Part Two: JC

“Ah, fuck it. Let’s just start from the top.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” AJ grinned from inside the booth, unscrewing a bottle of water. JC ran a hand through his hair and motioned at the young man sitting next to him.

“Go ahead and cue everything up, Tim. I’ll get the light on.” Tim, the engineering intern, nodded as his hands began to fly over the soundboard. JC got up, stretching briefly and glancing at the couch full of people that AJ had brought with him. His manager, his assistant, his girlfriend, her assistant. What the hell was the world coming to?

JC was a foot away from flipping the switch that would turn on the red light outside the studio door, warning away anyone and everyone who may even think of coming in, when the door flew open, nearly knocking him down.

“Oh, my God, Mr. Chasez, I’m so sorry,” Beth, the receptionist from up front, gushed, her hands fluttering in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “What is it, Beth? We’re just about to start recording.”

Beth wrung her hands, looking distraught. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Chasez, but…um, your wife is on the line. She says it’s urgent.”

The murmurs in the room quieted down, its occupants now interested in what was going on in the doorway. JC cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder at AJ, still waiting in the booth.

“She really wanted to speak with you, sir,” Beth added, just in case JC was on the fence. The poor girl looked so nervous that it was all JC could do not to laugh a little bit, even though the situation bore little to no humor. They were days behind on recording, and at this rate, JC was going to have to talk to A&R about getting another extension, which he couldn’t anticipate going well, even if it was his label.

“That’s fine, Beth. I’ll take the call.” He turned to address the room, only really concerned about AJ, his manager, and Tim. “I’m sorry guys. I’ll be just a minute.”

JC took long strides out to the reception desk, snatching up the phone that waited for him, red hold light blinking incessantly. “Hey. What’s so urgent?” he joked, expecting Grace’s voice to come back over the line with a soft laugh at his sarcasm.

Instead, he heard, “The school just called. Nicolina is sick.” No hint of a laugh, and JC’s stomach dropped to his knees.

“What? What’s wrong?” he demanded, glancing around frantically and trying to work out a plan in his mind. They could reschedule for tomorrow, and he would just have to take the fall. Fuck it, who cared? This was his daughter, his light, his world. Suddenly, the bullshit with the label just faded away, as if it had never existed in the first place. “Is she okay?”

Grace sighed heavily, and JC could just picture her “stressed out” face, the one where she chewed on her bottom lip unconsciously. “Apparently she has a low grade fever, and she’s refusing to eat the lunch Justin made.”

JC felt himself relax. Okay, low grade fever. Not life threatening, not an emergency. “Well, I don’t really blame her on that one.”

Grace murmured a reply, but JC’s head was already back in the studio, trying to wrap around the rest of the crap he had to get done. Then she said, “Look, I’m gonna have to go get her, unless you can.”

“I can’t,” he insisted. “I mean, I really can’t. I’ve got AJ in the booth, and we were literally just about to hit the red light when Beth came in here frantic about you on the line. I think she may have peed her pants a little bit.” When all else fails, make her laugh. Then maybe she won’t want to castrate you later.

But Grace didn’t sound amused. “Cute, Josh. If I go, I’ll have to miss my 2:00 with EMI.”

JC gripped the edge of the desk tightly. Was she serious? The rendezvous with EMI had been in the works forever, they’d been running into dead ends left and right. Everything, from cancelled flights to the goddamn conference room being out of commission, had tried to get in their way. If Grace pushed it back again, EMI’s CEO was not going to look upon them fondly. JC felt the future of his label, his music, all of his hard work, literally hanging by a precarious thread in front of him.

“You can’t miss that meeting, Grace. The merger more or less completely depends on you making ends meet with Branson. Only you can handle him. You and I both know that.”

It was true. There was a reason why Grace did what she did, why she was so good at it. JC needed her to tie up the loose ends where he could not. There was only so far his name would take him, he learned that harsh reality more and more every day.

“JC, this is our daughter. Everything else is just business.”

Fuck, she had him with that one. JC squeezed the bridge of his nose, hard. “I know, I know.” A light bulb flickered on in his head, and he straightened up again. “Hey, why don’t you just call Justin?”

Perfect solution, right? Sure, Grace hadn’t been totally sold on having Justin move in with them, somewhat indefinitely. But Nicolina adored Justin, and the morning arrangement had really worked in Grace’s favor, too. Surely she’d be okay with this.

“Have you looked at the time recently? No way he’s gonna be in any state to drive a car right now.”

JC closed his eyes. She had a point, Justin was generally worthless in the afternoons. JC wasn’t sure what he did all day, but he had a feeling it mostly including moping around the house and watching TV until he’d worked himself into a stupor. Could he reason his way out of this one? “He has to snap out of this eventually. Just, give him a call. It’s worth a shot. I’d call him myself, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, AJ’s in the booth, I know.” He could read the wariness in her voice. “I don’t know, JC. I mean, I’m fine with him dropping her off in the morning, he’s been responsible enough to handle that. But you know how he gets. This makes me nervous.”

“I know, babe.” Beth had returned to the front desk, and JC turned away from her, pulling the phone cord taut. “Look, he’ll be okay. Justin wouldn’t put Nicolina in danger, you know that. This is really our only option, unless you want to send that dipshit who works for you.”

JC hated Grace’s assistant, Jimmy or Jesse or whatever his name was. He never got shit done right, and he was annoying. JC wasn’t a homophobe or anything, but there was something about the guy that just grated on him. Suddenly, AJ’s manager was standing in front of him, tapping the face of his watch and looking grave.

