11. So this is Love? 

I really miss her.

That statement is an understatement. I don’t think I could ever put into words how much I miss her. If you turned all of my talent into words I don’t think they would even begin to encompass how much I miss Lauren – and that’s some big shit; I have a lot of talent.

The buses are pulling out of the Xcel Energy Center where I just finished up a show in St. Paul, Minnesota. This place is fucking freezing, worse than Worden and that’s saying something. I’ve been bundled up in a parka, scarf, and hat and I’m still worried that my toes are turning blue. Who in their right mind decided to schedule this tour in the middle of winter, in freezing cold places? I’m going to hunt them down and shove their genitals in the snow that’s shoved to the side of the freeway.

God, I am colder than a witch’s tit in an iron bra and I want nothing more than to snuggle under the covers with my dogs and try to remember what it felt like to be warm. But most of all I want to be with her. I want to wake up knowing that Lauren is either downstairs making breakfast or seeing her still sleeping beside me. I hate the fact that we’re so far away and I don’t care if I sound like some lovesick teenager, I fucking miss her.

Granted the last time we spoke was right before my show tonight…well it wasn’t so much talking, as it was me saying hi before she hung up. I guess she doesn’t like it when Maura answers my phone which is fucking ridiculous because I’m pretty sure she answered my phone a couple of times when she was working for me.

Can I help it if Maura goes out of her way to answer my phone? No, she’s being helpful dammit and Lauren needs to open her eyes and realize my personal assistant isn’t trying to get into my pants. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did because most of the female population wants what the media has christened the Timbersnake and really, who could blame them? I’m hot shit right now

The line of females waiting for my dick aside (which does not include Maura), I’m still missing Lauren like a baby animal misses it’s mother’s teat…or some weird analogy like that. I’m not too good with those; I never had to take the SATs.

And I know I probably pissed her off earlier tonight, but she didn’t have to hang up on me. We could have talked it out or something, but that infamous temper got the better of her and now we’re in some silent fight that’s only tenser because of the distance between us.

I can’t stand it.

I excuse myself from the front of my bus, leaving Maura, Johnny, and Rachel behind. They’re all discussing scheduling conflicts for when the buses reach their destination of Toronto on the thirtieth and I don’t want to sit around and listen to them jabber on about it. Maura or Rachel will debrief me later. Right now, I need to make a phone call.

Walking into the back room which consists of my bed and a small couch, I throw myself down on the bed, my two dogs jumping up to join me. It’s nice to have silent companions who know when you’re in a funk. They’ll try anything to make you feel better. Brennan rushes forward and licks me right on the kisser. I pat his head as I fish out my phone with my free hand. I find myself dialing the familiar numbers that will take me to Lauren’s voice, and I can only hope it isn’t in a tone that will make me feel like a royal dick.

It rings three times before I get an answer.

“Hello?” her voice is bleary, but it’s probably the sweetest sound in the world right now.

“Hi, Lauren,” my voice sounds wistful and I feel like I’m swooning at the sound of her voice. I hope she can’t hear that almost two thousand miles away.

“Hey,” she sighs. She sounds tired. I look down at the dual time wristwatch and realize that it’s almost ten thirty at home. Why the hell is she in bed this early?

“Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, but that’s okay…” it seems I caught her in a rare mood. She isn’t snapping at me for interrupting her sleep and it seems as if our mini fight earlier today has been forgotten. Christ, I can only hope.

“So you aren’t mad at me?” I feel like a little kid who’s sent to his parents’ room after he’s done something terrible so he can apologize. When the parents say they aren’t mad, the kid is shocked…

“I guess not. Elliot and Trace put it into perspective for me, so I guess you get off easy this time.”

Elliot and Trace? Since when is Trace offering Lauren advice…scratch that. When does Trace ever offer anyone advice? And this Elliot? I know he’s her Revenge of the Nerds friend, but the fact that she’s seeking counsel from this dweeb is making me nervous.

“That’s good,” I say good naturedly, “What did you do today?” And she soon goes on about how she had to deal with the Bridezilla of the century and of the rest of the things she needs to accomplish this week and next. I gaze at the small calendar by my couch. My birthday is in four days…I guess I can stop the dreams of her coming out to visit

“How was your show?”

