The club he decided to visit was, he realized, far from his norm. The glasses were cloudy, the liquor watered down. The odor of weed was overwhelming and he knew he would be buzzing when he left. And the music... He cringed at the music. What club couldn't afford a decent sound system?

He didn't bother going up to ask the DJ. If they even had a DJ. For all he knew the seedy bartender was throwing random CDs on. The joint doesn't even have a VIP room. Just a wide open space filled with gyrating bodies, a haze of smoke and one strobe light. He had finally made his way to the bar when he remembered he had left his phone in the cab and now looked around for a pay phone.

They did still have pay phones, right?

Tossing back his drink - he'd ordered whiskey but would swear the bartender had given him tea - he decided he could just hail a cab. He'd report his phone lost when he got home and apologize to whoever tried to get in contact with him. That was his reason for being there in the first place. He was so damn tired of the constant calls. The never-ending meetings. He had just needed to get away and hadn't put any thought into where or for how long. But now here he was, somewhere on the dingy edge of Los Angeles. At least he supposed he was still in LA. For all he knew the cab driver had carted him to Vegas.

Dragging a hand over his face, he pushed another bill towards the bartender. "Give me your strongest drink, man," he shouted above the music, watching the fifty disappear into the man's back pocket. A tumbler of clear liquid was placed in front of him a moment later and before it reached his lips he knew it was potent enough to have its own octane rating. But he took a gulp, the burn barely registering when a hard body pushed him up against the bar. The burn in his throat increased and he felt his eyes water but wasn't sure if it was from the drink or the fact that the wind had just been knocked from him.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, ASSHOLE!" a gruff voice shouted.

By the time he managed to turn, the man was gone. Justin attempted to draw in a clear breath, instead sucking in a lungful of the weed-infused air. And he couldn't help it. He held it in until his lungs burned for oxygen and as he exhaled slowly he felt his body finally start to relax. His second gulp of his drink wasn't nearly as horrendous as the first and when he pushed away from the bar he took it with him. The air at the dance floor was thick with the sweet smell of marijuana burning and he breathed it in, wondering why he hadn't thought of just scoring a bag for himself and locking up in his bedroom for the night. Trace would have joined him. Hell, Trace would have probably scored the good shit.

A warm body slid up to him and he forgot all about his thoughts. Short fingers curled in his shirt and wide green eyes called to him. Downing the rest of his drink, he pushed the empty glass towards the girl nearby and allowed himself to be dragged to the center of the dance floor. Clumsy bodies gyrated and ground against one another without any inhibition and he easily fell into the non-rhythm. For the first time since stepping through the door, he realized he was anonymous. The girl humping his leg didn't know him from Adam. The chick with her ass against his crotch probably didn't give a fuck that he was a millionaire. All they were after was...

Well.

All they were after was what he was suddenly after.

It wasn't his fault he hadn't been laid in six month, was it? Well, maybe it was, but it seemed the opportunity was presenting itself and he had never been one to turn a lady down. Not that either had asked yet. Shit, maybe they weren't looking for a good fuck. Maybe they just wanted someone to dance with. His hand fell to the waist of the girl in front of him, pulling her tighter against his crotch, allowing her to feel what was going on. She made no show of noticing.

What's a guy got to do to get some random sex in this fucking place? He thought with a groan, working his hips fluidly against hers. His hand slid over her bare stomach, skittering across the damp flesh until his fingers found the low waistband of her jeans. His lungs began to burn again and he breathed in more of the smoky air, loving the sudden ease of movement. He would regret everything in the morning - he always did - but for now he would play. The green-eyed vixen was sliding closer, crotch firm against his thigh and through their clothing he felt how hot she was. He opened his mouth to ask if that was just for him, but he was suddenly mute when his gaze fell on the couple right in front of him.

I fucking love this place, he decided with a grin, free arm sliding around the girl to his left to pull her even closer. She giggled at the sudden movement and he joined in, never looking away from the live sex show right in front him. They may or may not have tried to conceal what they were doing, but he knew sex when he saw it. And when he heard sharp moans over the music he knew he was right.

"You wanna get outta here?" Green Eyes purred in his ear. Her lips found his earlobe and he shuddered when her tongue flicked over the skin rapidly, imagining that tongue on a different part of his anatomy. "Emmy can come too if you want."

"Emmy?" he repeated in a daze, nodding when the girl in front of him turned. Shit, yeah. "Where y'all wanna go, baby?"

"My place is nearby," Emmy informed, hand diving beneath his jeans. She cupped his length and squeezed. Hard. "Think you can handle both of us?"

Justin groaned, fingers digging into Green Eyes' ass. "Think you both can handle me?"