“Just a second, man.” JC half-heard Grace in the background, saying something about how the school wouldn’t let anyone who wasn’t on the contact list pick Nicolina up. “Well, that’s comforting. Gracie, I gotta go. Call Justin, okay? It’ll be alright.”

“Fine. I’ll make it work. Bye.” She didn’t sound happy, but JC didn’t have a chance to try and rectify the situation, because the phone clicked silent in his ear. He handed it back to Beth.

“Sorry,” he offered sheepishly to AJ’s manager, who shrugged and headed back down towards the studio. JC followed, hands in his pockets.

“We’re all feeling the pressure of this deadline, JC,” the guy pointed out. JC couldn’t remember his name, but he was young, late twenties maybe, wearing those expensively distressed jeans. “We’ve got a lot to get done, and not a lot of time to do it in.”

With every word that came out of this guy’s mouth, JC felt himself get more and more irritated. Who was this little punk, anyway? To make matters worse, when they reached the door of the studio, the kid turned around and offered a smooth, placating smile.

“We’ve all got family problems,” he said, sounding like a daytime talkshow host. “But all of our asses are on the line here. Okay?”

Never one to get outwardly upset, JC just nodded, even as his fists clenched in his pockets. The dickhead manager strode back inside the studio without another word. AJ was out of the booth now, sitting in one of the swivel chairs in front of the soundboard, scrolling through something on his phone. He glanced up when JC sat next to him.

“Sorry, man. My daughter’s sick at school, and…” JC shook his head, gripping the arms of the chair for a second. He needed to get his head back in the game. “Anyway. You ready to get started, finally?”

To his surprise, AJ slipped his phone in his pocket and turned the chair to face JC. “Everything okay, bro?”

JC nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“You sure?” AJ gestured over his shoulder, noting all the people milling about the room behind them. “Because if you’ve gotta take care of something, if you’ve gotta get outta here…then do it. Don’t worry about them.”

JC didn’t want to say that AJ’s asshole manager was the least of his concerns. “Naw, it’s cool. Grace is getting someone to go pick her up. She’ll be fine.”

AJ leveled a gaze at him. “Alright. If you’re sure.” At JC’s nod, he relaxed back into his seat again. “How old?”

“Huh?”

“Your daughter. How old is she?”

“Oh. She’s five.” JC cleared a few things on the computer, smiling at the thought. “Five and ready to take on the damn world.”

AJ laughed. “I’ll bet. You got a picture?”

JC stopped clicking the mouse and glanced at AJ. “Actually, yeah.”

He knew there was an entire crapload of things he needed to be getting done at the moment, any number of tasks he could be focusing on instead of this, but Nicolina was on his mind now, and AJ asked, and hell, he didn’t carry that picture around so that no one could ever see it. Most people kept pictures in their phones these days, but he had always been old fashioned.

Sliding his wallet out of his back pocket, JC flipped open the black leather fold and pulled out the small, worn collection of pictures he stowed in there. A picture of his mom and dad, a picture of him and Grace on their wedding day, and finally, Nicolina’s most recent school picture. She’d lost her bottom front baby tooth the night before, but she’d grinned proudly to show the gaping hole, ecstatic to be getting one step closer to being “grown up”. Grace had worked diligently to curl and contain her mass of dark hair that morning, but it still looked mussed in the picture, like she’d been through a mini whirlwind. The truth, JC knew, was that she was the whirlwind.

“Man.” AJ took the picture JC offered him, shaking his head with a smile. “She’s beautiful. Looks just like you.”

JC nodded; it was mostly true. Nicolina had inherited his dark hair over Grace’s fairly lighter chestnut shade, as well as his blue eyes over her brown ones. So far, it seemed that Nicolina had ended up with his basic bone structure, too, with her high cheekbones and straight nose. She was unmistakably his daughter, though she had little quirks and nuances that were all Grace. “Yeah. I keep telling Grace we’re gonna have to have another one that looks more like her.”

AJ handed the picture back with a chuckle. “You’re lucky, man. That,” he tapped the picture gently, “is what it’s all about. If you have all this,” AJ motioned to the studio around them, “but you don’t get to go home at the end of the day to that, then what is it all for? What’s it worth?”

JC slipped the picture back into his wallet carefully, considering AJ’s words.

“I screwed a lot of shit up in the past ten years,” AJ admitted, staring straight ahead at the soundboard. JC watched his knee jiggle anxiously. “I could have had all that, but I gave it up for some bullshit. I regret that more than anything.”

JC watched AJ get lost in his own thoughts for a few minutes. Alright. Showtime.

“Feel like singing about it?” AJ looked up with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess so. Let’s do this.”

He clapped JC’s shoulder as he stood up and headed back for the booth. JC adjusted a few things and called for Tim to turn the light on already. Now, he could get down to business.

-

JC walked into the hotel bar and paused for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. It was a nice, sunny day out – why had Rob set him up to meet this guy in the dark, stuffy bar at the Chateau Marmont? Maybe he could talk his way to a table out on the patio.

A host dressed in a black button up and matching vest greeted him at the door. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, I’m meeting someone here.” JC suddenly realized that he had no idea who this guy was, only that he worked for some local fashion and entertainment rag. “Uh, sorry, we’re doing an interview, and I’m not sure of the guy’s name…”

The host glanced down at his reservations list. “You’re JC Chasez?”