“Same old, same old. It’s fucking freezing here, Lauren,” I add, “I wish you were here to warm me up.”

“You can stop wagging your eyebrows, Justin,” she retorts immediately and I instantly cease said gesture. How the girl knows what I’m doing thousands of miles away I’ll never know. “And if you think you’re getting any phone sex tonight you’re dead wrong. I wouldn’t want Maura to intercept your cell phone in the middle of it.”

Ouch. Zinger. I knew she couldn’t keep that to herself for long. She had to make a comment about our little tiff, but I’m not going to take the bait. I’m going to brush that off my shoulder and keep going with the conversation.

“Aside from working, what else have you been doing?”

“Oh, this and that. Elliot and I are going to a new art gallery opening tomorrow and then since the weather is absolutely great here, Elliot, Theo, and I might go to the zoo. Oh, and I think Elliot and I are going out to dinner with his sister and mother on the thirty-first and then we’re seeing a show in Hollywood, something like that.”

Elliot, Elliot, Elliot. Is that all she can fucking talk about? Never mind the fact that she’s going out with half his family on my birthday. My girlfriend is entertaining this Elliot in perfect California weather and I’m stuck here in the frozen tundra of America. I know I’m supposed to bring in the bacon, but Jesus what did I do to deserve this?

“But I wish you were here,” she states, “Elliot, Theo, and Elliot’s family can’t do half the things I want to do with you.”

Timberlake, you are so getting phone sex tonight. She was just yanking your chain.

“Yeah,” I say throatily. Part of me wishes that my dogs weren’t in the room. Their over sensitive hearing might be de-virginized when I’m done with this phone call, “and what things do you want to do with me?”

I can hear her stifled yawn over the phone and I start to panic. Keep her awake; don’t let her get off the phone. Who cares about phone sex? I just want to hear her voice for a few more minutes. Everybody else just sounds disgusting after talking to Lauren. Don’t let her go.

“I need to get some rest and you do, too. You’re in the middle of a tour, Mr. Timberlake,” she points out as if I didn’t already know this.

“I can rest later, I just want to talk to you,” I whine profusely and I wonder if she can see my pouting face from where she is.

“Believe me, I’d want nothing more than just to talk to you, but I need my rest. Elliot and I have a huge party to set up early tomorrow morning and like I said, you need your rest.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I see that she’s right and I don’t want to upset her right before she goes to sleep.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I relent, “You get some sleep and I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Of course. I miss you way too much,” she mumbles sleepily into my ear.

“I miss you, too, but I love you more.”

“Mmm, but not as much as I love you,” she responds and I don’t think she’s right. Sometimes it hurts to know how much I love her. “Call me later?”

“Of course…” I don’t want to be the one to say goodbye. Saying goodbye means she’s not here with me anymore, “I love you,” I repeat, hoping my telling her once again will make her want to talk more.

“Love you too…” she’s falling fast and I don’t want to do this to her anymore. I sigh heavily and close my eyes, trying to picture her lying on my bed. Granted I’m sure she’s fully clothed right now, but still the image is nice to have of her.

“Talk to you soon,” I add. I refuse to say goodbye.

“Yeah…bye, Justin.” Thank God I didn’t have to say it.

“Love you, bye.” And just like that she’s gone and my mood is down the crapper.

The bus continues along and I gaze out the window at the passing lights, absentmindedly scratching Buckley on the top of his head. I wish I wasn’t in the middle of this tour, I really want to be back home with Lauren and Trace and my family out there. I haven’t felt homesickness like this since my first big American tour with *NSYNC and the fact that a single person is able to make me feel like this thrills and scares me all at the same time.

Needless to say, my mood has worsened by the time we reach the hotel and my heart plummets to my feet when I hear the hordes of screaming women outside the lobby of the hotel.

There’s a knock at the door and Maura is there with a grim smile on her face. She’s got her game face on and I know she’s preparing herself to handle the crowd gathering outside the bus. Tiny and Mike, two of my small army of personal security, shadow her small frame. I guess it’s now or never.

