~~~~~*~~~~~

"That guy is bloody unbelievable!" Libby screamed as she burst into Clare's office that morning, slamming the door closed behind her. Clare looked up from her laptop screen and grimaced as the door rattled under the strain of her friend's anger.

One day she's gonna have that door off its hinges, Clare thought to herself.

Libby stomped across the room towards the couch under the window and flopped down onto it, folding her arms across her chest as she did so. She pouted and jutted out her chin as she met Clare's eyes.

Clare had seen this performance a thousand times before and so she already knew—without having to ask—who the 'guy' in question was. She saved the document that she'd been working on and gave her full attention to her friend.

"What's Dan done this time?" Clare asked, hoping that the explanation wouldn't take too long. She was already far behind on her workload as it was.

Clare and Libby had been friends for eight years; since Libby had been ten and Clare fourteen. They'd been born in the same town in England, and had grown up living in and out of each other’s pockets. When Clare had decided to emigrate to the United States a little over two years ago, Libby had needed little persuading to join her.

Thanks to their good fortune and some useful contacts in the business, both Clare and Libby had found themselves jobs working for the record label RCA, which had a base in Orlando, Florida. Both women worked in the department that ran the fan clubs for the local groups signed to the label—most particularly the group *NSYNC.

Although she considered herself to be very fortunate to have stumbled into such a high profile position, Libby was aware that she was still young and inexperienced for her role. To make up for what she considered to be her weaknesses she was taking a part–time course at the University of Central Florida, majoring in Business Management. Libby hoped that these skills would one day help her to work her way up to a higher position at the label.

Clare on the other hand was one–hundred percent focused on her job. She was very hard–working and often put in more hours than were required for her position. Clare was determined to make her move to the United States a success, and to prove to herself that she'd made the right decision to leave her home and her family behind in the UK.

"Isn't breathing enough?" Libby snapped in answer to Clare's question.

Clare pondered her friend's words for a moment before pushing the desk chair out from underneath herself and getting to her feet. She made her way over to the couch where Libby was sitting and hunched down so that she was at her friend's eye level. It wasn't a very comfortable position, but Clare felt that a little discomfort would be worth tolerating if she could offer her best friend some support.

"Tell me what he's done," Clare said as she met Libby's eyes. "It might help to talk about it?"

Libby chewed down on her bottom lip. She didn't find it easy to talk to Clare about her issues with her boyfriend. Although they were best friends and usually shared everything, Libby felt that opening up about her relationship problems would end up reflecting badly on herself.

She and Dan had been fighting a lot recently, and the strain was beginning to show on her face. Her frayed nerves and hasty temper weren't helping much either, and she'd unwittingly been taking out her problems on those closest to her—most especially Clare.

Libby had met Dan, a personal trainer, at a nightclub where the girls and their friends often hung out socially after work. Dan was a very attractive and charming man, but he also had a quick temper and an even worse reputation with women. Like many before her, Libby had been flattered by his attentions and had fallen into the age–old trap of thinking that she might be the one to change him and tame his wild ways.

With the way things were going, it didn't look likely.

The more Libby pushed, the more Dan pulled away, and even though they'd been dating for almost six months, Libby still felt as though she hadn't yet gotten to know the real Dan.

Unlike Libby, Clare hadn't liked Dan from the start. She hadn't been impressed with his grand romantic gestures, and she'd realised pretty early on that he had no substance behind a lot of his promises and declarations of love.

Because of Libby's feelings for Dan, Clare hadn't given voice to her doubts over her friend's relationship. But, now that she'd begun to witness the effects that the toxic relationship were taking on Libby, Clare was finding it harder and harder to keep her mouth shut.

Libby seemed to somehow be able to overlook Dan's domineering and selfish behaviour—which he'd begun to display pretty early on after the 'honeymoon period' had worn off. She'd stood by him despite her gut instinct constantly trying to persuade her that he wasn't worth the effort that she was putting into the relationship. Now that their arguments were becoming an almost daily ritual, Libby was slowly coming around to the realisation that she'd wasted a good six months of her life on a man that she now found barely tolerable.

