The next day
"I'm sorry; there is no room listing for a Justin Timberlake," the front-desk clerk said.
A haggard Madeline finally walked away, knowing he wouldn't be listed under his real name but figuring she'd try anyway. His phone was turned off; her answering machine revealed he hadn't returned her message.
Where is he? she wondered, slumping into a lobby chair and studying her nails. Figures they'd switch hotels in the middle of the week. She had no idea which room they were in, and didn't have anyone else's phone number.
Madeline hadn't slept well; her dreams had been filled with three hundred different scenarios of this moment. She hadn't anticipated his disappearance.
She absently fingered her bottom lip and exhaled. His kiss had the ability to silence her thoughts and words in an instant; everything she had in her head just vanished. Her sensibilities always returned much later, like they did last night when Chris finally banged on the trailer door and said they were leaving for the hotel. She and Justin parted ways quickly and he'd called her afterward, giddy as a schoolboy.
"Since Chicago is in the center of everything, I'll be flying through there a lot," he rattled on. "And on your breaks you can see me. Aren't there some three-day weekends? I'll fly you to Florida, you can meet Mom ..."
She couldn't say anything. She didn't want to break it to him on the phone, but hearing him say those wonderful words hurt even more.
"Justin, let's not talk about all that now. It's too early. There's something you have to know first," she said when she got a word in edgewise.
"There's something you have to know, too," he answered, drawing a deep breath and smiling into the phone. "I – I think, Madeline, I've never been like this around anybody before. This is just incredible."
She closed her eyes briefly, tears stinging them, and choked, "You have to know something about me first before you say any more. You're not going to like it."
"Of course I'm going to like it. It's you," he answered, not completely hearing her. "I want you to know I'm serious about this. But I have to get off the phone now ... J.C. is trying to sleep and I'm close to making him vomit."
"But Justin ..."
"I know, darling," he said dramatically. "We'll talk tomorrow. Unfortunately we're flying out to New York in the morning, but I'll be back by 5. I'll pick you up at your dorm at 7."
And here she was at 6, hoping to catch him. Madeline felt deflated. She wasn't able to stomach any lunch, watching the hours crawl by until she'd see him.
Before he'd kissed her, Madeline thought she would be able to let him go. She had never let herself agonize or suffer too long over the male species before. It seemed so ... pitiful to waste that much energy fawning and wallowing. She was tougher than that.
Now she knew she didn't want to lose him.
Her reverie was disrupted by the ring and opening of elevator doors. A handsome blond entered the lobby alone. He didn't notice her.
Madeline stood up, and her mouth went dry. "Lance?"
He turned around, surprised. "Hey, Madeline," he said easily. "What are you doing here?"
"Where's Justin?"
"He and Joey were roped into a last-minute interview, so they took a flight an hour later. He's going right to your dorm."
Madeline's face fell as she glanced at her watch. There wasn't enough time to meet him. Everything was pent up within her, and she desperately needed to talk.
"Are you busy right now, Lance?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lance settled into the back of his hotel-lounge chair and looked at Madeline's tortured expression.
"It didn't start off as a big deal," Madeline began. "It wasn't supposed to be. Only for me, because I wanted a shot to prove myself. Even if it's just a college paper, you know, every bit counts.
"The staff heard about an open call for extras for this music video, and I jumped at the chance because I had acting experience, but also because I wanted to pitch it as a feature for the paper. So they let me run with it, and it's supposed to be printed Monday – the day after tomorrow.
"All I needed to do was observe everything that went on – spy, pretty much, on you guys. How you really live, how you really act ... since we're all slumming college kids here and you guys are all college-age, I wanted to see how money and fame affect day-to-day things, like what you end up eating and how you treat people."
She finally felt relief as she spoke. Lance didn't jump up and start yelling, so she continued.
"And I was just supposed to walk in, be an extra, walk around in the background of everything, leave and write my story. Then I ran into you outside the bathroom, and the rest is history."
He had a thoughtful expression on his face. She couldn't tell if he was angry or not.
"Lance, I didn't plan on becoming close to you or Emma. And I tried especially hard not to get close to Justin. And now ..."
"...You haven't told him," came his deep voice.
"I keep trying," Madeline whispered. "I'm just so afraid of what it will set off."
Lance shook his head firmly. "If you wait any longer, I guarantee you will set him off. He likes you a lot, Madeline. He's gonna feel like he got taken advantage of for a story, regardless of your motives."
"I swear, Lance," Madeline said with authority. "I never planned to get close to him for the story. Anything we talked about ... it's not going in."
"And J.C. and Emma? I assume that could be pretty big news, since no one else knows," Lance questioned.
She shook her head again. "Definitely not."
"Then what will you write about?"
"I don't know just yet. All I know is if I don't, I'm letting down a lot of people."
"And if you don't tell Justin, you might lose something bigger," Lance countered.
Madeline raised her head and looked at him.
"Have I lost you as a friend?" she said quietly.
