Dad never told me that he lived like this.
He was holding out on me.
I am in the club. It's called the Hurricane. I've never heard of this club, not that I lived in the year 2000 or whatever, but in my time, these old school clubs are pretty cool and they have been updated and refurbished so everyone can party there again. But there is no club called the Hurricane in any major city. And considering the misery that Hurricanes will inflict on the US in the coming years, I'm pretty certain this club doesn't survive. But that's okay. Because I'm at this club opening tonight and I'm having a blast.
I have no idea where the guys went-- JC, Lance, Joey, Chris, Trace-- it doesn't matter. I'm in my own world. Well, actually, I'm in my own room. All I had to do was ask and now I've got an entire room in the back of the club to myself. I can feel the power. This is incredible.
No. The girls are incredible. I cannot count how many girls are in the room. Okay, I can count. Seven. And two are dancing with me right now. We don't dance like this at school dances, not that I would know too much about that. During the school dances I would usually chill in a back closet with my boys and we would smoke weed or drink some god awful cheap liquor just hoping to catch a buzz before we got caught.
This club is nothing like that.
First of all, the liquor is not cheap. It's expensive and it tastes like heaven. I'm having trouble feeling my lips. Justin's lips. My dad's... God, it doesn't matter right now. One girl has her arms draped around my neck, pushing her pelvis up against my crotch, breathing hard, just moving rhythmically. Grinding, they call it. She's grinding up against me and it feels so good. I have no roll but to stand her and I can put my hands where ever I please on her. Right now I'm cupping her ass and she has no qualms. It's such a high, tight ass. She's a Cuban beauty, that long dark hair, like a night waterfall. And she loves Justin Timberlake.
And I just might love her.
But she has competition. There's a girl behind me. Her hands are under my shirt, caressing my chest. Well, Justin's chest so by association she's stroking me. Whatever. I'm the one feeling the sensation as she gentle squeezes my nipples and runs her nails gentle across my abs. God, it feels so good. Now she's slipped her hand down my pants, cupping my balls through the underwear. It takes all my willpower not to drop to the floor right there in a slimy, gelatinous ball.
How did he stand this? My dad!
The first girl with the dark hair is still dancing. She's turned around and she's wiggling her ass against me and the other girl is still touching me and sort of brushing her ass at the same time. This is all too much. I'm glad that I'm so drunk because I haven't actually achieved a hard-on yet and the alcohol is probably making me impotent. I place my hands on her sides after a moment. The room is sort of moving with this girl's ass. It's so awesome.
"Justin..." Another girl beckons me from the couch. She's got another joint. How did Dad ever have the gall to yell at me for smoking pot? I bet he did it like every day of his life from 18 on! Come on now. I can tell by the way I can pull a toke off the joint. He's a pro, believe me. I'm blowing smoke rings when I never had the ability to do that below. I stumble over to the couch and flop down, half on top of the girl. She just giggles and squeezes my hair like I want her to do to my nuts. Maybe not so hard though.
"You are so hot," She says. I think this girl is from the convertible. She's just wearing a bathing suit. Why? I have no idea.
"I am hot," I slur and I lay back and take the joint. I impress them all with more smoke rings. They clap like I'm the coolest guy on earth, which at this moment, I am. God, I'm am so high. How am I going to get home? I don't care. My stomach is fluttery. Oh, some girl is licking it. Is it possibly to be in a one man orgy? I think so and I think I'm in it.
More smoking. More drinking. I wonder if my dad had any time for anything else. I guess he had to because he was in the boy band and everything and they sang and dance but I can't imagine it right now. I feel like there are a million girls all around. I can hardly locate my foot. Oh there it is, still connected to my body, thankfully. Well, not my body. Justin's body, but now it's my foot by association.
Some girl is unzipping my pants. It makes the loudest grinding sound I have every heard. I giggle in a way I don't want to and I snort at the end of it. Man I can't see. All I see is darkness. Maybe the room is dark. No... someone is hovering over me. It's a girl and her jugs are all in my face. I pull her down and suck her like she's a sweet grapefruit or something. The other girl has yanked down my pants and my underwear and now I'm exposed and impotent no more. Is this wrong? Is this sick? I don't know. Nobody made the rules for these kinds of things! So nobody can judge. All I'm feeling is pleasure and that's all I want to think about, that's all I want to know.
