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Date Posted: 23:59:18 10/28/02 Mon
Author: Kira
Subject: Let Me Fly Con'd
In reply to: Kira 's message, "**Let Me Fly** The Conclusion...Feedback Please" on 23:50:57 10/28/02 Mon

The whole stupid thing wasn't supposed to be in italics, which meant it was a flashback. It ends when at "Darkness rolled. In typhoons of suffocating power,"

Let Me Fly Con'd

The top floor of the swanky Manhattan club that Justin had commandeered had been completely transformed. Justin’s love for spirituality and heaven had been reincarnated in the building. Long ribbons of chiffon marbled with navy blues, churning purples and black were strung from the edges of the circular dome ceiling, all arcing magnificently to the center of the dome. A giant ivory orb rotated in the middle of the ceiling. It was as if the decorators had harness the beauty of the sky and the moon. The model of the universe shimmered under the light emanating from the large glass moon, illuminating the glittered cloth like stars twinkling in the heavens. Brightly colored lights swirling around the pulsing hall, creating sleek shadows on the floors and deep blue walls.

Club versions of Justin’s songs pounded the walls; it was loud enough to feel the beat vibrating in Chris’ chest, but low enough so that short conversation could be heard without screaming.

The large banquet hall was filling quickly, celebrities and reporters, family and friends. Christ mingled through the crowd animatedly, grinning and shaking hands, wondering when Justin would make his grand entrance. His release party officially started in just a few minutes and he knew how anxious Justin was. Chris chuckled to himself, slipping seamlessly from casual conversation, making a beeline to the long, curving bar illuminated with blue neon lights. Chris was flustered, high strung with nervous energy. He rubbed his fingers together tightly, and shoved them in the pockets of his crème leather pants. Licking his lip, he glanced at the bartender, who smiled and gestured him over. She trotted away, going to a small, black mini-fridge under the bar and pulled out a tall glass, packed with ice and garnished with a bright umbrella. Slipping in a useless plastic straw, she walked back, handing it to him. “Courtesy of Mr. Timberlake,” she nodded.

“What is it?” Chris asked sniffling the amber liquid.

“Red Bull and vodka. I have a fridge full of them.”

Chris grinned, suckling at straw happily. “Then I shall return. A lot.”

He turned around, inching up the sleeves to his black sweater with his free hand. His eyes surveyed the large room for any sign of Justin. Glancing at his watch, he winced.

Justin was officially late to his own party. Feeling a bit sad and anti-social, Chris wandered down the bar to the side of the room, where large couches, partially separated by walls were located. He simply wanted a moment of privacy. He slid into the booth, and set his drink on the table, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

This was Justin’s night, one he’d slaved for and Chris’ girlish mood swings were not going to change that. Chris had watched his little brother worked doggishly for the mental strength to press forward, to simply get out of the bed and face the day. It was devastating that Chris couldn’t help him. He could just give him a tight hug and let him stay up late and laugh their troubles away, like they had in the past. Justin’s turmoil ran deep, like caverns beneath the earth, and for now, he simply had to battle the currents, fight for each breath and struggle for every smile.

With a deep-hearted sigh, Chris finished the rest of his drink, but made no move to retrieve another, he simply closed his eyes, listening to the music and the din of overzealous conversations. Chris’ lashes fluttered briefly and he caught a haze of vibrant purple breezing past him. His eyes flared upon and he craned his neck to investigate. Noticing a young woman wearing a beautifully bold outfit, he sat up, racking his brain for recognition. He’d seen her before. The mysterious woman wore a sleek pair of striped lime green and purple pants, a violet ribbon fluttered from the waistline. A long chiffon cover, made of the same bright purple covered a small stylish tank top. Her hair, thick, curly and black, was piled on top of her head, uniform curls bouncing haphazardly as she walked.

Chris followed her for a few feet before she turned around abruptly started for the exit, shaking her head, muttering to herself. Instantly, her name popped to the forefront of his mind and his hand shot out, gently grasping her upper arm. “Mona…”

Mona snatched her arm away and briefly caught his eyes. “Oh, hello. Um, I thought you were some fool that was, rubbing my ass a few seconds ago,” she smiled nervously, patting his arm. “I think it was Kid Rock,” she grimaced.

“I’m not an American Badass, but I could just rub away if you want, I mean, it’s no trouble,” Chris grinned.

“Um, how ‘bout no.” Mona answered sternly. “I’m sorry, I’m just flustered right now.”

Chris stepped back, letting his eyes wash dramatically over her curvy body and he whistled. “You wear flustered quite well. You look beautiful.”

Mona shook her head, slowly with a flushed simper, a tendril slipped out in the back, spilling down her neck. “Thank you, Chris.” She paused and nibbled on her lips. “Is…uh, Justin here, yet?”

“Not yet.”

She nodded and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. She seemed relieved. “Okay.”

“Let’s get a drink.”

