Fall of 1995

Then

“Darren Dale, you’re nothin’ but a bully.”

16-year-old Lance Bass closed his eyes, letting out a sigh through his nose. He bowed his head slightly before twisting his body (and lifted a hand to shield his face from the setting sun) to watch Darren Dale lift a mason jar above his head, out of reach from his little sister, Jasmine Dale, and Annaleigh Carr who rounded out their group of friends. His laughter and the girls’ groans of frustrations floated across the land, echoing out over the water.

He slowly kicked his legs back and forth, churning up the mud and undergrowth in the murky pond water. Ripples stretched out across the pond before they dissipated. The lapping of the water against the rocks lining the edge of the pond kept Lance’s attention, spurned by the late summer breeze that rushed through his hair and slid across his bare chest and back.

“I am not, y’all are jus’ short.”

Lance pulled his legs up from the water, splashing the brown water onto the wooden deck. Water dripped down his legs and feet as he padded across the dock. It creaked under the weight of each footstep as he made his way towards his fighting friends, pausing to grab his pile of clothes that sat where the deck and the grass met. He shook out his jeans before jumping into them, pulling the waistband up to his hips before buttoning and zipping them. Any water that didn’t instantly get soaked into his jeans slid down his feet.

“D, just give ‘em the jar back,” Lance called as he made his way up the grassy hill of the Thomas land to reach his friends. He stuck his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and pulled his shirt down over his head. He pulled the hem of his shirt down to his waist before reaching up his hands to rub the water out of his hair.

“I just wanted to see what was in it,” Darren said, the grin never leaving his face as he lowered the jar from over his head. Lance slid his gaze over towards the mason jar and saw the brown tinged water shaking around in the jar, two tadpoles swimming around inside. “And, I’m not a bully.”

“No, you’re jus’ an annoyin’, stupid, big head,” Jasmine said, her nose wrinkling as she took the jar from him. She stuck her tongue out at him, acting more like a five-year-old than her actual age of fourteen years old, practically hugging the jar to her chest.

“Love you, too, Jazzy,” Darren replied as he lifted his hand to muss her stringy, dirty blonde hair. Jasmine rolled her eyes, before pushing his hand away.

“She’s right ‘bout the big headed part, Chippendale,” Annaleigh commented, her voice deadpan before giving him a sweet smile. She angled her head to the side, gathering her wavy brunette locks into a ponytail, Darren made a face at her before he rolled his eyes.

“We should be heading back,” Lance said interrupting before an argument would, undoubtedly, break out. Whether it was playful or real, he didn’t care.

He just didn’t want to have to spend the last few hours of the night on his last night in Clinton before flying out to Orlando, Florida to audition for a new a band. He led the way up the hill towards the house that sat on the top.

“Go get your empty glasses.” He stepped up onto the back porch before lifting his hand to knock on the screen door. He then reached for the handle and pressed his thumb into the button to release the latch and pulled it open. He braced the screen door against his back before pushing open the door into the house. “Mister Logan, we’re ready to go.”

Footsteps neared the back door and a middle-aged man appeared, tugging a cap down over his forehead. A graying mustache and bread combination stretched across his cheeks and thinned over his upper lip as he smiled. “Y’all have a good swim?” Logan Thompson asked as he patted his pockets for his keys.

“Yes, sir, we did,” Darren replied as he stepped up behind his friend, his big hands clutching four empty glasses of lemonade to his chest. “That and your sweet lemonade really helped us cool off. We thank ya kindly, sir.”

As summer slipped farther and farther into fall, Clinton, Mississippi changed from being hot and muggy into the cool crisp days and chilly evenings. Thunderstorms, which were once something the people in the city wouldn’t wish for as it would bring severe weather and threats of tornados, became fewer and far between and the cool weather was  a reprieve from the sweltering heat, saving the bottoms of every bare footed youth that dared to head outside in the first place.

