Luciana had never believed in dreaming. In dreams, one supposedly wished for implausible things. "A dream come true," they would say as though it meant something to her. But it had its merit. Yet "dreaming" to her had always seemed to possess a certain quality unattainable as if this dream was some sort of ideal to be handled with a certain delicacy. In her world, it was not like that. She seemed to recall a certain Disney character she was often compared to saying, "A dream is a wish your heart makes." Well she was the Cinderella of a world that basked in the glow of the make-believe.
Ignorance... well Luciana would be the actress to give them their blindfolds and blankets, so once again they could feel their false sense of security, a pretense that in some tiny, tiny part of this world life was fair and all was well. She would give them what they craved: a way out of this hellhole called reality.
And here was an opportunity. It was her time to sizzle and shine on the big screen. Of course it was wonderful, but it had never been a "dream". Nothing was unattainable. Not for her. Everything could be worked at and worked out. Who could accuse her of getting anything for free? Oh, how she'd paid! Everything that had happened for her she'd made happen herself. Was that not something to be proud of? Was it not?!
Breathe.
She rubbed lotion over her skin, hydrating as she did everyday. Her hair hung wet on a towel she had spread upon her back, air-drying after its weekly deep condition. Her face was covered in an avocado and oatmeal mask. She'd leave it on for ten more minutes. She'd almost lost it yesterday. The key to her safe had been misplaced. Whether it was during one of Martha's routine cleanings, she didn't know, but Martha had sworn she'd not can to this part of the room. Martha knew her duties. Either way, the key was easily found, but Luciana made a vow to place it better next time. She was satisfied. She could relax.
So "Painted Faces" it would be. Natalie. Natalie James she'd play. It was a part that gleamed to her. A strong supporting role that fit her bill. She'd play competitor to the selfish, spoiled and cold beauty queen lead. Her character Natalie would, in all truth, not be that different from the lead, Carolyn, but Natalie, though a hardcore competitor, would be more friendly, outgoing and outwardly compassionate where Carolyn was cold. She didn't know which was worse. There would also be Regan, the foil to Carolyn. Regan was a humble and innocent beauty who had, in the eyes of most others, vaulted onto the scene and into the spotlight without paying her dues. As well as anyone else, Luciana knew it could only bring on one thing: resentment. Luciana knew it all too well. But her dues were paid.
Shooting began in a week. She'd be ready, as she always was. She'd been born ready. No, Luciana did not believe in dreaming; she did not believe in rest. For life never stopped, pulled up a chair and asked you what you wanted out of it. Life never waited for anyone, no matter who you were. It kept going and if you ever rested, it would catch up to you and pass you by. Luciana would not be passed by. She fought for it. It kept going and she'd do the same. She didn't wait; she took. There was no time to spare. Only priorities were worth anything and she would be focused and ready as they came. Determination coursed through her veins and the need to be something to this world had filled her erratic heart and level head. She would be, if anything at all, remembered.
She looked down at her nails, gently rounded to an oval on long, slender fingers and creamy, white skin. Who would ever guess that such delicate fingers held this insatiable yearning to be something? Who would ever guess that her soft, beautiful face was a mask to her needs? She wanted all that was hers, all that had been denied to her without a second thought or backward glance. Life wasn't fair. Life was a lying, cheating bastard who would take advantage of those who let it and didn't know better. Well Luciana knew better. She didn't plan to stand immobile and take whatever life dished her. No, Luciana would not be another victim. She had promised herself that long ago for she'd been a victim for far too long. Life hadn't been fair. She wouldn't be either. She'd claim her pound of flesh.
-§-
If Justin had ever wanted telepathic surround sound, surely he would have done this sooner. But Justin, as much as he loved being state-of-the-art, had never wanted this. This one solitary room was filled with so much commotion that he wondered if he could think straight. He wondered if he had to, after all every doubt he'd ever had about this idea of throwing a surprise party had been voiced, oh, maybe ten or more times. He should have wanted to scream, to growl, to tell them he'd heard this all before a few million times over in his head. Apparently, they thought they were original. That he couldn't see all the things that could go wrong with his idea. But they didn't understand that he wouldn't let them go wrong.
This was going to be as damned near perfect as he could make it. And Justin... well Justin could. Justin had convinced himself he was Superman. But really, Justin was...
"You had better be glad we love you." As if it was a threat.
And a second later, "Oh my God, these are purple. Purple! I refuse to wear this. I agreed to play along. I did not, however, agree to look like I dressed myself in the dark."
Snickering followed from a distance. "Believe me, they do not want to see how you dress in the dark."
"Hey!" A head swung up.
"I remember that night you came stumbling out of the hotel room when that chick was..."
"I was in a hurry! And enough is enough!" A turn of the head... "Justin! Tell her I will not wear purple!"
Of course he would... He was standing quietly in the corner, no words, watching the hustle and bustle around him, the calls for more material, the laughter and the prick comments. But they had all agreed to go along with him and he would hold them to that. Justin was...
Chris wanted to be the Jester. He had already asked. He could juggle he said. He was lying through his teeth. But Chris lied about a lot of things. What difference did one more make? Chris liked to live in paradise, where everything was a potential toy. Chris seemed like he never wanted to grow up. But he'd already grown up. He'd already realized his responsibilities and taken them. He'd also realized they didn't have to hold him back. Justin admired Chris the most out of all of his brothers. Chris was the big brother Justin never had. Chris was balance. Justin had yet to learn that. Justin was...
And there was a rustle of taffeta; the faint, sheer billow of silk; the slight crinkle of crushed crinoline. He stood with a blank look on his face, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the far wall, watching it all go by him, everything he had worked for - was coming to life... He should have had a smile on his face for he put this all together. He should have joined them in their joking, fittings, and preparations. But Justin wasn't his usual self. Justin was...
Justin was tired.
Although they all meant well, trying to bring to life what he'd planned, he was tired. These little glimpses of life today... it didn't feel as though he were living in them, just witnessing them from a distance. Like frames of a movie, they captivated him, but at the same time left him detached, separate... It was strange... he felt the occasional shiver run up his arm and the hairs stand on the back of his neck as he witnessed it all come together... the stage, the costumes, the lighting. This monster he'd created was now coming to life.