“Yeah.”

“Right this way, sir.” JC followed him through a line of sparsely populated tables, finally arriving at a maroon velvet upholstered corner booth. The man already seated there, wearing a casual Dolce & Gabbana suit, no tie, stood to greet him.

“JC, hi.” The man had a smooth voice and shook JC’s hand with both of his, like they were old friends. “I’m Kevin Waterman, 944 Magazine. Thanks for meeting me today.”

“Nice to meet you.” JC slid into the booth across from Kevin Waterman, setting his messenger bag down on the floor near his ankles. The host left them, informing JC that someone would be by to take his drink order in a moment.

“How’s the traffic out there?” Kevin asked, and JC shrugged.

“Not too bad. I came from the studio, though, so not too far away.”

Kevin had a slick smile to match his voice. JC knew he was going to have to watch himself in this interview. “Yeah? And where is it you guys are set up? Sunset?”

“Sunset and Normandie, yeah.” A waiter arrived and JC ordered a Balblair, neat, while Kevin replenished his gin and tonic.

“Well, let’s get down to it, then,” Kevin said, once they both had their drinks. He pulled a small notepad out of his pocket, along with a tiny tape recorder. “You mind?” he asked, motioning to the device, and JC shook his head, trying to glance discreetly at his watch. The sooner he could get this over with, the better.

The interview started off on a fair note, Kevin asking various questions about his current musical endeavors. JC managed to drop in quite a bit of information regarding Tony’s upcoming album, though he knew not even a third of it would make it to print. Hopefully, though, if even one person who read the article went out to buy the album, it would make it all worth it.

“And right now you’re working with…” Kevin paused, squinting at his notes. “AJ McClean? Of Backstreet fame?”

JC nodded. “That’s right.”

“And how does that feel, the fact that someone who was once your boyband rival is now releasing an album under your own imprint?”

JC laughed uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck beneath the collar of his polo shirt. “Well, I don’t know if I would put it that way, necessarily, but it’s been fun. AJ’s a talented guy. I worked with him on a couple songs back in 2009, and I’m flattered that he came to me to produce and distribute his next album. It’s been a good experience.”

Kevin nodded, making a couple notes. “Alright. Speaking of the label, how’s it going? I’ve heard rumors here and there about a merger with EMI in the works. Any truth to that?”

JC tossed back the last of his drink and cleared his throat. “I can’t really confirm or deny anything on that note. Business is business. But the label’s doing well, we’ve got a great repertoire of artists right now, and I think the sound is really coming together. We’ve stepped our game up in the last year or so, and things are starting to smooth out.”

Kevin flipped a page in his notepad. “And your wife works for the label, correct?”

JC nodded. “Correct.”

“She’s the Senior Vice President of Promotions and Marketing.”

“She is.”

“Nice.” Kevin looked up from his notes with another slick smile. “Keeping it in the family, then?”

Aware of the double entendre, JC shrugged, stretching out his arm to rest on the back of the booth. “Grace is good at what she does. She’s not the VP because she’s my wife, she’s the VP because she gets things done.”

“When you two met, she was doing A&R for Sony, is that right?”

JC shifted in his seat; he hated discussing Grace or anything about his private life in interviews. “Yep.”

Kevin shuffled through his notes again and motioned the bartender over for a drink refresher. JC held up his hand when the man moved to take his glass. “I’m good, thanks. Maybe just a cup of coffee.”

“Smart man,” Kevin asserted, with a booming sort of laugh that JC hated instantly. “You’ve got a daughter, too, right?”

JC felt his jaw clench. “Yeah, but if you don’t mind, I’m not here to answer questions about my family life. We’re talking business, so…let’s keep it at that.”

Kevin held up his hands. “No problem whatsoever. I completely understand. I’ve got two girls at home, myself.”

JC took a sip of the black coffee the waiter set in front of him. It was scalding hot and tasted grainy, stupid overpriced historical hotel. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine living like you do.” Kevin shook his head, looking disgusted. “Paparazzi following you around everywhere, trying to get a picture of you with your wife and kid. It’s sick.”

JC tried to restrain his sigh. “Mm.”

“I mean, I’ve personally never seen a picture of your daughter in the papers,” Kevin continued, motioning to himself, “so you must be doing an okay job of keeping her protected from all these wackos running around with cameras. It has to get on your nerves, though.”

He wasn’t too much of a target for paparazzi anymore these days, but JC didn’t say so. “Yeah, sometimes.”

Kevin nodded sympathetically. “On that note, your friend Justin Timberlake has been getting quite a bit of publicity lately.”

JC glanced at his watch again, openly this time. The interview was more or less over, anyway. “I don’t really have a comment on that.”

“Nothing to say about the divorce?”

Kevin’s prodding was seriously unnerving JC, and he leveled a steady gaze across the table at the writer.

“No. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

Kevin cocked his head and glanced down at his notepad with a smirk. “On the contrary, it seems it has a lot to do with you. Pictures have surfaced of him arriving at and leaving from your house within the past two weeks, whereas he hasn’t been seen at his own residence in over a month. Is Justin staying with you?”

It was all JC could do not to pound his fists on the table and walk out. “You’ll have to interview Justin if you want to talk about him. Did you have any other questions?”

Kevin shook his head slowly, eyeing JC carefully. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Great.” JC took another sip of his disgusting coffee and fished a twenty out of his pocket. Usually, the magazines comped these kinds of meetings, but the last thing JC wanted was to give this asshole the satisfaction of paying for his drinks. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thanks for your time,” Kevin replied, but JC was already on his way out of the bar.

