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Date Posted: 16:36:10 05/19/03 Mon
Author: Kira
Subject: *Romance* Chapter 6....Is she okay?

Chapter 6~Surprise

Gavrielle rubbed her knee, wiping her eyes as a cloud of dust curled around the car. Her green eyes, dark with fear and rimmed in silver tears, flicked up to the rearview mirror. She eyed a shaken Marta in the backseat. She swallowed and stroked her neck. “You okay?”

Marta whimpered and unfastened her seatbelt. “Yeah, I think so…”

“Okay…”

Gavrielle leaned against the steering wheel, breathing erratically. “Oh god…” she panted.

Marta wiped her eyes and leaned over the front seat, a hand on Gavrielle’s arm. “Are you alright?” Gavrielle nodded silently, but she was shaking with trepidation. The rain still pelted the car, heavy and thick.

“Gavrielle?” Marta whispered.

“Okay,” she sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’m fine…” she groped for her umbrella and exited the car.

She moved around the car, leaning over the fender. The tired was popped, durable leather ripped like black flesh, a few feet away was a jagged piece of metal. Gavrielle’s shoulders dropped and she climbed back in the car, shoulder damp from the rain. “Your tire is dead.”

“FUCK!” Marta sneered.

“You got a spare?”

“Yeah, a full in the trunk. Lemme call Triple A.”

Gavrielle shook her head. “It’ll take them forever to get here, Marta.”

“So? What are we gonna do?”

Gavrielle shook her head and popped the trunk. “You’re such a girl. We’re going to change it, dumbass. Come on.”

**

Justin yawned behind his hand, taking off his burgundy crocheted cap and twirled it on his finger. He ran his hand over his hair, smoothing down his fledging curls. He yawned again, his throat slightly scratchy and leaned against the row of chairs, ignoring the camera crew setting up in front of him. He closed his eyes and sang under his breath. Mumbling whatever melody was strumming through his mind. He was in the auditorium at Radio City Music Hall, facing rounds of interviews. The show was approaching quickly, a freight train gaining speed and force when he wasn’t paying attention, when he was lost in rehearsals or interviews or ten minute cat-naps he found himself needing through out the day. Without Chris there to distract him, his mind was altering his golden confidence into self-consciousness and ugly doubt. He was grateful when a beautiful British reporter approached him. “Mr. Timberlake?”

Justin stood up straight, eyes open, grinning brightly. “Yes, ma’am?” He flicked with his Shiva necklaces.

“Hello, nice to meet you, I’m Tamara Stoggins.”

“Ms. Stoggins? Pleasure to meet you.”

She eyed her cameraman and nodded curtly. The red light blinked on and Justin stood up straight. “I’m Tamara Stoggins and I’m here with Justin Timberlake, former member of NSYNC and we’re in New York City at Radio City Music Hall just hours before the VMAs kick off. Are you excited about your solo debut, Justin?”

“Of course, I am. I’ve been workin’ on the album since May and I’m so proud of what it is that I can’t wait to get out there and show it to the world.”

“That’s great. What can you tell us about the album? I hear there are some hot tracks on it.”

Justin smiled and scratched his cheek. “I don’t really…I don’t wanna say too much about it because I think once it’s out there, once everyone hears it, it’ll stand on its own.”

“Can you tell us anything?” she interrupted in sharply.

“I don’t wanna jinx it, but I will say that it’s incredibly different from what’s in the Top 40 right now. It’s a new, I think, bolder sound.”

Tamara nodded and glanced down at her small notepad. “There’s this buzz around NSYNC…that NSYNC is over and you’ve left the group…what is your reaction to that?”

Justin chuckled bitterly. “That’s everyone’s favorite question. Um, we’re fine. We’re just…we’ve been working and touring and just…around each other 24/7 for seven years and we thought that this would be a great time to just hit the pause button, ya know? We all wanted to pursue other projects and take a break to experience things apart. We’re just chillin’ for a few months and we’ll be reconvene next year…probably in the fall to start writing and record the next album…” his face buzzed and he turned his head, sneezing loudly in his hand. “Excuse me.”

Tamara giggled, her hands on his arm. “Bless you.”

“Thank you.” Oh shit.

**

Gavrielle and Marta arrived New York by the late afternoon, (finding the east coast unusually cool), delayed by heavy traffic and the time it took to change the tire. They dropped the car off at an overnight parking lot and thanked the attendant when he gave them the key the to bathroom. They shuffled the washroom, tired, damp and a bit sore. Gavrielle peeled out of her water-weighted sweatshirt and sighed in relief, turning the dirty faucets on hot. Her capris were almost dry, just a few wet patches at her knees. “I just wanna warm shower and a hot plate of food,” Marta whined from her fixed position at the hot air dryer. She angled the spout to help dry her red tee shirt and fingered the welt on her neck from the seatbelt. “Did we drive in the fucking twilight zone, it’s freezing here.”

“I know, Marta.” Gavrielle splashed a handful of hot water on her face and wiped off the grime.

Marta’s cell phone rang in her bag and She wiped her hands on her pants, answering it. “Hello?”