Lance was silent for a minute, mind quickly processing his instincts and emotions. A bolt of anger had initially coursed through him, but her forlorn figure made him feel sorry for her more than anything else. She seemed genuinely upset at her circumstance. He sighed and looked at her steadily.
"I can't say I'm jumping for joy at this news," he said finally. "I feel like it's partly my fault for finding you doing impersonations in front of a mirror."
Madeline lowered her head again, ashamed.
"I guess there's a sense of betrayal," Lance went on in a calm voice. "They tell us in this business to be careful, especially with our personal lives. It's hard to believe someone you became friends with actually is a 'penetration,' you know, one of the invasive ones. One of them.
"But," he continued after a beat. "Who am I to say your intentions aren't honorable now? From what I can see, I think you're a great person in a bad situation, and for what it's worth, I'm glad you told me."
Her eyes were shining. "Thank you," she whispered, hugging him. "And the others ..."
"I'll vouch for you with the others," Lance said gently. "You just worry about Justin. He's got a lot more at stake."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Justin hurried out of the taxicab to Madeline's dorm, straight from the airport but 15 minutes late. He ran his hands through his hair as he leaped up the steps of the front entrance and impatiently pressed the elevator button to her floor.
He fingered the small box in his pocket. At the party, he planned to give Madeline a small silver charm in the shape of a snowflake. He'd agonized in New York over getting her something more expensive, but ultimately decided the little item was most symbolic of their relationship. He couldn't wait to see her face when she opened it.
He spotted Natalie in the hallway outside her door, talking to a floormate about a missed lecture. Her blue eyes widened when she recognized him.
"Justin?" she said.
"Yeah. Hey, Natalie," he said with an easy smile. "Is Madeline around?"
"No, she left hours ago," Natalie said. "You didn't get her message?"
"What message?"
Natalie opened the door and motioned for Justin to come in. She walked over to her desk and produced a note. "She said she called you but your phone was off, and if you happened to show up to tell you she went to find you at your hotel early, and if she didn't find you she'd just meet you at the restaurant for the wrap party."
Justin groaned slightly. "I guess I forgot to turn it back on; we were out of town today." He pulled out his phone and listened to his messages. "Yup, she left me one," he said, sighing.
"It happens," Natalie said sympathetically. "Can you excuse me for a second? I gotta get these notes back to my floormate. I'll be right back."
"No problem," Justin said with a wave of his hand. "I can let myself out."
Natalie smiled and disappeared down the hall, and Justin surveyed Madeline's side of the room. He hadn't gotten a close look last time he was there, and now noticed her movie posters and newspapers piled in a corner. He spotted framed pictures of friends, presumably from her home in California, and her family. He found himself wondering what they would think of him.
The phone rang, and Justin froze for a moment. He thought about answering, then thought better of it. After three rings, the answering machine picked up, and a male voice came through.
"Maddie, it's Nathan," the voice said. "I was wondering where you were with the 'N Sync story and if I could see a draft of it as soon as possible. It's running in two days and they're getting antsy over here, wanting to know what you dug up. Hope you found something juicy; it'd really make it a lot more interesting. Anyway, call me." Beep.
Justin sat down zombie-like on her bed, his face draining of color. He turned his head slightly and noticed the familiar-looking press packet sitting on her desk.
There has to be some mistake. Madeline's not a reporter. Even if the evidence pointed otherwise.
He exhaled slowly, heart beginning to pound. No. it's not possible.
But it was. Justin suddenly felt time slowing down for him as his thoughts came to the inevitable conclusion.
She was only after a story, his mind resonated. That's why she was so eager to cut things off. She's gonna come right back here and write all about it for everyone and their mother to read.
His heart chided him: And you fell for it, you fool.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Have you seen Justin?" Madeline asked J.C. at the food table. Her eyes scanned the crowd of extras and crew members.
"Not since this afternoon," J.C. replied, popping a cherry tomato in his mouth and carefully making sure no juice squirted out. He saw Emma approach and waved her over. "Hey, Mama," he said, greeting her with a kiss on the forehead and slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Have some grub."
"It looks good," Emma agreed. "Madeline, can I talk to you?" she asked, a peculiar expression crossing her face.
"Sure," Madeline said, reading her expression and growing wary.
"You guys are just gonna leave me here, then?" J.C. wailed.
"For now, yes, dear," Emma assured him, moving to kiss his cheek but squeezing his arm instead when more people approached the food table.
The two women walked outside the restaurant to the balcony. Emma looked at the ice in her Coke and blew into it for no reason. She looked agitated.
Madeline watched her.
"It took me a little while," Emma said finally. "But I figured it out. What you said before Justin interrupted us last time, about being in the same field."
Madeline exhaled slowly. "You know."
Emma nodded, head lowered. "You're here to do a story, right?"
"Yes."
The older girl said bitterly, "And I just handed you a great piece of gossip, didn't I?"
"Emma, I'm not printing it."