Part Three: Justin

Somewhere in the house, a faucet was leaking.

Justin could hear it, as loud and clear as a train chugging through his living room. He did his best to stay as silent as possible, even holding his breath, so that he could hear that leaky faucet. He had no idea where it was coming from, and he had no aspirations to get up and fix it, but he wanted to hear it.

He wanted to hear something, anything, other than the sound of his own breathing and the heart that somehow just kept on beating. 

At first, he’d watched TV. Then he’d started seeing his own face on every channel, so he made his way through the collection of DVDs lining the wall. He’d only watched about five that were his own before realizing the rest belonged to her. So Justin turned the TV off altogether.

He’d tried listening to music, too. But that just pissed him off. He tried playing the piano, tried writing out his pain like he’d done so many times before. But the notes, the words, the melodies didn’t come.

It was as if every source of life had just leaked its way out of him, like that damned faucet.

He lost track of how long he’d been sitting in the recliner in the dark living room, the dark, heavy shades drawn to block out any source of light. He may have slept, he may not have. Days must have passed, but he wouldn’t know it. He got up to go to the bathroom, and every so often to gulp water straight out of the kitchen sink. But the thought of food turned his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ingested anything except beer.

The phone rang, almost constantly at first. The house phone, because he wasn’t sure what he’d done with his cell. Maybe thrown it out the window the day that she left, he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t had the courage to go up to their bedroom, either, though he knew it was still destroyed from the raging fit he had thrown when she’d walked out on him. The answering machine was full, but he’d turned down the volume so that he didn’t hear the voices of his friends echoing through the house when they left pleading messages, for him to answer the phone, to call them, to show some sort of sign that he was alive.

The only person who’d been inside the house in the last five days was Trace. And there was a reason Trace was his best friend, because he didn’t try to push the issue, didn’t try to make him get up and eat something. He just brought more beer, patted Justin on the shoulder, and left. He knew he needed time.

But that was five days ago, and now, as Justin sat listening to water drip somewhere in the house, he began to wonder if maybe everyone had just decided he’d died. Maybe that was an easier reality to grasp, that he was dead instead of sitting on his ass, wasting away to nothing and listening to water drip.

Fuck.

He strained his ears, trying to hold onto the sound of the faucet, not wanting to become immune to it, not wanting to lose it in the background, just like everything else important in his life. Some noise outside caught his attention, and Justin shifted his focus, his ears re-attuning. Before he knew it, he couldn’t hear the faucet anymore, try as he might. Justin closed his eyes and cursed out loud, his own voice sounding foreign.

“Justin.”

He’d been so focused on trying to hear the water again that he hadn’t noticed his front door opening and closing. His eyes fluttered open to see the last person he expected standing in front of him, surveying the living room sadly.

“JC,” he croaked, realizing for the first time that he was desperately thirsty. “What are you…how did you get in here?”

JC crossed the room to stand in front of Justin, his hands in his pockets. Justin stared at his old friend carefully, analyzing him. He looked good, older, but good. Healthy and, despite the frown on his face currently, happy. His clothes were clean. Justin looked down at his own body, realizing that he was, in fact, wearing clothes as well, even if it was just a pair of basketball shorts and a stained t-shirt.

“Your mom called me,” JC said. “Told me where the spare key was.”

Justin sighed. Of course his mom would call a responsible friend to come check on him, even if it was a friend who he had more or less snubbed completely for the past 7 years.

“Oh. Well. Welcome.” Justin motioned around the living room, finding it difficult to even muster the energy to lift his arms. “Forgive me if I don’t get up.”

JC stared at him, and it seemed that he was seeing past the dirty t-shirt and few weeks growth of beard. Justin suddenly felt nervous, thinking that maybe JC could see something that even he couldn’t.

“What are you doing, man?” JC asked finally. “What is this?”

“What do you mean?” Justin replied, not quite able to find the fire within him to be defensive.

“Justin, come on.” JC put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Have you seen yourself? What the hell happened?”

“What happened was I got fuckin’ divorced, JC,” Justin deadpanned. “Or maybe you hadn’t heard. Haven’t watched TV in a few days?”

JC picked up the remnants of a box of fried chicken on the coffee table, making a face. “When was the last time you ate something?”

Justin still felt thirsty, but he didn’t want to get up, not while JC was there, so he picked up the half-empty bottle of beer on the table next to his chair. It was warm and tasted like piss, but he swallowed it down, emotionless.

“I don’t know,” he said, and he honestly didn’t. Was there even food in his fridge? If there was, it was probably all spoiled by now. “Why? You gonna make me dinner?”

“Knock it off,” JC pleaded, not a hint of malice in his voice. “Seriously, J. Are you gonna let this destroy you?”

It was a question no one had asked him yet, and Justin stopped to consider it.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

JC sighed, closing his eyes and running his hands over his face. “Justin, you can’t stay here by yourself.”

Now that JC mentioned it, out loud, Justin realized for the first time how alone he really was. Hadn’t that been his fear in the first place? When she’d first threatened to walk out? JC was still talking, and Justin forced himself to focus.

“…talked to Grace about it, and she’s okay. We just don’t want you to be alone right now, man.”

Justin frowned, the implications of JC’s words sinking in slowly.

“You want me to…move in with you?”