“Gavrielle? It’s Darren.”

“Yes. Oh wow, I haven’t talked to you in, like, what two years?”

Darren’s laugh was rich and deep, just as she remembered. She heard his golden laughter all the time while he and Marta were dating. Marta met him her freshman year. Darren was a sweetheart, a large black man with broad shoulder, a bright smile, large hands and a brilliant mind. They’d dated for a year and even hinted towards marriage, but Darren’s father died suddenly, and Darren, against all wishes from Marta and even his family, dropped out of college and abandoned his academic scholarship to take care of his mother, younger brother and infant sister. Marta wouldn’t stand for him destroying his life and his future and they broke up. Severed all ties completely. As strong as Marta was, it took months of crying and temper tantrums before she could function on her own. Now, two years later, she was revisiting deep wounds that hadn’t ever healed, just to get Gavrielle into a performance.

“Man, yeah, about two years. What’s up, lady? You takin’ care of my girl?”

“Of course, Darren.”

“Good. I got your tickets, babe. Meet me in front of Radio City at MTV studios tomorrow. 1515 Broadway in Times Square and I’ll hook you up, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks, Darren. I knew you’d get them. You wanna talk to Marta?”

He cleared his throat. “Nah. I’ll catch her…up, yeah, I’ll see her tomorrow, lady.”

Gavrielle’s shoulders sank. “Alright, thank you so much, Darren.”

**

It was a chilly August day in New York, drizzling and rainy, but Gavrielle never felt the cold. She was bounding on anticipation for Justin’s performance. Marta glared at her through her sunglass and cinched the hood tighter, protecting her hair from the rain. Her eyes scanned the throngs of people, waiting for Darren to deliver the tickets. “How can you be so chipper?”

Gavrielle shrugged her shoulders, snuggling into her pink hoodie. “I just am.”

“Well you didn’t your blanket didn’t smell like sex.”

Gavrielle chuckled and fingered at the cornrows in her hair. “Nope, it didn’t.”

“The only sex I wanna smell is when I’m having it.”

“All you had to do was go call housekeeping and they would have gotten you a new one.”

“Blah blah blah.”

Gavrielle leaned against the building, abandoning her search for Darren for a few moments and started pointedly at her friend. “Don’t get bitchy, Marta.”

“I’m not getting, bitchy,” she rolled her eyes.

Gavrielle bumped her shoulder and smiled brightly. “He sounded great on the phone.”

She wrinkled her nose and turned away, pouting sadly. “I don’t care.”

“I think you do. I think that’s why you’re grumpy and in this lovely funk. Sweetie, look at where we are, look at this place, it’s gorgeous. And you got me here. Thank you.”

Marta’s face hardened in an attempt to keep from smiling, but Gavrielle could see the glimmer of exhilaration in her eyes. She squealed excitedly and Marta’s stony façade crumbled. She laughed loudly as people rushed by. Gavrielle threw her arms around Marta’s neck and they danced goofily for a few minutes, nearly falling over in laughter, when no one paid them any attention.

Gavrielle saw the revolving doors from the studio open and Darren stepped outside, rich coffee skin, bright brown eyes and white teeth, grinning proudly. She stilled and cleared her throat in Marta’s ear. The young woman turned around slowly, her breath catching in her throat as she gaped at Darren, dressed in black pants and black shirt with a vivid design and a green knit skull cap covering his silky hair. Marta’s eyes flitted to the press pass around his neck. “Darren. Um…he-hel-hi,” she waved shortly, pushing her sunglasses up.

“Hello, Marta.”

Gavrielle hugged Darren briefly as he ushered them into the building and to the plush benches lining the lobby. “Gavrielle, I believe I have something for you,” he pulled two tickets out of his pocket and handed them to her. “There’s a pit, it’s like in the middle of the stage and that’s where you’ll be. I just need you and Marta to sign the list and you’re all set.”

Gavrielle took the clipboard from Darren and signed quickly, passing it to a listless Marta. She signed her loopy signature and handed it back to Darren. Her eyes avoiding his. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to get back to work.”

“Work?” Marta echoed, facing him as she stood up and shouldered her bag.

“Yes. Work, Marta. I work here part-time and go to college full time at NYU.”

“But you said…you…went to work for UPS, your family…” she struggled.

Darren’s face grew serious and he stepped closer, tilting her chin upwards with his index finger. “One thing I always loved about you is that I can’t get your voice out of my head. You, begging me not to destroy my future, stuck with me and I’m here now.”

Gavrielle watched them and smiled softly. The connection was reborn.

**

After the opening performance, the novelty of the pit wore off. Instantaneously. It was hot and musky, a sardine can packed full of humans, creating thick, humid air that held a sharp odor. They’d dressed up. Gavrielle was wearing black, pin-stripped pants and a stylish pink tank top. Her hair was in cornrows and she had borrowed Marta’s beaded black stiletto boots, which made her feet and legs ache. Standing through the entire show, blistered her feet and turned her legs into rocks. The only highlights, were the performances, everyone in the pit suddenly came alive, oozing energy (as they were asked by the crew), finding bouts of strength and joy that they had when they were corralled there hours earlier. It was incredibly surreal, almost daunting, to be so close the celebrities during the presentation and performances. JLO, Christina, Shakira, Jimmy Fallon, all paid extra attention to the pit.