Leaving Buckley and Brennan behind for Rachel to take care of, I walk out of the bus with Maura beside me, my security flanking our sides. Flashes pop and explode in front of my line of sight and the screams crescendo so much I can feel the headache beginning to form behind my eyes.

Pictures of my face are being shoved in my line of sight and girls are reaching out to try to grab hold of my shirt. Maura looks at me with a puzzling glance. Usually I stop to sign a few autographs or take several pictures, but I’m just not in the mood tonight. I give a slight shake of my head and she nods telling me that she understands the gesture. The fans are getting jack shit tonight and for once I don’t care if they call me an asshole.

We reach the safety of the lobby and I turn around to look at Maura. We stop in the middle of the lobby and she waits for any instructions I have to tell her, “Go out there and tell them I’m not coming out. I don’t want to hear them screaming for me all night when I need sleep,” I snap. I don’t care if I’m coming across as a dick to her, I’m not in the mood for anything and for once I want someone to feel as miserable and wretched as I do.

She looks taken aback, but nods dutifully before she turns around to face the masses, “And I need you upstairs before I go to sleep. There are a few things I need you to do tonight.” I can tell by the way she’s practically swaying on her feet that she’s tired, but I don’t give a damn. She’s my employee and she’s going to do everything I say, dammit.

Once I’m up in my room, I wait for Maura to return. I didn’t think I’d have to kill time until she gets up here so naturally my mood is reaching an all time low. I almost feel sorry for Maura when she gets up here; she isn’t going to like me when I’m through with her.

I turn the television onto some random station that’s playing late night reality television. I hate the shit with a passion, but it passes the time and the loud noises and blurred out naked bodies help me keep my mind off of Lauren. Sitting in silence will only make me think of her and for the first time I know that if I do, I’ll probably say fuck it to the tour and fly home – millions of people and millions of dollars in income be damned.

The knock at the door can’t come soon enough and I wordlessly let Maura in. I go to sit on the couch and she sits in the armchair across from me. “You needed to see me?”

“Yeah,” I state coldly, “I need you to make sure that my continental breakfast is delivered to my room no later than seven thirty tomorrow morning. I need a wake up call at seven and if I wake up a minute later than that it’s your ass on the line. Also, Trace wants to know how the sales are doing for the clothing line in Middle America so you’ll need to have the statistics for me in a hard copy so it can be mailed to the offices in LA and I also need you to fax another copy to Trace by the time the buses are on the road by ten o’clock tomorrow morning…”

Her eyebrows are raised in a state of shock at the list of things I’m giving her. The poor bitch isn’t even writing it down and I know that if I have to repeat myself my temper will probably reach new heights.

“Buckley and Brennan need to be walked tomorrow morning, either you or Rachel need to get on that. I want you to send Lauren some flowers tomorrow, I’ll write out a personal card myself and you’ll need to send it for me. Make sure the details to book the club for my birthday are finalized. I don’t want to show up in Montreal to find that the club I want to party in won’t let me in. And see if you can cancel two days of interviews, photo calls, or photo shoots and try to get me a flight back out to LA for a few days before the Grammys. And I need a new parka because the weather here blows.” I stop and look at the television set, not sure if I need her to do anything else.

“Is that all?” she asks me slowly.

“I think so,” I respond my voice hollow.

“Can I say something?”

“Have a party,” I mutter.

“Get a grip, Justin,” Maura retorts and I look up at her so quickly I think I might just have whiplash.

“What did you say to me?” this girl is on a one-way train to getting her ass fired and then I’ll have to force Lauren to come back. That might not be such a bad idea actually

“I said you need to get a grip. Don’t you sit there and give me ridiculous things to do just because you’re miserable and wallowing in your own self-pity. I can’t help it if you and Lauren have conflicting schedules so you don’t need to take it out on me or the other people who are working for you. I mean come on, you know as well as I do that the William Rast offices have all the statistics on lock down and you haven’t had a business conversation with Trace since you started the tour.”