And it was supposed to be all for her, but he wondered was it really? Was it just a kind gesture on his part? Pity or something else? In some ways, that scared him half to death; in others, he felt nothing but pleasure in seeing it go up - a triumph, an accomplishment. He didn't know what to think; what was right; what was wrong. He'd always felt right before. But this morning he'd awoken with a strange feeling in his stomach; in his heart. It worried him even more that he was not sure he could identify it, though it felt vaguely familiar too.
This feeling... today it kept him occupied, busy, negligent. And he did have a million things to do. Almost everything was behind schedule... the cake, the fittings... someone had lost the damn tablecloths and sky props. Well, Justin didn't care. They would just have to replace them all before two days time. It wasn't his fault... It wasn't his fault that he wanted this to be as perfect as perfect came.
"Uh, yo Justin..."
His eyes popped open and immediately cleared the face of the boyish green-eyed popstar. "Yea Lance?"
"Umm, Donna needs to see you over in sewing... are you all right?"
"Yea, of course Lance, why wouldn't I be?"
"You're just... uh, nevermind. It was nothing. Oh," he said as if he'd just remembered. "Chris wants to see you." Lance smiled and winked. "He said to make it snappy."
That was Justin's cue to say something witty, something smart, or maybe just sarcastic. "Fine." But Justin's voice came out a little too sharply.
"Hey," Lance stopped him, stepping in front of him, forcing Justin to look up. "Take a breather. you know we're behind you all the way, don't you?"
Justin smiled a tight smile.
"We are," Lance continued. "And we're accustomed to putting on a good show, so we can do this. You should be proud of yourself. Look at everything."
Justin gave Lance a bigger smile this time and a nod of the head. If not to get Lance off his back, then to show him that he knew he was right. But words didn't change anything; actions did. And Justin would be satisfied only when he saw the smile on Skye's face after her surprise - well, Justin hoped that was what her reaction would be. He'd worked hard for it.
Justin would readily agree with anyone that he has temporarily lost his sanity. In fact, he was sure if they asked any of the guys, they would confirm the accusation. But Justin tried to do everything his own way: bigger and better and glaring in the face of reality. They would say it couldn't be done and he would smile and say, "Watch me." Justin would not stop when he wanted something, when he believed wholly in it. "Enduring," some would say. "Scary," he would reply.
Justin turned, hands in pockets, walking over to sewing, wondering what Donna wanted.
-§-
He'd have said three words to her if she'd let him. But Emily wanted a little more than that, to maybe show him that she wasn't the enemy or try to convince him in the very least. She didn't believe she was blind, and certainly not to the disgust he harbored in his eyes when he glanced at her. It was vital, however, that he did not any longer... No, that wasn't right. Rather, it was vital that he did not go shooting his mouth off to the wrong person. That couldn't happen... all her plans would be ruined, screwed in such polite terms. And Emily wouldn't allow that, she couldn't, she, she, SHE...
Calm down Emily.
And slowly her knuckles returned to a more pink color from their former white. She hadn't realized that she'd been clenching her fists. She hadn't felt the pain as her nails had sunk into her palm. At least she hadn't drawn blood although she doubted she would have felt that either. She took a deep breath and tossed her head to get her hair out of her eyes
So he'd called. His voice was very gruff and hurried. Should she have expected any less? He'd wanted her dress size and height as well as... It seemed he'd shied away then for he paused and he stuttered. "And your bra and cup size."
She'd raised her eyebrows to him then, amused in the very least. "My bra and cup size? Justin, what is this? Are you planning to buy me some lingerie?"
"Damnit. No." He was indignant. She'd loved it if just for that moment.
"Then what?" she'd persisted very prettily.
"Skye's surprise party requires costume. I need some measurements from you that Donna asked me to get. Will you please give me the information I need now?"
She'd paused, a slight smile on her face. "Who's Donna?"
"Jesus, I just need the information." He'd huffed "Christ, ok, she's a seamstress and a tailor. She's making all the costumes and she needs the measurements I just asked for. Happy? Ok, great, information"
"Only one person is doing this all?" Such awe was in her voice. Such small talk.
He had become exasperated at that. "Emily! All I want is those measurements. Cut the crap."
"Tsk, tsk, Justin. You can't answer one question? So impatient..."
"There is a God, right Emily? Fine, alright. No, she's not doing it all by herself. She has a crew that helps her."
Her smile had been cocky. "Well, we can't forget the little people, can we Justin?"
He sighed rather harshly. "Does this line of questioning have a point, cause I can't seem to find one."
"What? A girl can't be curious about a party she's going to and knows nothing about?"
"Emily, all you need to know is how to get there and be grateful that I am even giving you that. It's a surprise. Be surprised."
She'd almost laughed. "Oh Justin," she crooned, "Do I sound ungrateful? I never meant to make it seem like that..."
"Emily!"
She was wearing on his patience and she knew it. "I have a better idea, Justin. Why don't I fly over to you guys? Where are you now? London? Yes, I think that's where you as, isn't it? I think that's what it said on the tour schedule Luciana showed me."
He'd groaned in response. "The party is in two days, Emily. You and one other costume are the last ones to be made and Donna wants to try to be finished by tomorrow morning on yours. I don't think that you'll make it here in time to be needed. Donna said she'd be just fine with these measurements, so there. Now, the chit chat is unnecessary. The measurements please?"
This time, Emily'd huffed. "Fine, darling, rain on my parade. I was just trying to make some friendly small talk, but excuse me for trying."
Again Justin sighed, but this one was longer than the other. "Look, Emily, I did not call you to argue. I called you to get some freaking measurements which I have been trying to get from you for the past... six minutes. It does not take that long to give me a few numbers. In all honesty, I don't have much time because almost everything is behind schedule and I need to straighten it all out before two days time, not to mention that I have an hour and a half concert almost every night which I must rehearse for, then perform. So while I am very sorry you feel the way you do, I'd be much obliged if you could just give me the information I need and I can be on my way. So pretty please with a cherry on top, can you do that for me?"
