“So the whole world is watching Britney and Justin, Joey’s taken, and Lance and Chris are both single and taking resumes. So that leaves you, JC? Is there a special lady in your life?”

He caught Justin’s smirk out of the corner of his eye and said a silent prayer of thanks that the radio interview was a call-in and not taking place in-studio. He knew they were coming around to this topic, and that he probably wouldn’t get out of answering, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Thankfully, the DJ couldn’t see the expression on his face.

He’d still not taken Justin’s advice to have an honest conversation with Casey, and the more time passed the more it seemed unlikely to happen. She was a little quiet sometimes, seemingly deep in thought about things he could only guess at, but other than that things were great between the two of them. And as for the way she acted with him in public, the tour schedule as of late had left them with little time for any sort of public outings so it no longer seemed like such a big deal.

Or maybe, a little voice spoke up in the back of his head, he was just being a coward.

After making a face at Justin, he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, I’m seeing someone.”

“That’s vague,” the DJ snickered. “What’s her name? Do we know her?”

JC chuckled nervously. “She, uh, you know, she’s got her own thing going on and she wants to stay out of the craziness of what I have going on so...”

“So it won’t be a thing like Britney and Justin then?” the DJ quipped. “She’s not like, Angelina Jolie or some other mega superstar actress, is she?”

“She’s not Angelina Jolie or an actress,” JC laughed. “And no, it won’t be a thing like Britney and Justin.” That was, he thought, hopefully not too close to a lie. For what it was worth, no matter how public they ever became, he couldn’t picture Casey ever stopping to pose on red carpets holding hands with him.

“But it’s hard right? Because it’s not just a normal long distance relationship,” the DJ continued. “Because normally you could just fly to wherever she is, or she could fly to you. How do you guys handle the distance when you’re touring and all of that?”

“JC handles it really well actually,” Chris offered with a straight face.

JC flipped him off as Lance answered the question. “Lots of phone calls, and emails, and text messages. Technology definitely makes things easier nowadays.”

“Yeah,” Joey interjected, “and you know, you grab a flight when there’s a couple of days off. You have to be creative to make it work, but you do it when it’s important.”

JC had found some creative workarounds to the distance with past girlfriends, but he was glad to not have to deal with it. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be in a relationship with someone who was regularly in his vicinity. He smiled to himself, relaxing as the DJ took the interview in a different direction.

***

Every few days Christoff handed Casey a few large bundles of letters and cards and packages. She never gave much thought to how whomever handled her fan mail made sure it got to whichever hotel they were staying in, but she liked that it reached her. Reading and responding to fan mail was one of her favorite ways to pass the hours on the road.

The package she’d gotten that morning hadn’t come through Christoff. It had been couriered straight to her at the hotel which meant whoever sent it knew where she was staying. That fact was maybe a little bit weird, and somewhere in the back of her mind it registered and lodged there. But she came just short of processing it. Besides, the rectangular brown paper package was intriguing.

She turns it over in her hand, noticing there’s no return address. Her curiosity is piqued and she begins to unwrap it, ripping the packaging but being careful not to damage what’s beneath it. It’s a book of sorts, spiral bound with no title on the cover. She flips through a few pages and an index card falls out. She recognizes his handwriting immediately. Small, neat, straight lines that look as if he used a ruler to shape his letters. She reads the note, unease growing in her stomach.

Casey I wanted you to read it first. You know, make sure I got everything right. And you know what they say: all publicity is good publicity.

Her heart pounds a staccato rhythm she can feel all the way in her throat and her fingers are trembling. The first page is about him. Who he is. Where he’s from. How he came to do what he does for a living. The writing is awkward, filled with punctuation errors and fragmented sentences. But still, she reads on.

She flips forward, skimming, stopping when she sees her name. He’s detailed when they met the first time. When they met again after that. How she went home with him.

Her breath comes in dry gasps as everything around her darkens. All she can see are black words on off-white pages.

It’s all there in explicit detail. Except not really, because the details, while gratuitously explicit, aren’t remotely accurate.

He’s detailed things she never did. Things she never let him do. And she wasn’t the pursuer. Which is how he’s made it sound. Like she chased him down. Never mind the fact that he’s significantly older than her and way more experienced. Was twenty five to her eighteen. But he was insistent and she was flattered. And newly eighteen. But according to these filthy words she was the seductress who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She flips forward twenty or so pages. But it’s more of the same. Forty or so more. And it’s how she liked to have sex more than he did. How she was insatiable. How she especially liked doing it in almost public places, where other people could possibly hear or see her. How she likes it rough, bordering on sadism.

The more pages she goes through, the more lies she reads. He talks about the rappers she’s sung for, and the ones who’ve guested on her tracks. He doesn’t come right out and say it, but the implication that she likely fucked all of them is strong. Fucked them for tracks.

Some pages after that he describes how distant she became, all of a sudden. How unavailable she is. And how she’s hanging around with Justin Timberlake all of the time. After soundchecks. Before shows. And several nights after concerts, she never makes it back to their shared hotel room. Suggests that she had to be sleeping somewhere, but maybe Justin would know more about that.

