There was a comfort in the backseat of his Daddy’s 81 Chevy Lumina, “the classic”- as we so lovingly dubbed it, where I remember many first times. I remember the first ride, six of us piled into the car, thighs glued to each other and the buttery leather seats as we watched our lives fly all around us-  becoming a blur as we sped past Sherriff Connell – who napped just under the Greenfield’s tree that marked the separation between Highway 51 and Shelby Forest. I remember whipping my head back, sucking my tongue, waiting for the red and blue lights that never followed us. I guess that’s how I missed the chicken crossing the road, and the silent warning that never made it passed anyone’s lip. I just remember the way the world looked, spinning  through the dashboard, distorted by my tangled mass of brown curls that covered my face…and the scream I nearly choked on as the car swerved to a stop. It was the hottest day of that summer, in 1996, and I remember the sweat dripping down my face- all of our faces- and I couldn’t tell if we were crying… but I could hear the breathing, I could feel the growing stir..and suddenly we were all laughing, tires were screeching..and we were flying down Highway 51 again..this time, faster.

“Why do you always sit back here?”  I chose to ignore the question, if for no other reason than to thoroughly annoy Anderson Scott who sat leaning against the car door glaring at me.  His sandy blonde hair flirted across his creased forehead, dancing in the front of his eyes, as they bore into the side of me. I had seen the look before, knew it by heart, and decided that the view in my window was much more appealing than the bumbling idiot next to me. Anderson was not really an idiot, he was actually smart- exceptionally so – but the word ‘idiot” greatly offended him… so I used it often in his presence and in reference to him.  He was so easily annoyed, it was almost like breathing to get a rile from him..a necessary and certain thing in my life.  If I hadn’t known him for all my life, or if I could somehow confiscate the evidence (picture) of sharing a mud pie with him in my playhouse at four, I would probably hate him…but for those reasons I loved him…and he tolerated me as an aggravation.

“  Yeah Chans…you’re so fucking weird.” My name is Chandler Fox, as I should have mentioned before, and I am currently under attack for choosing to ride backseat, to the store.  I have yet to understand why it is such a “need to know’ issue with everyone, and how wanting to ride backseat could even be considered an “issue” for anyone, but my guys- never cease to amaze me! Even in small doses.  I can’t help but glare at the mountain of curls in front of me, and consider- if only for a moment- how satisfying it would be to smack the inside of my ankle against it. With great effort, I curl my foot away from the target of my desire and concentrate on stretching my leg. I shouldn’t strike the driver- America would never forgive me for harming their sweetheart. Justin Timberlake is one of my boys. I smile sweetly to myself, knowing that if I were to ever say this outloud..Justin, Anderson, Pete, Trace and Finney would  shit themselves. They think it is ludicrous for me to refer to them as boys, and even more outrageous to insinuate that they are mine since I’m a girl and incapable of physical domination. This is why I love my boys because they know I have them by the balls..they would just never admit it. In fact, it’s the look on their face-that I love the most- when reality hits them..and they fully comprehend the freckled faced hellion they used to rag on, holds their everything in the balance. Before there was fame, girls and adolescence…there was me. And that is why they will ALWAYS be my boys.

“ Yeah..yeah…where is this store anyway? We’ve been driving forever.” The trees were thinning out, and the highway had suddenly doubled in lanes. I rarely ever saw two cars on the road at the same time, absolutely never in Shelby Forest, and could see a red Honda and a wood paneled Chevy Wagon passing on either side. The red Honda, I ignored.  Only one family in a 50- mile radius had a bright red Honda- and that belonged to the Bailey’s- Cherrington Bailey to be exact.  Cherrington was the daughter of Shelby Forest’s only oil investor Newton Bailey- who pretty much governed the small providence. She was also a snobby bitch that fancied every specimen with an eleventh finger. I ignored her at all costs, and tried to avoid the annoying banter that passed between the guys.  It wasn’t her car that caught my attention, it was my next door neighbor’s…Desi Ayala’s ’89 Chevy Caprice speeding full force ahead. “ What- the..is that Trace?” The question was rhetorical, hence no pending answer from Anderson or Justin.  Pulling my foot from Justin’s head rest, I sat up to attention and peered out the windshield to focus on the road signs. Memphis 43 miles.