JC nodded. “We have a couple guest rooms, you can have your own space. I’ve got the studio downstairs, you know you can use it whenever. Maybe we can start writing together again, I don’t know.” He shrugged, looking helpless. “I just don’t want you to be going through this alone, Justin.”

Justin leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He rubbed his temples carefully. He’d almost forgotten that JC was married. Against his will, a memory began playing on the backs of his eyelids, a sunny day 6 years ago, at some beachside hotel. The grass was green and perfectly manicured, except for the small gathering of white chairs on either side of a path laid in rose petals. Justin had gotten an invitation, of course, but it didn’t go any further than that, because who knew if he would even show up?

In the end, he slipped in right before the ceremony started, taking a seat in the back and watching as JC stood up front with Lance, Joey, and Chris all by his side. He’d stood with everyone else and watched Grace walk down the aisle. He’d only met her once, and it was by chance, running into JC with her at some LA restaurant. She was beautiful, of course; JC had always liked beautiful girls. But she had a classic look about her too, and that day she had glowed in the sunlight. Justin had toyed with his cufflink, squinting against the late afternoon sun as he watched JC hold her hand and say the vows and maybe even cry a little bit, but he had been sitting too far away to know for sure.

He’d gone to the reception too, but tried to stay fairly incognito, which was hard as it wasn’t a very big wedding. JC’s parents spotted him and fawned over him a bit. He’d spent some time catching up with the guys, none of whom he’d been very good at keeping in contact with. Hell, Joey was married with two kids, one he’d never even seen. But for some reason, the falling out with JC was what hurt the most. He’d looked up to the man for as long as he could remember, all leading up to what? Hiding at his wedding because it was awkward to be there.

In the end, JC had sought him out and they’d hugged, had a drink together. He’d been re-introduced to Grace, offered congratulations to both of them. And then he’d left, and that was it. Sucked back into his own life, his own friends, his own personal shitstorm.

“Justin?” JC’s voice filtered into his thoughts again, and Justin’s eyes snapped back open. “What do you think? Will you at least give it a try?”

“Are you…are you sure?” Justin asked, feeling terrified that JC would change his mind. “Is Grace sure?”

JC nodded emphatically. “She’s totally fine with it. I mean, we have Nicolina, but she’s a good kid, she won’t bug you. And she’s at school most of the day, anyway.”

Justin sighed; damn, JC had a fucking kid. He’d forgotten all about that. He vaguely recalled seeing them at an awards show some years ago, Grace looking pretty pregnant and JC resting his hand on her rounded belly in pictures. “Oh. Man, I don’t know.” He didn’t feel suitable to even be in the same room as a kid right now. “I’m a mess.”

JC looked relieved that Justin acknowledged this fact, and crouched down next to the chair, one hand resting on the arm. “Justin, I know we haven’t been real close in the past few years. But let me help you out, okay? You don’t have to be alone in this.”

It was cheesy, and so something JC would say, but Justin felt inexplicably better.

“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

JC smiled, for the first time since his arrival. “Good. Uh.” He paused to scratch his head. “What do you say about taking a shower first?”


-


“Nic, come on. We’re gonna be late.”

Justin glanced at his watch again as he tugged his shoes on with one hand, holding Nicolina’s lunch box in the other. She’d hemmed and hawed over everything, all morning, from what she wanted for breakfast to what kind of sandwich he was going to make for her lunch. Justin tripped over his shoelace and muttered, “Shoot.” Now he was even censoring himself; he felt like such a dad.

“Nicolina!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the entire downstairs level. “Let’s go!”

“Coming!” was the tiny-voiced reply. A few moments later, Nicolina skipped into the entryway, wearing a purple zip up sweatshirt, green striped tights, and a ruffled pink tutu. Justin shook his head.

“Your mom is going to kill me when she sees you wearing this. Where are your shoes?”

Nicolina pouted. “I couldn’t find my princess slippers.”

“Well, you have to wear some shoes,” Justin pointed out, opening up the door to the coat closet. He picked out the first tiny pair he found, red Converse All Stars. “Here.”

Nicolina made a face. “Those don’t match.”

Justin gaped at her, making a point of looking her ensemble up and down. “Are you kidding me right now? Come on, you can lace ‘em up in the car.”

He ushered Nicolina out the door and down to his Escalade. Every morning, she usually insisted on trying to climb into the giant car by herself, but he couldn’t wait this morning, cute as it was. He picked her up easily and set her in the car seat, getting her buckled in record time, before sprinting around to the driver’s side.

The drive downtown to Nicolina’s North Hollywood preschool took about 15 minutes from JC’s home. Justin had perfected the route over the past few weeks, figuring out how to skirt around the more traffic-laden Fairfax and La Brea. He didn’t even need the aid of the GPS anymore.

He fiddled with the radio, finding a Top 40 station easily.

“Uncle Justin,” Nicolina called from the backseat. “Can we listen to my CD?”

Justin sighed, adjusting his sunglasses. He cursed the day he’d ever made her that stupid mix CD.

“Nic, we listen to it every day.”

“But I like it,” Nicolina replied, in her usual little singsong way that meant she knew she was about to get what she wanted. “Please?”

Rolling his eyes, Justin begrudgingly hit play on the stereo, nearly wincing as the first song started.

