Chapter 8

 

                “Sam would you, Sam I just want to, Sam!”  Justin gave out a last cry as he pounded his fist against the door she’d slammed in his face.  He’d all but given up, already turned around when he heard the door open again.  Thinking she was ready to hear him out, he pivoted on his left foot to face her.  Instead of the angelic face he thought he was going to see, he felt paper slap against his skin.  A tabloid fell at his feet as the door was once again slammed shut.

                “Crap,” he softly let out.

                “How’s that going for you?”  Lance asked from his doorway a little further down the hall.  Justin scowled at his smug expression.  “How could you have let this stupid little argument go on for so long Justin?”

                “She won’t talk to me,” Justin answered as he pulled at the short hairs on his head.  “It’s not like I haven’t been trying for two weeks.  I almost had her listening to me too, before this.”

                Lance caught the tabloid that Justin had picked up and thrown in his direction.  On the cover was a picture of Justin with a European supermodel looking like they were having the time of their lives at some random bar.

                “Who is that?”  Lance asked, vaguely recognizing the girl, but unable to put a name to her face.

                “Monique or something like that.  You know, the chick that came to ask for my autograph at the bar this weekend.  The girl that I talk to for maybe a total of ninety seconds.”  Justin answered obviously exasperated with Lance’s memory blank.

                “Wow, and you guys are already engaged?”  Lance asked as he read the headline in the corner.

                “Shut up Lance.  I probably wouldn’t have recognized her if I’d met her on the street if it weren’t for this stupid photo,” Justin argued.

                “So, Sam really thinks you cheated on her with this girl?”

                “Apparently,” Justin answered.

                The door in front of which they were still standing flew open at the word.

                “No, I do not think you cheated on me!”  Sam said a little more loudly than most of the guests in the hotel would probably appreciate.  “This is just another piece of garbage to add to the pile of trash that is our relationship.  I told you.  You don’t like my family, that’s fine, but we can’t keep seeing each other.  You’ve had every chance in the world to make this right, and what have you done?”

                “I’ve apologized, a lot,” Justin defended himself feebly.

                “Nothing!” Sam exclaimed, ignoring what he had to say. “Nothing.  I don’t care about the stupid rumours, you should know that by now.  But let’s just say if you keep doing nothing like you’ve been doing so far, you can have all the pictures with all the girls you want plastered in every single tabloid, because it won’t be considered cheating, you’ll be a single man.”

                Justin was almost thankful that she returned to her room and slammed the door immediately after the comment, because honestly he had no idea what he could have said in reply.  She was right that he hadn’t made much of an effort to fix this, but he was all too aware that her family didn’t like him and he didn’t exactly feel like throwing himself at the feet of people who tried to set his girlfriend up with other men.

                “Well, that was harsh,” Lance offered, reminding Justin that he was still standing right there.

                “Yeah, I guess she’s right though.  I’ve done nothing to fix this, and unless I move my ass, she’s going to call it quits soon.  It’s not like her family doesn’t have someone else lined up to take my place,” Justin pouted.

                “Hey, well, you know.  If you need help or anything . . . ” Lance tailed off.

                “Lance!”  Both men turned their heads as they heard the voice calling from down the hall.  Leslie blushed slightly when she noticed them talking together.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

                “Nah, that’s fine.  Don’t worry about it,” Lance reassured her as Justin nodded his agreement.  He was tired of talking about his Sam problems anyway.

                “Well, I just wanted to see if you were ready,” Leslie said, her fingers playing with the purse she’d chosen that morning.

                “Oh yeah, sure.  Um, can I just have one second?”  Lance asked, ready to drop his conversation at that very moment if that was what she wanted.

                “Sure, I’ll be by the elevators,” Leslie offered, before heading back the way she had come.

                “What is that?”  Justin asked once he was sure she was out of earshot.

                “What?”  Lance asked, already all too aware of the question that was about to come.

                “You guys are going out today?”

                “Yeah, well there’s this new movie Leslie wants to see and Chris and Meghan are doing something businessy, so, yeah, we’re going to check it out,” Lance scrapped his shoes along the carpet, concentrating on something other than the mischievous gleam in Justin’s eyes.

                “You two have been seeing a lot of each other lately, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

                “Well, she gets bored when Meghan’s not around.”

                “I’m sure she does,” Justin chuckled.

                “Shut up,” Lance said, matching Justin’s laugh.  “Listen though, seriously, if you need any help, just ask.  We’ll be glad to do what we can.”

