He felt fine. Totally, totally fine. If he could just get one foot in front of the other, and going in the same direction, in a straight line, he would feel even more fine. His feet, though, had other plans.

He stumbled, bumping into the doorway on his way out of the Viper Room. Small, dark, and ultrahip, the usually celebrity and groupie-laden venue offered a night of live music and free flowing drinks. Even on a Monday night, one could not escape the fun at this legendary Sunset hotspot. He stopped in to catch a show and stayed for the after party. A little too much after party.

"Hey. Hey, dude. You're not driving, are you?"

JC turned in the direction of the voice, the tenor tone of the bartender behind the counter folding pristine white towels and piling them in a stack. He shook his head, stumbling through the doorway and out onto the sidewalk, teeming with people ducking and dodging out of his way.

"I walked. I jus' live up the hill."

That's what he thought he said. Looking back at the bartender, he wasn't sure that's what came out of his mouth. Oh, well. The night air would do him some good. Sober him up a little, maybe. Not that he was drunk. He felt fine. Totally fine.

A few minutes into the walk, he realized that maybe he lived further than he thought he did. He did always forget how steep that hill was. Maybe he wouldn't quite make it, since he was losing steam. And he couldn't seem to walk in a straight line. He wanted to... it just wasn't happening.

A flash burst on the edge of his vision, sparking mild irritation. He couldn't even be drunk in peace.  Couldn't they go find some child star on a crack binge? Some young starlet about to drive into a tree? What was so fucking interesting about him? And he was drunk in public...he'd never hear the end of it from his mom.

Across the street from the hardware store, a cabbie leaned against a white sedan. The light on top of the car, the light that signaled he was taking fares was dark, but maybe he could bum a ride. 

Hey!" He shouted, stepping into the street. Cars careened around him, horns whined and heads leaned out of windows to shout at him. "Sorry," he called after them. When it was safe, he stepped into the street again and crossed it, stumbling toward the cabbie. "Hey, buddy. Can I get a ride?"

The cabbie glanced back at his darkened taxi sign, then back to the weaving stranger and stared at him. "Where to?"

"Just up the hill," he said, pointing. In the wrong direction, though. And then turning around and pointing again. "Just up that hill."

The cabbie shook his head and took a long drag on his cigarette. The tip glowed red and then turned to ash, dropping to the sidewalk as he flicked it with his pinkie finger. Smoke spilled from his lips as he said, "Not worth it. I'm off duty, man. I'll spend more in gas than your fare would be."

"I'll take care o' you. Really. I jus' need to go up the hill."

"Sorry, out of service. It's not that far. You could walk it." He took another drag of his cigarette and averted his gaze from the drunken man pacing the sidewalk.

JC gave up, turned around and stumbled in the direction of the hill, again. Why did he live on a hill? Why did he walk down the hill in the first place? Why was he too drunk to walk home, now?

More flashes of light in the distance. His steps were more deliberate, slower as he tried not to stumble so much, and maybe no one would notice or recognize him. No such luck. A dirty little man sprinted across the street with a flip video camera raised and in his face. Everyone was paparazzi these days.

"JC Chasez!" They always called him by his full name. So unnecessary... how many other people in the world went by JC? Well, except for Jesus. But he didn't go by JC, ever. At least, he didn't think. "Where ya headed? Where ya been? You alright, man?"

"Fine. 'm totally fine," he said, now aware of how bad he slurred. He told himself to say nothing more. Keep walking. Try to walk straight, and not catch that crack in the sidewalk...fuck. All caught on tape. Fuck.

The little man scurried away, likely to upload his video report on something exciting and salacious, an eventful Tuesday morning in Hollywood...JC Chasez drunk on Sunset. Slow news day.

"Fuck. Me. I just want to go home."