"Tina doesn't do dick," Emmy laughed, leaning against him until her hard nipples were crushed against his chest. "But you can watch me do her with my tongue.

Sold, he thought with a pleased shudder. His tongue swiped over his lips as visions of sweaty, naked bodies danced in his head. "Meet me out front in five," he said. "I've gotta hit the john."

"Don't make us wait," Tina warned, giving his ass a firm squeeze before both women slid away.

He stood in the center of the dance floor, hard and panting, unable to tear his eyes from their sloppy kiss as they stumbled towards the front of the club. When they disappeared in the crowd he finally turned, reaching to shift his cock in his jeans. Giving it a quick rub, a promise of things to come, he jerked when bodies jostled against him. He reacted slowly, bracing his fall against the bare chest of the woman he had been watching a few moments before. Stumbling back when a fist took a swing in his direction, he turned and slid past the cluster of people, hoping he was headed in the right direction.

People were fucking everywhere. Up against the wall, in the few chairs that were scattered around the edge of the dance floor. And he managed to keep from stepping on a couple writhing on the floor. Keeping one hand against the wall as he moved down the dim corridor towards what he prayed were the bathrooms, he was surprised he didn't bump into more couples. Obviously these people weren't interested in privacy.

He saw someone coming in his direction and attempted to step out of her path, cursing when his foot banged into her leg. Time seemed to suspend for long moments as they both swayed and for a second he thought they would manage to stay on their feet but before the thought finished they crashed. He landed hard on the floor, grunting when the firm body fell atop him. His hands instantly moved to steady her and a chuckle escaped his lips when his hands landed on the softness of her backside.

"You okay?" She asked, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest. The soft crush of her breasts disappeared as she sat up, graceful movements that astounded him in his state of mind. Her hands grabbed his and then he was being pulled to his feet.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," he murmured, offering his most apologetic smile. Her eyes widened slightly and he wondered if he had adopted his drunken grin. "You?"

"I'm... I'm okay."

He smiled again as her hands released him, leaving his fingers humming. Why couldn't he have run into her earlier?

***

She continued down the hall, shaking her head in disbelief as the events replayed themselves in her mind. Surely that wasn't... It couldn't have been...

Calandra dragged a hand through her loose waves, expelling a sigh as she leaned against the wall. Stealing a glance down the hallway, she saw the man moving towards the bathroom, heard a drunken laugh as he fell against the door.

No. It was impossible. Justin Timberlake didn't come to places like this. Justin Timberlake was strictly high-class. VIP lounges with Cristal. Shiny black Escalades and beautiful women. Not... Sleazy dives on the fringes of Compton. She actually laughed at the idea, deciding that the man had only resembled Justin. No way in hell would he be here.

Easily slipping around couples, she ducked to avoid being brought into a cluster of grinding bodies, groaning when a hand sharply smacked her ass. God, she had to get out of here. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Some friends from high school had decided to get out and have some fun, but she had quickly lost them in the club. They had all abandoned her in pursuit of hot guys and free drinks. She should have listened to Ariella--

"Do you mind?" she growled, spinning to confront the owner of the hand on her backside.

"Whoa, sorry, babe," the guy said, holding both hands up in defeat. "Thought maybe I could help you get that fucking stick out!"

"Asshole," she groaned, shimmying through the crowd lining up at the bar. Something cold and wet splashed down her back and she heard a series of curses when she pushed by a couple making out as they waited. More hands found her body and she pushed them away, nearly crying out with relief when she finally got out of the crowd. Perusing the stoners in the corner to make sure one of her friends wasn't among them, she finally gave up completely.

They could call her a washed-up stick in the mud tomorrow. She was going home. She was going to take a shower, pull on her favorite pajamas and watch Shrek the Third again.

Slipping out the door, she sucked the fresh air into her lungs, knowing she had spent too long inside when she felt dizzy. Straightening her shoulders, she forced herself to appear in control, left hand sliding into the front pocket of her jeans to close around the small can of pepper spray. Not much of a defense if someone decided to really hurt her, but she wasn't about to carry a gun. Rounding the corner of the building, she planned to cut through the alley and up the next block and catch the bus. But her steps immediately halted when she took in the scene before her.

Two against one. That had never seemed fair to her. Even if they were getting retribution for their innocent sister, she had never understood why guys always had to gang up on one another. She flinched when she heard the solid sound of a fist hitting a jaw and took a step backwards. Then she saw the thin man being slammed up against the side of the building.

Him. Her Justin look-alike! She had to admit that out here, he really looked like JT. Well, except for the blood running out of one nostril and the split lip. Her heart lurched when her mind caught up to the fact that she was watching two dudes bust up someone half their size and she did the only thing she could think to do.