I’m still staring at Maura as if I’m looking at her for the first time. I have always seen her bend over and take it without a pip of complaint and yet here she is sitting in my hotel room, telling me off because I’m being a miserable little bastard. I don’t deserve to be treated like this, and I know for a fact that she’s only being this short with me because she’s been on her feet for over sixteen hours doing shit for me and other members of the crew. Words have simply failed me and when she realizes I have nothing to say she continues on -

“I know you miss Lauren, everybody can see that and I’m sorry that she can’t spend more time with you but don’t try to act the diva because I know you aren’t really like that…”

Really? The woman hardly knows the real me, how does she know what I’m really like?

She stops talking for a moment and I think she can feel the tension between us almost as well as I can. She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her blonde hair. She leans forward towards me and stares at me intently, like an art student studying a work of art. My brows furrow at this turn of events and it isn’t until she sighs dolefully that my face relaxes.

“Look, Justin,” she starts, “I’ll do everything I can to try to get Lauren out here for your birthday. I know you miss her something terrible and I don’t care if it takes me all day tomorrow or the next day, I’ll find some loophole to get her to Canada. The team doesn’t like it when you’re down in the dumps because quite frankly you start to act like an ass and then you take it out on us.”

I’m still too much in shock to actually say anything so I merely nod. I watch as Maura smiles thoughtfully before she gets to her feet and heads towards the door, “I’ll set a wake up call for you for seven o’clock tomorrow. Please make sure you’re up, I hate having to barge into your room to yank you out of bed.”

“Right,” I mutter before I get off the couch and walk towards my suitcase, “Night, Maura.”

“Goodnight,” she states firmly before she exits. I open up my suitcase and pull out some pajamas wondering when the hell my new personal assistant developed balls. I guess it doesn’t matter because if growing a pair is what it takes for Lauren to get here, well then I wouldn’t mind if Maura grew twenty.

*~*~*~*~*

“Do you think you can help me with this, Lauren?”

I look up from my position on the couch just in time to see Elliot and Theo stumble into the living room. They’re both carrying a huge folded table between them and it looks like they’re heading to the rec room. I raise an eyebrow at Elliot’s request. Honestly if two men can’t carry a heavy folded table, I don’t know how my help is going to get it into the other room any faster.

Nevertheless I put my magazine down on the coffee table and get to my feet, approaching my brother and friend. I stop halfway when they turn to face me, the change in their everyday wardrobe smacking me across the face like an affronted drag queen.

They’re both wearing jeans, but their shirts are those tacky tye-died T-shirts with prints of dragons, fairies, unicorns, or some other mythical shit on them. They’re the kind of shirts fantasy geeks wear in the fifth grade and are teased mercilessly for their choice of style. Theodore’s maroon shirt has a dragon emblazoned on it while Elliot’s blue shirt has some scantily clad Amazon warrior chieftess standing over the body of what looks like a giant rodent. They are reminding me of Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons and I never thought in all my years of living I would ever associate myself with people like this.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Theo explains as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. I half expect them to pull out Magic: The Gathering cards and begin to play right on the floor, “In today’s society, Lauren, people wear them to avoid being naked.”

“Yeah, but why are you dressed up like fifth grade fantasy nerds? Halloween isn’t for another nine months.”

“If you must know,” Elliot starts and I can see a bit of flush rising in his cheeks as if he’s embarrassed being caught in this style of dress, “it’s our turn to host the RPG this week and since my apartment is being fixed because of mold, we need to have it here.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” I ask completely confused. What the hell is he talking about? What is an RPG? I know the whole story about Elliot being kicked out of his apartment because there was a leak in the water main and the whole place needs to be cleaned of mold; he’s shacking up in another one of Justin’s many guest rooms.

“The RPG!” Theo says in an exasperated voice, “Honestly Lauren, don’t you ever go online?”

“Yeah, but only to balance my bank account and to catch up on the news,” I retort. I’m still confused and I don’t like being kept in the dark. Surprises, especially ones where I know nothing about them, really put me off.

“Just let us finish putting this in the other room and I’ll come back and explain it to you,” Elliot says lowly. I get the impression that Theo talked him into this as they hoist the table up again and saunter slowly into the next room.

