Chapter 10.
Fly Like a Bird.
January 2004.
I guess you could say that 2004 started out like shit for both Britney and I. I mean she went through the 55 hour marriage with that freak, and I well I had to get embarrassed on national TV.
At first the year went okay, apart from being punched in the face by a fan. In December of 2003 I had been talking to Johnny when the idea came up to do the Super Bowl Halftime show with Janet Jackson and I agreed. During rehearsals for the actual show nothing went wrong, there were no ‘surprises’ nothing, just good old entertainment. But a day before, Janet began to act off.
“J,” Janet said walking up to me minutes before we were supposed to perform.
“Yeah?” I asked her running a hand though my hair as it shook nervously.
“I just wanted to um, how are you?” she asked and I glanced at her strangely.
“I’m okay, you?” I asked her with a raised eyebrow, “Something wrong?”
“No,” she said lightly, “Just wanted to make sure there were no butterflies in that stomach of yours.” She laughed, and I laughed with her, because it was a funny image.
“You know me better than that Jan,” I said with a smile, “I’m fine, no butterflies.” She smiled and hugged me.
“Good,” she whispered in my ear as they announced our names. “I’ll see you out there.” She smiled and gave me a wink before she disappeared, I should have guessed she had something up her sleeve.
“Oh shit,” I repeated about an hour later as I sat in my dressing room with my head in my hands and Trace by my side.
“J, what the fuck?” Trace asked and I just shook my head in shock.
“I don’t know,” I said, “How, what, why?” I was too confused. We had been performing; the routine was going exactly as planned. On one part I had to lay my arm across her chest and PRETEND to rip of her costume. What I didn’t expect was it to actually come off.
“Did you plan that?” Trace asked with a stern voice. I glanced up at him, where he just gave me an icy look.
“What? No man I’m not that dumb,” I said and shook my head. “Why didn’t she tell me? That was like so not good publicity.”
“No shit,” Trace grumbled, I snapped my head up and stared at him. I opened my mouth to say something but didn’t find any words.
“Fuck Trace what am I going to do?” I asked and Trace shrugged.
“I don’t know J,” he replied. “I really don’t know.”
A few days later Johnny and I talked about it, he said that Janet had told him that I didn’t know about the change and that my best bet would be to apologize on national TV, so I did.
I don’t know how many times I apologized, maybe a hundred, heck maybe more. When I finally did apologize for the last time, the organizers for the Grammy’s called me and said okay I could perform at their show. They had talked to Johnny after the incident and told him that they didn’t know if they wanted me to perform or not. But after seeing me apologize my ass off, they finally caved and gave me my spot back. I was happy for that.
The day after I got my spot on the Grammy’s back I got a call from Chris. Yes, he was shocked and in a way impressed but he hadn’t called about that. He called to talk to me about JC; the NFL had canceled his planned performance at the Pro Bowl because of me. I felt my heart drop so fast I don’t remember it falling that fast. I had to call Jayce and repair the damage.
“Jayce?” I asked as I called him right after I hung up on Chris.
“J? Um, how are you dude?” JC asked, I could tell he was tired and had been up worrying about his own career thanks to me.
“I’m sorry dude,” I said instantly, “I didn’t know about it; I didn’t know that they’d take it out on you.”
“Oh so you heard?” JC asked, and he didn’t sound quite so shocked.
“Yeah, C told me,” I muttered and JC sighed.
“Yeah well it ain’t your fault J, don’t beat yourself up over it,” he said with a little laugh.
“I still feel like shit,” I whispered and JC sighed.
“Yeah well don’t, you didn’t know it would happen. They’re just being stuck up about it,” he replied, and I smiled.
“Yeah I guess they are,” I answered, and there was a pause.
“They asked me to do the national anthem instead,” JC said after the pause and I sat up in shock.
“They did? And are you going to do it?” I asked and JC chuckled.
“Fuck no dude,” he replied, “I mean, I’m not good enough to represent myself and perform at the actual half time show but they want me to represent the country? What shit is that?” He had a point.
“Yeah that’s some shit,” I replied with a nod, “Did you tell them that?”
“Fuck yeah,” JC replied, “Carlos told them to fuck off.”
“Damn, Carlos is good. Johnny would never do that, he’d probably try make up shit why I would do it,” I replied with a sigh. JC had refused to take on Johnny as a manger when he’d wanted to venture out of the group and do his solo thing and no one really knew why.
“Yeah but Johnny’s a good guy,” JC replied with a yawn. “He’s just looking out for you he always has.”
“Yeah I know,” I said sniffling my own yawn. “Damn, I see we’re both beat.”
“Yeah man,” JC said laughing, “I’ll let you go. Call me later dude and we can go out for drinks or some shit.”
“Okay yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow and we can arrange something,” I replied yawning louder, I heard JC laugh.
“Okay dude cool. Talk to you later, ciao,” he said, and I nodded trying to keep my eyes open.
“Okay, bye man,” I said and he hung up. After we hung up I felt a lot better, at least I hadn’t let down my best friend, which was a good sign.
On February 8th I went to the Grammy’s and I was nervous as hell. I was nominated for five awards and was asked to perform twice, which I was grateful for especially after the Super Bowl thing.
I was sitting with my mother and was wearing a pick dress shirt and black suit, which I was sweating in from nervousness.
I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes as they announced the nominees for Best Pop Vocal Album. Please God, let me win, I prayed silently. I refused to open my eyes; I was up against some of the greatest musicians ever, one being my good friend Christina.
As I sat there I could feel the blood pumping in my ears so hard that I didn’t hear them call out the winner. I felt a tap on my shoulder and opened up my eyes.
“Justin, open your eyes,” my mom said from next to me, I slowly did so and took a deep breath in.
“Yeah?” I managed to squeak and looked around; everyone’s eyes were on me.
“Dude.” I looked up and saw JC had moved from his seat and was standing in front of me with a huge grin on his face. “You won man.”
“What?” I asked, were my ears deceiving me? Was I hearing things?
“You won, congrats man,” JC said, his grin growing larger. I sat there with my mouth agape. Shit, I had won a Grammy. A Grammy. I felt someone nudge me in the sides.
“J dude, go on, go get your award,” Trace whispered in my ear. I nodded and stood up slowly, as I did so JC grabbed me in a hug.
“I’m proud of you kid,” JC said in my ear.
“Thanks man,” I managed to say, I pulled away from him and got hugs from everyone else. This was unreal. As I made my way towards the stage, I could feel the eyes on me. Everyone was shocked, but probably not as shocked as me. I kept holding my breath, I kept waiting for Ashton to come out and tell me I got Punk’d. But it never happened. As I climbed up onto the stage, I only had one thought in my head.
Things were going to get better, I could feel it. I won two of the awards I was nominated for that night, life was good.
Completed
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