She screamed. It was a shrill, piercing scream that her father had once told her was better than all the stupid horror movie actresses combined. Ariella had been known to disappear for hours after hearing her scream. So Calandra screamed. She screamed until the two large men released their prey. She screamed until they ran down the alley and disappeared over the chain-link fence. She screamed until she knew they were gone.

Then, timidly, she approached him. He had slumped down the wall, sitting, supported by the building, on the asphalt. The harsh security light on the building shone down on him and as she stepped closer she saw that his right eye was turning a hideous purple. Keeping a safe distance between them, she knelt down in front of him. "Hey... You okay?"

"What..."

"Are you okay?" she asked again. Both his eyes were closed but he leaned his head back slightly and she gulped. "...Justin?"

"Yeah."

Shit. Fuck! Her mind screeched. Closing the distance, she gently rested one hand on his leg. "You okay?"

"They got my wallet. A-and my watch."

"You're lucky they didn't take your shoes," she sighed, leaning back slightly when he jerked his head up. His left eye opened slightly and her heart ached when she saw the pain radiating within the sapphire iris. "Hey, it's going to be okay. How you feel?"

"Like shit..."

"Did they punch anywhere but your face?"

"My sides."

"Don't move," she warned gently when he shifted as though to stand. Hand moving to his shoulder, she shook her head. "They may have fucked up one of your ribs." Her free hand slid into the rear pocket of her jeans, pulling out her cell phone. Typing the code that would block her number from showing up on Caller ID, she then dialed 911. Though her heart raced and it felt she had just run a marathon, she calmly explained to the operator what had happened, describing Justin's attackers as best she could. Hanging up when the woman asked her name, she shoved her phone back into her pocket. "I'll stay with you till the cops get here."

"Fuck, I don't need the cops," he sighed. "I'm buzzed and I think that bartender gave me Everclear. The high shit."

"What happened?" She asked softly, settling down next to him. Folding her legs in front of her, she pulled her hand from his shoulder when she was sure he wouldn't be moving.

"I was supposed to meet these two chicks... Emmy and something-or-other. We were going to--" he cut off and despite the blood on his lip his small smile was one of embarrassment. "Well. I got out front and they weren't there. Tried to ask the dude at the door to call my friend for me but he wouldn't." His hands slid over his thighs, long fingers drumming anxiously against his knees and for some reason Calandra was transfixed by the idle movements. "So I decided to walk until I found a store with a pay phone. And the next thing I knew I was getting the shit beat out of me. Then you showed up... Thanks for that, by the way."

"No problem," she murmured.

"Ain't heard a woman scream like that in... Ever." A chuckle rumbled in his chest and she felt him tense.

"I've always been a good screamer," she mused, not thinking of double entendres or innuendoes until he turned his head to look at her. Rolling her eyes, she motioned to his face. "Don't try flirting until you don't look like Quasimodo, okay?"

"Deal." He slid down further, obviously seeking some sort of comfort and when his palm turned up she impulsively reached to hold his hand. "What's your name?"

"Cat." Her old nickname flew from her mouth without hesitation and she had no idea why. Perhaps, still clinging to that childish dream of meeting him in another time, another place, she didn't want him to know her real name. Staring down at their hands when his fingers slid through hers, she bit her lip at the warmth of his skin, frowning when she saw the welt on his wrist, where his watch must have been torn off.

"I shouldn't have come here tonight," he whispered, leaning against her. Whether from exhaustion or because he could no longer hold himself up, she didn't know or question. She welcomed his closeness, not minding the blood that dripped from his nose to her white t-shirt. "I just wanted to get away for a little while..."

"Shh, you don't have to tell me all this," she murmured. "Just keep still until they get here, okay?" Her free hand moved to rest gently against his cheek, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she felt him nod. Biting down hard on her bottom lip when he shifted and his head fell to rest in her lap, she pulled her hand free of his and shakily brushed her fingers over his chin. "Fare thee well, little broken heart," she sang softly without thinking. "Downcast eyes, lifetime loneliness... Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone..."

***

Justin relaxed completely, giving in to the weariness of his body as her fingers moved over his face. Delicate, almost feathery touches that barely registered on his skin. Far away he heard a siren, but he focused on the wispy voice of his savior. The tiny scrap of a thing that had come to his aid when he had thought he was breathing his last. His hand moved to rest on her knee as she continued to sing the haunting words. Words that he barely heard, instead merely concentrating on her voice. A voice that soothed his battered ego and bruised pride.

He didn't know he had fallen asleep until she gently gripped his shoulder. Then the tiny scrap of a thing easily pushed him up into a seated position. Groaning at the swift change in position, he tried to look to her but she was already on her feet. He saw lights flashing, the blue obscuring her features as she backed away.

"Take care, Justin," she murmured before disappearing in the darkness.