The sudden slamming of the door in the background and Bruno’s barking tell me that Trace has come home from what I’m sure was a busy day at the office. They’re doing a few launches of the clothing line in Middle American and apparently that means Trace needs to be at headquarters for the most of the day. The poor bastard has been working nonstop since the twenty-seventh and I really hope the guy can take a break this weekend.

I’d like a break as well, but that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. The more I go on with my job the unhappier I become. I like being in charge of things, I like ordering people around a bit, but in all actuality I don’t like having to deal with several bitchy clients. I can deal with one (see why I stuck around Justin for as long as I did), but when you throw four or five pissy clients at me, I start to lose my head. You might as well tack on the cocky and ignorant interns and co-workers I have to deal with and I want to poke my eyes out with a blunt object. And I want a break more than ever tomorrow, but the Grammy After Party is looming in the not so distant future and it demands my full attention.

It sucks that I can’t even see my boyfriend on his birthday.

“Sup, Loho?” Trace says dully as he walks into the living room. He looks dead on his feet and I can totally sympathize with him. I want to curl up on my bed and pass out, but the curiosity of Theo, Elliot, and their weird RPG thing is getting the better of me.

Elliot swears loudly from the other room and both Trace and I look at each other before we both walk into the rec room. My mouth drops open at the scene.

Elliot and Theo are standing on either side of the table they were bringing in just moments ago. But now it’s been unfolded and the surface is painted green, with a river running through the middle. Theo is pulling mountains out of a metallic case and placing them at the head of the table. Elliot is yanking small trees and other foliage out of another case and throwing them in dense areas around what can only be described as a three dimensional map.

“What,” Trace begins his mouth agape, “the fuck is that?”

“It’s our RPG board,” Theo explains as if tables sprouting a 3D map is normal, “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one before!”

“No,” Trace snorts, “And can you tell me why you’re dressed like tools?”

Elliot lets out an exasperated sigh and he walks towards us while Theo yanks small figurines out of yet another case, placing them strategically around the table, “RPG stands for Role Playing Group. Basically we have these tables and each player has a case of people…it’s like the game Risk, but more complex and it incorporates fantasy.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Trace says incredulously, “Grown men actually play this?"

“I’ve been playing since I was sixteen!” Theo calls indignantly while he lovingly places a dragon onto the table. “I never realized Elliot and I were apart of the same guild!”

“Explain,” I say quickly before Theo can say anything else that will confuse Trace and I further.

“Well you see this is more than a two player game. The Groups can consist of anywhere from four to ten players, sometimes more if you combine more tables. And you can join different Guilds, or clubs if you will online. Each of those Guilds will have different chapters in various states, cities, or counties. I’ve been in the Tree Fellow Guild of LA County for about twelve years now – Theo is in the same Guild but from Canada. Make sense?”

“Sure,” I say weakly. This is probably some of the dumbest shit I have ever heard. “So are just the two of you playing tonight, to brush up on spellwork or something?”

“Uh, no,” Elliot says nervously, “You see it’s my turn this week to host the Guild Meeting and Practice but since my apartment is currently two feet under water, we can’t hold it there. The rest of the Guild should be here in about fifteen minutes…”

“And how many members are in this Guild?”

“Well,” Theo pipes up, “Gary, Susan, and Newman should be bringing their tables, so I think it’s a full Guild meeting tonight. I would say anywhere between twenty to thirty,” he pauses to giggle like some school boy seeing boobs for the first time, “it’s going to be an awesome game tonight!” he exclaims before he thumps Elliot on the back.

“Thirty!” I exclaim, “You do realize you’re inviting thirty complete strangers into a house that isn’t ours? Into Justin’s house. What if the media gets wind of this and thinks Justin Timberlake is hosting RPG parties in his house?” I can just imagine the phone calls I’ll be getting from Justin, his mother, his handlers, Ken, Johnny, the slew of people is just too much to handle right now. I don’t need this stress at home of all places.

“Oh come on Lauren,” Trace says good naturedly, “I’m sure these people have no idea who the hell Justin is. They probably listen to Enya or some shit like that.”

