Writing Sessions
© 2001, JulieOh
* The gentle southerly
breeze ruffled through Lance's hair,
* lifting the golden
locks like his hairdresser did with her
* fingers every morning,
cooling his scalp where the sun had
* been beating moments
prior. He looked down at the face of
* the woman standing
before him. As the sun slipped completely
* below the far-off
horizon, her pupils widened, stretching to let
* in more light so she
could continue watching the fine features
* of his visage.
*
* "Lance..."
She breathed the word like a drowning person gasping
* for air.
*
* "Yes my sweet
love?" He placed his hand gently against her cheek,
* cupping his palm in
the shape he'd use if he were holding a brandy
* snifter.
*
* She turned her face
away. "I can't do this any more!" she wailed,
* crystal tears slipping
down her rounded, flushed cheeks like water
* dripping down a fresh
apple.
*
* He reached for her
before she could move too far from his
* reaching arms.
"Tandyce...."
~~~
"Hey dude, whatcha
doin'?"
Lance quickly closed his
laptop before Chris could see what was on it. "Uh, nothing," he
stammered. "Just, um, writing some e-mails."
"Then why all the
secrecy?"
"Hm? Oh, they're
just personal, that's all."
"Sure they are.
Come on, let me see what you were really doing." Chris tried to reach
around Lance to grab the computer.
"No, come on, man!
Do I read your things?"
They continued to
wrestle and argue, but Chris finally slipped past Lance's defenses. He flipped
the screen open and started to read the document loaded there.
"Chris!! Come
on...." Lance kept trying to get his laptop back, but Chris was fending
him off with one hand while he read. He hooted with laughter.
"What the hell is
this? You're writing a.... fanfic?!?"
"Shh, not so
loud!"
"You are!
Dude!" Chris couldn't stop laughing while he read. "Why? What are you
gonna do with it once it's done?"
Lance shrugged. "I
was bored, so I started surfing around some sites. Do you have any idea how
much of this is out there? Some of it's pretty good, but most of it..." He
shuddered. "They write like they know us or something. So I figured, if
anyone knows us enough to get us right in a story..." He shrugged again.
"A lot of these sites take submissions, and they'll post the story for
you."
"So, what... you're
gonna send it, say 'hey, I'm Lance Bass, and this is what we're all really
like'?"
He scoffed. "No,
I'll do it anonymously."
Chris was quiet for a
moment while he kept reading. "Tandyce?" he finally said. "Why
didn't you just call her 'Candice', like a normal name?"
"Because normal is
boring. I wanted to be different." He crossed his arms defensively.
"I think Tandyce is pretty."
"Sure, dude. So, do
the rest of us get to be in this?"
"I dunno yet. I
guess."
Chris grinned.
"Make sure you give me some hot action." He punched Lance on the arm
before turning to leave his hotel room.
"Ew, I'm not
writing any of that shit, man! Especially not about you!"
Chris turned in the
doorway. "What, no smut? Come on, these stories *always* have to have some
smut in them, it's like a rule or something."
"There are plenty
out there without any sex at all. I'd have no idea how to write that,
anyway..."
"What's the big
deal? You've done it, just write about it," Chris called over his shoulder,
the door shutting behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Justin slid onto the
bench across from Lance in the bus' tiny kitchen. Lance glanced up briefly,
then returned to his laptop screen, reassuring himself that the younger man
couldn't see what he was doing from there.
Lance typed a few more
sentences, aware that Justin was still watching him. He tried to ignore him,
typing his next words after a moment's thought. He shifted in his seat
uncomfortably. Finally he glared up at Justin.
"What?"
"Huh? Oh, uh,
nothing. Sorry, am I bothering you?"
"No, the more
people staring at me while I work the better. Hones my concentration."
Justin paused a moment.
"Whatcha working on?"
Lance froze briefly,
then shrugged. "Stuff. Just, y'know." He went back to thinking,
punctuated by brief spurts of typing, and Justin was quiet for a while longer.
Then... "So what's
my girlfriend's name?"
Lance looked up at him,
not understanding. "Um.... Britney?"
"What? Oh come on,
you gotta be more original than that." Justin pouted, and Lance frowned at
him, still not getting it. "I do *get* a girlfriend, don't I? You're not
gonna make me go single?"
Realization dawned, and
Lance ground his teeth. "I'm gonna kill Chris," he muttered.
"Hey, I think it's
cool," Justin protested. "I just wanna make sure you're doing things
right for me." He winked, and Lance rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, okay Justin,
you'll get a girlfriend."