Had he seemed that stressed before, she would have thought twice about provoking him so far. It probably wasn't the best thing to do if she didn't want him to think badly of her. But dammit, she just wanted to make a little small talk with him. Wasn't that supposed to calm the nerves? Well, it had backfired. And she knew enough to back down. Emily swallowed, taking a deep breath and then swallowing, finding her voice again. "Umm, what were those measurements that you needed, Justin?"
"Dress size, height, bra and cup size." He'd said it so mechanically...
"Eight, 5'10, 34B. In that order." She almost felt... guilty. She almost apologized. But she stopped herself. At this point, she didn't think he wanted apologies, not from her. He wanted what he'd called for, and then he wanted to go.
So he didn't like her.
She knew that.
"Thank you. Good-bye."
She didn't bother to respond. He would have heard it. He'd already hung up. The dial tone had met with her right ear. That sound... how she could hear it ringing in her head... her heart... her very soul.
She screamed then, an anguished cry that barely managed to escape the back of her throat. Not very loud, no, but a scream it was as the phone clattered to the floor, the dial tone stinging her ears. Her hands were tense, but flailing as if by moving she could get the sound off, away.
She'd been left again. Who cared? No one. Why should they? She was so weak. But she wanted to be strong, to fight, to prove. She wasn't as stupid and insipid as everyone thought. No! No! No! She show them. She'd show them alright! They could not just dismiss Emily Monroe. They could not treat her like dirt, as if she didn't matter. They could NOT.
She wouldn't let them. No! No! No! No! Not now! Not ever, ever, ever.
She abruptly looked forward, her cool mint green eyes focusing as she reached up to brush the stick straight blades of dark red hair off her face. She swallowed and steadied her quivering legs. Emily stood up. This meant everything now... everything She could not lose now, or all was lost. Well, she'd never given up that easily and by no means would she do so now.
She was no quitter.
She was a winner.
Emily had convinced herself that she was a force to be reckoned with. Now she just had to convince the world. Rome wasn't built in a day, but miracles did happen. Right? For her, this was a certified miracle in the making.
-§-
"So what are you going to do about Justin's file?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well you already used Emily's file. What about Justin? What are your plans?"
"My plans, Riley? Aren't we eager?"
"Uh.. no, of course not baby. But baby, it's just that it's... sitting there."
"Do? What would you have me do with it, Riley?"
"I dunno, baby..."
"He's as good as gold, Riley. You know this. Why should I do anything to ruin a good thing?"
"A good thing? Luciana, what about us?"
"What about us? You know the plan, Riley. Do you want to back out now?" Her voice became more tense. He sat up in his chair.
"No, I just..."
"No, you just what?"
"No, I was just..."
"No, you were just jealous. Jealous. You know neither should, nor can become jealous. It puts everything in jeopardy. Why are you so selfish? Thinking only of yourself... What about me? Do you really think I enjoy putting on the facade of happiness? You know that I want to be with you. I reassure you everyday. Yet you doubt me. How do you think it makes me feel knowing you of all people cannot trust me? You who claim to love me! Don't you understand why I must do this?"
"I know, baby, I know, but..."
"No, I don't think you do, Riley. But nothing Riley. There are no 'but's in this. This about us and our future. You want to back out now and jeopardize all of this we've built so far? Is that what you want? Our years of hard work down the drain? Do you want to leave me here all alone? Will that make you happy?"
She raged at him. Even over the phone he could hear that she was not in the most stable of moods right now. It's was his fault. Dammit.
"No, Luciana, baby, of course not. I don't..."
"Then why are you pushing this? For two weeks solid you've been asking me the same question!"
"No, baby. Just calm down, please."
"Why? Tell me why. I deserve that."
"There isn't a why..."
"Then I'm just supposed to assume it's petty jealousy. Is that it?"
"No..."
"Then tell me why you're doing this to me."
"Baby..."
"Don't baby me at a time like this. Do you think I like this anymore than you?"
"No.."
"Then what? You can't take it? You want to leave me?"
"No, I don't want to leave you. Of course not..."
"Then why is this such an issue?!"
"Luciana..."
A sob could be heard on the other end and Riley breathed in deeply. He couldn't bear to hear her cry. Luciana should never have to cry. Not on account of anyone... especially him. He loved her...
"Luciana, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"You're sorry?"
"Yes I am. This all... it was stupid of me..."
Another sob. Oh God.
"Don't cry, baby, please don't cry. I didn't mean it. You're right. I was being selfish and jealous. Thinking only of me. It was very inconsiderate me, inconsiderate of your feelings..." He was talking a mile a minute now... so fast he wasn't sure how his tongue kept up.
"Riley,?" Between sobs. "I don't really care how I feel as much as you feel. Do you really want out of this, because I don't want you to go, but if you want to..."
"No. No, baby, don't say anymore. I was just being stupid baby. I didn't mean it. I didn't.."
"But Riley..."
"There are no 'but's remember? This is about you and me. Don't say another word. I understand why you have to do this. Please..."
Pause. Small sob. He winced.
"Luciana..."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." He said it in a heartbeat.
"Positive?"
"Yes." Anything she asked...
"Ok."
-§-
Joey stared down at himself. Somehow Justin had convinced him that only beggars wore pants in those days. No, fashionable men wore tights, velvet and feathers. At this point, Joey wouldn't have minded being a beggar. The accuracy of this historic costume could be easily questioned. The beauty and elegance it would be part of could not. At any rate, Donna had really outdone herself. Their outfits landed them somewhere in the 16th century, Joey was sure. Joey looked down at himself again and then up into the mirror, surveying his outfit from all views. He shook his head.
No wonder the style had died out.
Skye's dress, however, was breathtaking. There was no other word to describe it. And it wasn't even done yet. Justin was having a pseudo-fit. He was too busy having other pseudo-fits with all the other things that were behind schedule to have a real fit with even one. Justin was strange today. Joey worried about him. He had put immense pressure on himself with this, juggling all the tasks he had to complete by himself plus the concerts, the pressures that came along with the life of 'N Sync.
Joey sighed.
Justin had put it on himself. If he couldn't handle it, he shouldn't had done it. He'd learn the hard way. Justin always did and he learned well.
Donna had combined layer upon layer of sheer and satin red, cranberry and gold to create what should have been an ostentatious confection. Yet Donna had done it tastefully with the input of Justin standing around, repeating things about Skye from memory. She had hazel eyes Justin has said. Joe hadn't recalled that. He'd thought they were lighter, more yellow than green, more amber than brown.