But finally, it was time for Justin’s performance, nearly two hours into the awards. When he was announced, Gavreille groped for Marta’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Her eyes trained on the stage. The curtain lifted and a giant boombox was revealed. Justin appeared on the top: black fedora, red shirt, loose black pants.

It began. He danced fluidly, his body bless with a graceful control that one could only wish for. He hopped off the giant prop and was mere feet award from her.

“Cain’t nobody love ya, like I love ya.”

Gavrielle’s mouth hung open and her heart hammered against her breastbone, blood thudding through her ears as his hips swiveled sexily. Her dark green eyes followed him around the stage, until he was in front of her again. Dancing alone. Gavrielle’s legs went completely numb and she sagged against the stage supports. Her neck craned upwards to take in all of him: six feet one inch of pure lust, a blessing of movement. Magical feet and lethal hips. Broad shoulders and capable legs. He danced like heaven. Moved like sex. His body made promises, whispered tales of desire.

The performance ended and there was another commercial break. Marta stared at Gavrielle. Brown eyes wide. “Wow,” she fanned herself.

Her mouth dry, Gavrielle could only nod. In four minutes, he’d made the trip- all nine hundred miles, six states and changing a flat tire in a torrential downpour- worth it. The show continued, a haze of corny jokes to Gavrielle, and the four men of NSYNC took the stage. She touched Joey’s hands as he greeted the audience and noticed the stiffness in JC’s stride. Justin had miraculously changed clothes, back into his attire for the night and he stood up there, panting as he bantered with his bandmates and read the lines off the teleprompter. When the nominations rolled, Justin walked over to the edge of the pit, leaning over and touching the hands of the fans. “Y’all like that or no? Be honest, y’all?”

Everyone nodded and cheered, including Gavrielle. She prayed for him to recognize her. He sidestepped to the left, directly in front of her and squatted down, a mirthful simper on his lips. He looked pointedly at her. Eyes a buzzing blue. “What about y’all, you like it?” he held out his hand.

Gavrielle slid her fingers in his lightly, but their hands lingered in his, flesh against flesh. “I loved it, actually,” she replied with smirk.

Justin arched an eyebrow, stuck out his tongue and trotted back to the podium. He whispered something to JC, who peered over and squinted at her.

At the next commercial break, a stocky man with a thick neck and an ill-fitting headset marched onto the stage as the hands were setting up for the closing performance. He leaned down, clipboard in hand. “I’m looking for a Gavrielle Simone?!” he yelled into the sea of people.

“Right here!” Gavrielle reluctantly raised her hand.

“Come on, miss, you need to come with us.”

She braced herself against the stage, jumping up and balancing herself with her arms. The stagehand grabbed her around the waist, tugging her out, rushing her gruffly. Gavrielle shook her head as she was tugged away. “My friend’s coming too…”

Marta climbed out, with Gavrielle tugging impatiently on her arm, and they were rudely ushered off the stage. She was led beyond the chaos. The stoic man navigated the corners and corridors until they were venturing down a hall of doors with names carefully scrawled on masking tape. The crewman stopped in front of an ambiguous door and rapped sharply with his fist, then turned and left.

Gavrielle looked at Marta and jumped as the door was jerked open. JC leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his tattered tee shirt. “You little devil, you. Get in here, mami. Go see your boy.”

Gavrielle smiled at him, rubbing his arm as she passed. Justin was leaning at the wall, drinking a chilled bottled water. His hat had been abandoned and his tie was loosened. His head lifted as she entered the room and his face was split by his grin, beamed brightly, opening his arms in a full laugh. Gavrielle walked quickly to him, warm with emotion and hugged him tightly, her arms locked behind his neck.

“You came,” he breathed into her neck.

Gavrielle pulled back. “Of course I did. YOU!” she screamed, taking his face in her hands. “You are the most wonderful, talented man…” she showered his face with sweet kisses. “You were SO GOOD! Oh my god, Justin! You were so good! You fucking owned them, baby. All of them!”

Justin seemed to shine, his face nearly glowing with pride. He nodded breathlessly and licked his lips, his hands resting comfortably low on her hips. He craned his neck forward, stealing a hint of a kiss, before kissing her again, deeply. Gavrielle pulled back, just noticing that Joey and Chris were in the room, watching them intently.

Chris lifted his eyebrows in amusement. “….and you are?” he prompted. “Not just some random fan I hope.”

“I’m Gavrielle, Chris.”

“Gavrielle, Gavrielle?”

“Yeah, I talked to you on the phone.”

“You got here, huh?” he replied, seemingly pleased.

“That I did.”

Justin frowned at Chris. “You knew she was coming!”

“Yes. I told her to come because you were being all pissy and annoying about it,” Chris crossed his arms over his chest.

Justin turned back to Gavrielle and nipped at her lips. “What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”

Gavrielle rubbed his chest, her hands falling on his heart, beating furiously beneath her hand. “Surprise.”

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