"Cool." He
grinned. "Well, I'll let you get back to writing. You need help, I'm just
in the back."
"Yeah,
sure..." Lance replied absently. His mind was already spinning....
~~~
* Justin looked down at
the pretty blonde girl on his arm. She
* had long flowing hair,
and skin as creamy as that good thick
* cream they serve with
tea in the really nice restaurants. Her
* sky blue dress
reminded him of the sky on a gorgeous clear
* day, and he sighed.
*
* "What's wrong,
sweetiepie?" She turned her blue eyes up to
* look at him. She was
quite short, but he stood as tall as a six
* foot tree.
*
* "Nothing pumpkin,
I was just thinking how beautiful you look
* tonight." He
leant over to give her a peck on the tip of her nose,
* and she giggled and
blushed. He turned his eyes to look across
* the room, and sighed
again.
*
* The truth was,
something *was* wrong. He and Dalila had been
* on a few dates, and he
was happy with her, but something wasn't
* completely right.
Their time together was pleasant enough, but he
* knew that if his life
was a movie, she would be buried in the
* credits somewhere as
something like "fourth blonde girl".
*
* He finally spotted
Chris across the room with his girlfriend,
* Tryphena, and they
headed over to join them. They wove
* through the crowded
ballroom, their path jagged, like a
* bumblebee dancing its
way through the hive, but they finally
* reached their
destination.
*
* Justin opened his
mouth to begin a greeting to his friends, but
* he was interrupted by
a bloodcurdling scream tearing through
* the night outside the
patio doors. A collective gasp tore through
* the room, and everyone
turned towards the open doors just in
* time to see a body hit
the pavement outside like a Hefty bag
* filled with vegetable
soup...
~~~
"Dude, that's
gruesome!!"
Lance jumped in his seat
and turned to face his friend crouching on the bench behind him. "Jesus,
Chris! Just give me a heart attack, why don't you!"
"Sorry, man, but
that... that's just whacked." Chris looked faintly nauseated as he
gestured towards Lance's laptop screen. "And what's with you and the weird
names again?"
"At least you're in
it and you have a girlfriend, don't complain." He turned back to the
computer, stared at it a moment, and sighed. The inspiration was gone. He
closed the program and shut down the machine. "Playstation?" He
looked to Chris, whose face brightened.
"Name your
game."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Lance!" JC
ran to catch up with his friend as they wandered the stadium after sound check.
"Hey, what's
up?" Lance turned to walk backwards until JC reached him, then spun back
forwards again.
"I was just
wondering, well, if maybe..." He reached up and played with the hair
falling over his ear nervously. "You know, with this story you're writing
and all, if maybe you wanted a collaborator, or something."
Lance rolled his eyes
briefly -- why not just tell everyone, eh Chris? -- then looked beside him at
JC. "You want to write fanfic with me?"
"Well, you know. A
lot of these things are written by two people, they switch off back and forth,
or just brainstorm together, or whatever." When Lance didn't say anything,
he shrugged. "It just kinda sounds like fun."
"I don't
know..." Lance mulled over the options in his mind. He had managed to get
a bit more written that morning on the bus, but he was at a sticking point.
Another mind working on it could help, and he was planning on taking a break
from it for a few days anyway. But he wasn't sure if he wanted anyone to read
it before it was finished and polished. He wasn't sure if he wanted any of the
guys to read it, period. It was bad enough they knew he was writing it in the
first place. Then again, if they know already, how could it hurt....
"Yeah, I guess so," he finally said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll
get a copy of it on disk to you later on, you can read it and let me know what
you think. What should happen next, that kind of thing."
"Sure, yeah, sounds
good. Hey, thanks." He whacked Lance on the shoulder lightly before taking
off faster down the corridor. Lance wondered what he'd gotten himself into.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two days later, they were
on the busses again, headed for who knows where. Lance's cell phone rang, and
he flipped it open, motioning for Justin to pause the game they were playing.
"'Lo?"
"Lance, you can't
make yourself a killer. It's totally out of character."
"What?"
"Your story. Didn't
you tell Chris that you were doing this because you knew us better than those
teenies who write most of this stuff? You'd never do something like your
character did."
Lance swallowed.
"It's that obvious?" He didn't think he'd revealed who the killer was
yet.
"Um, yeah." JC
used a 'well DUH' tone of voice. "Your girlfriend, who's been whining
about things not being right and wanting to leave you since the first chapter,
is pushed out a window, while you have no good alibi, *and* you're not too torn
up about it?"
"Oh."
"Even Joey got
it."