Joe had seen the template for the dress and what the finished product should look like. It had been beautiful on paper. It had been breathtaking in reality. The bodice was close fitted, emphasizing the figure Justin thought Skye had. Joe would admit her bone structure looked much like a miniature version of her sister's though with more of a healthy glow and weight. The long skirt should flare out gracefully, floating around and behind her as she moved. With its princess cut, it would look wonderful on her, complimenting her best features.
Well, if Justin had wanted this to be as close to perfection as humanly possible, he'd succeeded. It wasn't right though... that Justin, not Skye's own flesh and blood, was throwing her this party. Joe firmly believed that you made time for what was important. Apparently though, Luciana did not think this was important enough to stop for. Justin did. Justin, the young man whose youth had been been lost upon shoulders which the expectation to be golden had been placed, should be applauded. Joey put his hands together.
-§-
Her neck was aching, killing her as she glared down at William Faulkner's The Unvanquished. Never before had she been as up in arms with a book as this one. Stories were magic. Or so she had thought. This one was a bunch of run-on sentences, something about a mother, and a fish. She blinked. She'd liked the others well: Salinger, Austen, Fitzgerald, Orwell and Hemingway. But for some reason she could not stomach this one.
Skye groaned and rolled over, leaving the book. She couldn't get past chapter two without wincing. At rest on her frequent study breaks, she lay flat on the bed, spreading herself out till her toes and fingers touched the ends of the bed. A minute she stayed in this position, sinking into the softness of own feathers, sinking into herself and her own devices once more. She inhaled; she exhaled; all in that order but none too quickly, savoring the peace admidst the warring of the Sa... Sa... well whatever that story book family was named.
She rolled her head to the left, to the window.
It fell, crystals from the sky, white jimmies or powdered sugar that came down a veil in dimming light. Her lips parted as her eyes strained for a closer look. Skye hopped from the bed, the oriental rug cushioning a landing she hardly noticed. She was already It was... it was... it really was... it was snowing.
And in the next flash her feet pranced, then ran, then leaped to the phone by her bedside, picking it up and dialing a number she knew by heart.
Ring.
Ring.
Click.
"Hello, you have reached the number of Luciana Covington. I'm not in right now, but if you leave a message after the..."
Her heart fell at the calm tone. Her eyes closed.
Her face fell at the same time her hand did, the phone placed once again in its cradle.
Her eyelids fluttered open, dark lashes glistening only the faintest bit. She blinked, once twice, long lashes framing the shutter to amber eyes that now seemed awash in green tinged brown. Oh, she told herself, Lucy wouldn't care anyway. She'd seen this all before. She'd stare upon the snow with experienced eyes. No, snow was no miracle. But it was to Skye, for Skye wasn't experienced; she hadn't seen this all before. Skye cared... and witnessed a miracle for the first time, right outside her bedroom window.
So Skye dialed ten numbers, cell phone, call put through. And at that moment, somewhere in Great Britain, a phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Justin?"
"Skye..."
"It's snowing..."
-§-
It was chilly. That was the first thing she noticed as she stepped off the plane on a dim November morning. What a change from the south of France from whence she had just come. The air was damp and the sky overhead lingered a soft gray that let not even the sun through. There was no need for the sunglasses she had donned just before she left. She slid them off her face and into her purse as she looked around the terminal. She was alone now, but she was fully capable of taking care of what needed to be done. It was yet early, dawn had touched Ireland not too long ago, and the airport was less than bustling.
She had been walking steadily forward, out of the terminal and into the baggage area. Quite painless it was and quite efficient as she scooped up her two bags swiftly and walked away. She was glad she was inside where it was not so chilly, but she'd have to remind herself to take a light jacket out of her suitcase. Now, where?
North exit he'd said. She'd talked to him maybe an hour ago. Her dark hair swung loose behind her. She saw the sign pointing north and briskly walked forward, following it. He'd said he would try, but wasn't sure if he could pull off a "Justin." She understood. From what she heard, Justin had never liked to play it safe. From the sound of it though, Justin has been extraordinarily lucky in his exploits. Obviously, because he hadn't learned his lesson yet and been caught.
She was almost there. The airport wasn't the biggest she'd ever been in and since her terminal hadn't been far from the north exit, it hadn't taken her long to walk the distance. her heart was light, though she did not smile. This all seemed routine to her. Airport after airport, till all started to blur into one another. But at the end of this tunnel this time, something different, something brighter waited for her, did it not? She could hope.
Her booted feet carried her through the sliding glass doors, bags firmly in each hand. Cold air surrounded her and briefly she shivered. As she rounded the corner, she dropped her bags beside her. They must be late. She saw many parked cars, but none appeared to be waiting for her.
"Ms. Anwar!"
Her head spun around. She knew that voice...
A bouquet of red roses pressed against his chest, dark sunglasses on his eyes to block out the nonexistent sun, he leaned back casually against the car. Beside him she glimpsed an ogre of a man, standing firm, unsmiling. Oh, but he was smiling...
"Mr. Chasez," she drawled, smiling, though she did not move save turning her body.
He gave her a bemused smile that seemed to last forever.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" he asked her. "Heaven awaits."
Jan glanced doubtfully at the car and back at him, raising her brow. "If that's Heaven, I do not want to see what Hell looks like. And I had such high hopes. Damn."
She met with the sound of JC's laughter. It reverberated through her mind. It was a sin that his voice should get to her so... that he should get to her so. Heaven her ass. He was going straight to Hell. Jan would gladly join him in a heartbeat.
JC turned his head, his smile still intact. "Andre, will you please get the lady's bags?" He turned his head back. "Jan?" He held open the door of the sleek black car, still holding the roses.
She began to walk forward once Andre had taken her bags. "Why thank you, Mr. Chasez. How thoughtful of you." Intentionally, she took her time strolling forwad to him, her eyes never left his face. She was far from immune to the twinkle in his eyes, and the soft lips that curled upwards. She loved the way he kissed her, soft and slowly more demanding. She loved the way he rubbed the small of her back unintentionally and the way he held her close at night. She thought she loved everything about him... well, almost everything. She gazed doubtfully at a point above his sunglasses. Who knew what was going through their heads? Popstars that had quote on quote, "Expanded their minds, as well as their horizons." There must be a magic mushroom with "popstar" written all over it.