And Mr. Logan Thompson would be wrapping up the days where he’d allow the kids in the neighborhood access to his property on the pond for an opportunity to cool off. Always armed with a welcoming smile and his famous lemonade, and a ride to anyone that wanted to head over right after church on Sundays, his property was the place to go during the summer. As the cool October days morphed into early, chilly nights in November and December, he’d wait to see if it got cold enough for the pond to freeze over for skating.

“Happy to oblige,” Logan replied, taking the glasses from him. “I don’ have much use for the pond myself. If it means ya kids have a safe way to cool off, jus’ come on by.” He quickly closed an eye in a wink. “Just be sure y’all sit and talk with me for a spell. Lance, I hear you’re shippin’ out tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir, first thing in the morning,” Lance said giving a short nod.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make us all mighty proud,” Logan replied, before stepping back from the door. “Y’all go ahead and get in the truck. I’ll just put these in the sink and meet y’all out front to take y’all home.”

“Thank you, Mister Logan,” Annaleigh and Jasmine chorused. Jasmine looped her arm through Annaleigh’s and the two girls started making their way around the side of the house.

“Wait up,” Lance called, pulling up on the waist band of his jeans, lifting the cuffs from the ground as he and Darren hurried after the girls. Their bare feet slapped against the cool earth as they hurried around the side of the house. Lance jumped from foot to foot as he hurried over the gravel before climbing up into the flatbed of Mr. Thompson’s truck where Annaleigh and Jasmine were already perched. “Here.”

He held his hand out towards Darren who grasped it with one hand, and grabbed the back of the truck with his free hand, pulling himself up onto the back of the truck, the added weight causing the whole vehicle to creak under his weight and gently rock from side to side before settling.

“See? Your big head is addin’ too much weight to the truck, Chippendale,” Annaleigh said, kicking out her leg, the tip of her foot into the center of his back.

“Better a big head than a big nose,” Darren replied as he pulled his feet up into the truck bed, pressing his back against the side.

Annaleigh let out a gasp, her hands flying up to cover her face. Her brown eyes widened as she turned to look over at Jasmine. “No, sweetie, no,” Jasmine instantly replied, calming her friend down, patting her leg. “You have a cute, button nose.”

“You have a cute, button nose,” Darren repeated in as high pitched voice as he could muster. He then wrapped his leg around Annaleigh’s ankle and started tickling the bottom of her bare foot.

“No!” Annaleigh shouted behind her hands before she burst out into high pitched laughter. She tried to pull her foot back from Darren, but he tightened his grip around her arm. “Stop. Stop!”

“The easiest way to get him back,” Lance said, leaning forward from where he sat, “is right here!” Lance prodded Darren in the side just above the base of his last rib. Darren let out a yelp, twisting away from Lance’s poke.

“Hey,” Darren said as he tried to bat Jasmine’s hands away from him with one hand, “whose side are you on?”

Lance just sat back and watched as Annaleigh and the Dale siblings got into a tickle fight. Only when his cheek muscles started to hurt did he realize that he was smiling. He relaxed the edges of his mouth when it suddenly hit him that this moment might be the last time he could spend with his friends for a long while. If things were to go well, anyway.

“Settle down, settle down, I don’t want none of y’all to fall out the back while I’m drivin’,” Mr. Thompson said as he walked over to his truck, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “Y’hear?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Logan,” Jasmine replied, giving a sweet smile. Living up to her nickname, Jazzy, she started talking faster and faster, her words running together. “We’re very sorry and we won’t do it again. Thank you so much for taking the time to drive us to and back from your lovely home, and thank you for allowing us access to your pond and—“

Lance slapped a hand over Jasmine’s mouth. “Thank you,” Lance said, wrapping up her run-on sentence.

“Happy to oblige,” Mr. Thompson replied, giving a sharp tug on the brim of his cap. “I’ll have y’all home in no time. Miss Carr, your place is closest.”