Lance heard a shouted
"Hey!" somewhere in the background.
"You let Joey read
it?" He rubbed his face with his free hand and sighed.
"Yeah, I needed a
second opinion. So anyway, are we going to leave it this way?"
"We? It's my story,
JC."
"You said I could
help."
"Right." Lance
sighed again. "I know I said I was writing it so that we'd finally have
proper characterization, but I guess it just... changed. I decided to be
different, surprise some people."
"Well, you've
definitely got 'different'. Hey, I just got an idea, I think I can work with
this. Do you want your character to be really cold, like a real prick about the
whole thing?"
Lance bristled a little,
and reminded himself that by this point they were pretty much talking about a
completely fictional character. "Yeah, I guess so. But hey, not too much.
Try and keep some of me in there."
"No, not too
much...." JC was already sounding distracted. "It'll be okay. I'll
e-mail you something in a bit, k?"
"Yeah, okay,"
Lance replied, but the line had already been disconnected.
~~~
* The two girls watched
the members of *NSYNC from
* across the club. The
brunette sighed.
*
* "He is so
dreamy."
*
* "Which one is
that?" her red-haired friend asked.
*
* "Lance."
*
* "Mmm. I think JC
is the cuter of the two."
*
* The brunette wrinkled
her nose. "Linda, JC has no ass."
*
* "Oh but he is
such a cool cat, Jane, he can pull off those
* shiny pants
anyway."
~~~
Lance dialed JC's cell phone
while he kept skimming the document before him. The other end connected.
"Yeah?"
"'Dreamy', JC?
'Cool cat'? People don't really talk that way."
"I do." He
sounded defensive. "Besides I didn't say anything about all your God-awful
descriptions."
"Hey, you need
descriptions in fiction. It's like painting a picture, only with words."
"Yeah, but you have
to let the reader's imagination take over at some point." He paused a
moment. "Have you even read the rest of it?"
"Reading
now....."
He reached the end of
what JC had written....
~~~
* Lance awoke to the
sound of an intense pounding. At first
* he thought the noise
was merely a product of the hangover
* he was sporting after
the drinking of the previous night,
* however he soon
realized the offensive noise was coming
* from the door. He
looked across the bed to the two women
* sleeping curled
together, and smirked briefly. What were
* their names, again? He
finally remembered, Jane and Linda.
* Not that it mattered.
~~~
"Two women, JC? And
I don't care what their names are?"
"Hey, I *asked*,
you said you wanted to be a prick."
"Yeah, but..."
"Just keep
reading."
~~~
* The pounding on the
door resumed, so Lance arose and
* found some clothes
lying about which he pulled on before
* answering. He pulled
open the door to find two uniformed
* officers standing in
the hall before him.
*
* "James
Bass?" one of them asked gruffly.
*
* Lance started at the
use of his legal name. "Yes, that is me."
*
* The other officer
moved into the room to clasp Lance's hands
* behind his back, while
the first kept speaking. "Sir, you are
* under arrest for the
murder of Tandyce Tandie...."
~~~
"Damn," Lance
muttered. "You're sure I wouldn't try to run away or something?"
"Where? They've
pretty much got you cornered."
"True. Okay, what
happens next?"
"I dunno, man. It's
back to you now. Thanks for letting me write that much, though."
"Yeah, sure."
Lance hung up the phone and stared at the screen. Now what....
~~~
* Lance paced the tiny room,
watching the shadows from the
* lone bulb swinging
from the ceiling dance like people at a
* party. Only his mind
wasn't in a party mood. His thoughts
* tumbled in his head,
making and breaking alliances like
* underpants in a dryer
without Cling Free.
*
* He had been there
for... how long? He had lost track of time,
* with no windows and no
way to judge the passing of days
* beyond the small trays
of food his captors passed him. He
* thought it might have
been a week, or maybe two.
*
* He was cold. He felt
like someone might be if they'd been
* dropped outside in the
fall with nothing but a t-shirt on.
* Not quite winter cold,
but definitely late fall. He could tell
* it was raining outside
-- even without a window, thunder
* rumbled through the
walls, ominous-sounding, much like
* the sound of a thin
sheet of metal being shaken backstage
* during the storm scene
in a play.
*
* Suddenly he heard
voices outside his door, and a loud
* commotion. He froze in
his pacing. Were they back? What
* tortures would they
inflict upon him this time? Although
* they really hadn't
been all that bad even at first.
*
* The door burst open,
and he jumped back instinctively. A
* swarm of uniformed
police officers filled the room almost
* to capacity. It really
was a small room. Once they realized
* this, and that he was
the only one in there, they lowered
* their weapons, and
some went back out again.
