Chapter 27 – Love Is A Battlefield

Chicago, Illinois - Thursday, October 9, 2014

“This is a bad idea.”

Adeline looked away from guarding the hotel door with Lance to Justin, who was sitting in a chair directly in front of her. Dropping her foot from where she had propped it against the wall, she kicked the metal leg of his chair, making him jump at the sound.

“Shut up,” she said. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“I gave it anyway,” he said. “You want another opinion? This is a bad idea.”

Justin recoiled in surprise as he felt a hand hit the back of his head.

“That was the same one, moron,” Stephanie said, pacing behind him impatiently.

“JC, leash your wife,” Justin said. “She's hitting and name-calling.”

“Both of you, knock it off,” Lance finally said. “Reign in your immaturity for ten minutes while we get this done, okay?”

“You've been watching too much reality television,” Justin said. “I feel like we need a big banner that says 'Intervention' to hang in the doorway.”

“This isn't an intervention,” Adeline said. “It's a group meeting. We made that perfectly clear to Chris, which is why we told him he could not bring Mila.”

“Alright genius,” Justin said, “then why is AJ here?”

He looked over to the young member of the band, who was standing in the corner of the room away from the rest of them.

“Get bent, Timberlake,” she said.

“Hey!”

They all stopped when Lance yelled.

“God, the two-year-olds in Liam's play group act more mature than this,” he said. “This is our group. Everybody in this room is our family. Maybe not all of us do the singing or the dancing every night but everybody in this room has a place in our little band family. That includes AJ.”

“I can think of one member of our 'family' who probably won't see it that way,” Justin said, using air quotes.

“It's not up to him,” Addy said.

“Justin is a twerp,” JC said. “So as much as I hate to say it, he's right. Chris is not going to see it that way, and he's not going to like this. He's going to see all of us, with our girlfriends and wives and happy lives, ganging up on him and his new little girlfriend.”

Addy sighed. She conceded.

“Maybe he's right,” she said. “But we have no choice. Mila is making all of our lives miserable.”

For the first time since they had sat down, nobody in the room disagreed. That was the one thing they all agreed on.

“This is as much for Chris's sake as it is for ours,” Stephanie said. “If he stays with her, she's going to drag him down.”

“Really, Miss Cleo?” Justin asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “Did your crystal ball tell you that?”

“I will give you a three second head start,” Stephanie said, “before I pounce on you like a lion on a wildebeest. One, two--”

Justin had jumped up out of his chair and Stephanie was prepared to run after him, until they both stopped to see Chris in the doorway, by Addy and Lance.

“What's going on?” he asked.

Not knowing what to say, everyone was silent.

“I see Justin and Steph are ready to kill each other again,” he said. “But that's the norm, so...I highly doubt you called a group meeting so I could watch the Celebrity Deathmatch.”

“Why don't we all sit down?” Addy asked.

As he watched the standing members move off to various chairs, he balked.

“Is this a coup?” he asked. “I agree, Joey needs to stop eating burritos before bedtime.”

He looked at a group of straight faces who refused to look him in the eye.

“Alright, what's going on?” he asked.

“We have a problem, Chris,” Addy said.

“And her name is Mila,” Justin said.

Stephanie, who had taken the seat next to him, reached over to smack his chest with the back of her hand.

“Goddamn it woman, quit hittin' me!” he said.

Chris, who had yet to sit down, crossed his arms across his chest.

“Mila, huh?” he asked.

“Chris, we love you,” Addy started.

“And we're not attacking you,” Lance continued.

“But Mila is...” Addy paused. “Mila has become a huge problem for all of us.”

“Is that right?” Chris asked. “What kind of problem, Addy?”

“Chris, I'm not trying to hurt you.” Addy stood up out of her seat and started to walk toward him, coaxing in a caring, sweet voice. “You know I love you. And you know that we support you after everything that has happened to you.”

“But?”

Addy sighed. “Mila is not right for you.”

“Who are you to judge who is right for me?” he asked.

“Mila is not who you think she is, Chris,” Stephanie said, standing up to walk over to both of them. “She's mean, she's spiteful, and she's using you for her own personal gain. She's the opposite of what you need right now, she's only going to drag you further down.”

“Who are you to decide what I need right now and what I don't?” Chris asked her, raising his voice. “Who are any of you to judge me or Mila? Do you all feel this way?”

As he looked around the sea of faces of his bandmates, none of them looked him in the eyes or objected, which was all he needed to see to come to a conclusion.