She's licking me. God, I've never had anything like this before. Her mouth is all over me. She's sucking and moving her tounge around and I can feel myself growing closer and closer... but I try to hold it off... dammit why can't I...!
Okay, so I'm a minute man. A 30 second one if I'm honest. But... I'm drunk, blame it on the alcohol. My first blow job. She's grinning at me like I made her night and I didn't even do anything. I didn't even last.
"Justin, can I be your girlfriend?" She says, leaning forward. The girl with the boobs is gone. I don't miss her.
"You can be my girlfriend," I say. The girl sits on my stomach. What is her name? She's so beautiful right now.
"Aren't you dating Britney Spears?"
"That's over, I was waiting for you." I am so sleepy. I close my eyes. Just for a second. Only until the blood rushes back to the lower regions of my body and then I can have actual intercourse for the first time with the love of my life.
* * *
When I wake up, I'm not in the club anymore. Because that club was a couch, not a bed. Now I'm in a bed. I sit up and look around. Where's that...? I can't remember what I was thinking. I lift my head. Bad idea. Bad idea! Ooooh man it hurts so bad. I can't breathe, it hurts to breathe. My head. No I have to close my eyes again. My stomach doesn't feel good like it did last night. Now I just feel sick. A wicked bad hangover. Bad thing about being trapped in my dad's skin. I never get hangovers. He can't be a lightweight, come on now.
How much did I have to drink?
I don't think I want to know. I breathe like I'm trapped in a shallow grave. If I die soon, at least I can say I was able to have fun. I didn't change the world but at least I got to experience the wonder of oral sex.
I must have drifted off again because I open my eyes to the sound of a knock on the door.
"Justin?" It's JC. I groan and pull the pillow over my head.
"Justin, you alive in there?" He pushes the door open.
"Unfortunately," I croak. JC steps inside the room. He's holding a bottle of water. He offers it to me. I take it after a moment. There's pills too. I definitely toss them back and chug the water. The cool liquid hits my stomach and settles it immediately, thank god. But I still feel like shit.
"What's going on?" JC asks. I blink my eyes and drink more water. Then I lean back against the headboard of the bed, sitting up as much as I can manage it.
"Um..." I don't know what's going on either. "You tell me. Where am I?"
"You're at my house," JC says like I should know this.
"Oh yeah. I've got a... fucking hangover. I guess that's what's going on." I hope this will excuse me from all further conversation but it doesn't work that way.
"We've got the showcase tonight," JC says, sitting on a chair near the door.
Oh hell, we still need to need that thing? Well at least I know Bye Bye Bye now and all the songs off the first CD. Pretty much. I don't know the live arrangements. This is so very complicated.
"Can we talk about this later? I want to lay back down."
"No, Justin!" The sharpness in JC's voice startles me. He never talks to me like this. But maybe he's constantly putting the smackdown on my dad, I don't know. Because after last night I know my dad can get a little wild. I know he wasn't partying for the first time.
"What's going on? You've been... strange! Justin, you can't... what if someone saw you? We have a new CD coming out. Finally! We have reputations. This is not the time for you to go sowing your wild oats. Save that for the road!"
"Sorry," I say, sheepishly. I am sorry. I don't want to give Nsync a bad reputation. I know that the group is very important JC. And to my dad too. I guess. Just not important enough to discuss from me.
Why did he always separate me from his Nsync life? Maybe he did something he would always regret. I don't know.
"But it's not just that," JC goes on. "Something is off about you. Like I said. So if you've got something to talk about, talk about it. We have to get it out now. As soon as we do this showcase, we're gonna be off and running. We have to make this CD the best CD it can be. We've been out of the game too long. We've got through so much shit but now... finally. I really believe it. This is our time, Justin. So tell me. Talk to me. Tell me the truth. Come on." JC transfers from the chair to the bed and looks at me in the struggling light of the room. The blinds are closed but the sun outside is strong.
"Justin..." JC is staring at me intently. I stare back. Maybe he will see it. Maybe he will see something in my eyes, in Justin's eyes, in my dad's eyes. Maybe he will feel the different chemistry of my soul or something like that. I don't know how that works but maybe it works and I'm praying that it would right now because all of a sudden I desperately want someone to see me and for someone to notice that I am not Justin Timberlake. I am Jez, his 18 year old son. And I have no idea what I'm doing.