                “I know, I just, I have to handle this myself,” he said, giving the door that had been slammed in his face three times, a longing look.

                “You’re going to call your mama, aren’t you?”  Lance asked as he started walking in the direction Leslie had taken.

                “Something like that,” Justin agreed.

                “Well, tell your mama I said hi,” Lance offered over his shoulder.

                “Whatever, have fun,” Justin called, watching long enough to see the wave Lance sent in his direction.  He fumbled with the cell phone he’d taken out of his pocket, looking through the phone directory for the number he needed as he walked toward his room for the few days they would be staying at the hotel.           Once he was in his room, he settled himself comfortably on the bed.

                “Not my mama,” he told himself as he found the number he needed and pressed send.

 

                “Christalee, look over here!”

                “Christalee, one question!”

                “Christalee, are you having an affair with Justin?”

                “Are you pregnant with Joey’s child, Christalee?”

                Christalee couldn’t help but giggle at the last question as she finally made her way through the doors of the hotel.

                “Wow!”  Meghan said as she looked out at the group that had huddled outside the doors, camera flashes still going off every few seconds.  “That was wild.”

                “Aren’t you used to that by now?”  Monique, one of the hair girls, asked as she leaned against the elevator wall and looked through one of the bags she’d acquired during their shopping trip.  “I mean, the guys always get this kind of attention, you think you’d know it by now.”

                “I’m used to the guys getting this kind of attention,” Meghan explained, “I’m not used to one of us getting that kind of attention.  How long has this been going on?”

                “Um, well about since the time that article showed up in the Enquirer,” Christalee answered, looking more preoccupied with her purchases than with what her friend had asked.

                “And this?”  Meghan asked as she jerked her thumb toward the only male in the elevator.

                “What?”  Christalee asked as she quickly looked up.  “Oh, the bodyguard?  Yeah, JC and I walked out of the hotel holding hands a few days after the article and there was as many reporters screaming my name as there were screaming his.  He decided I needed a rent-a-cop every time I went out from then on.  I think it’s a bit of an exaggeration, but he has already held a few people back, so I can’t truly say that he’s not necessary.”

                “You’ve had people come at you?  Like fans or what?”  Monique asked as her head popped up.

                “Nah, at least I don’t think so.  I think they were just some really over zealous reporters or something.  I’m not that worried about it.”

                “So is that the only thing that’s changed since you guys went ‘public’?”  Meghan asked as she walked out of the elevator.

                “Um, yeah, sure,” Christalee said absently, her eyes looking over the hallway as if it were the first time she saw it.  “So, anyway, where’s your cousin today Meg?”

                “Huh?  Oh, Leslie’s hanging out with Lance today.”

                “Again?”  Monique asked with a slight giggle as they neared her door.

                “Yup, again,” Meghan answered.  “Anyway, we’ll catch you later Mon.”

                “Bye,” Monique offered over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

                Christalee and Meghan continued their way down the hall arms linked together and bags swaying at their sides.

                “So seriously, what is up with Leslie and Lance?”  Christalee asked as the silence got boring.  “Oh, did you hear how cute that sounds?  Leslie and Lance.”

                “Okay, what are you, like, ten?”  Meghan asked.

                “Next week,” Christalee answered with a giggle.

                “I’ll be sure to buy you Nsync lip gloss or something.  Anyway, Leslie and Lance, well, I don’t know what’s going on with those two.  They didn’t even know each other before they got here and now suddenly it’s like they’ve known each other their whole lives.  They’re always hanging out with each other and they have these little inside joke things and I really don’t know.”

                “I think it’s cute.  But are they just close friends or are they actually going out?”  Christalee’s hand rummaged through her bag as she tried to find where exactly she had put her key card for the door to her room.

                “Oh, no.  They are definitely just friends. I mean, Leslie is not ready for a boyfriend yet.  She’s just been through this like, trauma thing and the last thing she needs is for some man to come in and screw with her mind when she’s all unstable or whatever.”

                Christalee stopped her rummaging and her head shot up at the comment.  “Lance wouldn’t screw with her mind Meghan.  He’s one of the sweetest guys I know and he’d be completely honest with her.”

                “No I know,” Meghan quickly intervened, realizing what her early comment had sounded like, “I just mean that she isn’t ready to make her mind up on stuff like relationships so it would be really easy for someone to convince her that she loves them when she really doesn’t.  Even if that isn’t what they’re trying to do.”

                “I guess . . . ”  Christalee agreed reluctantly.  She refocused her attention on her bag which had apparently swallowed her key.  She felt like Mary Poppins searching for the measuring tape in her carpet bag.  “Where did I put my key?”