Nicolina sang along with the words to “Bye, Bye, Bye”, and Justin caught her doing the hand motions in the rearview mirror. What had possessed him to put any NSYNC songs on that damn CD, he’d never know. But Nicolina typically enjoyed listening to her father’s music – the very few times JC had brought her down to the home studio with them, she’d sat in his lap and listened with rapt attention while he played back stuff they’d come up with.

“You like this song, Nic?” Justin asked, and she nodded, catching his eye in the mirror.

“Yep! It’s fun.” She bopped her head along with the beat as she watched the scenery go by out the window. “How come you never play me your music, Uncle Justin?”

Justin felt his hands clench involuntarily on the steering wheel. “What do you mean?”

“Mommy told me that you made three CDs, of just you singing,” she replied, as if this were the simplest thing in the world. “How come you don’t play them?”

Justin turned right onto North Highland, glancing at the time. “Well…I don’t know. Maybe you can hear them sometime. They’re nothin’ special.”

“I like it when you sing to me, though, and play our piano,” Nicolina pointed out. “You have a pretty voice.”

“Thanks, Nic,” Justin chuckled, making the left-hand turn to Nicolina’s school. “That’s nice of you to…”

Justin trailed off, his brow knitting in concern as he approached the school’s parking lot. Across the street from the front gate was a cluster of vehicles, mostly SUVs, with tinted windows. A sick feeling settled in the pit of Justin’s stomach, and manifested itself when one of the windows rolled down and a man with a camera popped his head out.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit!” Justin exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel in his anger. He sped up past the fleet of paparazzi and turned into the school’s parking lot. “Goddamnit.”

“Uncle Justin!” Nicolina gasped, sounding horrified. “Those are bad words.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He pulled into a parking spot and spun around in his seat, peering out through the back window at the photographers. The lot was enclosed by a wrought iron fence and a fair amount of hedging, but the school and it’s entrance were still fairly visible from the street. Justin watched as men with large telephoto lenses began to scatter around the fence and the gate entrance point.

He turned in his seat again and took a few deep breaths. How the hell was he going to get Nicolina inside? The last thing he wanted was for her face to be plastered all over the magazine covers along with his. On top of that, once the press got confirmation that he was living with JC and Grace, there would be paparazzi parked outside their house every morning.

“Uncle Justin, why aren’t we going inside?” Nicolina asked, trying to turn in her seat to see what Justin had been staring at.

His mind racing a mile a minute, Justin tried to form a plan. “Uh. Stay here, Nic. I’ll be right back.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and slipped out of the car, hustling towards the door with his head down. Why hadn’t he worn a hat that morning?

The woman from the front desk, Ms. Christy, smiled at him as he entered. “Good morning, Mr. Timberlake.” She peered around him as he approached the desk. “Where’s Nicolina?”

“She’s in the car.” Justin cleared his throat and held out his hands to the woman pleadingly. “Look, I have a bit of a problem outside.”

Ms. Christy frowned. “Oh?”

“Yeah. There’s a crapload of paparazzi parked across the street, and I can’t get Nicolina out of the car with them here. She can’t…I don’t want her picture taken.”

Ms. Christy peered out the window to confirm his statement. “I see. Well, I’m sorry, but legally, I can’t do anything if they’re across the street. This is a private establishment, but as long as they’re 50 feet from the entrance, there’s nothing I can do.”

Justin hit the edge of the desk in his frustration. “Shit!” At Ms. Christy’s concerned look, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just…pissed off.”

“I understand.” Ms. Christy nodded sympathetically. “We’ve never had an incident of this magnitude here, but judging by your celebrity at this point in time, I’m surprised it’s taken this long. I’d offer to show you around to the side entrance, but I’m sure they would simply follow you.”

Justin paced the office, wracking his brain for what to do. He didn’t want to call JC or Grace and freak them out. At the same time, he felt completely clueless.

“Mr. Timberlake? Did you want to…” Ms. Christy’s voice faded off in the background as Justin peered out the front door. One of the photographers had entered the parking lot and was approaching his car, camera ready as he peered into the backseat. Justin saw red.

He flung the door open, startling a parent who had just approached with her child. “Hey! Get the hell out of here!”

The man stared at him in surprise, backing away in a half-jog, half-walk as he snapped several pictures. Justin cursed, wrenching open the driver’s side door and climbing inside. The worst part was knowing that guy was going to make bank on the photo of Justin Timberlake getting raging pissed.

“Where are we going, Uncle Justin?” Nicolina asked from the backseat as Justin threw the car into reverse, half hoping to run over the guy. Her voice sounded smaller than before, not scared, but more alert. Justin gripped the steering wheel tightly and urged himself to calm down.

“We’re not going to school today, Nic.” He turned the car back out onto Highland as quickly as possible without being reckless. “We’re, uh…gonna do something fun.”

Nicolina was too smart to be fooled, however. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” Justin replied, biting back a curse as he noticed a couple of the SUVs making to follow him. He made a quick right onto a side street and fished his phone of his pocket. Who to call, who to call, he thought anxiously. Maybe his mom would know what to do.

“Do Mommy and Daddy know I’m not going to school today?” Nicolina asked, and Justin hated whatever it was that made this kid so intelligent. Couldn’t she just accept it and relax? He needed to call someone, he needed to go somewhere. He couldn’t take her home, not with the goddamn paps trailing him like this.

“I’ll call ‘em right now,” Justin announced, holding his breath as he ran a yellow light. Luck wasn’t on his side, however, because one of the cars on his tail followed him right through the intersection. “You okay back there?” he asked, trying to ensure that she wasn’t getting scared.