But it’s all lies. All complete and utter fabricated bullshit.

She drops the manuscript, fingers shaking so badly she can’t hold it anymore. And she’s cold. Teeth-chatteringly, bone-numbingly frigid. And her clothes feel too constricting and the air feels too thick and her head is swimming.

She slides her back along the wall, lands in a seated position, and stares at the offending pages a few inches in front of her.

Now comes the nausea. It’s huge and overpowering and filling her nostrils as well as her throat. She scrambles to the bathroom, drops to her knees in front of the toilet, and dry heaves for the next ten minutes. Nothing comes up but her stomach is cramping and her head is hurting something fierce.

She forces herself to breathe. Slow and steady. In. 1-2-3-4-5. Out. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10.

When she’s positive she won’t lose the lunch she hasn’t even yet eaten, she picks herself up off the floor and carefully makes her way over to where her bag is near the door.

“Dara!” She’s yelling as soon as her manager’s voice sounds on the other end of the line. “I have to...we have to...Now. He can’t--”

“Casey, calm down,” Dara is saying. “What’s wrong? What happened? I’m sending a car for you.”

The offices of Hammond Management occupied a chunk of the thirtieth floor of a downtown Los Angeles high rise. As promised, Dara had sent a car to pick Casey up from her hotel, and the younger woman had arrived with the manuscript. As Dara read, Casey alternated pacing the immaculately designed office, pausing in front of the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows which offered a spectacular view of downtown, and muttering expletives under her breath.

“He can’t do this, can he? He can’t possibly.” She turned and walked the length of the dark mahogany floor in the other direction. “It’s not even fucking true!”

Dara flipped through the book once more before setting it on the glass table in front of her. “Casey,” she began mildly, “first of all, calm down. You’re angry and you have every right to be, and I’m angry too. But calm down, OK? Because I don’t need you to react and do something--”

“Fuck me!” Casey swore, before collapsing onto the oval-shaped couch on the other side of the coffee table. “Fuck! I was so motherfucking stupid.” She raked at her hair violently, causing various strands to stick up and out and every which way. She inhaled and exhaled sharply, shaking as she tried to sort through her emotions.

“Casey, please. You have to calm down,” Dara repeated.

“Fine,” Casey muttered, fingers clenched so tightly she may have been drawing blood. “I’m calm.”

Dara eyed her client skeptically for a moment before standing and striding purposely toward her desk. “I’m going to call Jeff first so we can figure this out, OK?” She picked up her Blackberry and began pushing buttons.

Casey sighed at the mention of her business attorney. “If you need to call Jeff it’s serious.” She hunched over, cradling her head in her hands. “He can’t do this, Dara.This can’t come out. My parents, my brother...they can’t know anything about this. My career will be over. I’ll be a joke and a...a…” Her eyes were red-rimmed, face stricken.

Dara set the device back on the desk and came back over to Casey, sitting down next to her. “Tony isn’t going to do anything,” Dara said resolutely. “You have my word on that. You’ve worked too hard for that son of a bitch to come in and destroy it.”

Despite the roiling in her stomach, Casey couldn’t help but crack a smile. She had no idea son of a bitch was in her manager’s verbal repertoire.

Dara patted her leg comfortingly. “Casey, it’s my job to protect your career, and I’m going to do that. I know it’s easier said than done, but try to relax. You don’t have a show tonight so enjoy your time off and try not to think about this.”

Casey sighed again. “I’ll try.”

“There’s one more thing,” Dara said slowly, sitting up straight.

“What’s that?” Casey eyed her manager cautiously.

“I think you and JC should keep a low profile for a while longer, just in case.”

Casey let her head fall back against the couch and groaned. “What’s lower than non-existent? Thanks to being sick the other day, I missed out on going with him to the Blockbuster Awards. We haven’t been out in public alone in a couple of weeks. And we also haven’t made it public that we’re together--which he’s none too pleased about, by the way. What else is there?”

Dara tapped the spiral-bound book. “Right now, everything Tony says about you and Justin can be chalked up to the jealousy of a spurned lover. And since it’s not true, there’s no proof. But all it takes is one picture of you and JC together--even an innocent one, one person’s eye-witness account of the two of you acting in a way that’s more than platonic and suddenly, what he’s saying maybe has some merit. And maybe this book, which no one cares about at this point, becomes more interesting.”

Casey rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Dara continued. “Maybe you should tell JC about the book.”

“No,” Casey said swiftly.

“If he knows about the book, he--”

“There’s no way in hell I’m telling him about that book, Dara!” Casey interrupted heatedly.

“But if he knows about it,” Dara persisted, “he’ll understand why it’s important for you to continue to keep the details of your private life very private--”

“I’m not telling him,” Casey repeated stonily. “You said you’re going to take care of it, so I shouldn’t have to, right?”

Dara sighed. “I am going to take care of it. But I still think, since he’s your boyfriend and all, you should be honest with him.”