“Actually we prefer My Chemical Romance,” Theo interjects and I think Elliot is going to die of shame. I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to alert Trace or I of his hand in the world of Fantasy RPG and I really can’t blame him. I’m sure Theodore talked him into hosting the party here, poor guy.

“Right, well we’ll let you get back to your previously scheduled RPG…ing,” Trace muses as he tries to contain his laughter. I shoot him a reproachful look as we walk out of the rec room and I can tell he’s trying to compose himself. Thank God he isn’t going to be his usual annoying self.

We retire into the living room and I can feel the stress and pressure mounting right behind my eyes. I know for a fact that I’m going to get a migraine from all this and I have nobody but my brother, friend, and Trace to blame.

“This ought to be good, I haven’t really given anybody shit for a while,” Trace exclaims in a rather excited voice. I’m sure he’s getting an arsenal of insults and witty comments ready in that brain of his and it seems like now is a good time for me to go upstairs and wallow in some more self pity. “Elliot and Theo are giving me enough goods for at least another two months.”

“Great,” I say dismally. I think Trace has noticed that I’m not in the mood for joking around tonight and I think my sudden mood change has made him realize that he just put in a good thirteen hours at work today. “I hope Elliot doesn’t stay up late tonight because I don’t want him acting the zombie tomorrow because he couldn’t make his dragon vanquish the knight or whatever the hell they’re doing.”

“Christ, I need a vacation,” Trace states suddenly and I find myself silently agreeing with him. The way things are going, however, I won’t be getting a break until well after the Grammy Party. Even with Justin back in town I won’t be able to spend any time with him and that’s enough to make me run into the Hilton and announce my two-week’s notice.

“You can say that again,” I respond. He opens his mouth to no doubt repeat his last statement when suddenly the doorbell rings. We both look towards the front door just in time to see Theo come bounding out of the other room only to skid to a halt in front of the door.

“Newman!” he exclaims excitedly. I watch in horror as he helps an overweight, balding man in his forties carry yet another folding table into the house. I look at Trace who is also at a complete loss for words, “Did you bring your level two water nymph? I think I might need to borrow one of your water spells for when my sea serpent goes against the fire demons…” his voice fades away as he and Newman shuffle into the rec room.

“I knew it,” Trace says softly, “I knew I ran that red light and got hit by a car while I was on the way home. This just proves that I’ve entered hell.”

We sit in the room for a few more minutes, our expressions becoming more and more shocked as legions of men and women ranging in age from college to middle aged walk through the threshold of Justin’s house carrying huge metallic cases that no doubt contain little fantasy creatures and netherhumans or something ridiculous like that. I can only imagine what Justin’s face would look like if he saw a small army of fantasy geeks gathered in his rec room, getting ready to do battle on tables.

And thinking about Justin has made me realize that tomorrow will be the first time in a long while that I won’t be there to celebrate a birthday with him. The guilt is eating at my stomach, but there really isn’t anything I can do about it right now. Work is a main priority and I can’t just shove off and leave Elliot of the Tree Fellow Guild to fend for himself with the tyrannical California elite. But my need to see Justin is kind of trumping everything else at the moment…

And it’s when they start talking about leveling up their respective armies and deciding where they can hold their weekend long tournament that I snap

“I can’t take this anymore,” I say to Trace suddenly as I hoist myself out of the couch, “I hate sitting here every night trying to figure out what to do and I most definitely don’t want to sit here while the fucking members from Lord of the Rings are holding council in the rec room! So fuck California, fuck this stupid house, fuck the jobs, and just fuck everything!” It feels so liberating to get this off of my chest and I can tell by the surprised expression on Trace’s face that he wasn’t expecting this sudden outburst.

“So are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Trace asks a grin suddenly reaching the corners of his lips.

“I hope so or else I’m just going to jump off the deep end and ask if I can join the Merry Men of Robin Hood in the other room,” my sardonic tone sends Trace into peals of laughter and he jumps up to his feet, walking over to the stairs that will take him to the second level of the house.

“Well then dust off your passport Loho, we’re going to Canada!”