She took the flowers from him as she stepped into the car. She bent her head towards them... sweet. He knew she loved roses. He settled down close beside her his arm pressed against hers. She was glad he hadn't immediately slung his arm around her.. many of her former boyfriends had. It was a sign of possession... but JC seemed to know that he didn't need do that. The inexplicable bond was there already that told her he was hers and him that she was his.
"How was your trip?" he asked, sliding his sunglasses off.
"Fine. How is your hair?"
"What?" he asked laughing.
"Well the shirt I can forgive, but the hair... Don't you think you should do something about it?"
Suddenly his face lit up as she imagined a mad scientist would do. Jan did not like that.... no she didn't. She looked at him hesitantly.
JC's voice rang out. "Andre, take us to that salon we saw on the way over here..."
He gave her a smirk and leaned over to kiss her puzzled mouth. As his body heat over took her, she forgot that she was supposed to be scared of him. The tunnel had been traveled, it end reached. Yes something different awaited her... he was most definitely different, most definitely brighter.
-§-
Memories seemed as fleeting and distant as the warmth on this winter's day. Her senses told her to walk faster, out of this cold, but for once, her thoughts lulled her into a casual pace even as the goosebumps raised on otherwise smooth skin. It was particularly bright this early day, but not particularly warm, the rays hitting the newly fallen snow. It was a beautiful sight, one soon to be ruined when the Boston sidewalks would begin to litter with people. She had learned her lesson well: things left for people to walk all over would eventually turn brown, crumpled and dirty.
For a moment, the cold faded as her hands began to clench involuntarily. Lucy... her name was Luciana. As many times as she had corrected Skye, her sister persisted in calling her Lucy. For a moment her fingers clenched, but she remembered herself, her self-control. She allowed her fingers to go slack. She couldn't let this upset her so much. She was Luciana now, not Lucy... not Lucy anymore.
Luciana, unlike Lucy, wasn't naive to the world around her. She had grown up much too fast. Splotches of color sat on her shadows of memories and lingered in her mind. She remembered the small white vanity where a woman, her namesake and face, sat brushing her flaxen hair. She could still see the silky strands tangled in that ivory brush. She spoke every once in a while to her daughter, her miniature, Luciana. Hollywood, her youth and beauty were things Luciana remembered that her mother spoke of. Oh, Luciana couldn't be sure, but she thought her mother had thought her gifts wasted in that life. She guessed something better had come along for her mother. Maybe her beautiful mother had floated away on the wind.
Perhaps it'd have been better if she had just died. Luciana had grown up with a father who never thought he'd tried hard enough for anything... for his children, to give them the things they needed... for his wife, to keep her from running. Lucy he'd called her. He was the one who had butchered her name and corrupted it into something shorter. Her mother had never called her anything but Luciana. Maybe her father had called her Lucy so as not to confuse her with his cherished wife. And maybe he continued even after she'd gone so he wouldn't have to relive the memory of his runaway love. So Luciana had grown up Lucy.
It was hard for them. From the very beginning, Skye had been a sickly child. She was a colicky baby and seemed prone to infections. But there was no money for insurance, so they kept Skye at home, their father and Lucy alike, for fear that Skye would catch something they couldn't pay for. Twelve hours a day their father worked and still there was never ever enough money to go around. There had never been enough money. Perhaps that was why her mother had left. Perhaps she had known that this town was dying faster than her.
Luciana, on the other hand, could not remember the day in her life when she had been sick. She'd always been the healthy one. Their father had worried endlessly. The little money he made, he spent on necessities for his family: clothes, food, shoes, medicine for Skye. When the money ran out, he had to sell anything of value in his home.
She remembered the day when she had hauled out that pretty white vanity. She had held Skye in her arms, a toddler who loved to be rocked. 'Lucy' had a obliged her. Skye had long ago stopped calling for Momma. She now called for a Lucy. Lucy had been a mother long before her time, but she'd done the best she could by Skye. Skye had known nothing but love from Lucy's hands. She'd tried her best, her very best. Couldn't they see that?
She remembered the way life went then, how simple it could be. In the morning, about seven, their father went to work, while Lucy and Skye went off to school. After school finished around three, they came home to the chores. At around six, their father came in dirty, tired and hungry. At around ten, the last of the lights in the Covington house went out. It was... somewhat comfortable, that way of life, like the tide that came in and out, its routine.
She remembered those days when hope had been like a balloon on a string, always at the tip of her fingers, always within reach, but never quite there. If it was let go, surely, it would float away. Lucy had held on tight, afraid that if she ever let losose, even the tiniest bit, it would fly away. In a life with such a bleak future, Lucy had hope. So easy it had been to get lost in those days, to be led astray by the promise of no tomorrow. People gave up, believing there was no futere and living only for the day. They didn't know or care if tomorrow ever came. She couldn't, wouldn't be led astray. She just couldn't give up. In the face of adversity, Lucy would hold out and win her own medal of honor, colored yellow, the color of hope. She tried...
But as hard as Lucy tried, she had still gotten lost, if only once. It was the morning their father had gone to work, that fifteenth day of April, and had never returned. The routine had been ruined, the day thrown out black, and Lucy had spiraled down to an abyss where yellow did not exist.
Her Daddy was gone. He'd never return. Gone... She was an orphan now. He'd left Lucy and Skye alone. They were just children. 'Going on' seemed a foreign phrase. Be strong, hold your own... kind words spoken by people who said them more for comfort than with understanding. Her heart was racing itself. Where to go, what to do, where to turn... Why had this happened to her? What had she done wrong? What? She had lashed out. Anger had taken her away.
Lucy had gone astray because she had realized life simply wasn't going to let you go your own way. What had been despair turned to determination somewhere along the line and anger fueled her fire. Such a tragedy, the town said, the Covingtons were made to push a heavier plow into rockier earth than most. Well Luciana pushed, God almighty, she'd pushed. She'd pushed hard, pushed her way out of this god-fearing town. God be damned. And if he was up there, merciful he was not.