“ Your covered.”  Anxiety raced through my body as I felt the heat rush to my face and sweat bead on my forehead. I looked to Anderson, who had since taken to staring out the window failing to hide the grin pulling at the sides of his mouth. My fist balled at my side as I directed my eyes to Justin, waiting for his eyes to meet my glare, growing anxious as he avoided them. My heart began thumping against my chest as I thought about my mother going to my room- where I was supposed to be- and finding an empty bed. I was currently grounded, from the last time Justin assured me I was “covered” and his Dad found me passed out on the pool chair in his backyard from finishing his bottle of Jack while the boys played house in the woods with Cherrington and her friends. I got the beating of my life, while Justin popped his “Cheri”.  I thought it was going to be the usual hang out, until I was stuck with “look out duties” and drank away my boredom. It didn’t help that I was only fourteen and shouldn’t have been drinking anyway, but because the guys also got caught…I was no longer allowed to spend the night. This all of course happened only a week ago, not even two days after Justin came back from his “ gig” in Florida, and just before my 15th birthday. So now, I’m 15…grounded indefinitely, and being punished to the fullest for being a girl. I had always been a girl, although according to Trace- that is still up for debate- but it wasn’t until Lynn- Justin’s mom- told my mom about finding him pants down in the woods between Cherrington Bailey that it all of a sudden became a bad idea for me to spend soo much time with any of the boys. Where I used to be able to spend full weekends at any one of their houses…I now had to be home by eleven. It didn’t matter that I was just one of them, I didn’t have a “pee-pee”- as my mother refers to it- and THAT made me different.  I was thrilled to find Anderson throwing rocks at my bedroom window- which was open, and instead hitting the in the chest when they landed, and swiftly hopped onto the branch and shimmied down the tree to join him on his side of the fence that separated our backyard.  I wasn’t allowed out of my room, had been in my room for the past six days- including my birthday- and just wanted out. Anderson asked if I wanted to go for a ride…Justin said we were headed for the store when I jumped in the car…now I’m driving towards Memphis, each moment taking me closer to the life sentence I know I will soon face. What. The.Fuck…I’m dead!

Chapter 2

“ Shit!” Phineous ‘Finney’ Lock cursed under his breath as he watched the Chevy Lumina pull off to the side of the road. Reaching for the radio dial, Finney switched it off and nodded to the car parked 50 yards behind them in response to his passenger’s protest. Trace Ayala slid up from his crouched position and cursed loudly when he saw the spring of curls fly out from the open car door and stalk off in the distance.

“ You’re fucking kidding me right now..ya’ll didn’t tell her?!” Trace glared at Finney before slamming his fist against the dashboard. The dancing Chihuahua, glued in place, bobbed its head happily in response to the vibration while Trace pushed open the door and jumped out. Finney watched in dismay as Trace jogged towards the scene, finding no solace in how right he had been. He had told Justin and Anderson that this was not a good idea, that not only would  Chandler kill them..but her mother would too. Finney gulped thinking about Mr. Fox, currently stationed away in some third world country with the military. Suddenly he could see all of Shelby Forest police squad and the National Guard beating down their doors, in hot pursuit of  Lieutenant Fox’ kidnapped daughter. This was never a good idea, Finney had told Justin and Anderson from the start…which was why he didn’t even dare to mention it to Trace. Trace, who prided himself on being “Mr. Responsible” for all things concerning Chandler. Of all of them, Trace as the shortest and most deviant tormenter to her…but when it came down to protecting her..he stood the tallest. Trace would be the first to tie her sneakers together while she wasn’t paying attention, or mix in mud with her cup of hot chocolate…and even though he was the unlikeliest opponent- being short and somewhat stumpy- you didn’t stand a chance against him when it came to her. In the distance, Finney could see Anderson and Justin lifting their hands in protest, already moving after Chandler – who he was sure was cursing them all this very second. Just then, he heard Cheri honk as she careened her little red Honda off to the shoulder ahead of him. Sighing deeply, Finney waited as Pete Gravely stepped from the car and jogged over to him.