Mona nodded and followed him to the bar, her hand hooking around his upper arm. She ordered a simple soda and Chris led her back to the partially private couches and she slid in on the opposite side of him, sipping her cola through the useless plastic straw.

“I’m so glad you came. Justin is going to be….seriously thrilled that you’re here.”

Mona slumped weakly against the table, her elbows holding up the rest of her body as she stared rapt by the darkness of her cola. The ice clanged against the side of the glass as she picked it up and took a long sip. She put it down and sat up, her spine straightening rigidly and she tilted her chin upwards, trying appear in controlled and calm. “We have some things to settle,” she answered vaguely, her chin still thrust upwards.

Chris chuckled softly at her dance of determination, but was interrupted by a raging round of applause and cheers. He craned his neck upwards and saw Justin strolled charismatically through the crowd. His hands shoved suavely in the pockets of his pants. He seemed almost at peace, in that spiritual realm he always blathered about, Chris discerned.

His eyes flicked to Mona and he saw her face wash out with panic. “Um….” Her tongue flicked out and licked her lips as Justin headed to the stage, greeting his guest and spoke calmly about the night’s events. “This just wasn’t a good idea. Yeah, this was horribly and just inevitably stupid on my part. Chris, thank you for the drink…um…”

Impulsively, Chris grabbed her hand, tugging out into the crowd. “Dance with me.” He just needed her keep her there, for Justin.

Mona stood up. “I really can’t. I really should just go, Chris.”

“Look, I’ve taken all my medication today, so I doubt I will, like, starting eating your hair or something. I’m harmless…with the drugs.”

Mona smiled, unable to stop herself. “You’re an idiot, Chris.”

“I aim to please.”

They danced, politely. Keeping their hands to themselves and just swayed to the music, Chris flashing her a silly grin ever so often. He was trying to telepathically reach Justin, to send out some of brotherly vibe to get Justin away from his beloved stage and to Mona before she bolted. Justin obviously had his radar turned off.

After a few songs, Mona grabbed Chris’ hand, squeezing softly. “I really need to get out of here, Chris. Th-thank you for the dances.”

Chris sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Let’s try to find coat-check and get you in a cab.”

Taking her hand, Chris led her past the bar and away from the crowd.

**

Justin ran down the hall. His heart pounding, his body tingling. He was unable to walk, unable to harness the electric energy that sparked through him. He had changed from his stylish, yet relaxed attire into his performance costume, consisting of the same black pants with a grayish silver dress shirt and a black Sinatra hat, the base covered in rhinestones. With a gleaming simper, he slipped through the curtain and into the pulsating ambiance of the party. He mingled his way through the crowd, thanking his guests, hugging friends and acquaintances.

Justin bumped into Chris meandering slowly through the throngs of people. Something compelled him to spread his unhindered enthusiasm. His hand clapped softly on the older man’s shoulder and his fingers dug in, stopping Chris from his retreat. Chris’ head swung around sharply and his eyes widened in shock. Chris pushed Justin backwards and slung him hard in the shoulder. “What the fuck? Always leave your boyband ESP on, dufus!”

Justin rubbed his arm and simply blinked.

“I’ve been paging you for, like, half a goddamn hour. Mona was here.”

Justin’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“She was here, I was trying to keep her here, but she got all emotional and she left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Justin shouted.

“I did, idiot.”

Justin turned around and walked jerkily to the entrance. A reporter grabbed his arm, hoping to pose for a picture, but Justin shook his head. “In a minute, sweetie, last minute performance problems,” he shrank away from her and ran towards the exit, exploding through the side doors. Justin stumbled out into the ornate entrance and he saw Mona, sitting on a bench, away from the spectacle that was his life. She was quiet, pensive, always had been, but as he meandered past the doorway, his mind flashed to the night.

His hands gripping her thighs.

The panting whimpers that echoed in his ears.

The softness of her robe, how it dipped down her back.

Her face expressing a rainbow of emotions.

The single tear that dripped down her cheek.

Justin was startled when he felt Mona’s eyes on him, burning deep into him, where the ache still resided. Drawing in a deep breath, he walked over to her and sat down, silently clasping his hands in front of him.

Mona scooted away, slipping on her black leather gloves and her nostrils flared. “I’m just waiting for my cab,” she grated out hotly.

Justin nodded unsteadily. “I’ll wait with you.”

“You should you don’t want to LEAVE?”

Justin swallowed shakily. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“I’m really not up for your nice guy shit, Justin.”

“Okay,” he blinked. “No shit.”

Mona wiped at her face and rubbed her nose. “I really don’t want to do this here,” she resigned.

“It would help….I think, if you got it out soon,” Justin tried softly.

“You. Don’t. Know.” She seethed.

Justin turned to face her. Blue eyes dripping over her face for her hadn’t seen her in ages. He drew it all in, absorbing her beauty, but also the pain mirrored in features of brown. “Then tell me. All of it. I want to know, Mona,” he implored.

Mona shook her head minimally. “Not here. Not now.”

Justin sighed and checked his bejeweled watch. “We have some time before I perform. We can go in my dressing room,” he offered anxiously.