We keep staring. My eyes are wide. I'm not blinking. Look, JC, look! I don't have blue eyes. I have brown eyes. Hell, I'm not even white! I'm half black. Look and see my soul, JC. See my soul! SEE MY SOUL!
"Justin, why are you looking at me like that?" JC finally asks. "You're creeping me out."
Ugh! Some best friends these are. My goodness. Can't they tell when their friend is part of some kind of a body switch?
"It's nothing!" I say. "Nothing's wrong with me. Look, it's just been..." I try to think of something plausible. "I don't know. Maybe the moon is in a weird alignment and that's affecting me in a negative way."
JC continues to stare. Damn, that excuse holds a lot of weight like 20 years from now. Get with the program. Why are people in the year 2000 so STUPID?!
Maybe JC is just young and he doesn't know.
"It's gonna be better now. I promise." I say. I'll step it up. I'll try to be very normal. But I'll be damned if I'm not going to party every night! I guess now I'll just have to do it in private. Yeah, that's probably the plan. Don't do drugs and have oral sex in the club. Do it at home!
Why didn't I think of that before?
"What songs are we going to sing for the showcase?" I ask, reasonably .
"Bye Bye Bye and I Thought She Knew. Like we agreed. Months ago."
I scoot down and lay down so my face is in the pillow. "Oh JC, I can't think right now. So sorry! Can you get me the sheet music for that?"
"What?" JC sounds bewildered.
"The sheet music, the sheet music! I want to look at the arrangement ."
"Why?"
Was my dad one of those types who can't even read music, just listens to a melody and follows some vocal coach like a freaking follow-the-ball mediocre sing-a-long? Say it ain't so, Dad!
"I just want to see it? That's allowed right!" I turn over so I can glare. Now I'm the one giving JC some attitude. He stands.
"Okay, well. I'll see what I can do. I'm going to be leaving soon. You can let yourself out. I drove your car home so it's in the driveway."
"Thanks, JC." Maybe I was a little too harsh. "Thanks for making sure I got out of there okay last night."
"No problem," JC is in the doorway. "What are friends for?"
* * *
I fall asleep again after that and when I wake up, I feel much better and the house is quiet. I get up and hobble to the door. Well, JC didn't try to undress me. I'm even still wearing my shoes. Guess we aren't that close.
Just on the other side of the door is a folder. I pick it up. The sheet music. JC came through. I smile to myself and take the music out. The arrangement for Bye Bye Bye is familiar and the one for I Thought She Knew is easy. JC has a piano downstairs. I sit down at the piano and play the melody of I Thought She Knew and sing along. It's going to sound lovely, I can tell. Dad had some pretty good songs. I wonder if he was ashamed of the songs or if he were only ashamed of me.
After playing through the songs a few times I feel capable of singing them during the showcase. We are going to do an outstanding job. I will make sure of it. But first I need a shower and I need a change of clothes. I wonder if I got any numbers. I find Justin's cellphone in the pocket of my jeans and scroll through the saved ones but none of them are familiar so how do I know which ones are new? This is a futile operation so I put the cellphone away. I find my keys and walk out to the car and realize I don't know where I'm going.
Where do I live? Where does Justin live? I don't know the address! I know I was there one day but I didn't take note of the street name and the house number. Could this be any harder?
I just start driving. Maybe Justin's hands will take over and my dad will guide me home. Please? I'm getting on the freeway. No such luck. I'm just traveling towards downtown Orlando. Maybe I should go to Disney World. Why does like have to be so hard?
I take some random exit. I don't know why, maybe it's familiar to some molecule on my body. I take a random street and drive up it, no destination in mind, except that I would like to go home except I don't know where my dad lives.
All of a sudden, a sign catches my eye. I turn my head as I roll past and stop at a stoplight. Then I quickly turn the car around. There's a parking lot in the back of the building. I hope that nobody will recognize me and I hope that I don't smell. Those are my two concerns as I open the door to the shop.
"Hello, you are here." The woman says.
"Yes, I am," I say. I glance at the wall. It says Priscilla's Psychic Services. I know she can help me. She charges 20 dollars an hour. She has to be good!
"Do you know who I am?" I ask.
"Yes," She says. She's not even looking at me. She much be feeling my energy. "Sit down young man."
I walk over to the small table where she sits. The room is small and dark. There are beads and charms all over the walls and the walls are painted purple. The ceiling is decorated with tiny pinpoint stars. I think it's white paint. I sit down in the small chair. It's off balance and falls awkwardly to the side as soon as I put my weight on it. The table is also rickety. There's a crystal ball in the center. That makes me feel better.