Because God didn't seem to see her struggle, how good, pure and sweet 'Lucy' had been... how innocent. He'd destroyed that. Once, once... once she would have believed so readily, gotten on her knees and prayed. But the good Lord had not been so good, nor so kind as to help her. So she helped herself. Just like her mother before her, Luciana finally understood that this wasn't the life she was meant for. She'd leave just as soon as time and money allowed. She knew she couldn't take anything, or anyone with her. The plan she had formed only allowed for one.
She was sorry, but this meant more to her than anything else ever had. By staying here just out of love's sake, she would not be helping anyone. She had the opportunity to make a better life, to beat the odds that seemed lined up against her. It was one challenge that Luciana could not resist, one game she was sure she could win. Oh she'd be the victor all right and take advantage of a life that had taken advantage of her for so long. She'd realized never to leave things to chance because life threw curveballs when you weren't looking. Well, Luciana would throw her own curveballs. The change had begun. Lucy was fading away and Luciana was coming to life.
On that last day, before she'd walked out of that door, Lucy had placed her hand in Skye's for the last time. Luciana had left then, never looking back. She was no longer Lucy, the young girl who had grown up trying to do her best, believing that life was fair and the good finished first. That innocence had faded into something much more hardened. She was now Luciana, the girl determined to make what had been wrong, right. She'd make a difference all right... in her own life. She'd fight tooth and nail for all she'd been denied. Lucy had been denied so much... overlooked as if she meant nothing. Well she'd show life that it could not forget Luciana Covington. Lucy would be avenged.... and Luciana would get her pound of flesh.
-§-
He sat there, Indian style, hands clasped under his chin, eyes closed. One would have thought he was meditating for he sat so still, if only he sat a little straighter, if only he looked the least bit peaceful. They door was wide open, yet no one entered. No one thought to look for Joe. Outside, little stood still. There was much to do in preparation for the concert, but even much more in preparation for tonight. Crew had been invited... friends... those who put the party together. Justin had rarely been seen with his ear disconnected from his cellphone long enough to smile much less inquire about anyone's personal health, hygiene, or otherwise.
Joe could understand though. Joe, who sensed his somewhat forgotten role among FuManSkeeto, FreeLance Productions, The Justin Timberlake Foundation and Chasez Music, understood. He should have been more bitter, but he wasn't. Joe was in no hurry to rush any fate that would befall him. One thing at a time... Right now, a tempest was brewing.
For weeks he'd felt something wrong, an increasing tense situation that nagged him even at a subconscious level. But only last night had it escalated to a full assualt of his senses. Each one seemed heightened, though his mind seemed only able to focus on this wash of urgency he was experiencing. It made his uneasy... but nothing seemed amiss.
He shook his head. So many times he wondered if he himself was sane and if the strings that hung precariously taut in his mind would ever be plucked. Yet he'd never been led astray by his intuition. How could he ignore it now? Joey just made the best of all he could. He knew he couldn't change the world. World wars and genocide would happen without his consent. But there was something he could make a difference in: his own world and those of his loved ones. He'd try.
Joey suddenly smiled. His mind, abuzz with worry, had abruptly given him a glimpse into his future. Joey cocked his head. If he was right, he was going to put Miss Cleo out of business. Literally.
-§-
He was nervous. His stomach rumbled slightly, reminding him of the missed lunch and craving for dinner he had. He had had a lot to do that day, and all before she arrived. He did not understand how all of it had gotten done. It was a good thing he'd double-checked everything, because things were off, not the way he'd planned. It was as they had always said, if you really wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. Well, with trusted advisors at least.
"Can't you hurry up a little?" he whined, sitting at the edge of his seat. She was coming in at five and he didn't want to be late.
"Do you feel like being thrown forward with enough force to snap your neck?" The solid black man stared briefly at him through the rearview mirror while the other sat quietly in the passenger's seat. Justin cringed at the thought of being squished onto the seat in front of him. "I didn't think so, so we'll continue at our legal speed behind this nice car."
Justin pouted.
"Timberlake, what's gotten into you? Relax, because your attitude ain't gonna make this car go any faster."
"I just don't want to be late, " he protested in his defense.
"I know, you've been telling me since we got in the car. We're not gonna be late. I promise."
He sighed. Right now, he little resembled the postar of superstardom he usually embodied. No, the description anxious young boy came to mind... ok, maybe a little spoiled too. If he didn't know better, he would have thought it was the beginning again as he'd gotten into the airplane that would take him to Germany for the first time. But he was excited all the same by all he'd set up, proud, maybe inordinately proud, but he felt as if he'd accomplished something. It wasn't huge in the grand scheme of things, not as huge as it had been when 'N Sync had sold 2.4 million albums in their first week, breaking any previous record, but to him it felt huge and he couldn't wait to show her.
"You have your instructions Craig. Do you remember them?"
For the first time during the car ride, the front seat passenger shifted. "Justin, between this morning and now, I think you've told me about five times. Believe me, it's etched onto my brain."
"Are you sure? Cause I just want it to be efficient and fast. I gave you the photo, didn't I?"
He sighed. "Yes Justin, on both measures. I am sure. You gave me the photo. It's right here in my pocket." Quickly, he swiped it up as proof for Justin.
Justin just nodded, unable to sit still. He was still nervous... nervous about keeping this secret, nervous that she wouldn't get in safely, nervous that something would go wrong. "How close are we?" he asked, turning his view back to the driver.
Chocolate brown eyes appeared in the mirror to make sure it was him Justin was speaking to. "I'd say about ten minutes away from when I looked at the map this morning."
"Hope so. We can be early."
"We will be early, so quit yapping."
Justin pouted again. He said nothing though, instead staring out the car's tinted windows. The sun's light was going out and the sky was a deep shad of blue. It told of the winter that was approaching Ireland rapidly with its short days and long nights. It had yet to snow, but predictions of it were all about.
And he remembered Skye's phone call. It was the first time she had ever taken the initiative and called him. He was touched. He was surprised, but pleasantly so. Justin could hear the excitement in her voice, its hurried pace. The words tripped out of her mouth with such awe and fast pace that he wondered if she was breathing correctly. It was laughable, but he didn't laugh. Rather, he smiled and tried to remember the days when he too had found such awe in something so simple. There was beauty in the way she laughed. Her peculiar beauty seemed to fill everything she touched. Justin was no exception. He'd built this for her.