Casey grunted. “Nothing about that book is honest so not saying anything is probably the better option in that case.”

Dara raised an eyebrow and stood up again. “I’m going to call Jeff now. The car’s waiting for you downstairs. I’ll be in touch before you leave the city.”

Casey nodded and stood. “OK, thanks. Dara, just…” She trailed off.

“We’re going to make sure Tony’s filth doesn’t ever see the light of day,” Dara replied calmly. “I promise.”

***

Casey trudged down the hall to her room with leaden steps. She’d splashed cold water on her face before leaving Dara’s office, and she hoped it was good enough to mask the fact that she’d been crying. She was pissed at herself for crying in the first place; even while understanding that her tears were borne out of frustration, they made her feel weak. Everything about every part of her relationship with Tony had always made her feel weak, and she hated the fact that he still elicited that response in her.

While she knew that Dara’s word was as good as gold, what ifs plagued her mind. What if he managed to publish the piece of shit pseudo-book? Even with all of the piss poor grammar and misspelled words, it was salacious, and people loved salacious. What if people believed it?

It would, she thought with a bit of macabre humor, solve the issue of JC wanting to publicly acknowledge their relationship. She rolled her eyes. There was no way his manager or their shared label would let the squeaky clean member of the squeaky clean boyband admit to being in a relationship with the whore of Babylon. And if that book got out, she was moderately sure that was what people would think of her.

If he even wanted to continue in a relationship with her.

Perhaps, she thought bitterly, AnaBeth’s surprise visit two nights ago had been perfect. If she and JC broke up, at least there was someone waiting in the wings to make sure he wasn’t too distracted by loneliness.

She plastered a smile on her face and slipped her keycard out of the front of her hoodie and into the lock. It flashed green as she pulled it out. She turned the handle and pushed the door open.

“Hey!” JC called. “I was wondering where you--” He stopped short and looked at her. “What’s wrong, Casey?”

Still grinning brightly, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Nothing.”

After a brief kiss he pulled back. “You’re lying; I can tell you’ve been crying. What happened?”

She made a face and walked away from him to plop down onto the bed. “Nothing happened. I’m fine.” She used the remote to turn on the TV and flipped through channels until he stood in front of her. She glared at up at him. “What?”

JC crossed his arms over his chest and glared right back down at her. He’d been prepared to let it go, was fully planning on it. If she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that keeping her up nights, whatever it was that had her whispering with her manager backstage, he would pretend not to notice and let it go. But the expression on her face, the one she’d tried to hide behind a smile, prevented him from being able to do that.

“What did Tony do?” he asked. The steadiness of his voice belied the nervousness he felt at bringing it up so bluntly.

Casey’s eyes widened and she stared back at him wordlessly.

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t have anything to do with him, either. I heard Dara telling you backstage to let her worry about him. What was she talking about?” He pushed his hair back and knelt down in front of her, bracing himself on the edge of the bed. “I really wish you would trust me enough to be honest with me.”

His blue eyes gazed into her brown ones intently, as is if he could find the answers he wanted there. As she stared back at him nakedly, he was certain that she was afraid of something. But just as quickly as the emotion flashed on her face, she became guarded again and her expression turned unreadable. And he knew, before she even opened her mouth, that whatever came next would not be entirely true.

“I do trust you.” With soft sigh Casey dropped the remote to the side and leaned forward, placing her hands on JC’s shoulders. “What you heard backstage a few nights back was nothing. I asked Dara if he’d given anymore radio interviews like the one in Detroit and she told me not to obsess over him and to let her handle it.

“And I guess I have been a bit. Obsessing, I mean. Just, you know, what he said about Justin and me. If that got out, half your fans would hate me on general principle and the other half would hate me for being a homewrecking whore on account of him and Britney.” She shrugged as a nervous chuckle escaped her lips.

“But what if,” JC began softly, “it gets out that Justin isn’t the one you’re involved with? That the only member of *NSYNC you’ve ever been involved with is me. Then Tony’s exposed as the liar he is, and we can stop hiding.”

She blinked a few times before looking away from him. “We’re not hiding, JC. The people who count, know about us. And the people who don’t know, don’t count. And as for Tony…” She shook her head and scowled. “Fuck Tony.”

She cupped JC’s face between her hands and touched her nose to his. “Do you remember back in...I don’t know, I think we were in Texas. We were planning to go out as like our first official date, but we ended up eating in the restaurant downstairs in the hotel?”

He remembered the night in question as well as the restaurant, but what he remembered most fondly was the pale yellow lingerie she’d worn. It was the first time he’d seen her in it and it had immediately become one of his favorites.

He smirked and kissed her. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Let’s do that again,” she said.

“Hmm, do you mean the part in the mirror or…?”

She giggled and kissed him again. “We can’t go out, but what if we make reservations for the restaurant downstairs tonight? It’s been awhile since we hung out alone, outside of a hotel room. We can pretend to be a normal couple for a couple of hours.”  

JC nodded and decided to, for the moment, push thoughts of Tony and the previous conversation to the back of his mind. “I think that’s a great idea.”