“ What’s going on?” Pete leaned down, his arms folded on the driver door window panel, as his eyes scanned the scene in the distance. Pete was another person that was not in the know, and although he wasn’t as much of a tyrant when it came to Chandler – he could be a bull horn.  Pete was Chandler’s self- proclaimed first boyfriend- when they were in grade school. He was the first to ask her to be his valentine in the 3rd grade, when girls were still considered yucky to the rest of them. It was a crush that lasted for two weeks, which marked the beginning of Pete’s ascent to his current ‘lady’s man’ status. Pete preferred the ladies, which did not attribute to the fact that he had a girl best friend. He loved women, but cared about Chandler in a different way- which was probably how they remained such good friends. Unlike Anderson and Justin..Pete didn’t push the mark when it came to Chandler. He was by the book, just like Trace, and didn’t take chances like he did with everything else.

“ They didn’t tell her.” Finney mumbled, passing off the blame to Anderson and Justin, hoping Pete would let him get away with it.

“ What?!” Pete’s jaw tightened and his eyes stretched lower as his glare moved to settle on Finney. Laying his head against his seat, Finney thought about the pending consequences. What exactly would happen to them, when all the adults realized not only that they had taken the cars and left…but had also taken Chandler. “ So your telling me Chans didn’t know we were going to Memphis for the weekend?!”

“ It wasn’t my idea..” Finney still found no solace, simply because he was there for the implanting of the idea. He saw the look that came across Justin’s face when they decided to head to Memphis as a last hoorah. Justin was heading back to Florida on Monday, and it was already killing him that Chandler wasn’t allowed out the house, and when she was, she had to be back just as soon as she came. It was a simple plan..that was falling apart way too quickly.

“ What the FUCK man..you know Gracee is going to kill us.” Gracee Fox might personally see all five of them in jail, if not sentenced to death. Especially since it has dawned on her that the five boys she practically raised as sons had raging hormones and too much appeal. All that intertwined made it easy for her to forget that Chandler had been, and would always be, just one of them.

“ We  could turn around.” There was no going back, no matter what…they always saw every danger in life- all the way through. It had been what set the six of them apart from the rest, and consequences? They dealt with each of them as they came. This would really turn into just another adventure for them…as life always had been.

“ Shit no.” Pete hissed, pushing off the car and walking towards the gathering. Finney smirked to himself, already sure that this weekend would be the last of great times..with no doubt, they would be living it out until the fullest.  Pulling himself out of the car, Finney started towards the little red Honda and decided the situation would be better served if her reserved his voice of reason for the coy girls anxiously waiting inside of it.

~~

“ What are you doing Chans?” Justin watched her stalk down the side of the road, her jellied sandals dusted over from the loose dirt that jumped with each heavy step of her foot. The air was hot, blowing angrily around them as he moved purposefully behind her. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Trace and Pete were staring after him in disproval.  Fuck if they didn’t like his idea, they didn’t have any better one, and no matter what they said- they all knew Chandler had to come. It would not have been the same without her, nothing ever was. He needed her there, just like they all did, she was the missing piece to their complicatedly wild puzzle. They couldn’t spell them without Chandler, as gay as it sounded..it was the truth.  “ Come on Chans…you know you want to go.”

“ No I don’t!” she sounded angrier than he expected, and Justin knew her well enough to know it didn’t all have to do with the punishment of her leaving. Chandler Fox wore pretty much every emotion inside of her on her sleeve, and it looked a lot like jealousy. Of course Justin would never say this outloud, he’d never tell her that he’d caught her staring wide eyed at Cheri from across the room, when she let his hand slip into her underwear. He saw the look of wonder and curiosity, cleverly hiding the speck of anger that called out to him even when she couldn’t see he was watching her. Not that he had been watching her, he just happened to notice her, and he couldn’t explain it then- or even now- why he couldn’t take his eyes from her that night. Just like he couldn’t explain trailing after her , knowing she would drag out her protest as long as he was willing to come after her- and he was willing. He wasn’t going to leave Monday without having this weekend, with her there, just like old times.  He loved the road, all the people he met while he was away, but he missed his home. He missed his friends, and waited too long to come back to them. He knew Gracee would probably never speak to him again, and that there was a strong possibility he’d never see Chandler again..but he had to risk it..because he wanted her there