                “With me.” The door flung open and JC stood in front of her, waving the card key that she had apparently forgotten to take with her, in his hand.  His other arm reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her toward him until she crashed against his chest.

                “Oh,” she answered, half at the realization that she’d forgotten her key and half from the impact that came with colliding into JC’s chest.

                “Was she good Meghan?”  JC asked as he let his girlfriend catch her breath against him.

                “Very.  She ate all her lunch and was polite to everyone we talked to,” Meghan answered with a giggle, already turning toward her own room.

                “Good, thank you for taking her out.”

                “Not a problem.  You can give me my baby-sitting money later,” she said over her shoulder.

                “Will do,” he said before swinging the door shut and immediately occupying his lips with something other than talking.

 

                “How exactly did you just do that?”  Leslie asked with a giggle as she and Lance headed toward the elevator in the front lobby.

                “Do what?”  Lance asked as he pressed the up button.

                “Get through that crowd without anyone harassing you or yelling questions at you or anything?” she elaborated.

                “What the reporters?”  Lance asked, gesturing for her to enter the elevator when the doors dinged open.

                “Well, yeah.  I’ve been out with Christalee a few times and she had the hardest time getting through them.  They’re like leeches or something when she’s around.”

                “Oh, well, she’s new to that part of our lives,” Lance said as he waved for Leslie to exit the elevator before him, “she’ll get used to it.  When we started, I’d freak just seeing the crowds of reporters.  I’ve gotten slightly better with it since then though.”

                “I’m sure she will, but it must still be horrible for her. Do you think they’ll bother her as long as she’s dating JC?”  Leslie asked, her voice muffled as she bent her head to look through her purse for her room key.

                “Nah, it’ll die down once they get used to the idea of JC dating someone.  This is just new for the reporters, and everything new is something for them to jump on.  When they figure the story isn’t all that exciting - no drugs, no cheating, no drama - they’ll get over it and move on.”

                “Well, that’s good,” she answered, her brow scrunched as she could not find her key.

                “How are you dealing with all the press?”  Lance asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest as he waited for her to find her key.

                “Huh?” she asked, focussing more of her attention on her search than on her conversation.

                Lance reached into the purse himself and immediately plucked out her key without hesitation.  Meghan gave him a confused look, but then shrugged her shoulder and took the card from him.

                “How are you dealing with the press?”  Lance repeated as Leslie held the door open behind her so he could follow her into the room.

                She shrugged in response, throwing her purse on the couch and making her way toward the small kitchen of the hotel suite.

                “Fine I guess.  They basically leave me alone.  I think they think I’m working for you guys or something.  It doesn’t really matter.  No one knows who I am and no one knows why I’m here.  That’s good enough for me.”

                “Yeah, but, it doesn’t bother you to have them all out there?  You’re doing all right?” he asked again as she handed him a glass of soda with ice.

                “I don’t like it, but there not here for me and they usually leave me alone, so it’s fine. I don’t mind them.”  She sat next to him on the couch and twisted her body so her side was against its back and she could face him easily.

                “What about everything else?”  Lance asked.

                She lowered her eyes at the question which quickly told Lance that there was something there worth prodding about.  He reached over wanting to take her chin in his hand and tilt her face toward him, but he wasn’t allowing himself such intimate contact yet.  This friendship was only a friendship, and Lance often found himself having to repeat that to himself to stop from trying to go further with Leslie.  Instead, his hand landed on her shoulder and he gave her a supportive little squeeze.

                “Come on Leslie.  What is it sweetie?”  He didn’t notice the term of affection that fell from his lips, but she did, and that only made her open up all the quicker, enjoying the affection that she hadn’t been privy to in a while.

                “I uh, well, I haven’t been sleeping that well at night.  I’m just, I’m getting really tired,” she told him.  Her head wouldn’t lift to look at him and her eyes were rivetted to the carpeted floor beneath them.

                “Well we can get you something for that.  There are sleeping pills and I’m sure that if you tell your psychiatrist that you’re not-”

                “No! No, I,” she first interrupted him, then interrupted herself to take a deep breath and compose herself before she continued.  “I don’t want to sleep.”

                “Come on Les, you have to sleep.  You said yourself you were tired.  I’m sure a full night’s rest would do you a world of good.”  This time Lance couldn’t help himself and his hand moved from her shoulder to her neck where his thumb could reach out and tilt her head until she would have no choice but look up at him.  He almost wished he hadn’t made the move when his heart broke at the sight of the fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

                “I’m afraid of sleeping,” she admitted, willing her body not to shake with the sobs that threatened to overtake her.

