The next day
She allowed her long legs to stick into the aisle as she slouched in her metal chair. She bit on the end of her flair pen and furrowed her brow.
"What right does the public have to know everything?" she asked. "Especially if it isn't relevant."
"Because it's newsworthy," the young man across the room responded. "If you don't break the story, someone else will."
"But it doesn't affect his job," Madeline explained. "It's not as if he's the president and knowing this changes our ability to trust him. He's an entertainer. Having this out just makes his life harder."
"That's what you get for being a public figure," the man answered.
"Are you saying, Miss Lee," Professor Duarte said, stepping from behind a long table, "That if you were USA Today, you would not have threatened to out Arthur Ashe as having AIDS, forcing him to announce it himself?"
"I don't think so," Madeline said, shaking her head. "He's a tennis player. He was retired. What did it matter if he had AIDS or not?"
"Because he's public, and AIDS is a public disease," another woman piped up. "And it wouldn't harm his reputation because he didn't get it through sex or drugs. The public should know that even prominent figures can get the disease. It's like what Mill argues about utilitarianism – you aim for the greatest good that benefits the greatest number of people."
"At the sacrifice of shaking up his life and his family with something he chose to keep personal?" Madeline asked.
"Yeah, but if you didn't do it, some other paper would've eventually, and you would have lost the story. Could you live with that?" said another classmate.
"At least I could sleep at night," Madeline shot back.
"All right," Professor Duarte said, looking at the clock. "I think this is a good note to end on. Finish the Mill readings for next time."
As students stood up quickly to gather their books, Madeline approached the instructor's table.
"Miss Lee," the professor said, looking up from his lecture notes. "You seem to be agitated on the defense of public figures today. Why the change of heart?"
"I don't know," Madeline said, shrugging. "It just seems a shame that for the sake of selling papers you have to make such borderline ethical decisions."
"That's exactly what they are," the professor said, nodding. "Borderline. These decisions have no clear right or wrong, Miss Lee. That's why we argue both sides and let the reporter make up their mind."
"But if the reporter chooses unwisely, the damage is done," Madeline said.
"That's what happens when you're in such a powerful position. But there are retributions."
She looked at her instructor in despair. "That can't be good enough. Isn't there any way to protect celebrities from this?"
Professor Duarte looked at her. "Yes, Miss Lee," he said with an impassive face. "Go into public relations."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dejected, she plopped down on a chair and stared at the young man across from her.
"What now?" Nathan asked.
"Nothing's turning out the way I wanted it to," Madeline sighed. "I'm having issues."
Nathan stared at her and tipped his chair back, propping his feet up on the desk in front of him.
"Please don't tell me it's about the guy."
Madeline played dumb. "What guy?"
"The blondie. The one you didn't think much of when you started. Please don't tell me it's another one of those co-star fall-in-love-on-the-set-and-later-get-divorced type of thing."
"What do you mean?"
"He's a big, big star, Madeline. All this must be kiddie stuff to him. And as attractive as you are, Maddie, I hate to see you getting swept away by the whole show-business thing."
"Do you forget who you're talking to?" Madeline said crossly, fingering the hem of her sweater. "I know acting and I know real life. I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself grounded even if I'm swimming in fame."
"So how's your chemistry?" Nathan asked, boring into her with penetrating green eyes.
Madeline lifted her chin defiantly. "It's fine," she said.
He sighed. "Please, Madeline, do me a favor," he said. "Don't sit here a month from now and yell at me asking why I didn't force you to do the assignment and let you run off with a singer instead who isn't as great a boyfriend as he is in a music video."
She stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and thinking about his words. "Goodbye, Nathan."
"Do the story, Madeline," he called after her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Are you there?" Natalie asked, sitting in her bed after a nap as Madeline unloaded her books in a zombie-like trance in their dorm room. "I've been calling your name for five minutes."
Madeline didn't say a word. She absent-mindedly stuck her notebook in her backpack and zipped it back up. She checked her watch: noon. Almost time for her to leave for the last day of shooting.
"You're gone," Natalie observed, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and standing up to yawn. "I've never seen you like this. I never thought it was possible."
Madeline stopped what she was doing and seemed conscious of her roommate's presence for the first time. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"You don't want to do the story."
Madeline nodded. "You're right. I don't."
"What happens if you tell them you can't do it?"