"I don't think I can talk about it at the moment," Libby admitted honestly in a shaky voice. "I can't even say his name aloud without wanting to rip his head off and stuff it so far up his ass that he's digesting it for weeks."

Clare smirked at her friend's choice of words. Dan wasn't the only one with a fiery temper.

"Is there anything I can do?" Clare asked as she reached across to rest a comforting hand on one of Libby's shoulders.

Libby gave her a weak smile in return. "Thanks, but I don't even think there's anything that I can do."

Clare nodded gravely and kept her eyes fixed on Libby's face. Although she was partially relieved to hear that her friend was finally admitting to herself that her relationship wasn't working, Clare still didn't like seeing her so upset.

As she carefully chewed over what to say next, Clare recognised the sound of footsteps approaching from the corridor outside of her office, closely followed by loud, raucous conversation. Clare realised in dismay that her office was about to be invaded.

Standing quickly so that she wouldn't draw unnecessary attention to Libby, who was quickly trying to compose herself after having also heard the noise, Clare took a deep breath to prepare herself for what was about to happen.

Less than a minute later, the office door once again burst open and the five members of *NSYNC traipsed inside without waiting for permission to enter. They were all talking over each other and were completely unaware of the private moment that they'd just interrupted.

At the sound of their arrival, Libby quickly averted her face and began to dab at her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. She didn't want anyone but Clare to know that she'd been crying. Libby hoped that the members of the group would be too distracted by their conversation to notice.

Clare gave Libby's shoulder another quick squeeze before making her way back across the room to her desk. Reaching her laptop, Clare realised that it had fallen into a dormant state from having been left unattended for so long, and so she nudged a few of the keys with her fingers to bring it back to life before sitting down in her chair.

Clare was annoyed that the men had burst in so abruptly. She'd spoken to them on earlier occasions about knocking before entering but they still didn't seem to be getting the message. Clare was frustrated as Libby had seemed so close to admitting that she was unhappy in her relationship. It would have been a huge step forward for the younger woman, and Clare had hoped that once Libby had admitted the truth to herself that she might find the confidence to finally kick Dan out of her life for good.

It wasn't the first time that Clare had wished that she'd had a lock fitted on her door.

Struggling to keep her face a mask of discretion, Clare did her best to ignore the five men as they began to make themselves comfortable in the now cramped space. She tried to fight the smile that threatened to emerge on her face, but failed miserably. She couldn't help it—there was something about the group of them together that made her want to grin like a goof whenever they were around her.

Clare and Libby's jobs involved working very closely with the members of the group. They were based at the 'Compound', as it was known, which was owned by the group's manager, Johnny Wright.

Although it looked like a large ranch style house from the outside—with pale grey walls, white windows, and wide sloping red roofs—the Compound's appearance was actually deceiving. It was the central hub for all the work that went into *NSYNC, and where the group spent most of their time both professionally and socially.

The Compound had been set up to be a place for the group to hang out as well as a place for them to work. It was—as Johnny liked to call it—a 'home away from home' where the artists could write, record their music, rehearse and relax in a safe and private environment.

In the grounds of the Compound was a huge lake which was covered in lily pads, an outdoor basketball and volleyball court, a small putting green—which one of the members of the group was obsessed with—and a swimming pool with nearby Jacuzzi.

Inside, the building was split into two levels. The first level contained the rehearsal spaces, a choreography room, three recording studios, a movie theatre, offices and a games room with its own state of the art bowling lane. Upstairs there were more offices—including those used by the senior management, and Johnny Wright himself—plus a fully equipped weight room.

Although both Clare and Libby worked with other artists under the RCA label, their main responsibilities were to *NSYNC. Clare handled the general day–to–day running of the group's fan club, whilst Libby was responsible for their website.

In the eighteen months that they'd worked with the group, Libby and Clare had become very friendly with the members of the group. They often spent time with them both inside and outside of work, and Clare considered them all to be her friends. There was one person, though, who she considered to be a slightly better friend than all the others...