A cloud passed over his eyes. His intentions could be nothing less than pure, although he knew that wasn't true. Pure intentions could not come from such a corrupt young man. Skye fascinated him because Skye was fascinated with everything about this world he'd grown so accustomed to. Skye was fascinated with everything in it. And Skye was fascinated with him. To be so green and so naive was wondrous to him. To be admired and loved was even better. She was steadily becoming an addiction.
They mad a left into a modest airport. The planes flying in the distance was his only clue.
"We're here," the driver announced.
Justin said nothing, but just stared up. No one got out of the car. He had his orders: he was not to get out of the car in any circumstance other than "approaching death." And that was quoted. But then again they said that every time. Justin could have selective hearing when he so desired. So t hey were early... but by only ten minutes.
The minutes seemed to go by so slowly, every minute seemed like five to him. Finally after what seemed closer to fifteen... "Craig, why don't you go look for her now? Do you have the picture?' he asked quickly.
Craig rolled his eyes in the mirror. "Yes Justin, for the tenth time. Yes I have the picture. I studied it, just for you. They only thing I drew short on was painting the portrait. Would you like me to do that for you when we get back? I can do it with my eyes closed."
"Hey!" said Justin. "Don't you roll your eyes at me! I'm only trying to make this one hundred percent foolproof."
"Then sit down and shut cause the only way we can screw this up now is if you give us headaches with your jabbering."
Justin started to pout...
"And don't you put! I've had enough of your sorry-assed long face. Do you really think that she is going to want to see that when she comes?"
Justin paid no attention and longed out his lips.
"Hope she had good sense. If it were me, as soon as I saw that face I would turn right around and hop back on that plane."
"Well, that's why she isn't you. She had good sense. And why are you still here, Craig? Didn't I tell you to go now? Don't endanger my safety by tempting me to do your job cause you aren't doing it."
Craig grumbled, stepped out of the car and closed the door. Justin was surprised he hadn't slammed it, but not so surprised when he heard him walking away, mumbling something about "that boy has gotten too big for his britches." Justin knew every word was true. He could qualify for male diva at times, if there was such a thing.
He shrugged it off. He was just nervous. What if she didn't like it? He'd bee focused on that all day, cross-examining everything. What disturbed him the most were the costumes... God, him and his lousy ideas. Not that hers wasn't beautiful. Donna had done a superb job. But his... Justin has pulled off a lot in his lifetime, but even he wasn't sure about this one. Stupid... he didn't blame them for whining. In their place, he would have whined too. After all they had done, they had stopped short of refusing. Maybe it would have been better if they'd outright refused. He wouldn't have gone through all he did because he would have rethought his hasty decision. Justin contemplated calling them and telling them them to forget about the costumes and jsut come in party clothes. But after the bill he paid in the high thousands, had he reached the point of no return.
He had been edgy all morning because of it and he hadn't even bee aided by the stimulant of coffee. His tummy rumbled. Justin raised his eyebrows as he looked down at his stomach. He hadn't been aided by much else either. Right now, only two words existed in Justin's mind: Skye, and food... in that order.
"John," he called, motioning to the remaining person in the car. "Call ahead to..." A little efficiency never hurt, especially when he had so little of it himself.
-§-
"You're picking her up?"
"Yes."
"That's very nice of you."
"Well, she's your sister."
An even better excuse.
-§-
"Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." How right Forrest Gump had been. Over the past few weeks, Skye's life had changed, and yet stayed the same. One day, Riley had just shown up and asked if she wanted to go see the sights of the city. When she'd looked hesitant, almost sputtering that Justin was going to take her, he'd quickly added a please, and a 'to make up for lost time.'
He'd taken her to the Toronto Islands that day... and almost every weekend since. She had been intrigued by the three islands and he'd given in to her intoxication. They reminded her of something out of a story book. On these little islands time stood still and magic bathed her senses. How she wished everything could be like that. Magic and fairy tales would always seduce her.
From such a young age, she'd been made to believe that fairy tales were possible, and dreams did come true. Oh how she prayed that they had told the truth, and how she wanted to believe. Those three years she had spent apart from her sister had almost been to much to bear, had she not clung to the dream the Lucy would come back, save her and they'd be happy and safe, forever and ever. She knew it was a dream, but how could she not hold onto it? Lest she perish and become the people her sister pitied, yet also despised... those that had given up hope. Almost every day since Skye could remember, Lucy had been telling her not to give up hope, so she never had. She still hoped... that all would be well, that one day her sister would come back to her and be Lucy again. One day.
And here she was... change was all about her. She was flying to Ireland to see Justin perform. In the last few months she'd been to so many countries it was a whirlwind to take them all in. Who'd ever thought that Skye Covington, who'd never been out of Louisiana in seventeen years, would have flown to more than five countries in less than a year.
How strange. That's what today was: strange. And exciting. And frightening. Even stranger yet... she hadn't told him. She was eighteen today and she hadn't said a word to Justin. Her nerves were almost too much. Her stomach had been turning ever since she'd left Toronto at the tip of dawn.
The morning had been so dark, then it had lightened to a deep deep blue. Martha had wished her a sleepy happy birthday, waving good-bye as Skye got in the car with Riley. She was happy... and she was sad. The one voice she had wanted to hear this morning had failed to call. She had woken up extra early, but the phone had never rang. Martha didn't say a word about Lucy calling. Well. Maybe Lucy had just missed her. Maybe she had called just as Riley had driven off. Maybe her one man chorus of happy birthdays had commenced and ended for the day. But Riley had known what she failed to tell Justin. She didn't know how, but he'd wished her a happy birthday too and talked of the importance of eighteen.
Today, Riley had told her eighteen meant change. Eighteen meant she was growing up and she would need to start preparing for independence, making her own decisions, and taking responsibility for herself and her actions. It was the age when he'd left home to take charge of his own life, deciding what was right for him. Eighteen was the age Lucy had come into her own. Eighteen marked the change from child to adult. Skye was now an adult. Once it had been Riley's turn. Once it had been Lucy's. Now it was hers.