“Awwww,” Annaleigh groaned, crossing her arms over her chest, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

“And tell Miz Caroline, thank you for the sweet potato pie, and I’ll have her pie plate back to her as soon as I’m done,” Mr. Thompson said as he moved to get into the front of the truck.

“Yes, sir, I’ll be sure to let my momma know,” Annaleigh replied. Her upper lip curled just slightly as she smiled.

Mr. Thompson climbed into the front cab of the truck and slammed the door shut behind him. The truck bed shook as it roared to life and after two quick slaps on the outside of the truck from Lance’s hand, the automobile was put into drive and they were on their way home.

Lance braced his back against the side of the truck, crossing his arms over his chest. As the trees, power lines, and other cars went shooting past them with the wind on his wet head sending a slight chill through his body, he would briefly close his eyes and try to hold onto every image of Clinton in his head. His stomach started to twist a sour feeling coming into his mouth as it really started to sink in that his life would potentially be changed forever.

“You ok?”

Lance opened his eyes and looked over at Darren. “Just thinking,” Lance replied with a short nod of his head. “If things go well…we’ll still be friends, right? I mean, even if we don’t see each other for a while.”

“James Lance Bass,” Jasmine said, shaking her head back and forth, much like his mother would when she found him acting ridiculous. “Of course.”

“Yeah, we’re not gonna drop you just ‘cause you’re rich and famous,” Annaleigh replied, waving a hand in the air. She gave him a wicked grin, her eyebrows twitching upwards. “We’ll keep you ‘round just for free concert tickets and backstage passes.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” Lance let out a sarcastic laugh rolling his eyes. That’s what I’m afraid of.

He knew his friends well enough to not be those types of people, but it still made him worry. Clinton was a small town; despite him only telling select people about his audition, he knew it’d only be a matter of time before he would be considered the poster child of the city. Would people treat him differently? Not like the Lance they had watched grow up, but Lance the celebrity.

It was too much pressure for something that wasn’t a sure thing. Through Attaché, and Showstoppers, and Seven Card Stud, he had been complimented on his singing ability and told numerous times that his talents would take him far or that he was made to perform. He could admit that it went to his head sometimes but he never thought about anything else other than music and leaving Clinton. Only now he wasn’t sure if he was ready to leave.

“Lance, the only thing you have to worry about is Anal-Lee and I actually killing each other while you’re gone,” Darren said with a half smile. Annaleigh kicked him in the side a second time. “Of course we’ll still be friends. You have nothing to worry about.”

He held his hand out towards Lance and he leaned forward to slap Darren’s palm with his own, a smile of relief coming to his face.

Early Fall of 1999

Now

19-year-old Lance blinked opened his eyes, groaning against the bright yellow light of the sun that shone through his curtains. He lifted a hand to rub at his eyes as he pushed himself up into a seat position. The cool air in his room slid over his back, causing goose bumps to dot his skin as his sheets and blankets slipped off his body and pooled around his waist, exposing his bare skin.

He let out a yawn, lifting his arms up over his head in a stretch, feeling his sore muscles slide under his skin. A small groan of pain rumbled in his throat as he dropped his hands into his lap. As he lifted his hand to massage his shoulders, he took in the slight dishelved appearance of his room.

He was home.

Right in the middle of an *NSYNC tour where he had previously spent months constantly performing shows, he, Justin, JC, Chris, and Joey were able to get a few weeks rest and to forget about their looming court dates with Lou Pearlman. Their first order of business was to head home, see their families, and most importantly to get the sleep they’d been missing.

Lance dropped back onto his pillows before rolling his head to the side to look at the clock that sat on his dresser: 3:17pm. His eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the burning red numbers. He had been asleep for hours. He let out a sigh through his nose, sliding his hands up behind his head, lacing his fingers together. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before they snapped open when he heard a long, loud car horn right outside.