"Chopping board meets my head. They reserved a huge space for it in the arts section. Today is Friday. Now unless Leonardo DiCaprio dies or something, there is no way they can fill that up now. They'd lose a page, advertising – and it'd be all my fault. Especially after I did so much talking to get this. Nathan would look like a schmuck too, and he's my friend. I mean, I really should do it, Nat. Job-wise I have no good reason not to."
"But you don't want to do it because you're close to everyone now."
"Despite everything I tried," Madeline added.
"Despite all your efforts, Justin Timberlake managed to get under your skin," Natalie said, pulling out a brush.
"Not just Justin. I really like the other guys, and Emma, and ..." Madeline hadn't revealed Emma's true association with the group, even to her roommate.
"But Justin's the one you're most worried about," Natalie implored.
Madeline sighed and looked at her. "You really like outlining my thoughts for me, dontcha?"
Natalie studied her. "It's just that I've never seen you like this before. You really like him, huh?"
Madeline had stood up with her backpack in hand, ready to leave. Now she sank slowly down on the bed and buried her head in her hands.
"He's getting too close," Madeline said in a whisper. "I'm thinking I ought to tell him. They're going on tour after this anyway, so whichever way he takes it, he at least has his escape."
"What do you think he'll do?"
"He'll be mad, obviously," Madeline replied with a pained expression. "And I wouldn't blame him. The question is, what will he do next? Stomp out or forgive me?"
"If he forgives you, are you guys gonna start dating?"
Madeline looked up in surprise. "Huh?" she said, beginning to blush. "Nat, we barely know each other, and he is rather famous. We get along, but there's nothing like that going on."
"Or so you wish," Natalie said triumphantly, "It would be so much easier then. You want him not to feel that way for you. But I think you know the truth."
Madeline stood up again, not wanting to draw her own conclusions and ready to escape from conversation for the second time that day. "Nat, I don't know how this is going to end." She looked at her friend and admitted meekly, "I'll tell you one thing though: He is persistent."
Natalie put a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. "I have no idea how this is going to end. But I'll tell you one thing: he's sprung."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Weird, isn't it?" Emma said as a bundled and made-up Madeline looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Last day of shooting. Seems like it's been forever, what with the storm and all."
Madeline had a flashback to the car accident and being trapped with Justin in the van. She nodded her head glumly.
"You'll e-mail me, won't you?" Emma asked her. "I wanna hear how you're doing."
Another pang of guilt washing over her, Madeline looked straight at her friend and gave her a strained smile. "I'd like that."
Emma looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right? You seem a little out of it."
Madeline was bursting. "Emma, what if you found out something about me that didn't sound very good; would you ... would that change that we're friends?"
"I doubt it," Emma said lightly, eyeing her. "Unless you told me you killed my dog from first grade or that you hit on J.C.; then you and I would have words."
Madeline shook her head. "No, nothing like that," she said, breathing slowly. "I just ... I have to tell you something."
Emma nodded slowly, waiting.
"I would hope that you of all people would understand, given that we're in the same field," Madeline began. "Because the real reason I'm here for this video – "
A quick knock on the door interrupted her.
"Are you decent?" Justin's voice called. "It's getting cold out here. Show time."
Madeline looked at Emma helplessly.
"We'll finish later," Emma promised. "I'm sure it can't be that bad."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The arched bridge set the stage for the final scene. Both endings would be shot later as the sun set, and the group and director would choose which fit better with the song.
"Am I gonna be lip-syncing this?" Justin asked Jeffrey. "Or am I just acting it out?"
"A little of both," Jeffrey answered, studying his clipboard. "We'll just loop the section of the song, so try it both ways. You're not doing much here."
Madeline was instructed to lean against the bridge, looking out over the stream. The water was frozen, and a blanket of snow covered the trees and banks surrounding it. It was picturesque and lovely. How romantic, she thought with a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Look wistful," Jeffrey instructed as the music began to play.
She stood alone, winter air blowing a soft chilly breeze. She reached up to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, hunched over the railing. The camera was angled upwards; her head was down. Now she straightened up, spread her hands far apart on the railing and looked up and to the left.
Justin stepped up behind her quietly, mouthing the words to the chorus. He slipped an arm around her waist and drew himself close.
Madeline anticipated the surprise, but found her eyes misting over as she sensed the touch of his arm. Her eyes fluttered closed for an instant, then opened as she let her face register recognition for the benefit of the cameras.
Justin drew his other arm around her and rested his cheek on top of her head, silently singing along. Her hands moved to cover his at her waist and he felt the warmth of her palms through her knit gloves. His heart skipped again.