                “There’s nothing to be afraid of Les.  No one can get to you here.  There’s security everywhere, I doubt anyone could even get in the hotel to reach you.”  His thumb moved to her cheek and he softly rubbed her skin, erasing the trails of water the tears had left on that side of her face.

                “I’m not afraid of that . . .  anymore,” she hesitantly added.  “I just, every night, I, I have these dreams.  And they’re so horrible.  I just can’t take them anymore.”

                “Have you told your doctor?”  Lance asked, his free hand moving down to grasp one of Leslie’s as she fidgeted with the comforter of the bed they were sitting on.

                “Yeah, he says it’s a good idea for me to confront them or I might never move past them.” 

                Lance was trying so hard to find an answer for her, some way of solving her problems and taking all her tears away, that he didn’t notice when Leslie moved toward him and was therefore quite surprised when he felt the weight of her head rest against his shoulder.  He looked down at what he could see of her and could tell right away that she was only hanging on by a thread.  At the first incentive, she would undoubtedly collapse into sobs.  As much as he didn’t want to see that happen, he knew she needed to get it out of her system now while someone was there with her, rather than have her weep alone at night.

                Slowly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her body nearer to him.  Barely seconds after the contact, Leslie made a strangled sound before her entire body began to shake with the strength of her sobs.  Lance pulled her closer to his body and once again, he held Leslie on his lap as she cried in his shirt.

 

                “If I could have a minute of your time,” Justin calmly requested as his hand stopped the hotel door from slamming into his face.

                “No you can’t,” Sam answered automatically.  She didn’t move from the doorframe to let him in, but she didn’t try to shut the door again either.

                “You have to go to the airport.”  He handed her keys and a slip of paper as he spoke.  “Take the blue van.  Here’s the gate number where you have to wait.”

                “This isn’t my job,” Sam called after him as he moved away from her, too discouraged with her obvious anger at him to try to get an actual conversation in edgewise.

                “Yeah, well, you’ve got to do it anyway.”  He shrugged his shoulders and kept moving down the hall.

                “Asshole,” Sam mumbled to herself as she let the door close.

 

                “What about your mother?”  Joey asked his phone as Chris gave him an odd look.

                “What about my mother?”  Another odd look from Chris.

                “There’s always someone.  What about my sister, my brother, your family, hell pay someone!”  Chris edged closer, curious to know if he’d be able to hear something from the other end of the line and therefore decipher a little of what was being said.

                “Then don’t worry about it and just bring her, someone will do it here.”  Both Joey and Chris’ faces scrunched after the comment.  Joey apparently didn’t like the answer he received from whomever he was talking to and Chris was having no luck understanding the phone conversation that he probably shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on to start with.

                “You what?”  Joey asked a little louder than Chris expected.  The older man jumped back slightly at the exclamation, but quicky scooted back to his spot in hopes that the other person on the line would answer as loudly and give him a hint as to what was going on.

                “But you can . . . ”  Joey paused, obviously having been interrupted.  “Well then I can.”

                He seemed to be answered with a negative response and the result was that his entire face dropped.  “Fine.  I’ll call you tomorrow.  Love you.”

                “Kelly?”  Chris asked when Joey hung up, the only piece of information he was more than twenty percent sure he’d been able to take from the conversation.

                “Yup,” Joey answered as he twirled the cell phone in between his fingers as he would a drumstick.

                “How’s she doing?”  Chris prodded, hoping it wouldn’t take much for Joey to tell him everything.

                “She’s not coming to the show,” Joey answered as he leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes in the hopes that by the time he opened them the day would be over and a new and better one could start.

                “Tonight’s show?  Wouldn’t that have been really short notice?”  Chris asked.

                “Not tonight’s show.  The award show next week.  The one she promised me she would come to and that she was totally excited about when I first told her,” Joey answered, turning his head toward Chris while it still rested against the couch and giving him the most pathetic look he could muster.

                “Ah.  Why not?”  Chris asked, aware that asking this many questions would eventually just shut Joey up.

                “Well, first she said that she couldn’t leave Bri alone.”

                “There’s always someone willing to watch Bri,” Chris said, understanding now the ‘my mother, your mother’ part of the conversation, “heck, have her bring the kid here and one of the crew will watch her.  Those make-up girls love kids, they’d probably be ecstatic.”

                “That’s what I said,” Joey replied with a nod.  His eyes had now focussed away from Chris and were looking absently at the ceiling hoping that he might be able to find some kind of answer there.