He sat up and threw his blankets off of his legs. Swinging his feet to the floor, he bent over and grabbed his abandoned jeans, sliding them up his legs and to his waist. After quickly buttoning and zipping them he headed over to his bag, shirts and pants spilling out of it and grabbed a clean t-shirt, pulling it over his head as he headed out his bedroom door and bounded down the stairs.

As he reached the bottom a bright yellow sticky note stuck to the back of the door caught his attention. His mother’s loopy handwriting covered the note. “Lance, doughnuts are in the fridge, your father and I will be home in the evening, please take out the ground beef for defrosting, love mom,” Lance read aloud, his deep timbre rough with sleep. He folded the note in his hand before stuffing it into his pocket.

He made his way into the kitchen and opened the freezer door, reaching for the package of ground beef. Lance used his shoulder to push the freezer door shut before padding across the kitchen to the sink. He heard the car honk a second time just before he turned on the faucet. He quickly put the stopper in the sink and allowed the water to fill halfway before turning it off and setting the packet in the water upside down.

Lance then hurried towards the front door, unlocked it, and pulled it open, spotting a familiar light blue truck sitting in the driveway. A smile blossomed on his face before he bounded down the porch stairs, carefully making his way down the small incline of his driveway to greet Darren as he climbed out of the car.

“Hey.” Lance gave Darren a quick hug in greeting before stepping back to get a good look at him. “Enjoying that Southern food, eh?” He reached out a hand and gently slapped Darren’s chest with the back of his hand. “You’ve bulked up.”

“You’ve been gone so long, ya don’ know how good the food’ll do ya,” Darren replied with a laugh, shoving Lance’s shoulder. “All that dancing

Lance clicked his tongue. “Shoot, mom did the whole ‘meat on your bones’ routine as soon as I got in,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t need it from you, too.”

“Would y’all stop yappin’ so we can welcome him back?” Jasmine asked with a huff of annoyance as she and Annaleigh climbed out of their hiding spot from the flat of Darren’s truck. She swung her leg over the side and climbed down. “Hey, stranger.”

“We have signs and everything,” Annaleigh added, following suit, the bottoms of her shoes slapping against the ground as she landed. She gave Lance a bright smile. “Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“It’s good to see you,” Lance said as he opened his arms to give the two girls a tight hug. “What are you guys doing here, anyway?”

“We’ve given you enough time to sleep,” Darren replied, nodding his head towards the truck. “Get in.”

“Yeah, we want to hear all about your tour, and everything with your manager,” Jasmine said as she looked up at Lance, her eyes shining with wonder and excitement. “I can’t believe he took that much money from you guys and after everythin’ you’ve done for him. It’s really unfair and y’all don’t deserve it. I mean you’re nice, sweet, and very handsome men who’ve done nothing but work hard for everything you deserve, but you didn’t deserve that—“

“He’s got the point, Jazz,” Annaleigh said, interrupting her friend and Logan laughed. She took a step back from Lance and brushed her hair back from her face. “Come on, we’re wastin’ day light.” She and Jasmine then climbed back into the back of the truck.

“Where are we going?” Lance asked.

“Wherever you want,” Darren replied as he reached behind him to pull open the driver’s side door. He braced his elbow on the window, placing his free hand on top of the steering wheel before reaching to turn on the truck. “You in or not?”

“Where are these signs?” Lance asked, stalling for time.

“You’re jus’ gonna have to come to see ‘em,” Jasmine called in a sing song voice.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Lance replied, making his way to the back of the truck. He braced his bare foot on the side, gripped the sides of the truck and easily lifted himself up and over. Lance settled into the back of the truck, pressing his back against the side of the truck. He reached out his hand and slapped the side of the truck. “Let’s roll.”

Darren gave a thumbs up from the truck cab before backing out of the driveway. Soon they were speeding down the main road, heading into the heart of Clinton, Mississippi. Lance closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath of the smoke-tinged fall Clinton air before blinking his eyes open, taking in everything they had passed.

He sure missed being home.