I’m running late. I never run late but for some reason, I just couldn’t muster up the stamina to drag myself from my fluffy hotel room sheets this morning, misery and frustration willing me to hide away under the covers.
I had gotten a very brief call on my cell last night before bed from my friend Marta, fellow graduate student and one of the lucky three to make it to the dig in Greece. She had quickly described the landscape and the living quarters and the expansive plain just waiting to be dug into. I had gone to bed dreaming of Grecian temples and bronze statues and woke up to the alarm clock glaring eight forty-five and I was supposed to be at the arena at nine.
I breeze past security, flashing my nifty little lanyard and stagger my way into the arena. Fuck, I need some coffee. It’s pretty dark and I stumble a little over cords, squinting at the five figures on the stage.
“So now we’re sitting on the steps for the acapella section of ‘I Drive Myself Crazy?’” one of them asks a man on the floor, voice coming loudly through a microphone.
“Yes,” the man responds. All five figures plop onto the four large steps leading up to the section of the stage where the band is set up. “Okay guys, let’s try this again.”
I yawn bringing myself forward, the darkness of the room not helping my sleepiness at all. My foot catches on a thick cable and I’m going down. I close my eyes, waiting for my body to hit the concrete, but instead I feel strong arms under my ribs, holding me up. I open one eye and look up, finding myself in the arms of a very handsome man, looking down at me amusedly from under long lashes.
“Whoa there,” he says, his voice slightly raised because the group has started singing and I snap out of it, pulling my feet under myself and gaining some composure.
“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, situating my book bag more firmly on my shoulders and he just grins at me. Shit, he’s good looking.
“No worries,” he says, and grabs a Styrofoam cup from the ledge of the sound booth we’re standing next to. “Looks like you need this more than me.”
He hands me the steaming cup of coffee and I smile appreciatively, holding out my free hand. “Skylar,” I say, taking a sip, but keeping my eyes on him as he reaches out to grip my hand, firmly. I love a man with a good handshake.
“Khefren,” he says and my eyes widen a little, bringing the cup down from my lips.
“Khefren?” I ask, smiling at him. “As in the Egyptian pharaoh?”
His eyes widen a little and he laughs nodding.
“Yes,” he says, his smile widening, crinkling around the eyes. “Not many people know that. They just think I have a weird name.”
“Well, they went back to the original Egyptian name for him several years back,” I say, sipping my coffee again.
“You’re the art history tutor, aren’t you?” he asks and I laugh.
“That obvious, huh?”
He says something but I can’t quite hear him as the band kicks in behind the vocals and I have to lean forward as he repeats what he said into my ear.
“A little,” he shouts and then leans back smiling at me and I smile back, noticing a slight dimple in his cheek.
“So what do you do?” I ask and he quirks an eyebrow, leaning in again and I repeat my question.
“Oh I’m a front of house engineer,” he says, turning to say the words into my ear, his cheek brushing mine slightly. I have to fight my giddy smile. “I’m responsible for what the audience hears, and my buddy Dale back there,” he points to a man standing behind the soundboards, who waves when he sees us looking, “is the monitor engineer. He deals with all the mics and in-ear monitors.”
I nod my head enthusiastically, smiling widely, trying to convey interest and he laughs. Jeez, he has a great laugh; it really just lights up his face.
“You don’t care about any of this, do you?”
“No, it’s good to know what’s going on!” I exclaim and he gives me a smile that says he doesn’t believe me. Shit, I don’t care if he believes me or not; he’s smiling at me again.
“So would you maybe wanna go get some lunch later?!” he yells, but the music cuts off as soon as he starts speaking so his words echo into the arena.
All eyes are on us and I laugh a little turning towards the back of the arena in embarrassment. He chuckles discomfited and whispers “smooth Khefren” and I laugh out loud, smiling at him. Maybe this summer isn’t going to be a complete drag after all.
“Okay guys let’s take a break. Meet again in an hour,” the man on the floor is saying and I watch the five band mates make their way off the stage.
“Time for me to go to work,” I say, and smile back at him. “Nice meeting you, Khefren.”
He gives me a bashful, closed lipped smile, waving good bye to me as he turns to Dale. I turn away, smiling softly to myself. Yes, this could be a very nice reprieve from the hell of babysitting that boy band brat.
Speaking of which, I’m walking down the hallway, finding my way back to the room that I had met Justin in the day before, loud laughter guiding me. I stand in front of the closed door marked “Nsync Toy Room” and knock gently. A muffled “come in” bids me enter and I open the door on a scene very similar to yesterday.
