"Come on, JC. We've all voted. Now it's your turn." Justin said firmly. The four of them were in his family room. They were alone; his mother and stepfather had left to do some grocery shopping. Joey and Chris were on the sofa, he was on the floor opposite them, and JC was in the armchair, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

"I don't know guys, can't we give Jason another chance?" JC said uncertainly. He felt guilty, as if he were sitting on a tribunal condemning someone to death. He knew it was silly, this was business, after all. But still, he felt guilty.

"No, JC. We can't. We've given him more than enough chances. We all have to face it, he's just not as committed to this thing as the rest of us are." Now it was Chris who spoke. JC knew the words were true, but still, the guilt remained.

"Okay. I vote yes then." JC replied, finally relenting to the obvious.

"Good, it's unanimous then. I'll call my vocal coach and see if he can help us find another person with a bass voice. We'll set up a meeting with Jason for tomorrow." Justin stated with finality.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Mama? Daddy? I'm home!" Lance called as he made his way through the kitchen door, dropped his backpack onto the breakfast table, and made a beeline for the fridge. The silence of the house told him that none of the other three people who shared the house with him were home; a note on the front of the fridge confirming his suspicions.

Instead of heating up his dinner as his mother had instructed, Lance just wrapped it up with saran wrap and transferred it from the oven into the fridge, grabbing instead a bottle of water and heading up to his room. He was not very hungry and bone tired, but he had calculus and chemistry homework, not to mention the final preparations for Homecoming Week, to finish before he could go to sleep. You're spreading yourself too thin again, Bassman. "I know, I know." He answered with a smile as he headed up the stairs.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

By the looks on Justin's face, his groupmates could tell that the conversation wasn't going all that well. Aside from the occasional uh huh and yup and got it that came from Justin's mouth, they couldn't decipher exactly what was or was not being said. Finally, with a slight nod and a thank you, Justin ended the conversation and hung up.

"Well?" Joey asked, anxious to know if they had any leads to work with.

"Mr. Connor knows this kid in Clinton, Mississippi. He says the guy's got the perfect voice for us, a true bass. He's been singing with a top-ranked high school choir for two years now." Justin replied to the three sets of waiting ears.

"Great! You got his number? Let's call him now." Chris said. The sooner they could get started working as a five-member vocal again, the sooner they can cut a demo tape for the record companies.

"There's one slight problem." Justin continued, putting a damper on everybody's mood.

"What's that?" JC asked.

"Mr. Connor says that he's the perfect guy for us, and I trust Mr. Connor's judgment completely, but he thinks that the guy's mother will never let him do it." Justin dropped the other shoe on them.

"Great, we have to deal with a mama's boy now?" JC snickered.

"Hey, what's wrong with being a mama's boy? I happen to be very proud of that title, thank you very much!" Justin countered defensively.

"Nothing, Justin. Nothing. Just make the call. We'll ask him to fly down here for an audition. If we like him, we'll figure something out. If not, then no harm done." Joey suggested, already feeling a migraine coming on over this kid.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Orlando International Airport was not exactly the place that Joey would have preferred to spend a Sunday morning, but here he was, with Chris in tow, to pick up the 'mama's boy' and, of course, his parents. He would have to explain to his priest, Father Michael, why he wasn't at church today, but that was for later. He was here now to pick up the prospective bass and, hopefully, do a good job at recruiting this kid for the band. James Bass was his name, Mr. Connor had told them, but he goes by Lance to distinguish himself from his father, whose first name was also James. They waited patiently as they saw the Southwest Airlines plane taxi up and park at the gate, and then people started filing out. As the blond kid walked off the jetway, followed by two adults, Joey instantly knew that it was them. James, or Lance, was the spitting image of his father, who was just a few paces behind him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bass? Lance? I'm Joey Fatone. This is Chris Kirkpatrick." Joey said as he approached them.

"Howdy, I'm Lance Bass. These are my parents, Diane and Jim." The blond kid replied, shaking Joey's hand firmly. He did the same with Chris. The two members of the welcoming committee couldn't quite explain it, but they took an instant liking to this Mississippi country boy. Whatever Lance Bass may be, he was certainly no wimpy mama's boy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"They're here!" Justin cried as he rushed down the stairs and flung open the front door. JC couldn't help but smirk at his younger friend. 'Just like a kid on Christmas morning,' he thought to himself. Unfortunately for JC, the present that was coming up the driveway didn’t impress him much. 'My god, that's the bass Mr. Connor has been crowing about?' JC thought. 'He's nothing but a country hick!'

"JC! Get your butt over here!" Joey cried as he saw his friend hang back inside the foyer of the house. "This is Lance and these are his parents, Jim and Diane Bass."

"Sorry about that. Nice to meet all of you." JC said as he quickly extended his hand out to all of them. From the thick southern accent to the preppy clothes and cowboy boots to the spaghetti-bowl haircut, it seemed that everything about this kid was getting on JC's nerves. "So Lance, I hear you have a pretty damn fine voice." He blushes, the kid actually blushes! Good God, this is going to be a disaster.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Wow. Oh wow!" Justin uttered again, still not believing what he had just heard. "Hot damn!"

"Yeah, I'll second that!" Joey said as he finally found his voice again.

"Hey man, we don't need to hear anymore. You've got the job if you want it." Chris said, thinking that he was just stating the obvious. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a fleeting shadow of anger cross JC's face, but not enough for anyone else to notice.

"Chris is right. You're in. You're IN!" Justin cried happily as he hugged Lance, who was now redder than a beet in borscht soup. "Mr. Connor was so right about you. I have never, never, ever heard such a deep bass before."

"Can I think about it for a little bit?" Lance replied, still unable to force the redness from his cheeks. He knew his voice was solid, but he never quite expected this reaction.

"Sure, take a week or so." JC replied, half-hoping that this country hick would turn them down. One mama's boy in the group was enough; they didn’t need two southern mamas to smother them all the time. "Give us a call."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hello?" Lynn Harless answered as she dried off her hands with a kitchen towel.

"Hello? Lynn? This is Diane Bass. My husband and I were down at your house last week with our son Lance." Diane Bass spoke sweetly into the telephone.

"Of course, Diane. Paul and I were delighted to meet y'all." Lynn replied, just as sweetly.

"Well, I know that Lance has told the boys that he's accepted their offer to join the group."

"That's wonderful, Diane! I think that your son has the perfect voice to complete the sound these boys want to make."

"Well, both Jim and I think that it's a wonderful opportunity for Lance and all, but as his mother, I'd like to talk to you about a few things. I think that Jim and I are going to need yours and Paul's help with this." Diane continued.

"Sure, Diane. What is it?" Lynn replied, a bit astonished.