"Don't you know how to knock anymore?" Libby suddenly spat, breaking through Clare's train of thought and bringing her back to the present. Clare watched as Libby shot daggers at the youngest member of the group as he made himself comfortable beside her on the couch.

Justin Timberlake was 6'1" with bright blue eyes and curly hair that he hated with a passion. He spent a lot of his time fussing over it and trying to change it to better suit his tastes. Therefore it was now clipped close to his head and dyed an eye wateringly white blonde.

Justin was popular with the female fans of *NSYNC—thanks to his youthful good looks, cheeky personality and the fact that he was the joint lead singer of the group—but being only eighteen years old, he also had an immature streak that often got him into trouble.

Justin was kept—kindly but firmly—under control by the older members of the group and his mother, who had bought a house in Orlando so that she could be close to him. Although Justin would never admit it out loud he was a complete mummy's boy, and loved having her around even if it did occasionally cramp his style.

Justin stared at Libby in surprise for a moment before a smirk appeared on his face. "Woo–hoo! 'Sup with you, Sniper?" He sniggered as he nudged Libby in the ribs with his elbow and raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

Although it wasn't always obvious, Justin and Libby had a very close friendship. They shared a very similar sense of humour and a love for practical jokes that often got them into hot water with their friends. As they were so similar they had the ability to wind each other up the wrong way. When they did fall out—which happened regularly—it was usually very dramatic and involved lots of name calling and sulking.

Justin's pet name for Libby—Sniper—was due to her resemblance to the sharp–shooting marksmen. When provoked or angry, Libby retaliated sharply with a biting, sarcastic retort that could leave her target reeling. Justin often found himself to be in her firing line.

"I'm so not in the mood for you right now, Timberlake!" Libby sneered at Justin before jumping to her feet and stomping across the room to the exit. As a parting gesture she slammed the door closed behind her and Clare once again cringed at the sound.

"Jeez, what’s eating at her?" Chris asked Clare as he sat in the now vacant seat on the couch.

Christopher Kirkpatrick was twenty–seven years old, and looked the least likely to be a member of a boy band. Due to his pronounced childish streak, he was often mistaken for the youngest rather than the oldest member of *NSYNC. Out of all the members of the group, Chris was the most outgoing. He was also pretty much up for anything, which the record label tried to use to their advantage. They'd currently convinced him to grow his shoulder length hair into dreadlocks, which they'd hoped would give him—and the group—an edge. Chris didn't mind and the style seemed to suit him.

"Can't you guess?" Clare asked as she loaded up her word processor document once again and resumed typing. Although she was trying to focus, her concentration was split between her work and the group's conversation.

"It's something to do with Dan, isn't it?" Lance asked from across the room.

Lance Bass was the people watcher of the group, and although he occasionally tended to be overlooked amongst the more dominant personalities of *NSYNC, he still had lots to say. Lance was a very considerate and sensitive man, and was very good friends with his band mate, Joey.

"Yes," Clare replied without looking up. The last thing she wanted was for the members of *NSYNC to think that she hung off of their every word.

Clare subtly hit the 'tab' and 'alt' keys on the laptop keyboard causing the document that she'd been working on to become minimised behind another that she'd opened. "Sounds like they've had another fight," she said.

"The guy's a jackass," Joey muttered as he shook his head.

Joseph Fatone—better known as Joey—was the comedian of the group. He was always cracking jokes and trying to make people laugh, whether or not he was successful. Joey came from a big, loud Italian family and so he was used to having lots of noise and laughter around him at all times. He was very touchy–feely, which occasionally got on his band mates nerves.

Joey's Italian roots were also responsible for him being awarded the title of 'ladies’ man' of the group, of which he refused to be ashamed. Fortunately, he had a good sense of humour, and so his repeated attempts to flirt with the women at the Compound were rebuffed with good graces.

"No, he's a double jackass," Justin corrected as he jumped to his feet and began angrily pacing the room. "He's done nothin' but treat her badly since the day they got together. She needs to kick that loser to the curb and get with a guy who'll treat her right."