“Well, well, well,” one of the guys says, pulling himself from the couch. He’s taller than me and bearded with short brown hair, and a warm smile. “You’re Justin’s teacher?”
“Yes, I am,” I say, smiling slowly as he takes my hand smoothly in his, stepping close to me.
“I’m Joey, Single, Aquarius,” he says smiling cheekily at me and I can’t help but giggle at his charm. “What’s your sign, darlin’?” he asks and I hear the guys behind him snigger.
I smile sweetly at him and reply. “No entry.”
A chorus of “oh’s” follows my response and he laughs good naturedly, ushering me into the room.
“Allow me to introduce, Mr. JC Chasez, Leo, also single” Joey says, and a tall, sleepy looking man with high cheekbones and blue eyes that are discernable from across the room gives Joey a condescending look and me a small wave.
“How’s it going,” he says and I smile back at him, giving him a nod.
“Mr. Chris Kirkpatrick, Libra, and you guessed it, also single.” Joey says, gesturing to a short man with a beard and a high braided ponytail, who waves at me enthusiastically and I laugh a little, waving back
“Mr. Lance Bass, Taurus, wait for it,” Joey says covering his eyes with his hand and I can’t help but laugh, and neither can the stocky young man with a baby face and blonde spiky hair as he gives me a tight lipped smile and a short wave, “Single!”
Joey plops himself down next to Justin, who’s leaning tiredly against the arm of one of the couches. Joey throws an arm around him and Justin cuts his eyes at the older man before rolling his eyes.
“And you know our wittle Justin,” Joey says pinching his cheek, Justin scowling and slapping his hand away. “Aquarius and-”
“Lemme guess,” I say cutting him off and smiling wryly. “Single?”
“Well, I was gonna say virgin, but single works,” Joey says, hooking Justin’s head under his arm and giving the younger man a noogie.
“Fuckin’ stop Joe!” Justin exclaims, pushing the other man’s hands away from him, his own hands flying to his head and manically messing with his curly hair as he grumbles, “and I am not a fucking virgin.”
“Hey J?” Chris says with a sly glance at the other men around him. “Curl number 734 is out of place.”
“Shut up asshole,” Justin scowls, flattening his hand over his head nervously.
I giggle along with the rest of the chuckling guys and the young man reddens considerably before crossing his arms over his chest and huffing a perturbed sigh.
“Come on Justin,” I say, tilting my head towards the door. “Let’s get started.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks and the smile slips from my face. There goes my sunny disposition. “I just spent the last two hours dancing my ass off and now I have to study during my break!”
“Yes,” I say flatly and point toward the door, vowing to hold my temper in check and keep a firm grip on my good mood, Khefren’s smiling face floating through my mind.
“This is fucking bullshit,” I hear him mutter, pulling himself off the couch.
“Don’t forget your book, man,” JC says, lifting the heavy volume off the table with one hand and passing it to him. “Jeez, that’s heavy.”
“I fucking know!” Justin exclaims, snatching it from him and walking with me to the door.
We both make a move to go through and just like yesterday, he rolls his eyes and brushes past me, leading me down the hall and into the dressing room. He drops the book loudly on the vanity, bending over it to fix his hair in the mirror, his bottom lip sticking out as he fluffs at his curls with his fingers.
“Okay Justin, prehistoric art,” I say, pulling up a swivel chair and dropping my book bag to the floor before plopping into it, balancing my coffee cup on my knee. “tell me a little about it.”
“Uh…” he says, glancing at me briefly before going back to the mirror. “It was prehistoric…and there was art at the time.”
“Astute observation,” I reply dryly, pulling my folder with my notes from my bag and fighting the urge to roll my eyes. This kid is not ruining my day. “What is significant about this time period?”
“Significant?” he asks, finally falling into the chair with a sigh and looking at me blankly. “Um…it was prehistoric,” he pauses, thinking. “Were there dinosaurs?”
I stare at him blankly and try my best to remain calm. The dig races through my mind again and I can see the Grecian plain, see the pile of artifacts in my head, I can fucking see it. And here I am…trying to talk to a kid who thinks that there were dinosaurs in the prehistoric period.
Good mood, gone.
“No Justin, there were not dinosaurs,” I say, sighing and he crosses his arms over his chest, pursing his lips. “Just tell me something from the reading,” I say, draining the rest of my coffee and tossing the empty cup into the trashcan.
