“My schedule is just so packed, I don’t know when I’ll find some time to myself.”
Please Britney, no one cares.
“There were reporters following me again last night,” Justin told Chris.
Damn Justin what did you expect? You insisted on driving around, top down, music blaring, with the teen queen at your side.
“I’ve been working on this song,” JC said to Johnny.
I swear to God if you’re even thinking of getting us back in that studio I’ll kill you myself.
“Can you believe he did that? And then she was like…”
Lance rolled his eyes and tried to drown out the voices, he was not in the mood for girl talk, in fact he wasn’t in the mood for any talk.
He was surrounded by his best friends, his brothers, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to get away.
They were in LA. They were doing the media circuit for the millionth time. They seemed to have hit every major magazine, television and radio station within a 50-mile radius during the last 2 weeks.
The same old questions had been asked; the same old answers had been given. Smiles had been plastered on faces and lies, or exaggerations of the truth as he preferred to think of them, had spurted out of his mouth worryingly easily.
He hadn’t seen his parents in a month, he hadn’t seen his friends in close to two and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in his house or slept in his own bed.
Now he was sat in a swanky restaurant, only the best for them apparently, with prices that made him sick to the stomach, even with his new found wealth.
The staff were dressed impeccably, courtesy to match, you could see yourself in the cutlery, but none of that mattered. The meals had unpronounceable names and the atmosphere was stuffy, he wanted nothing more than a home-cooked meal.
This was Johnny’s treat though so he had been obligated to attend.
They sat around a huge table, many smaller ones pushed together just for them. Britney was there, Dani had turned up, maybe as just a friend, maybe more, but hell everyone had someone apart from him. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he felt like he was suffocating as he sat in the middle of them all bantering back and forth between themselves.
The only person who’d even talked to him since they’d arrived was the waitress when she’d taken their order for drinks and appetisers.
He looked down at his watch. As he studied it he could have sworn the second hand was going slower than it should have been. The minute hand didn’t seem to budge either and the only way the hour hand was going to move was if he did it himself, manually.
He wanted this to be over and done with so he could go back to his hotel room and sulk like he’d done for the past week, at least he had a bit of peace and quiet then.
He gave up watching the time tick away; it was like watching paint dry. He dropped his hand to the table with a sigh, catching the edge of the bowl in front of him as he did so. Three heads glanced his way as the bowl clattered against the plate it was resting on.
He picked up his spoon, not knowing or caring if it was the right one for the right course, and concentrated on the contents of the bowl.
Maybe if he chucked a few dishes around someone might break their conversation and notice he was indeed sitting there.
Summer stood next to the small bar; she wasn’t old enough to get behind it and serve but the only interesting person around was Ricardo, the Italian barman.
Ricardo kept her entertained with stories of his homeland and, more than likely sensationalised versions, of his escapades with the ladies.
She’d asked him once, if Italy was that great why had he moved to the good ol’ USA, LA more specifically. Fame and fortune had been his answer. He hadn’t had much luck so far and that was why he was working there, more often than not on the lookout for directors and casting agents, although he had been warned on numerous occasions that his services would no longer be required if he bothered the customers.
That was most people’s story for moving there though, they all wanted the fame and fortune though few of them would actually achieve it. While everyone was moving in, she wanted out, at least for a while, to travel.
Right now though she was on a six-hour shift, her feet were killing her and she still had a long time to go until closing.
A late booking, a party of fifteen, was dominating the restaurant, with a party of four and two separate couples on the other side of the room.
She knew who they were, *NSYNC, she wasn’t stupid, they were everywhere. It didn’t faze her too much; they were a lot younger than most of the diners but the restaurant did have the occasional celebrity, however, more often the plain old rich, you had to be to eat there.
She looked around the room again and sighed. While most of the diners were eating dessert, the “pop table”, as she’d dubbed it after also spotting Britney, were only just starting their main course. While all customers were valued she knew that the managers viewed them as extra special and knew they would not be rushed.
“Get me something strong will ya Ric?”
“Summer, you don’t drink,” he pointed out in confusion.
She sighed. “I know but don’t you think now would be the perfect time to start?”
Lance pushed the food around on his plate. He hadn’t taken more than a few bites but he was having more fun playing with it than eating it.
As he sat sandwiched between Joey and Chris he caught snatches of the conversations, mostly about work. Photo shoots, television shows, interviews, tours, work, work, work, and more work. On top of that he had his own work for FreeLance. At times like this he couldn’t help but think he’d been premature and too ambitious in wanting to start a company of his own.
As laughter erupted to his left he fought the urge to groan. He had a headache and was not feeling sociable.
He looked around the room. Everyone looked so happy, except him that is, maybe there was something wrong with him, he should have been happy, he had everything, right? He wasn’t so sure these days.
He caught sight of the girl at the bar. Her head was resting in her hand; elbow leant on the bar. She twirled a cocktail umbrella between her finger on the other hand.
She was their waitress, that much he remembered. She looked uncomfortable dressed in her crisp white shirt and regulatory length black skirt. Her hair was pulled almost painfully tight into a twist at the back of her head. He almost laughed as he saw the pen perched behind her ear.
His eyes travelled to her face, which was set in a frown. She looked like she didn’t want to be there either. He wondered if she wanted to get away just as much as him.
He frowned himself as he watched a man, dressed in a pristine suit, come out from the back and scold her quietly. He couldn’t hear what was said but bodily actions spoke volumes.
He sat up slightly in his chair when he saw the man point a finger in her face before walking out towards the kitchen again.
She pulled the pen out from behind her ear and threw it on the bar. It skidded along the polished surface before falling to the ground.
He saw her bite her lip, trying to hold back any outbursts, exactly how he felt at that moment.
Without thinking he stood up from his seat, his napkin falling to the floor.
“Lance, what are you doing?” Justin asked. He was sitting opposite Lance and had caught the movement almost immediately.
At last! Someone had realised there had actually been a fifteenth person at the table. He didn’t hear though.
He pushed the chair back with his foot.
“Lance?” Justin asked again.
Britney, seated next to Justin, stopped her conversation with JC and looked up to see what the problem was. JC’s gaze soon followed.
Lance stepped out from in front of the chair, not bothering to push it in.
“Lance,” JC hissed as he watched his friend walk away.
He wasn’t thinking, if he had been he would have thought he had gone crazy.
He strode across the room towards the bar.
Summer looked up and saw Lance march towards her, a man on a mission.
He saw her sit up straighter and take notice as he approached; it didn’t really register in his mind.
A look of confusion crossed her face as he almost reached her.
He had no rational thoughts.
He was within arms reach of her.
He grabbed her hand, turned and pulled her at lightening speed towards the door.
It happened so fast, she didn’t have a chance to protest.
In the distance she could hear Ricardo say her name.
“LANCE!” He didn’t know who said it, it barely registered.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of one of the guards standing from the table. A sense of panic washed over him. He moved faster.
Her hand was clutched firmly by his much larger one. She should have pulled away. She didn’t.
They were outside. He pulled her into an alley, behind a large trash can.
He saw Wes and Dre run past. Seconds later they retraced their steps and looked around, defeated. Then they were gone.
He leant against the wall, slowly sliding down until he hit the cold ground, still clutching her hand.
His head rested back against the cold wall. He fought to catch his breath.
His moment of silence finally came, only the faint sound of passing traffic could be heard. It was bliss. It didn’t last long.
“What. The. HELL did you just do?”
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