She looked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"I can't print what I know about you and J.C.," Madeline implored, begging to restore trust with her friend. "It's true that I came here to write a story, and even though I may now have a conflict of interest by being close to you, I can't compromise stuff I learn as a friend with stuff I learn as a journalist. Even if it is just a college paper."
"How do you discern between the two?" Emma questioned.
"By what feels right," Madeline answered seriously. "And this is what feels right. I'm sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry."
Emma nodded numbly. "I'm sorry, too."
Madeline looked at her pleadingly. "What does this mean, then?"
Emma looked up to answer but no words came out. Her eyes were diverted behind Madeline, through the glass panel doors into the restaurant. Madeline turned to follow her gaze.
Justin had entered the room. His eyes searched frantically and came to rest on the balcony door.
Through the glass panes, he saw her. He caught his breath for one moment. She was striking and lovely and ... stop it.
She couldn't see his face as well as he could see her, but knew she was seen. In an instant, he slid the doors open with a grandiose smile on his face.
"Ladies!" he bellowed a little too loudly. "At last I find you! How are you?"
"We're great, Justin," Emma replied, puzzled.
"You don't mind if I steal Madwoman here for a little dance, do you?" Justin asked, taking her hand and whisking her inside.
Madeline looked at Emma helplessly. They didn't have closure in their conversation. But Justin didn't wait around for a response. He drew her to him and waltzed her all the way to the dance floor.
She was confused. "Are you drunk?"
"Nope," he said, feigning cheerfulness. "I'm high on life."
"We have to talk," Madeline said solemnly as they danced.
"We do, but later, later," Justin said airily. "Let's just enjoy this moment while we can."
With that, he snuggled her even closer, smoothing the velvet of her dress and caressing her back. She shivered. He breathed in her scent and fought the tide pulling him under. It felt so normal like this. Maybe he had been mistaken.
"I got your message," he whispered into her ear.
"Good," she murmured.
"And I have one to give you," he said.
"You do?"
Justin stored this moment in his memory, when he held this special girl in his arms and everything was still OK – before he would shatter it.
Hesitating only a moment, he leaned in closer and whispered, "Nathan said he wants a draft of the story as soon as possible."
She froze. Justin gently pulled her back so he could read her eyes.
Her expression told him. Her eyes didn't lie. It was true.
Disgusted, he released her, turned and walked out of the room.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Please stop," Madeline choked as she sprinted down the steps after his retreating figure.
The young man walked quickly out a door, which led to a courtyard. He was disappointed; he'd hoped it was an exit. He stopped, thinking about what to do next.
She pushed open the door and saw his ramrod figure in the middle of the square, turned away from her.
"Justin, please –"
He raised a hand as if to silence her. "Don't even."
"Let me explain."
"I said don't even."
The anger in his voice was apparent, but she wouldn't let it deter her.
"It's not how you think. I tried to tell you lots of times," she protested. "I wanted to say it, and after we kissed, I knew I had to ..."
"Stop," Justin said, back still turned to her. "Please don't bring up painful memories."
Madeline steeled herself. She would explain herself fully, whatever wrath came her way.
"It's true, I came from my school's paper, and I was supposed to write as an extra. But when we got close, Justin, stuff changed. I ..." Madeline suddenly found herself at a loss for words. Nothing sounded good enough anymore.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "For hurting you. For not telling you. I'm so sorry, and I hope you'll ..."
"You let me go on about how I felt," Justin said, finally turning around to face her but focusing his gaze elsewhere. "I'm counting the stuff in my head I wish I hadn't said now. Do you know what an idiot I felt like sitting in your room hearing your answering machine pick up? I thought, 'Surely I'm jumping to conclusions.' What a stupid person I am," he spat.
"Justin, I don't have to write the story if you don't want me to. I won't –"
"Don't do me any favors," Justin retorted. "Don't try to be noble here. You go and write your story. I'm sorry I made you lose your focus."
She was growing desperate. "You didn't ... it's all my fault, Justin. I should have told you, or at least tried harder not to ..."
"No, you certainly were challenging enough," he interrupted with a dry laugh. "Now I'm thinking about all the times you pulled away. And you know what? That made me try harder. I have no idea why. Then it hit me how much I wanted you to ... jeez, Madeline." He took a heaving breath, willing his temper to remain under control.
She repeated, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again.
"I let myself fall," he continued, "I worked so hard, too. All to earn your favor. Then your love." His voiced softened considerably by the end of the rant.
She inhaled sharply at his statement. He said it so simply, but it was the first time that word was spoken. Madeline suddenly knew she'd grossly underestimated his reaction, his feelings. She took a step forward tentatively.
"You have it," she said in an aching tone. "Justin, I ... all the things you said, I feel the same way."
He shook his head in disgust before looking directly at her for the first time, sapphire eyes glaring.
"I don't want it now," he said evenly, walking past her and flinging a small box into a bush. He never glanced at her reaction.
As Madeline crumpled into sobs, Justin looked skyward to keep his eyes from watering up. Just keep walking, he forced himself, every step more painful than the last.
©1999 by Twinkiegurl