"Who am I?" I ask, staring at her. She still hasn't looked up. Her hands are pale, translucent, and wrinkled. She has a lot of bland brown hair that is thick but knotty-looking. She's wearing a dress that looks close to a drape.
"Who do you think you are?" she asks.
I'm trying to look into her eyes. I don't think this will work so well if she doesn't look into my eyes.
"I think I'm me. But nobody knows this." I keep trying to look at her. "Hey, are you going to read my palm? Can you tell me what to do?"
"Stop speaking." Priscilla said. I stopped. She didn't take my hand. But she did look up. She had weird eyes. They were almost colorless.
"Justin Timberlake..." She says. "Aquarius."
I want to scream NO but she told me not to speak. Maybe she's just getting around to it.
"Why do you think you're here?"
Oh, maybe she does know! "Well... I'm not sure. I think I'm really dead but... I've been given a second chance. You know that old show? Quantum Leap? Well maybe I'm here to make something right. I think that might be it." The psychic is nodding. She knows!
"No, you aren't dead, Justin. Your soul is speaking to me. You're in turmoil."
I nod. "My father and I have never been close. So it's weird being here right now. Being him. I'm not doing a good job. I feel like I'm messing his life up. And I never thought I would care. But I do love him, even if I don't like him. So what can I do?"
The psychic looks like she is thinking. It is so great to be around someone who understood this crazy situation that I'm in. I relax in my lopsided chair.
"The best thing you can do is to build up your karma," the Psychic says. "You need to go good works."
"Good works like what?" I ask. "Do you think I can prevent the death of my mother?"
"Your mother won't die for many many years, Justin."
"Well, right now it's 2000. And she died in 2011. So that's not many many years. That's just like a decade."
Now the psychic looks confused. "You are aware of the year in which your mother dies?"
I stare at her. "Of course I am! I was five! Not a moron."
The psychic cocks her head at me. "So your mother is already dead?"
"No! She's not! You just said--" Then I realize that we're not on the same page at all. She doesn't know that I'm not Justin Timberlake. How can no one tell? It's so obvious to me! She's a psychic for goodness sakes!
"You don't know anything!" I stand up, outraged. "You're a fake. Look, I'm not Justin. I'm his son, Jez! This is not my life and I want out!"
"Sit down. We can figure this out." Priscilla says patiently , but she looks scared. Yeah, she should be. She got outted. She's a con artist and I'm leaving.
"I'm not paying!" I cry. "And I'm telling everyone about you. You're not worth 20 dollars. You're worth 20 cents! I have a real problem! Okay? This isn't in my head. You're ridiculous. This is a crock of shit!" I'm halfway to the door when I stop. I turn to her. "Can you tell me where I live?"
She says an address that sounds familiar while staring at me in an odd way. I give her the stray five dollars from my wallet. Then I'm out of there.
* * *
I try to be upbeat when I drive to Jive's office so we can have our showcase. I've given it a lot of thought. The best thing I can do is to make the best of this situation. I don't want to screw the rest of Nsync over just because I happen to be having a very intense personal problem in my father's body. So I park the car, dressed in nice clothes, smelling fresh, with my hair brushed and gelled. I walk inside and everyone smiles at me.
"Right this way, Justin," A pretty woman up front says. She shows me to a back room. Joey and Lance are already there.
"Hey Justin. Heard you had quite a time last night. Why'd you ditch me?" Joey says.
"You know how it is," I say. "Every man for himself." I shrug and take a seat against the back wall, where they are. "Does this song have a dance?" I don't know a better way to put it.
"Uh... no." Lance says. He gives me a strange look. "I think you would have been there if we made a dance for this song."
I wave a hand. "It's been a long day. But thank god."
Chris comes in next. "Justin! So how many chicks did you do last night? We found you in a pile of women!"
"Did you?" I ask. I don't remember much about last night.
"Yeah, they were about to devour you." Chris wiggles his lounge at us in a nasty way and Lance makes a repulsed face.
"I wish they did," I mumble.
JC jogs in the door. "Am I late?"
"We haven't started," Lance says.
"Well, great. I'm not late then. So don't get on my case." JC is bouncy. He can't stand still. I like it when he's like this.