“Yeah,” Nicolina replied, but it didn’t sound genuine. Justin wedged his phone between his knees and reached for the DVD player that connected to the monitor in the back seat.

“Wanna watch a movie?” At the suggestion, Nicolina nodded excitedly, so he hit play, hoping something was in there, and tossed the headphones back to her.

The little girl in his backseat sufficiently distracted, Justin reached for his phone again and dialed Grace. Sure, she was more likely to get pissed off at him than JC was, but she was also more likely to answer her phone.

He tried her cell first, but it went straight to voicemail. Thankfully, she’d given him her office number in case of emergencies. Some guy answered, sounding bored. “Grace Chasez’s office, this is Jeremy, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hey Jeremy. This is Justin Timberlake, and I need to speak to Grace right away.” Trying again to evade the car following so closely behind him, Justin made another quick turn down a one-way street. He officially had no idea where he was, so he tucked the phone against his shoulder and smacked the GPS on.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Timberlake,” Jeremy replied. “But Grace is in a meeting right now.”

“Well, interrupt it,” Justin demanded – there was no time for social niceties here. “This is important.”

“She asked not to be disturbed, maybe I can take a message for you.”

Justin glanced quickly in the rearview mirror, making sure that Nicolina was sufficiently tuned out before he said what he was about to say. “Listen, asshole. I know you’re just doing your job, but I need you to work with me here. I’ve got Grace’s fucking kid in my backseat with about eight different cars full of paparazzi on my tail, I need you to get her on the damn phone.”

Jeremy sighed softly. “Just a moment.”

While waiting for Grace’s undoubtedly angry voice to come on the line, Justin put the phone on speaker and tossed it in his lap so he could use both hands on the wheel. A few quick turns brought him out onto Melrose, and he prayed that the traffic on this street would help him lose the stubborn Yukon.

“Justin?” Grace’s voice filled the car, and he snatched up the phone, pressing to his ear. “What is going on?”

Her voice sounded relatively calmer than he’d expected, but it was also hushed, which led him to believe that she was in mixed company. Were she alone, no doubt would he be treated to some considerably more colorful language.

“Grace, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but the paps found Nic’s school. They were parked out front, and I didn’t want to take her in, so I panicked and left, and now I’m driving around LA trying to lose these fuckers.”

Grace sucked in a breath on the other end and Justin heard her murmuring some apology to whoever was in her office. “So Nicolina is with you?”

“Yeah, but she’s watching a movie, she didn’t hear me cuss.” That time, he added ruefully, and hoped to God that Nicolina was smart enough not to repeat all the words he’d said in her presence that morning.

“Jesus. Well, just…bring her here.”

“To your office?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want them following you back to our house. Where are you?”

Justin squinted at the GPS. “Uh, Melrose and Western.”

“You’re about three minutes away. Head North on Western and cut onto Sunset. Maybe you’ll lose them on the way.”

Justin swerved wildly to get into the left-hand turn lane, ignoring the responding horns. “Gotcha. And, I’m really sorry, Grace. I am.”

She sighed heavily on the other end. “Yeah, I know. Bye.”

The phone clicked in his ear and Justin tossed it into the passenger seat, relieved to have a destination. Sure, Grace wasn’t pleased, but at least he’d kept Nicolina safe and kept her picture from being taken. She giggled at the movie in the backseat and Justin felt himself relax a little bit more.

The label’s offices were on the 10th floor of an otherwise unassuming building on Normandie, and Justin was relieved to find that they had a lower level parking garage. He explained the situation to the attendant, who’d assured him that he would only admit authorized vehicles to the garage, and Justin parked the truck with relief. For a few moments, he sat in the driver’s seat, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, Nicolina’s whispered voice broke into his thoughts.

“Uncle Justin? Are you sleeping?”

Justin opened his eyes, surprised to find Nicolina’s face right next to his. She had somehow managed to unbuckle herself, and had crawled up to the console. Her bright blue eyes appraised him innocently, and Justin smiled.

“How’d you get up here?” He pulled her into his lap, squeezing her ticklish sides as she giggled. “Ready to go visit Mommy?”

Nicolina looked delighted. “We’re at Mommy’s work?”

“Yep. We’re surprising her.” Not exactly the truth, but the visit hadn’t exactly been planned, in any case.

The word surprise sent Nicolina into all sorts of rapturous joy, and she could barely contain herself long enough to hold Justin’s hand on the way up to the office. In the elevator, she bounced up and down and insisted on pressing the “10” button all by herself. Then she pressed her face to the glass that faced the street and watched as they raised up into the air.

“Is Mommy going to be mad that I didn’t go to school?” she asked thoughtfully. “I’m not even sick!”

“I think she’ll be too happy to see you to be mad,” Justin reasoned, hoping that would be the case as the elevator dinged their arrival onto the tenth floor.

Justin had never been to the label’s offices before, and he tried to ignore the strange looks he got as he entered the reception area. The girl sitting behind the desk stared at him with wide eyes as he approached.

“Hi,” he greeted, trying to recall a time when he’d been able to greet any girl with a classic smoothness, enough to put them at ease and get what he wanted. “I’m here to see Grace Chasez. She’s expecting me.”

Nicolina tugged on his arm impatiently. “It’s this way, Uncle Justin!”

The girl simply stared at him, and Justin shifted his weight awkwardly. Before he could attempt to speak again, a slim man, dressed well in a nice gray vest over a light pink shirt, appeared from down the hall.