“Wow,” he said, in disbelief. “So much for band of brothers.”

“Chris--”

He put his hand up as Lance stood up and started approaching him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You all have brought your wives and girlfriends on the tour for extended periods of time, and I've had to sit around and watch it and suffer,” he said. “And I haven't objected once, or even said anything about it. Mila is staying on the tour as long as she wants to. You guys can suffer through it; I had to, now it's your turn. And once this tour is over...I'm done. NSYNC is over.”

He turned on his heels and headed for the door.

“For good,” he said, right before slamming the door behind him.

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AJ bobbed her toes lightly to the beat of the music playing in the background, “Blurry” by Puddle Of Mudd, humming to the words of the song. She dipped the small brush into the glass bottle and cleaned the excess off as she pulled it out, putting the brush to her first fingernail. She smeared the nail polish on until her nail changed from flesh-colored to the dark, shimmery midnight blue she had chosen, being careful to avoid her cuticles and the surrounding skin as much as she could.

Even though it required careful movements and a light touch, it didn't take long to cover her nail in the polish. Being a bass player, she had to keep her nails trimmed to a reasonable length, which she hated. She wasn't overly girly, but she did enjoy having modestly long and nicely-manicured nails once in a while. But even if she couldn't keep her nails long, she could keep them pretty with different polishes out of her collection of favorites.

The next show was in about ninety minutes and this was her routine to combat her nerves. She had been playing bass long enough to be considered above an amateur level, but there was something nerve-wracking about being just out of college and jumping right into a job as a bassist for arguably one of the best and biggest boy band reunions the world had seen this decade. It was a lot to live up to, and she knew this job could make or break her when it was time to move on to the next gig, whatever that may be.

“Oh, Annaleigh...”

AJ groaned at the voice, rolling her eyes slightly.

“Go away, you little ingrown hair on a jackrabbit's ass,” she told Justin, who stood in the doorway.

“That's a pretty mental picture,” he said.

“Neither are you,” she responded.

“Ouch,” Justin said, putting his hand to his heart, a slight grin at the corner of his lips. “Why you gotta be like that, girl?”

“Why do you have to be...well, you?” she asked.

“Come on, Annaleigh. We're friends.”

She rolled her eyes again. She hated when he used her first name.

“What do you want?”

“Found a hoop set up,” he said, producing a basketball in his hand from behind his back. “Thought you might wanna go let me kick your ass on the court before the show.”

“Sorry,” she said. She set the polish down and lifted her hand up to wiggle her fingers, showing off her newly painted nails. “Still wet.”

“Oh come on,” Justin said. “That's lame.”

“Yeah, you're right, my excuse is kind of lame,” she said. “Even if my nails weren't wet, I still wouldn't play with you.”

“Hater,” Justin replied.

“You know, earlier today, I wasn't very welcome in the little group 'family',” she said, moving on to the other hand, intermittently blowing on her painted hand to help the polish dry faster. “I guess I'm only family if you have no one else to play basketball with.”

“I didn't mean that,” Justin said. “You know that whole situation was a train wreck from the start.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said as Justin came further into the room. “I don't like Mila any more than the next person...but then I guess I don't have to ride on a bus with her every night either.”

“It's hell,” Justin said. “But kicking her out and living with a pissed-off Chris isn't going to be any better.” He paused, spinning the ball like a globe in his hand. “Can I bunk on the bands' bus with you?”

Her response was a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff. “Uh, no. I get enough of you every day.”

“You're mean.”

AJ smiled as she watched Justin wander around the little room she had carved out for herself as her makeshift 'dressing room'. Not every venue had one, but sometimes she could find a room that was used for storing random things like chairs and lighting that she could use to hideaway a few hours before each show. Justin always managed to find 'her' room, and would usually come by at least once before every show to ask her to play basketball, bug her in general, or sometimes just talk. As the youngest person on the tour, she sometimes felt out of place – even though he was still several years older than she was, he was the closest to her in age, so he gravitated towards her, and she towards him.

Even if sometimes he was a little annoying.

“So, how 'bout that round of hoops?” he asked as he watched her twist the cap back on the nail polish bottle.

She sat the bottle down on the cases of equipment stacked next to her chair, thinking about it a moment.

“Ten minutes for my nails to dry, and then you better be ready to get your ass whooped,” she said.

After she had let her nails dry and changed into a tank top and sweatpants so she wouldn't get her show clothes sweaty, she followed Justin down the quiet, empty hallway.