“ I want you to go.” He didn’t try to hide that hidden note in his voice, the part that was quite foreign to his own ears and gave him good reason for pause. He didn’t recognize it, but it was there just the same, and it meant something a little more than even he could try to understand. But that was thing with them, especially with Chandler and him, he didn’t have to understand everything between them…

“ I want you to go to hell.” She yelled over her shoulder, although her steps faltered slightly and her voice was nowhere near convincing.  He smiled to himself, shaking his head as he moved closer- taking larger steps to close the gap between them.

“ I’d be there if you weren’t here.” It would have sounded cheesy, if he didn’t mean it. If it didn’t make all the sense in the world to him, even if he couldn’t understand why, it would have sounded, like something he’d never say.  It’s what drove him crazy about her, she brought things out of him that he never knew he had; like when she asked him to sing in the 4th grade talent show, and he first fell in love with the microphone or when she asked him to be her first kiss. He remember it like it was yesterday, the both of them sitting in the back of his Dad’s Chevy Lumina , while his parents pumped gas and bought snacks at the convenience store. They were on their way to their way to the airport, and she had been acting strange all day. Trace was supposed to have ridden along with them, but at the last minute, he decided not to go. Justin hadn’t realized it then, but it had all been planned. Pete and Anderson confirmed so shortly after, while he was in Florida filming for the Disney show. As soon as his parents left the car, she had leaned over and whispered in his ear. She told him quickly what she wanted and squeezed his hands until he nodded and leaned down to kiss her. He remembered her tasting like bazooka gum and cherry laffy taffy, he remembered her breath fanning across his face as she looked up at him- waiting for him to tell her if she did it right. It was not his first kiss, he had kissed a lot of girls by then- even had a girlfriend in Florida- but he remembered how right she felt, how different it felt to kiss her. He also remembered how pleased he’d been to know that he was her first, and she trusted him over Anderson, Pete and Trace. He never asked her why, never even brought it up to her again. He kept the memory though, and thought of it now as she turned to face him. He let himself take his fill of her, comfortable in their silence as she watched him watching her, his eyes passing over her freckled cheeks to her pouted cherry stained lips and across his favorite Motley Crue T-shirt that she took from his room last year.  He grabbed her hand, pulling her to him, watching as the grin slowly spread across her face. Her eyes lifted to meet his, her hazel specs drawing him in just as much as his hand pulled on her.

“ Your so fucking dead.” She growled folding into his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder.  Justin buried his face in her curls, squeezed her for reassurance before hoisting her up by her thigh, and tossing her over his shoulder.

“ So let the fun begin!”

Chapter

I think Cherrington is a brainless tit, and I refuse to call her Cheri- because I happen to like cherries..and I don’t like her. Furthermore, her friends are like two cheeks of one ass stuck together to form the base of her existence. Macie Bowman and Taylor Flynt are the lead contenders for 2nd and 3rd most annoying people to ever exist, Cherrington of course being #1.

“This room is soo fucking hot.” I would agree, as it is 90 degrees..but by hot, I’m sure Marcie means “fucking awesome”- and I just try my hardest not to relate with her..well, any of them for that fact. I still have half a mind to ignore Trace and Pete and take up residence in their adjoining hotel room. It was their stellar idea to keep me “housed with the girls” because they plan on getting laid during this excursion. I don’t know what pisses me off more, being stuck with them or knowing that I’m being housed with the girls “my boys” are going to fuck. Fucking Gross! I can’t even bare to look at them, as they bounce around the room in their fucking towels and panties, hoping the door to the boys room will open. I’m so fucking mad right now, I can’t even breath, and it’s not helping that Cherrington keeps cutting her eyes at me.