Chris fought back a snigger. Justin's feelings for Libby were common knowledge to everyone except for Libby. Justin was too shy and too decent a man to get involved with a woman already in a relationship, but that hadn't stopped him from mooning over her around his band mates.

"What's it about this time?" JC asked Clare as he perched on the arm rest beside Chris.

Joshua Chasez—known to the group as JC—had blue eyes and short, dark–brown hair. He was a deep thinker, and although he wasn't the oldest member of the group, JC tended to take an unconscious paternal role over the other men. This had earned him the nickname of 'dad' amongst his friends.

JC's father had instilled into him that you treat people the way that you want to be treated, and they were words that JC lived by. His parents had brought him up to take care of the people around him and JC was grateful to them for making that a part of who he was.

"How am I supposed to know that, Shazam?" Clare asked using another nickname that JC occasionally went by. "You guys burst in here before she even had a chance to tell me."

Chris glanced sheepishly at JC and pulled a face. Neither of them had considered the fact that they might've been interrupting something when they'd turned up unexpectedly and they now felt bad for it.

After a few minutes a companionable silence filled the room and Justin finally stopped pacing and found a spot to lean against by the back wall. As usual his mind was completely occupied with thoughts of Libby.

Despite the fact that he cared about her deeply and only really wanted her to be happy, Justin couldn't help but hope that Libby's relationship might soon come to an end. He hoped that if she were once again single that he might find the courage to tell her how he felt about her. The timing had just never seemed right.

As Clare continued to tap away at her keyboard, Chris headed over to have a look at what she was working on as Joey and Lance joined JC by the couch.

"So... what are we up to today?" Clare asked quickly in a feeble attempt to distract Chris as she snidely pulled the top down on her laptop. She didn't want Chris—or any of them— to read a single word of the document that she'd been working on.

"I didn't know you kept a diary," Chris sniggered as he reached past Clare's shoulder to lift the laptop screen and tilt it in his direction. Clare playfully slapped his hands away in protest as her cheeks began to flame with embarrassment. Dammit, I should've known that his beady eyes would uncover my secret.

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Kirkpatrick," Clare retorted.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"What? I'm supposed to think of something that would be of interest to you just like that, am I?" Clare said, clicking her fingers to emphasise her point.

"Can you cook?" Joey asked randomly as he jumped into the conversation. Clare shook her head in amusement as Joey stared innocently back at her, awaiting her reply. There was only one subject that that held Joey's attention longer than the opposite sex, and that was food.

For once, Clare didn't mind the interruption as it gave her more time to prepare her defence.

"Trust you to be thinking of your stomach, super brain!" Lance said as he reached around the back of the couch to playfully slap the back of Joey's head. Realising that she wouldn't be able to continue her work until they had gone, Clare lifted herself from her chair and walked around the front of her desk to perch on the end. She'd decided to wait until the men had become bored and then she'd carry on with her work. Knowing how short Chris and Joey's attention spans were, Clare figured that it probably wouldn't take that long.

"Scoop, you know that if Joey isn't eating he's either thinkin' about food or he's talkin' about it," Chris chuckled.

"Yes, Joe," Clare said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "I can cook."

"So how comes in all the times we've been to your pad you've never once cooked for us?" Joey replied, clearly fishing for an invitation to dinner. He raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was an irresistible gesture but Clare was long immune to his charms.

"Because, dear Joseph, I would never cook enough. I know I'm used to catering for a large family, but with you on the guest list there'd be no food left for anyone else!"

The room erupted into laughter at Joey's expense and Clare allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction at the easy way she'd made her friends laugh. Joey, however, quickly moved on. Her words didn't dent his confidence in the slightest and he quickly changed tactics. He made his way over to Clare's desk and slipped into her now vacant chair. If she was gonna mess with him, then he was gonna mess with her.

"So what kinda things d'ya put in your diary, Giddy?" He asked with a grin as his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. Clare narrowed her eyes back at him as the smile tightened on her face. Oh, no...