“Hi Jeremy!” Nicolina greeted excitedly, and Jeremy waved at her.

“Come on back, Mr. Timberlake,” he instructed, and Justin didn’t miss the chill in his tone as he followed the man down the hall.

Grace was in her office, thankfully alone, and stood up when they entered.

“Mommy!” Nicolina exclaimed, bounding across the office to jump into her arms. Grace picked her up and gave her a kiss before setting her down and raising an eyebrow at her outfit.

“She picked it, Grace, I swear,” Justin offered lamely, and Grace managed a tight smile.

“Nicolina, Jeremy has some coloring books for you at his desk,” she said, ushering the little girl towards the door. “Why don’t you go check them out while I talk with Uncle Justin for a second?”

Justin sank into one of the leather chairs across from Grace’s desk, feeling like he was in the principal’s office. He heard Nicolina excitedly yammering on to Jeremy before Grace closed the door and joined him. To his relief, she took the chair next to him instead of her usual spot behind the desk, and Justin relaxed slightly.

“So, what happened?” she asked, her voice unusually soft, and Justin felt himself tense up again.

“Well. I got to the school, and they were there. I didn’t know what else to do, so I left.” Justin rubbed a hand over his hair, it was getting way too long and curly again. “I figured you guys wouldn’t want Nic’s picture plastered all over Us Weekly, so I did what I could to lose them.”

Grace rubbed a hand over her forehead with a sigh, and stayed silent for a few minutes. Justin didn’t say anything, feeling as though every quiet second ticked him closer to his untimely demise.

Finally, she dropped her hands to her lap. “I’m not mad at you, Justin. I know this wasn’t your fault.”

Justin felt as if a load of bricks had come off of his shoulders.

“I’m a little concerned that you were trying to escape some paparazzi with Nicolina in the car, and about your undoubtedly choice language during said escape, but she seems to be in relatively good spirits.” Grace stood up and crossed over to the other side of her desk, rifling through a few papers there. “You also interrupted my meeting with A&R at a very inopportune time, but…” She shrugged. “Shit happens.”

Justin tugged at a stray thread in his jeans. “I may have also used some of that, uh…choice language on the phone with your assistant. So…whoops.”

Grace just smirked. “He probably deserved it. Though he may give you the stink eye on your way out.”

Justin leaned back in his chair, muffling a yawn. Suddenly, he felt exhausted. “Goddamnit, I don’t know what the hell happened. How did they figure out where her school was? And that I would be there?”

“I saw a car parked outside our gate last weekend,” Grace admitted absentmindedly, typing something into her computer even as Justin’s head snapped up. “It’s possible they’ve been tracking you there for a little while now.”

Justin rubbed a hand over his face. Would he ever stop dragging destruction with him wherever he went? Now he was getting JC’s family caught up in this bullshit.

“What should I do, Grace?” Justin leaned forward, jiggling his knee nervously. “What if they start taking pictures of Nic?”

“It’s not as if she’s never been photographed before,” Grace reasoned. “I mean, we don’t get a lot of opportunities for it, but it’s not like it would be the end of the world. We’ll deal.”

She sounded far too calm, and Justin stood up to pace the length of her office. “Maybe I just need to get out of LA. Go back home for awhile.”

Grace looked up from her work, watching him carefully. “Is that what you want to do?”

Justin thought about it. Did he really want to go home to Shelby Forest to live with his parents? Suffer through his mom forcing him to live life as usual, like nothing had happened? Hell, eventually she’d even want him to start dating again. The thought made Justin sick to his stomach. One of the best things about living with JC and Grace was that he was alone without really being alone. They gave him space, they let him breathe. Nicolina’s laugh filtered through the closed office door, and Justin couldn’t help but smile. Nic, with her mismatched outfits and her world of song and dance…damn if that kid didn’t make life worth living in some crazy way. Getting to be “Uncle Justin” for the past month was all he had to hold onto anymore.

The truth was, he felt like he had gotten…better. Like he was actually starting the process of picking his sorry ass up and making life happen again.

“No.” Justin flopped back into the chair with a sigh. “No, I really don’t.”

“Well, then stay here.” Grace’s Blackberry vibrated on the desk and she picked it up, glancing at the message disinterestedly. “Nicolina would be heartbroken if you left, anyway.”

Justin threw his hands up, feigning frustration. “Hold a damn gun to my head, why don’t you?”

Grace smiled and Justin returned it. “She’s a powerful tool of persuasion. How do you think I ever get JC to do anything?”

“Are you gonna tell him?” Justin asked suddenly, trying to imagine JC’s reaction to the day’s events. He didn’t get upset often, but if it was something that involved his daughter’s safety…Justin didn’t really want to think about it. “About…all this crap?”

“Considering that there’s no way Nicolina will be able to keep her mouth shut about her exciting day, I’d say I don’t really have a choice,” Grace admitted. “But it wasn’t your fault, Jus. He’ll understand that more than anybody.”

Justin drummed his fingers against his knee and nodded. “Hope so. Hey, maybe you better call the school.”

Grace’s forehead creased. “Why?”

“Well, I may or may not have cussed at that lady behind the desk. And I kinda almost ran down some mom with her kid.” He shrugged sheepishly.

To his relief, Grace looked unconcerned, dismissing the issue with a wave of her hand. “Oh, whatever. They probably deal with that crap all the time. JC told me Jamie Foxx used to send his kid there.”

“No shit?”