“ Yo Chans!” Pete peaks his head into the room, grinning happily as he lets his eyes wonder around until they land on me. I want to throw my shoe at him, not him clear out of conscious or at least place a bump on his pretty boy head. He is not even hiding his ogling, which is even more sickening, because Cherrington, cheek 1 and cheek 2 are giggling happily in response. I’d rather someone kill me now, instead of me waiting until I get home.

“ Your such a pig.” I sigh, pushing him into his room as I block his view with my body and close the door to my room behind me. Instantly I feel at home, falling right onto the floor beside Anderson and Trace who had started a game of Monopoly. It looked like, once again, Anderson was in the lead and already monopolized over half of the board. As it turned out, I was tuning in just as Trace was landing on “ Go to Jail.” This is an unfortunate event for Trace, because he couldn’t even roll doubles if his life depended on it. In fact, the only time Trace EVER rolled doubles..it either landed him on “ Go to Jail” or he did it at least three times, and ended up in Jail. I have long since stopped wondering about Trace’s luck, and am now trying to determine why he ever attempts at board games- especially games like Monopoly with Anderson.

“Is that what your wearing?” It wasn’t the sound quality of Trace’s voice that encouraged me to peak over my shoulder in reference to his question, it was the obvious laughter spilling from Anderson’s mouth that had me whipping around in my seat to stare full throttle at Finney.  Finney had been the brunt of many jokes, almost all laughter shared by the group of us had always been directed at Finney..and not that his name couldn’t be harbored upon for years to come..it was Finney the person that really could supply a lifetime of laughter. Phineous Lock had red hair, was in fact the only red headed member of his family- who all had various of brown hair- and he was not adopted. Finney was also outrageously tall, ridiculously lanky, and  could drink any one of us under a table. We had tried the year before to see who could drink the most, I was the first out…and Finney was still drinking the following morning when I came to. Last but not least, Finney had his own personal style. Tonight, he donned, stripped brown pants that flared a little at the ankle…a mickey mouse t shirt with a Charlie hat and feather. He looked every bit of ridiculous, and just like my Finney.

“Trace..don’t hate the player.”

“ I don’t see how that answers my question.” Trace lifted a thick black brow and chuckled in his throat. “You realize your’re not getting any ass..EVER.” I rolled my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. I almost felt obliged to ask why it was so necessary to have me here, if all this was clearly about fucking each other’s brains out. Where does the freckled face hellion fit in??

“ Your mom likes my long finger.”

“  Yeah..on which hand?” Trace retorted, and I tried my hardest not to drum up an image of Finney and Ms. Rosa. I failed, and instead groaned inwardly as I tried to erase the picture in my mind. I was better off sitting at home, on my bed, counting the cracks in ceiling. I rolled off my butt and moved past Finney, who couldn’t resist nudging me on the top of my head and caught a glimpse of Justin leaning into the bathroom mirror. The door was cracked open , steam was filing out, and I was just pushing the door closed- to grab for the room door- when the bathroom door pushed back and I felt a damp hand pull me in. I stumbled, quiet horribly, into the steamy room and against Justin’s bare chest. I felt my hand slide against it, and my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach, but I gained enough composure to muster a lethal glare. For all intense and purposes, I’m still royally pissed at him… and still looking for justification for my being on this trip. It didn’t matter that he looked like this, I’ve been swimming in all of their pools before, and he’s been just as naked..or rather half naked..though he was naked underneath the towel that looks like it could fall any second…

“ Your still mad at me.”

“ For bringing me on this fuck fest…you bet.” I was being a royal bitch to him, or at least trying to be, but he was grinning right past that- and instead lifted me on the counter in front of him and handed me his razor. I knew what he wanted, we had been through this before. He claims to have horrible eye sight, and has a really hard time seeing himself through the bathroom mirror…something about poor lighting. What he really is saying, beyond all that, is that he is a pampered teenage jerk face, who would like nothing more than to have everyone wait on him hand and foot. “ You sure you trust me?” I smiled evilly and tilted the razor against his jugular. He lowered his and smiled knowingly, placing his hands on either side of my thigh and pressing his throat closer.

