just please, leave this alone right now." He tried to walk away, but she caught his arm before he could get anywhere.
"If you don't talk about it now, you're not going to want to talk about it later. I know you, Justin. You'll go sit on the bed and pout and brood until something goes your way. If there's anything wrong, you should tell me now so we can deal with it."
"This isn't about you," he insisted. "It's about me. And I don't want to talk about it."
"If it's about you, then it's about me, too. Come on, honey. Let me read the letter."
Justin furrowed his brow as he gazed down at her. "I'd really rather not discuss this right now."
"Then when will you?"
He didn't answer.
"Give me the letter, Justin."
Reluctantly, he handed it over, folding his arms while she took out the sheet of paper and read. This was the end. She'd read it and decide that she can't possibly marry such a loser. What kind of person would he be if he couldn't succeed at what he did best? She'd call of the whole engagement, kick him out of the apartment and then where would he be? He'd be sharing a room with his little brother in the basement of his sister's house, that's where.
"Go ahead, say it," he prompted when he was sure she had finished reading. "Tell me what a loser you think I am."
To his surprise, Adelyn only put her arms around him and gave him a gentle hug. "You're not a loser," she said. "They're the losers for not knowing what's good. Besides, this is only one place. Why don't you send in your book to some others and see what they think?"
Justin gulped as he held her close. "Let me show you something," he whispered, pulling away and leading her into the bedroom. Once inside, he opened the closet door and pulled out a thick folder that he had hid in the corner. He laid it out on the bed and opened the cover. One after the other, he pulled out more envelopes. "You don't have to read these," he said as he let them float back to the bed. "They all say the same thing. No."
"I'm so sorry," she said as she approached him. She put her arms back around him and kissed him until he had to sit down on the bed.
He sighed. "Adelyn, I've been planning this all my life... thinking about what I'd do and how I'd be once I was a real published author. Now, things are really in perspective. I'm obviously not good enough to make the cut." He turned to look at her. "Knowing this... knowing that all my dreams are crashing down around me, are you sure you still want me?"
She put her hand on the side of his face and forced him to look at her. "Justin, listen to me. No matter how many rejection letters you get, I'll always want you. I didn't fall in love with you because you're a great writer. I love you for who you are."
He couldn't help but give her a small smile. "Good," he said as it quickly disappeared. "Because I think I'm quitting."
"Quitting? Quitting what? Your writing?"
"Yes. All it's given me is disappointment after disappointment. I'm done."
"No, Justin, you can't quit. Before you said you were a loser because you couldn't get your book published, but you're not. Losing is not trying... and if you quit..."
"Then I'd be a loser," he finished for her.
"Besides, do you really think you can stop writing? I see how you light up when you tell me about your stories... giving up writing would be like giving up a part of yourself. You wouldn't want to do that, would you?"
He shook his head. "No, I guess I wouldn't."
"You don't ever have to get a book published. Just write because you like to," she told him as she pressed her lips to his cheek. "Who cares what they think? If you enjoy writing, then they shouldn't be able to make you stop. Who cares, Justin?"
"You're right. I love writing, and I don't really want to quit," he admitted as he brushed the letters away from the bed and pulled her up on it. "Why is it that you can always make me feel better about anything?" he wanted to know.
She let him unbutton her blouse after he pulled his shirt up over his head. "Because I love you," she answered in between kisses.
"Kyle, for the last time, would you hurry up and pack your things? Justin's going to be here at eight tomorrow morning and if you're not ready when he gets here, I'll have him go down to your room and bring your stuff up whether you like it or not," Nicki Timberlake told her little brother.
Kyle Timberlake stared across the table at his sister. "Then I'll lock the door," he answered as he stuck his fork into a pile of spaghetti.
Nicki tore off a piece of bread as she glared at him. "I'll make him break down the door," she retorted. "So finish your dinner and get downstairs to pack before I throw you down."
Kyle twirled his fork around the noodles, not breaking her stare. "You can't make me go."
"If you don't go, then you'll have to find another place to stay because you're sure as hell not staying here."
He let go of his fork and quickly stood up. "I can't believe this! You're kicking me out!"
"I'm not kicking you out, Kyle, I'm making you go to school."
"Nicki, how many times have I told you that I don't want to go to school?"
"And how many times have I told you that I really don't care and you're going anyway?"
"Ugh!" He plopped back down in his seat and put the large forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.
"You're going to school," she continued. "You're going to your classes every day, and when you get back to your dorm, you're going to do every bit of your homework."
Kyle only glared at her because his mouth was full and he wouldn't have been able to say anything even if he wanted to.
"And if you don't get C's or better, I'm sending you back to Mom's."
Kyle swallowed. "What? C's, Nicki? Are you kidding me!? You can pass with D's, you know!"