“Look, I already told you. I don’t have time to read thirty pages on some stupid paintings and shit. This tour is kicking off tonight. Our first big American tour. This could make or break us. I’m sorry, but I don’t give a flying fuck about this bullshit.”
And I can’t help it, all the rage that I have over being stuck here with him, over missing possibly the biggest archeological dig that will occur in my lifetime, just boils over and I snap. I drop my folder to the floor and propel myself from my seat. I lean forward, gripping the arms of his chair and his eyes widen, pressing himself back into the chair, and as far away from me as he can.
“You listen to me you pampered, little brat, I don’t care who you are or what you want. I don’t wanna be doing this any more than you want to do it, so why don’t you just shut the hell up and do the work and make this as painless as possible for the both of us.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth I know that I’m gone, done, fired. There’s no way that this kid is gonna not tell his mother, or his handler, or whoever the hell is signing my paychecks. I wait for him to scowl at me, to rage and call for security.
Instead he just swallows hard, his blue eyes large. “Okay.”
I step back, my brows furrowing, regarding him suspiciously. He situates himself more firmly in his chair, his hand going down to adjust himself as inconspicuously as possible as he looks away from me.
He grabs the textbook from the vanity and flips it open. “Just gimme a minute,” he says surveying the first page. “Prehistoric art, is prehistory,” he says, his finger pointing to a sentence in the book, “which means it predates the written word.”
He looks up at me expectantly and I nod, smiling a little. He grins back at me and I breathe out slowly, falling back into my chair as he dips his head to read on. Apparently all you had to do was show this kid whose boss.
He continues to spout random facts at me waiting for my nod of approval before going back to reading, a small smile playing across his lips. He steals glances at me every once and awhile, stopping to listen patiently when I expound on a fact from the text.
He’s reading along slowly, fingers flipping the page when his head snaps up suddenly, whispering “holy shit” quietly and I lean forward to survey the page.
“Ah, the Woman of Willendorf,” I say smiling at him, as he stares wide eyed down at the statue. “Tell me about her.”
“T-tell you about her?” he asks, swallowing hard.
“Yes,” I say, relishing in his shock a little. “You’ll be required to analyze pieces of art for your tests. So…tell me about her…tell me what you see.”
“Um…” he says, shifting in his seat, pressing the book more firmly into his lap. “She has no face.”
“Good…and what of her form?” I ask, smiling inwardly, watching as an uncomfortable look crosses his face.
“What do you mean?” he asks, glancing at me quickly and I bite my lip to keep the amused smile from my face.
“Is she clothed?” I ask and he swallows hard. I probably shouldn’t push him like this but I’m still slightly bitter... okay a lot bitter…and making him squirm is the perfect payback for his shitty attitude.
“No.”
“And what does that tell you?” I am such a bitch sometimes.
“That she’s naked.”
“Yes, Justin,” I say sighing. “What does that tell you about her, about the culture this piece was carved in?”
“Um…women were naked?” he asks and I sigh.
“Describe her form,” I say and he looks at me pleadingly. “Its okay,” I say smiling a little. “You can state the obvious.”
“She has huge…” he pauses, glancing at me and then at the floor, shifting uncomfortably.
“Breasts,” I say smiling as I nod my head at him, finally letting him off the hook. “And very pronounced genitalia. Good job.”
He smiles weakly at me and I go on about how she is possibly a fertility goddess or some kind of doll for little girls to play with, which he scoffs at slightly, eyeing the statues voluptuous form.
“Hey Bounce,” I hear from behind me and I crane my neck around to see JC standing in the doorway. “Time to get to work, man.”
A pained look comes across Justin’s face but he nods at the older man and he just sits there for a minute, not really moving. He sighs finally, standing and quickly holds his book to his front and I realize…fuck…he’s hard. It takes everything in me not to just fall out of my chair laughing. Teenage boys…they have a hair trigger. He shimmies past me, making sure to keep his book firmly in front of him as he walks to the door.
“Are you…” he asks trailing as he pauses in the doorway and I look at him over my shoulder. “Are you gonna watch the rehearsal?” he asks and I just look at him blankly.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I say, because actually I was planning on finding Khefren again.
“Oh,” he says, his voice a little disappointed. “You should,” he adds, giving me a small smile before making his way out of the room.
I shake my head in amusement. The little brat just needs some discipline. I can handle that.