                “So she can come?”

                “Nope,” Joey answered patiently.  He was barely focussing on the conversation, running numerous questions through his head as he simply reacted to all of Chris’ questions with the correct answers.  “Now she says she can’t go because she has nothing to wear.”

                “She’s got ten days-”

                “She doesn’t have the money for the kind of dress this event asks for,” Joey interrupted, obviously using the exact same words Kelly used to interrupt him, since not having enough money was rarely an excuse Joey used for anything.

                “Well shit man, it’s not like you can’t-”

                “She doesn’t want to pay for it with my money,” Joey continued, once again thinking of the tone in which Kelly had given him her answers.  She was jittery, obviously grabbing at strings that she wasn’t sure would hold together, but she had been firm all the same.  She was adamant about not attending the show, and nothing, it seemed, was going to change her mind.

                “So now what?”  Chris asked, more confused after the conversation than he had been before.  Sure, he understood what was going on with Joey, but he had absolutely no idea what was going on with Kelly.

                “She said to go to the show and have a good time.  That without her I could hang with you guys at the after parties and stuff.” Joey shrugged his shoulders, but Chris could easily see that it wasn’t a situation he’d be shrugging off anytime soon, or at all until he knew exactly what was going on with Kelly.

                “Well shit man,” Chris offered, completely perplexed, “anything I can do?”

                “Nah, don’t worry,” Joey said as he stood up and patted Chris’ shoulder, “I’ll figure it out.”

                “I hope so,” Chris whispered to himself as Joey left the room.

 

                “Stupid idea,” Sam mumbled to herself as she sat in one of the hard airport chairs.  “I am not some kind of . . .  people delivery service.  Frigging Justin.  Can’t bother making our relationship right but has time to send me on useless errands.  I don’t even know who I’m picking up.  This was a bad idea all around.  Justin’s such a-”

                “What have I told you about talking to yourself?” a voice behind Sam asked.  She turned around to see who exactly had interrupted her thoughts.

                “Brady?”she squealed as she jumped from her seat.

                “Yeah Brady.  I know I wasn’t there this weekend, but that doesn’t mean you get to forget me,” he laughed as he squeezed her against him.  “How you doing girl?”

                “Good, what are you doing here?” she asked as she pushed herself away from him so she could see his face.

                “Justin flew us down,” Brady answered as he led them to where his luggage would hopefully soon emerge.

                “Justin flew you down?  Wait, what us?” Sam asked as she looked around in confusion.

                “Mom and dad are here with me,” Brady told her as he picked a bag as it passed by.

                “Justin flew you, mom and dad down?  Why?” she asked as she took one of the lighter bags from him.

                “Because he said you’d been sad ever since you came back, that you barely ever got to see us and it wasn’t like we could afford to drop everything and just come see you at anytime.  He’s just looking out for you Peanut.”

                “I hate it when you call me that,” Sam answered automatically.  Brady ignored her and kept talking.

                “I’m surprised he had you pick us up.  I thought he was going to pick us up and then bring us to surprise you at the hotel.  What’s up with that?” Brady asked as they made their way back where they had just come from.

                “He probably didn’t want mom and dad to see us fighting,” Sam mumbled to herself.

                “What are you guys fighting about?”  Brady asked as he picked up on what she was trying to say to herself.

                “Nothing big really,” she avoided answering. “So where are mom and dad?”

                “Um, well, I’m pretty sure they’re still complaining to the stewardess about something.  At least that’s what they were doing when I left them and came to find you, talking to yourself as you were,” he added as he nudged her in the ribs.

                “Whatever, let’s just go save whatever poor stewardess is being harassed by mom and dad,” Sam suggested as she tugged her brother’s arm in the direction from which she could suddenly clearly identify the voices of her parents - voices that didn’t sound pleased at all.

                “Do we really have to?”  Brady whined, enjoying the few minutes off that he’d had since he’d met his parents at the airport.

                Before Brady and Sam could reach the voices however, the voices reached them.  Their parents emerged from the walkway, looking none too pleased and really ready to get out of the building.

                “Ah, honey look at you!” Sam’s mother crooned as she held her daughter against her, ignoring the fact that she’d only seen her a few days ago.

                “Hey baby,” Sam’s father offered as he too gave her a hug.

                Sam smiled at both of them, helping her mother with her carry-on luggage as they walked toward the building’s exit.

                “This boyfriend of yours,” her mother started, “he couldn’t have gotten us a later flight?”

 

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