The speech should have been the furthest thing from her mind as she stepped off the plane. Yet here she was, all of eighteen years old, and she had no idea what to do next or where to go. How was she supposed to take charge of her life if she couldn't even take charge of herself in an airport?
"Are you Skye Covington?"
A dark shadow crossed her path. Quickly, she raised her head and nodded, caught off-guard. "Yes," she vocalized when he didn't seem to notice her nod.
"All right. Come with me."
He was solid, his voice deep and almost monotone. He strode forward, looking back just once to see if Skye was following him. Skye was giving it her hardest effort as she picked up her heavy feet to follow him. The air surrounding them was moderately noisy, but not with any contribution from their own voices. The only noise from them was their footsteps along the floors. She eyed him warily as the big hulking figure led the way.
He led her to the carousel- baggage claim as it read on the sign. The conveyor belt had just begun to move. Pieces of luggage began to file past her in slow succession. "That's mine." She pointed to a small black bag that favored more an overnight bag than actual luggage to travel overseas with. But she hadn't had much to bring with her and the small bag suited her fine.
His quickly grabbed the bag off the belt and stood straight once again, waiting it seemed, for more.
"Umm... that's it," she said quietly, looking to him with hesitant eyes, not quite sure if she really did want to disturb him... he looked so... unapproachable.
He turned to look at her as if he hadn't heard her correctly.
"That's it," she repeated. "I just brought that one piece of luggage with me. So if you're not waiting for anything of your own, we can go."
He looked down at her for one more moment then nodded and turned, not saying a word.
Oh this airport seemed so big to her. But so did every other one... She should have been excited... She was, she was... but... couldn't she be here? Lucy. Smiling, laughing, wishing her a happy birthday, coming to join her to watch Justin perform. One big happy family. That's all she needed... to make a dream come true. Skye needed a voice or two. She needed a familiar face instead of the solid, imposing body that strode in front of her. She dared only look straight ahead. Almost there.
The doors slid open.
-§-
He saw her first, fair and square, coming out of the sliding glass doors with Craig in tow, on bag in his hand. In a flash, he was scrambling towards the opposite door. The car was parallel parked next to a wall to Justin's delight. Perfect.
"Jus.." It was John as he witnessed the hurried movements.
"Justin quickly cut him off. "Trust me. Keep your voice down. I'm gonna surprise her. This is part of the plan."
"No it isn't!"
"What did I tell you about keeping your voice down? Besides, it is now. Just play along. I wasn't here." Not waiting for anymore protests, Justin quickly scooted out of the car and closed the door quickly behind him. No more than five seconds later, he heard them approaching the car.
"The car, mademoiselle." It was Craig. Justin could hardly imagine him even awkwardly bowing to her.
Justin almost snickered, but settled quickly for a smirk. A snicker would give his position away. The car dropped slightly with her weight and he knew she'd gotten into the car. Immediately after, footsteps neared the back of the car towards Justin. In the next moment, Justin could see the tall dark figure of Craig. He'd opened the trunk and set a lone bag inside. Justin was almost in the home stretch...
Just then Craig's eyes widened as he spotted a crouching Justin. Justin quickly shook his head and pointed to the side of the car. As his eyes pleaded with Craig, he put a finger to his lips in an added plea. The tall man just looked at Justin as if he'd gone insane in the time period that Craig had gotten out of the car to fetch Skye to the minute he'd put his hands on top of the trunk. Craig just shook his head and closed the trunk before anything seemed amiss. Justin was reminded to thank the both of them later.
Almost time. Justin counted to five, sliding his sunglasses up and pulling his cap down. And then he began to stroll.
-§-
Knock, knock.
Her head spun around. She was uncomfortable in the imposing black vehicle. She'd shrunk together, her legs pressed together, her hands clasped, her head low. She was as little as she could possibly make herself while still sitting in the seat. Her hand reached out hesitantly but stopped short of the door.
"Roll down the window," the man advised.
Skye looked confusedly at the door, searching for something to wind the window down.
"Press the button," he supplied.
"Oh." She had spotted it.
The window slid down smoothly to reveal a statuesque figure. Then he ruined it by smiling.
"Justin!" she exclaimed and scrambled to the window to embrace him. He caught her arms just as she reached out and pushed them back into the car. She was confused as she saw him look around quickly and dropped her arms in reaction. He seemed somewhat satisfied and then he opened the car door, smoothly sliding in and closing the door quickly behind him. It seemed he took great care to close the window.
Once it was closed and the door was locked, he smiled again, the fearful look on his face gone as if it had been nothing more than a minute annoyance. "Sorry, but don't shout out my name in public like that, ok?"
Skye nodded, feeling a little guilty, swallowing as he said it. She looked slightly away.
He reached out and turned her face up towards his face as he slid off his sunglasses..
"Hey hey Princess. I'm not mad at you. It's just a precaution. I was glad you were happy to see me. Now smile for me. Please?" He wrinkled his forehead.
Instantly, the corners of her mouth lifted and she giggled. He joined her in laughter, and reached up to tug off his beanie.
It couldn't have come more abruptly. Skye gasped. "Justin! Your hair!"
"My what?"
"Your hair! ...Or lack of it." She expected to see his short curls peek out, but instead she was greeted by a patch of brown fuzz.
"Oh that! I forgot about it in the rush. I did it like five days ago. Don't you like it? Everyone tells me it looks great."
"Yea... just takes a little getting used to. I mean, I remember a picture of you with big big hair... to this."
"Well, wait till you see JC. he did his this morning with Jan there."
"Jan's here?" she brightened. She remembered Jan...
"Oh yea. Arrived just this morning. JC's now a blubbering lovesick idiot... What a minute he's been that for the past few weeks!"
She heard her own laughter at his sarcasm.
"Well, I guess it's a big improvement over the sullen pity me attitude he had before. We were all about to kill him... or at least hurt him really really badly then knock some sense into him."
Skye laughedat his serious expression. His voice had deepened as he talked of JC.
"But anyway," he said lightening his voice suddenly. "Enough about us. What about you? How was your flight?"
She had a lot to talk about.
As usual, she didn't know where to start.
-§-