Joey loved teasing Clare. It was the foundation of their friendship, and yet there was little that Clare could say to him—or him to her—that would cause actual offence. Their fondness for each other ran deeper than that.

Joey had been the creator of the nickname 'Giddy', secretly one of Clare's favourites, as she was always running about from one place to the next with seemingly endless energy. It was one of the things that helped Clare to fit in with the crowd of energetic, young males that made up *NSYNC.

"Funnily enough there is a reason why it's called a diary. To signify privacy. Privacy from the people you don't wish to have reading your inner–most thoughts. Therefore, if I were writing a diary—which I'm not—it still wouldn't be for your eyes."

"I'm pretty sure I saw my name on the screen just now," Chris added with a chuckle. Like Joey, Chris was another person who loved teasing Clare. She shot him a withering glare—she was aware that from where he was standing he probably had seen his name on the screen. Chris beamed back. He had her cornered, and they both knew it.

"What do you think that means?" Clare argued. "Nothin'. Not did–a–lee–squat. There are thousands of people called Chris all over the world and I know at least three of them."

"I don't care what you say," Chris replied with a laugh. "I know you wrote something about me in there, and judging by your pathetic attempts to blow me off the scent, I'm guessing it's something juicy!"

The men once again burst out laughing as Clare's face began to turn scarlet. Oh God, this is so embarrassing, she thought. Damn Chris and his quick, snooping eyes.

"Maybe I do," Clare replied calmly as she attempted to turn the attention back onto Chris to give herself a chance to gain some composure. She could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks and she knew that her face must look a real picture. "But I wouldn't get too excited if I were you. I only write about how hard it is to stop myself throwing my breakfast up every mornin' once I see your ugly mug."

Chris took the insult in good humour and allowed Clare her smug grin of victory. He'd back off—for now—but he'd keep the nugget of information about her diary stored away in his brain for another day. He wasn't about to let that go so easily.

"So am I in here?" Joey asked as he tilted the laptop towards himself and peered at the screen. A puzzled expression crossed his unshaven face as he realised that the computer had turned off. Clare chuckled.

"Automatic shut off, Joe," she replied smugly. "I think you'll find you need a six letter password to get past that screen. And do you know the password?"

"No," they said simultaneously.

Joey hesitated as he considered all the six letter words that Clare might've used for a secure password. He suddenly grinned when his own name flashed into his mind.

"Six letters? Then I am in here!" He beamed. He met Clare's eyes and began to spell out his guess. "J…O...S...E...P..."

"You wish!" Clare sniggered as she fought the panic that rose up in her chest at the thought of him guessing correctly. It was a long shot but not completely out of the realms of reality. It now seemed really obvious to Clare why it had been a bad idea to write her personal journal on her work computer.

"I bet we're all in there," JC said from across the room causing Clare's cheeks to flush and her heart to skip a beat. She didn't even need to turn her head to know who'd been speaking—she knew that voice better than anyone's.

"And who asked you?" Clare asked as she turned her head so that she could playfully narrow her eyes at him. JC flashed her a crooked grin and shrugged.

"I think JC is right, otherwise why would she be this defensive?" Lance added throwing in his own two cents.

Clare rolled her eyes. Great. Now they're all ganging up on me. Where's Libby when I need her?

"I think she writes about her secret fantasies in there," Chris teased as he watched Clare drag her eyes away from JC. Like Justin, Clare had no idea how indiscreet she really was about her feelings. Everyone knew that Clare liked JC. Even JC himself.

"Then you would be so wrong," Clare argued as she once again narrowed her eyes in Chris' direction. "You know, I've never considered you lot to be big–headed. I guess I've been totally wrong there, huh?"

Before Chris could come back with his usual sarcastic reply, the conversation was cut short by the shrill ringing of Clare's desk phone. She snatched it up out of the cradle in a smooth well practised movement and avoided Chris' eyes as she answered in her standard response.