“ With everything I got.” I ignored the quickening pulse in my chest and began my task of tidying him, stroking the razor along side in chin and neck…dipping it in the water every so often.  We sat quiet like this for a while, me working diligently, while he watched me carefully clean his face. I suspect he really enjoys this, and in some small way, I kind of like it to. Especially our quiet time, it’s what I love best about Justin. We can just be, no matter what state we are in..and I don’t have to explain myself. I can ask him for anything, no matter what it is, and he will give it to me. All my boys are kind of like that, but there are just some things I’ll only ask Justin. He’s not like Pete and Trace who handle me with Kid gloves, or like Finney and Anderson who are too wrapped in the role of “big brother voices of reason”. Justin is just Justin, even though he is famous and girls swoon after him and he is rich…he still treats me like I’m normal…a regular girl..who at this age would have questions and interests that I can count on him to see me through. We have an understanding, a bond, that grows stronger…and in a weird way, I feel it growing stronger everyday..especially when he’s home…especially lately..whenever we are like this..alone..

“ Hey.” I hadn’t realized I blanked out, but from the look on his face… I knew he knew my mind was somewhere else. It would be easier if he was inside my head, so that maybe he can explain these weird feelings and make it make sense to me. I searched his eyes, a place where I often found a lot of answers, and felt myself falling into them. It gets like this sometimes with us, where we don’t say anything at all, but end up sharing so much. I can feel it now, as his fingers drum against either side of my thighs, and his heat envelopes me until I feel like I’m suffocating..but in a good..toxic way. I tilt my head in question, and swallow warily as my throat tightens and I feel a new pulse thumping beneath my stomach. I drop my head instinctively, close my hands around my waist, pushing the razor against the button of my jean shorts, and gasp subconsciously. I’m instantly reminded of that night, when Justin and Cherrington were across the room, and his hands had disappeared..and the sound that came out of her throat…and suddenly I feel a new warmth inside of me…and it feels like it’s coming off the tip of Justin’s fingers as he moves the razor from my hands. Even through this t-shirt, his t-shirt, I can feel his other hand gripping the back of my hip and pulling me closer to him. I still can’t breathe, but I don’t hate it at all. It doesn’t feel like I’m choking..but more like I’m drowning… even then it feels like I have this incredible thirst..and that all I want to do his drink from his mouth. The thought alone is startling, about as surprising as the quench I feel when his lips move over mine and I can taste him, feel his lips working into mine as his hands pull me closer. I don’t know how this happened, I don’t even care to understand why, but it can’t stop because I don’t want it to. That much I do know. I open my legs wider, move my hands into his went curls and gasp when I feel him hard against me. “ Shit!” Suddenly he’s pulling back, moving away from me, and touching his lip. Omigosh, he’s bleeding!

“Omigosh.” Reality comes crashing back down. Justin’s half naked,  we just kissed, and now he’s bleeding! My face burns red, and I choke on a cross between a yelp and a giggle as I bury my head in his chest. I can’t bare to look at him, might even hurl from embarrassment if I see even a speck of blood. “I’m so sorry.” I sob into his chest, and feel the mortification all over again. I’m so consumed with my humiliation, that I don’t even realize that Justin’s body is shaking beneath me. Not thinking, I automatically assume this is a direct result of me biting his lip…until I hear his burly laughter fill the entire space of the bathroom, and I realize he finds all of this hilarious.

“ Damn Chans…you don’t kiss a lot do you?” he was teasing, which should have brought me comfort, but my humiliation instead transformed into extreme annoyance. I pushed off his chest, and jumped off the counter just in time for Pete to come rushing into the bathroom to see about the commotion.

“What the fuck man?” His eyes searched from Justin to me, until  I couldn’t take the questioning and disappeared out the hotel room door. I could still hear Justin’s laughter, even as I slammed the door shut..and almost screamed when I hear him say..

“ I think Chans is hungry…”