"Should we have a practice? Should we have a warm up?" I ask, as casually as I can. But I'm nervous because I've never sung with them before.
"Okay, let's do some scales," JC suggests. Everyone stands and we go through these scales I quickly catch on to. They sound good. I sound good. Singing with them is easy and natural. Justin's vocal cords and body remembers this. I don't have to try so hard. I'm actually getting excited about this. Finally this is my chance to be good at something that counts, something that people really care about. I'm part of something huge. I'm even starting to feel a little happy.
"Hello there boys," says a familiar voice. I turn and grin.
"Johnny!" I can't help saying this. It's such a surprise to see him. He used to be one of my dad's closest friends and he was always so fun. After the age of about 14 I didn't see him over the house very much.
"How are you doing Justin? Boys? This is an important day. The first day of the new CD."
"Yeah!" Chris screams and it makes everyone jump.
"Okay. Save the loudness for the show." Johnny looks at Chris with a warm smile. "Are you ready?"
I look around. Everyone is nodding. I nod too. I'm the most ready I'm ever going to be. It's now or nothing.
People begin to file in the room. It's mostly men in stuffy suits. These are the people who run Jive records? How boring. None of the names are familiar but I know Jive goes bankrupt in 2015 after they take a 5th chance on crazy Britney Spears.
"Hey guys!" Some big wig says. I pretend like I know him.
"So why don't you start out with the single," Johnny says once everyone is situated in chairs. "That makes sense."
We all assemble in a half circle. My heart is thumping wildly but I'm ready to do this. I want to show them all that I am capable of doing something right, even if they don't know what a screw up I am in real life. Even if they all think I'm just the wonderful Justin Timberlake.
Right before we start, the door opens.
A pretty black girl pokes her head in, sheepishly. One of the big wigs waves her in.
"Sorry I'm late," She says, taking a seat beside Johnny. "But they finally let me out of payroll."
"Guys, this is one of the interns, Sasha Larson." Johnny introduces her. But she needs no introduction. I am just staring at her.
Those deep brown eyes, that curly soft hair down to her shoulders, the wide smile that just radiates warmth and love and goodness, all of the energy in her smooth caramel brown skin.
That's her. Before me.
That's my mom.
"Mom!" I blurt out before I can stop myself. But I have not seen her in 13 years. How many nights have I prayed to see her again? How many nights have I cried in my room because I couldn't be with her and I wanted to have a mother more than anything in the whole entire world?
"I love you!" I'm on a roll. Everyone is staring at me. The room is completely silent. There is no way to get out of this. I am a complete wreck inside. Sasha is staring at me, not like I'm a freak or anything, but like she's trying to figure me out.
"Jesus!" I add. "I love Jesus! Hallelujah !" I have no idea what I'm doing but I just go with it. "I love you Jesus. Holy Father! And Holy... Mom. Mother. I love... oh the spirit... it's coming over me!" I put my hands on my chest and sort of jerk around. Nobody is even cracking a smile because it's the total opposite of funny. This is horrifying.
"You just can't control the holy spirit!" I say loudly. I drop to the floor. "Jesus! I'm coming! I hear you! Yes, yes! What? What are you saying? Tell me God, tell me! I hear you! I'll do it!" I look up from my crouching position on the floor and speak normally. "I'm sorry, I can't do this right now."
Then I get up and run out the door.
No, I've been fooling myself. I can't do this, I can't! I can't pretend to be my father. I am not my father. How am I supposed to look at my mom in the eyes? How can I pull off this charade?
I look behind me in case someone is chasing me. I'm fumbling with my keys and tears are coming to my eyes but I choke them back. Dammit, I can't get these keys to work. I throw the keys on the ground and lean against the car. Then I lean back and kick the tires and throw myself against the door. This isn't fair!
When did Mom and Dad fall in love?
Was it really around now?
Maybe that's why I'm here. I lean against the car and then sit on the warm pavement. I try to take in the whole situation.
Maybe I'm here to change something. If Dad and Mom don't fall in love, that would change things.
They wouldn't get together.
They wouldn't get married.
And they wouldn't have me.
Then maybe Mom wouldn't die.
That's what I'm here to do. I have to keep them apart.
I straighten up, rising to my feet. My face is set. Now that I have a purpose, I'm full of resolve. I head back to the door, back inside, taking long strides.
I'm going to do my job. And hopefully, I'll get out of here. Mom will live. Dad will be happy.
And I will never be born.
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