Clare could never afford to answer her phone unprofessionally as the caller could be anyone from a colleague at the record label to a fan seeking a signed photograph of the group. It turned out to be a courtesy call from the two security guards who worked at the Compound. Although the building was located in a semi–rural part of Orlando, due to the growing popularity of the group it had begun to receive more and more unwelcome attention from fans.

As the members of *NSYNC spent quite a bit of time hanging around the Compound when not working, there was often a crowd of adolescent girls hanging around the gates hoping for a glimpse of their icons. Occasionally these young women made their way into the grounds, which led to them having to be escorted out by the security team. When this happened it was standard procedure for the fan club staff and the members of the group to be alerted.

"How many are there this time?" Clare asked as she rolled her eyes.

Clare found the reactions of the group's fans confusing and at times frustrating. She'd had moments of fan hysteria in her day, but she'd since grown up and now found it hard to comprehend why the fans thought that screaming and crying might possibly attract the attentions of a man who was most likely older—not to mention wiser—than they.

"That many?" Clare exclaimed as she flicked her eyes across the room between the five men whose focus was now entirely fixed on her. She tried to keep her face composed so as not to alarm them but the concern showed in her eyes. "I definitely gave you that list. Yes, I did. We went over this last week, remember? I've told you before that there's an order out for three out of the five of those girls. Yes, it has happened before. I gave you the paperwork so that this wouldn't happen."

Chris shot JC a warning glance but JC simply shrugged. He had the most laid–back attitude when it came to the fans. As far as JC was concerned the fans acted out of love, and even though that love could sometimes get a little crazy, he knew that their hearts were in the right place.

The term order was well known amongst the group. It stood for restraining order, which had unfortunately been taken out against a few of the group's more aggressive and determined fans. Sometimes extreme measures had to be taken to keep the members of *NSYNC safe.

In this instance, however, the girls in question just didn't seem to be getting the message. Not for the first time they'd managed to scale the perimeter gates and had been in the process of making their way across the lawn towards the main entrance of the Compound when they'd been apprehended by security. They were currently being held in the separate security building to await the arrival of the cops.

Finishing up the phone call, Clare slammed the receiver back down onto the cradle in a sudden fit of rage and let out a groan of frustration. Chris watched her with intensely worried eyes. He'd overheard enough of the conversation to know that something was wrong, but he wanted to hear it from Clare directly before he let his imagination run away with him.

Out of all the guys in the group, Chris had the hardest time dealing with the effects of his fame. When off stage he wished to maintain as normal a life as possible and be able to drop the persona of 'Chris from *NSYNC' and just be himself. He didn't think that this was too much to ask, and he relied on the security team to make this possible for him.

Chris absolutely loved his job and understood that in order to do what he loved he had to make certain sacrifices. However, the idea that breaches in security were possible made him feel very uncomfortable.

"I miss the days when you were nobodies," Clare half–joked as her mood took another nose dive. Now instead of finishing up the work that she was already behind on she'd have to make an unscheduled trip downstairs to sort out the situation. After all, fan related issues were primarily her responsibility to resolve.

"What was all that about?" Chris asked as he began chewing anxiously on a thumbnail. Although he was trying hard to quit, biting his nails was Chris' nervous habit and one that he was finding particularly hard to break.

"Do you remember those girls who almost tore Lance and Joey to pieces last year?" Clare asked him with a sigh.

Chris nodded gloomily. As if he could forget...

+ + +

The group had been performing in New York City that night. The crowd had been full of energy and after the show the guys had left the stage and headed straight round to their dressing rooms before the final instrumental section of the last song had finished—just like normal.

JC, Justin and Chris had all been changing into their own clothes from their stage outfits when they'd heard giggling coming from somewhere in the room. They'd been quick to conclude that they weren't alone.

Realising that if they undressed any further then they could be prosecuted for indecent exposure, JC, Justin and Chris quickly went about discovering the source of the laughter before escorting the three young women responsible out into the corridor outside.

Unfortunately, Joey and Lance had been delayed in leaving the stage and had arrived just as the three girls were being removed from the room. Seeing the unsuspecting pair the young women had pounced on them and tried their best to remove the men's clothes and jewellery in a frenzy of arms and hands.