Nicki picked up her plate and brought it to the sink. "I don't care. My little brother is too good to get D's."
"What do you know!?" he demanded, standing up again and glaring at her. "How do you know what I'm good for?"
She turned around and looked at him with the most sincere expression he'd ever seen upon her face. "I know you're smart, Kyle. You're just as smart as Justin was when he was your age, and if you only tried, you could get straight A's just like he did."
"Everyone always says that. But I'm not Justin, and I'm no where near as smart as he is. I don't know why everyone always thinks I am."
"Oh, Kyle," Nicki said as she walked up to him touched his arm. "Maybe if you tried a little harder you'd see how much potential you really have. Besides, you can't work at Applebees forever, can you?"
Kyle frowned. "Technically, I could."
She laughed and shoved him playfully. "Whatever. Just go pack before I call Justin and make him come now."
Kyle turned around, but looked over his shoulder at her as he made his way to the basement stairs. "Why do you always threaten me by saying you'll make Justin come over?"
Nicki gave him a knowing smile. "Because he can convince you to do anything."
"No, he can't," Kyle muttered as he started to make his way down the stairs.
"Yes, he can!" Nicki called after him. "And you know it!"
In his sloppy handwriting, Phil Timberlake wrote line after line in his five subject notebook. He was all cuddled up in his bed, wrapped in blankets and propped up with pillows. The small lamp by his bedside shed the only light he needed. He didn't remember a time when he'd been all alone and more comfortable.
He'd been writing for almost an hour when the bedroom door cracked open and light from the living room seeped in. Phil smiled when he saw Lalie Mills' blue green eyes peeking through at him.
"I wanted to make sure you weren't sleeping already before I came barging in here," she explained. "What are you doing?"
Phil flipped through his notebook and realized he'd practically filled the whole thing up with words. It had been a long time since he'd written anything. "Just writing," he answered casually. "Believe it or not, these past fast few months... well... well, I wrote a book."
Lalie froze, halfway to the bed. "You wrote a book?"
Phil nodded. "Yeah... I'm not quite sure where it came from," he said as he patted the spot next to him on the bed.
"And I thought Justin was the writer in the family," she smiled, climbing in beside him and trying to pry the notebook from his grasp. "Wow, Phil," she said once she had finally gotten it away from him and began paging through it. "You wrote all this in two months? I don't think I've written so much in my entire life."
He snatched it back from her and held it protectively.
"Oh, Phil... aren't you going to let me read it?"
Phil shook his head. "You wouldn't like it. You were right before when you said that Justin was the writer in the family. He is. Mine's really not that good. In fact, it's terrible."
"You can't be serious! Come on, honey, let me read it. I'm sure it's fantastic"
Phil looked over at her suspiciously, studying her expression. What if she read it and laughed? What if she thought it was the most ridiculous piece of work ever? "I don't know..." he muttered.
"I promise I won't laugh," she said, as though reading his thoughts. "Please, Phil? I really want to read it."
As Phil thought, his mind raced back to that moment when he was thirteen, and his little brother Justin had shared the pages of his diary to his entire class. He'd been laughed at for weeks. How could he be sure that she wouldn't laugh? "I guess you can," he relented. "But promise you won't show it to anyone first."
"Don't you want to show it to your brother? I'm sure he'd love to read it."
This time, Phil held his notebook even tighter. "No, I'm not letting Justin read it. I don't even want him to know that I wrote it."
She reached across his lap, trying to get her fingers back on the notebook. "Why not, Phil?"
"Because he'll laugh, and I'll get picked on about it for the rest of my life."
"It can't be that bad," Lalie chuckled, but stopped when she saw how serious he was. "Okay, okay, I promise I won't show it to anyone... especially Justin. He won't even know that it exists."
He finally let her take the notebook from him, but when she went to open the cover, he put his hand on top and held it shut. "Don't read it now," he requested. "Read it when I'm not here."
"Phil," she smiled, giving him an amused look. "You don't have to be so embarrassed about it. I'm not going to laugh."
"That's what you say now," Phil mumbled as he turned sideways in bed and cuddled into his pillow. "I'm going to try to forget about the fact that you'll be reading that, and then I'm going to sleep. So, goodnight." He closed his eyes.
"Goodnight, honey. I'm going to go out in the living room for awhile. I'll try not to wake you when I come back, okay?"
"Yep," he replied, not bothering to open his eyes. He didn't want to know if she was taking that notebook with her. "Night."
The lights flickered out and he heard the door shut. Well, at least she wasn't going to show it to Justin. He'd never be able to live it down if Justin were to find out.
Chapter 2
Keeping the Peace
Family: Timberlake
Non-Nsync Fiction
I'll Never Stop {Fiction}
Email Me (irishgirl982@yahoo.com)