“HORSE or one-on-one?” he asked.

“Aren't we a little old to be playing HORSE?” she asked.

He turned to face her, walking backwards. “I just thought I would give you a slight advantage,” he said with a cocky grin.

“Or maybe you're afraid to get your ass whipped in one-on-one by a girl,” she said.

“I ain't afraid of nothin',” he said. “You can bring it, I can bring it.”

“Let's bring it then.”

Justin walked off still mumbling about the game, but AJ stopped in her place when she heard an out-of-place female giggle, along with whispered voices. She turned and looked around the hallway, which was only half open and filled with large equipment that the venue used, but she saw nothing.

“First to five, or first to ten?” Justin continued. “Five'd be faster, but we got about an hour so it shouldn't really be that big of--”

He stopped when he turned to see her stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking around.

“'Sup?” he asked. “You comin' or not?”

“Shh,” she said, holding her finger to her mouth. “I heard something.”

Justin remained silent as he walked over to her, looking around the room himself.

“I don't hear anything,” he said. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” she said, her voice lowered. “Listen.”

They both stood in the hallway in silence until the giggle came again.

“You hear that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Who you 'spose that is?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly stopped her by clamping his hand over her mouth. As the voices and laughter had gotten louder, he saw her come walking down the other side of the hallway.

“Mila!” he said in a loud whisper.

With his hand still clamped over her mouth, he pulled her down to the floor, kneeling behind some large, heavy equipment. He could see Mila clearly from behind the bars, but he was confident that she wouldn't be able to see them hiding there.

“What do you think she's doing?” AJ asked in a quiet whisper.

“All bets are on nothing good,” Justin whispered back, before holding his finger up to his mouth to signal for her to shush.

Being completely silent, the two of them stayed hidden behind the equipment for a few moments, watching. Justin could clearly see Mila – she was smiling, laughing, and talking with someone – but he couldn't get a good enough look at whoever she was with, blocked by the equipment he was hiding behind.

He couldn't get a clear picture until they both turned, so Mila's back was toward Justin and her companion was in view, and he saw Mila roughly shove him against the wall to lean her lips in towards his.

“That cheating little bitch!” he whispered harshly.

He looked over to see AJ's jaw dropped, as he was sure his was.

“That's Benji,” AJ whispered. “He's on the set-up crew!”

“That scumbag,” Justin said. “You know, I let him borrow one of my Michael Jackson CDs and the bastard never gave it back.”

“Not surprised, I'm pretty sure Chris didn't let him borrow his girlfriend either,” AJ said.

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“What about the black with the red plaid?”

Lance looked over at his wife, who was holding two hangers of clothes up – a black wifebeater under a red plaid button-up shirt.

“Black gets hot under all those lights,” he said. “And I hate that red shirt.”

Stephanie, sitting on the couch in Lance's dressing room, groaned.

“You're worse than a girl,” she said. “Half an hour to pick an outfit you'll wear for ten minutes before your first costume change. Just pick something.”

“Don't you have your own dressing room to loiter in?” Lance asked her.

“Actually, no I don't,” Stephanie responded.

“Don't you have a husband who does have his own dressing room that you can go loiter in?”

“It's more fun to annoy you. And I'm better at it.”

Addy smiled and shook her head as she separated the shirts and hung them back on the rack. Once they were in their places, she continued her search through the rack, sliding shirts over as she glanced at each one.

“What about this?” she asked, lifting up a sporty denim blue tee with a faded and cracked screen-printed logo on it.

“That'll do,” Lance said.

Adeline pulled the shirt off the hanger and threw it over to him, and he caught it in his hands.

“Sporty chic with a hint of college frat pledge,” Stephanie said. “So much better than simple black and the dressiness of a shirt with actual buttons.”

She turned up her nose as Lance removed the shirt he had on and lobbed it over to her, landing on her head.

“Gross, man sweat,” she said, throwing the discarded shirt toward Addy.

Addy caught the shirt in her hands and threw it in the hamper she used for dirty laundry, and when she turned around, she saw AJ and Justin walking into the room towards her, looking almost panicked.

“We've got a problem,” Justin said.

“What is it?” Addy asked.

“Mila,” AJ said.

“Playing a rousing game of tonsil hockey,” Justin continued.

“With Benji, the crew staff,” AJ finished.

Their attention aroused, Stephanie and Lance had stopped what they were doing to gather around the other three.

“Crap,” Addy said.