He tried to remember the events of the last few days, when they'd gone from antagonizing each other to actually getting along. Their chemistry finally felt real – very, very real.
There were moments he caught her looking at him; when he turned his head she'd look away immediately. Once he trapped her gaze and held it before she could turn, and he'd been surprised at the almost fearful look in her eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. She looked as if she was afraid he'd see something, which intrigued him even more.
And two days ago in the bookstore he spotted her in the magazine section, studying a picture of the group and reading the accompanying article. She had a strange smile on her face.
The mystery of it all. He hadn't forgotten the conversation he overheard at the club; she'd had an agenda when she began the video shoot; that's all he knew. Whatever it was seemed to have faded as she'd let down her guard and let him in.
But Justin couldn't explain the sadness that flashed across her face whenever he mentioned life after the video; breezy comments such as "When you graduate we'll have to embarrass you like we did to Emma," that indicated the future. It almost seemed painful for her to talk about.
All he knew was that he wanted to find the source of her uneasiness – and get rid of it.
Now, as he reflected on these events, Justin held her even tighter from behind, stroking her hair with a gloved hand and then burying his face in her neck. He felt her freeze, then assert herself. She reached up and lifted her hand above her head to cup his chin, and he found himself settling his face into her palm as if it belonged there.
He bent lower until his cheek nestled next to hers, and he couldn't help thinking that her mouth was one inch from his. Her face remained blank.
"OK, that's good. Print," Jeffrey called, and within his first syllable Madeline scrambled out of Justin's embrace.
"What's wrong?" Justin asked, looking at her flustered expression and pink cheeks.
"Nothing," Madeline mumbled casually. "I'm just – hungry, that's all."
"Not yet," Jeffrey said as he walked past them. "I need you in a couple solo shots, Madeline. Everyone else can go. You guys are doing well. It's almost over."
"You're flushed," Justin observed, reaching out a hand to her face absently.
She leaned away. "It's cold out here," she explained.
He looked steadily at her, weary of her aversions. "Is that all?"
Surprised, she raised her eyes to meet his, and they stood for a tense moment. He searched her brown eyes and saw them darken.
"Justin, I have to go," she said quietly, then turned on one heel to walk away. You're doing good. This is right, she thought gloomily. This is best.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"All right, we'll meet you there," Justin said to Joey as the group headed off to an early dinner.
"OK; don't be long." Joey clamped a hand on his shoulder, smiled, and left.
Justin stood alone in the trailer, stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat and looked around. Unable to stand still, he settled himself on the futon couch and slouched back. Then he sat up and crossed his legs. Then he swung his legs around and stretched out on the couch.
Soon the door swung open and Madeline walked in, stopping short when she saw Justin alone.
"How did it go?"
"I felt sort of silly," she said with a small smile. "A lot of close-up camera shots. They were a little too near my personal bubble. Where is everyone?"
"Eating," Justin said. "I thought I'd wait for you so we could walk over together."
"Thanks," she said tentatively, walking backward to the door again.
"Madeline," his voice came abruptly.
She turned. "Yeah?"
He fidgeted with his coat zipper. "When this is over – this shoot, I mean – I wonder if we could keep in touch."
She looked straight at him and sighed. "What for, Justin?"
"Because I'd want to know how you were doing. What you were up to. Because I'd miss you."
She shut her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know ... "
"Why? I'm not asking for much. Aren't we friends?"
Not for much longer. "I guess so, but I just ..."
"Just what?" he demanded, getting up and walking closer to her.
"I just don't know how it's gonna work. And who knows?" She was improvising, trying not to look like she was trying to escape. "The next video you make, you might make a new friend, and then where would I be?"
His eyes glazed over briefly as the air turned tense. "That's bull," he proclaimed, taking another step forward.
Instinctively, she lifted her chin in defiance. "Is it?"
"It is," he said. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you're scared."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Of what?"
"Scared that something might happen between us."
It was said. There was silence as his eyes searched hers for confirmation. She lowered hers quickly before giving a faint snort and turning away.
"You're hallucinating." She stepped toward the door. "Let's go eat."
"Hold on a minute," Justin said, stepping quickly to block her exit.
"Justin, I'm hungry. Can we finish this later?" Madeline pleaded, unable to step forward.
"Just say it."
"Say what?"
"That you don't want to keep in touch because you're scared something might happen between us."
"It's not true," she said, trying to reach around him for the door.
