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.