Joey had clutched at his diamond encrusted Superman chain for dear life—it was his most prized possession—and had gotten a broken wrist for his efforts. Lance, trying his best to remain fully clothed, had received a broken arm and a nasty nosebleed before the girls had finally been hauled away by the venue's security team.

It had been an experience that the group hoped never to have repeated. And understandably it had left a considerable scar on all of their psyches.

+ + +

"Well, your friends have decided to pay us another visit," Clare explained as she let out a huff of annoyance. "I mean, what do those security guards actually do for their money? Sleep on the job?"

"That'd be my guess," Libby said quietly as she appeared in the doorway. She'd only caught the last part of the conversation but had understood in just those few words exactly what was going on. At her arrival Justin straightened his posture and flashed her a brief smile, which she failed to notice.

"What's happened?" Libby asked Clare.

"We've just had a visit from the NYC crazies," Clare explained as she made her way to the window. As her office was at the front of the building, Clare had a good view of the gated entrance and the car lot below, as well as the small, brick structure that the security team used as their base. It was the perfect location for spying.

Clare and Libby had a habit of making up pet names for the various groups of fans that they came in contact with through their jobs. They usually fell into several categories: the screamers, the criers, the grabbers, the obscene sign makers and—Clare's favourite—those who attended the group's concerts and public appearances in fancy dress. The NYC crazies fell into the last, and worst, of all of the categories—the nutters.

"What about the—"

"—restraining order?"

"Mm–hmm."

"It seems that someone forgot to print out my latest email update," Clare answered, her expression revealing her true feelings. She took her job very seriously and had little patience for others who didn't have a similarly strong work ethic to herself.

"I swear that's the third time this month those guys have messed up," Libby grumbled in response.

"Do ya' wanna come and talk some sense into these girls?" Clare asked her friend as a sudden twinkle appeared in her eyes. The thought of releasing some of her pent up anger in an appropriate setting filled her with glee.

"You betcha," Libby replied with a sideways grin. "I am in exactly the right mood for this today."

Before leaving the room together, Clare glanced over at Justin, who hadn't taken his eyes off of her friend since she'd reappeared. Libby was completely unaware of his stare, which had given him the opportunity to watch her without the fear of being caught looking.

Catching his eye, Clare smirked in amusement as his cheeks began to flush with embarrassment. "You know, if I'd have known before I took this job that I'd have to put my ass on the line to protect yours," she said, "I wouldn't 'ave taken it.’ Cause, in reality, you're really not worth it." She flashed him a sarcastic grin before heading out the door with Libby following close behind.

As he watched them leave, Justin rested his head back against the wall and let out an unhappy sigh. "Why does everyone have a problem with me today?" He asked no one in particular.

"Because you are the problem, little one," Chris replied with a teasing smile. Chris was a big fan of teasing Justin, too.

JC smiled fondly at the gloomy expression on Justin's face before turning his attention to more pressing matters. He stood up and made his way over to the window.

"I gotta see this," he admitted with a laugh.

In JC's opinion, Clare and Libby were two of the most harmless looking women that he knew, and he couldn't wait to see them ripping into the three burly security guards who worked at the Compound. It would certainly be entertaining.

"It could get ugly," Lance agreed as he joined JC at the window. Not too long after they were joined by a very glum looking Justin.

"Password... password... I need a password," Joey muttered from where he still sat in Clare's desk chair. He began rubbing his hands together mischievously as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down like a comic villain. "Erm... *NSYNC?"

Chris rolled his eyes behind Joey's back. "That's only five letters, dumbass."

"Not with the little star thingy," Joey remarked as he flipped his middle finger at Chris before typing his guess into the text box. After hitting the enter key with his third finger, Joey stared at the computer screen and waited. However, it wasn't long before the computer rejected his attempt, causing Joey's face to fall.

"Damn. Anyone else got any suggestions?"

~~~~~*~~~~~