*
* One of the men spoke
into a walkie talkie he'd taken from
* his belt. "We
have him. He appears unharmed, but have the
* medical team standing
by." He turned to Lance, who was
* nearly collapsing out
of sheer relief, like a Raggedy Andy
* doll that had just had
its little support stand taken away.
* "Sir, come with
us please. You're safe now."
*
* They wouldn't explain
anything to him until the doctors had
* assured them of his
good health. Lance had insisted they let
* his bandmates sit in
the little hospital room with him while
* they told the story.
His eyes grew wider as the officer spoke,
* growing into big green
circles with only tiny black dots in
* the centres.
*
* A hate group had been
operating in the city, plotting the
* demise of successful
boybands everywhere. *NSYNC had
* been their first
target; they had kidnapped Lance and replaced
* him with an impostor
who would sabotage their lives and
* reputations from
within.
*
* "What did he
do?" Lance was afraid to know the answer, since
* his friends all
refused to look at him, and he knew that was
* always a bad sign in
situations like this.
*
* "He started
slowly, so that no one would realize at first. First
* his dance steps were
always a little off, and then he started
* singing quite badly.
Apparently that wasn't enough to sway
* your fans and ruin
your reputation, so he took stronger steps.
* He, um... he started drinking
heavily, and sleeping around
* at parties..."
The officer paused, not sure if that really would
* have been considered
extreme behaviour, after all, he had
* read a lot of the old
rumours and stories himself. But then
* Lance gasped and his
eyes grew so wide they seemed like
* they might pop out of
his head like little pingpong balls.
*
* "Oh, poor
Tandyce," Lance whispered. "What that must
* have done to
her...."
*
* The officer cleared
his throat. "Actually, sir, I'm very sorry,
* but he killed her."
*
* "He.... killed
her?"
*
* "Yes sir. Pushed
her out a window, and made sure he got
* caught. Ultimate in
reputation trashers, really. I don't know
* why he didn't just
start with that."
*
* But Lance wasn't
listening any more. He was wailing in
* mourning for his lost
love, clutching onto whoever was
* sitting nearest him,
which happened to be Joey. He clung to
* him like a shipwrecked
man might cling to the last little
* board of floating wood
he finds nearby.
*
* "OH, TANDYCE!!!
NOOOOOO!!!!!!"
*
* The officer stood and
talked to the others in the room, since
* his original audience
was obviously lost. "Don't worry, men.
* We've caught them now,
and you can rest assured that no
* other boybands will
suffer this fate. Today is a good day
* for crime busters."
~~~
Lance hit 'save' and
shut down his laptop with a small smile. Chris looked up from his spot on the
couch.
"All done?"
"Yep." Lance
leaned back in his seat, stretching his taut muscles.
"Can I read
it?" Chris grinned excitedly.
"Um, I dunno,
Chris...."
"Oh come on, JC and
Joey have read it."
"Yeah, but not the
finished product. Maybe you'll just have to find it on the net, and figure out
which one is mine."
Chris gave him an
"oh please" look. "Of all the thousands out there? I don't think
so. Cough it up."
They stared each other
down for a moment. "Oh alright. But don't laugh. Remember, this was my
first attempt."
Chris dove for the
laptop, and Lance headed for the back of the bus to watch TV. Justin was
sitting back there already.
"Hey Justin. Um,
that story's done, if you want to, y'know, read it. Chris is reading it
now."
"Ooo,
cool...." Justin jumped up and ran to the front, leaving Lance alone to
flip channels idly, waiting for the feedback.... or fallout....
He didn't have to wait
long. Chris came running back and flopped on the couch, resting his head on
Lance's shoulder and clutching at his shirt.
"Oh, Tandyce,
Tandyce!!!"
"Hey..." Lance
blushed furiously, and jerked his shoulder to throw Chris off.
"Kidnapped,
man?" Justin sat on the couch opposite them with a smirk.
"Other authors have
done it...."
"Yeah, but... by a
boyband hate group?"
"Come on, you guys.
You said you wouldn't laugh."
Chris punched him
lightly on the shoulder. "No, seriously man, it was good. Thanks for
letting us read it."
Lance looked at him
skeptically for a moment, then realized he meant it. "Thanks. Hey, maybe
you can help me with my next one."
"You're gonna write
another one?" Lance narrowed his eyes at him. "No, no, I mean, that's
great, yeah, that'd be fun."
"Right."
"No, I mean
it."
"Right. I know you
do."
The End
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