"All right," Justin said with quiet intensity, putting a hand on her arm and sending shivers down her spine. "You don't want to keep in touch because you're scared something has already happened between us."
She looked up suddenly, eyes wide and mouth open in surprise. She clamped her mouth shut and exhaled.
"Justin, let's not have this conversation. These things don't need to be said," she said quietly.
"I think we should, and I think they do need to be said."
She bit her lip. It was all snowballing into a nightmarish finish, and she wasn't sure how easily she could stop it. But Justin was relentless. He clutched her arm in a talon grip, unwilling to let her go until he extracted the truth. And her acting wasn't getting her anywhere.
"All right, for crying out loud." Frustrated, she yanked her arm from his grasp and folded her arms. "What do you want me to say? Where are you trying to go with this? What's the point?"
He was taken aback for a second at her sudden cooperation. "I just want you to admit that there's attraction between us."
"I can't, Justin."
"Why not?"
"I mean, I can't be attracted to you."
"I don't understand, Madeline," Justin said, now putting both hands on her arms, as if he planned to shake her.
"Believe me, Justin," she pleaded, looking sadly at him. "This is how it has to be. You'll thank me later for not letting this conversation continue on this course."
"I'm not sure about that."
"I'm not one you want to be pursuing," she continued. "I'm too complicated."
"I like a challenge."
"I'm not the greatest-looking."
"You're terribly attractive."
"I have a horrible temper."
"Join the party."
She sighed, exasperated and resisting the urge to smile. "Are you gonna let me win ever?"
"Nope." He was pulling her a little closer.
She shook her head in a vain attempt to make him, his presence, his scent all disappear. "Justin ..."
He cupped her face so that his thumbs held her jaw and his fingers tangled in her hair.
"I just want to know why you're so eager to walk away like this," Justin said with quiet determination. "So tell me. Tell me you don't feel anything. Tell me all that was nothing out there. If you can say that, we'll never have this talk again."
Madeline felt more transparent than ever, as his pained blue eyes bore into her.
She could lie. It was as easy as that. She was an actor; therefore she was a liar. Or am I a liar who acts? She summoned her theatrical techniques, but he'd already dug deep enough to see right through it. She finally relented, too tired to try.
"I can't tell you that there was nothing out there," she blurted softly. "Or I don't want to feel anything, but I can't help ... I mean ..." She blushed, lowering her head. "Well, I'm full of double negatives today, aren't I? It isn't the most eloquent way of putting things, but ..."
Madeline stopped speaking as soon as he moved a thumb to graze across her lower lip.
Trembling, she watched as he studied her features. Rosy cheeks, dark hair swept across her forehead, evidence of her laugh lines – crinkles, as he called them – still visible on the corners of her brown eyes, often stormy, sometimes sunny, never calm.
Placidly he moved a hand from her lip up to her cheekbone, then traced a finger across her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, past her closed eyelids and to her mouth again.
The mouth moved. "Justin," it croaked. "I have to tell you ..."
A shrill electronic ring interrupted the moment.
Justin muttered to himself as he pulled out his phone.
"Yeah. J.C.," he said gruffly, eyes momentarily leaving her face. "No, we're coming. Yeah, go ahead and order. We're coming now. Okay. Bye."
Meanwhile, reasoned seeped back into Madeline. She felt the tingles all over her. She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted him to forgive her, clasp her in his arms and say it didn't matter. She wanted him to know she didn't plan for all this to happen. And he'd tell her everything was all right and that he ...
She knew, however, that it wouldn't happen. So she exercised the next – and decidedly less desirable – option.
As Justin closed his phone and turned back to her, Madeline stepped a safe distance away from him and shook her head.
"Justin," she began as she had many times.
"Yes?" he said, taking a step toward her again.
She backed up even more. "Don't," she said softly.
The ache in her tone stopped him. "What is it?" he asked.
Madeline shook her head. "I can't do this," she said. "It's not fair to either of us. Especially you."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, baffled. "I thought we ... "
"We finish the video tonight," she said slowly and deliberately, carefully editing each word as it was spoken. "We celebrate tomorrow. Then you hop on a plane and go to your next gig. I will return to my dorm and my studies in college. And even though I'll be immortalized on celluloid forever ... well ..."
"You're not still saying ..."
"I am." Madeline looked up at him, willing herself not to look so tortured. "I can't ... we can't. I'm sorry."
And she deftly opened the door and stepped into the wintery cold. The blast sent a shiver down Justin's slack spine as he moved to follow her.
©1999 by Twinkiegurl