She looked confused and she searched the damp streets for any sign of her cab- anyway to escape. Justin watched her nibbled on her bottom lip and nod warily.

**

Mona breezed past Justin, her perfume lingering seductively and he closed the door, locking it deftly. Just as he turned around, Mona threw something hard and plastic at him. It bounced stingingly off his stomach and Justin fumbled to catch it. He scooped it off the carpet and stared at it, suddenly speechless. Unable to think. A helpless choking squeal filtered through his lips as he held the piece of white plastic, staring at the two brilliantly blue lines.

“Tell me this is not…”

“I’m pregnant!” Mona interrupted.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, Justin.”

Justin choked for air, his eyes still locked on the stick. “I’m…uhh….”

“Yeah, I’ve been there for a good while, Justin.”

Justin’s head shot up abruptly and he looked at her, clad in a chunky brown suede coat. Her swollen stomach barely visible.

“What are you going to do about this, Justin?” she challenged.

“Um…”

“I mean, come on, Justin. You’re going to be a father. We need figure this out.”

“Why haven’t…you called…told me…” he panicked, his voice loud.

Mona sat back, crossing her arms over her stomach. “Well after you left so suddenly, I figured you were done with me….”

Justin was braced against the door, his expensive hat discarded on the floor. In a matter of minutes, a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his upper lip and he was nearly transparent. Justin stared at the stick and moved to sit down, his legs were rubbery, the room was nothing but a blur of muted grays. He flopped down on the plush couch, his mind blank and reeling. He’d spent the past months trying to clear his conscience, remove the burden from his shoulders, because he had taken advantage of Mona, despite her involvement. Justin knew how vulnerable she was, how loving she could be.

Through the quivering trepidation and the unanswerable questions, Justin thought about the life, a life he helped created and although he was so young and being a father would complicate his already cluttered life, the prospect of that life was a comfort like a ray of light, visible through the toughest of storms.

Justin was still very speechless. He rubbed his thumbs harshly against his forehead, making the skin above his eyebrows bright red. “You’ve done, um, all that prenatal stuff….folic….acid…Lisa always took folic acid when she was pregnant? You’ve done what you were supposed to?” he asked, entranced in the movements of his thumbs against his skin.

He listened to Mona trip over her syllables and choke on a breath. His eyes shot up and he stared at her, his face feeling long and tight. “Did you?”

Mona was pressed against the door, her hands hovering over the buttons of over large coat. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she inched toward him, unbuttoning her thing jacket. “Now, I think you’ve experienced a FRACTION of what I’ve been going through for the past…almost half year now.”

Justin was lost in a haze of fear and anger. His mouth was dry and he desperately needed to sit down. “What?” he gasped.

The thick jacket slid down her shoulders, revealed a very thin, sleek form.

Justin frowned pathetically, his face wrinkling hilariously as he stood up. His hand shot out and pressed against her stomach. “How is there a baby…in there?” he asked.

Mona sighed. “There isn’t, Justin.”

Justin gasped loudly, sitting back down.

“It’s my aunt’s. I needed a way for you to comprehend what I’ve been going through. I needed you to feel that, that horrible fear that I felt when I realized that we hadn’t used a condom. That I was suddenly eight days late for my period. All that on top of the fact that I was just a one night stand….” Mona explained. “I needed you to feel that.”

Justin stood up straight, his hands still shaking. He felt a familiar sensation slivering up the back of his neck, singeing hauntingly as it went. “You lied! JUST NOW?”

Mona nearly smiled. “Yes.”

His vision blackened at the edges because of the ire seeping into his system. “How could you fuck with me like that?!! You can’t just…do that…”

“You got a point there, Justin, I can’t. Obviously you can,” she countered with a snarl. “You’re angry, aren’t you?” she whispered, advancing towards him. “You’re so angry, you’re shaking. You’re breathing hard and your chest hurts and you want to break something don’t you? You know how I know what this feels like? You know how I can describe it so fucking well. Because you made me feel like that. You made me feel disgusting and used and dirty on top of all that rage. Yes, you sent me some expensive flowers. Yes, you tried to explain, but none of those excuses mean anything to me,” Mona continued, her eyes clouding. “All I wanted was YOU, baby. As a friend, more wasn’t an option then.”

“There were two people in that kitchen,” Justin offered quietly, his voice gritty with emotion. “Two people.”

Mona nodded, a curl spilling over onto her shoulder and she looked away from him. “Yes, there was. And I blame myself too. It was my fault for letting you run to me every time she fucked with you. It was my fault for being there when sometimes I shouldn’t. It was my fault too.”

Justin swallowed thickly and sat back down, trying to steady the panicked cadence of his heart. He slumped against the small leather loveseat and sighed dramatically. “Mona,” he beckoned. “Come here.”

Mona’s eyes met his and she shook her head, backing up even more.

“Come here,” Justin pressed.

With a groan, she sat down next to him, her eyes locked straight ahead, her small body pointed away from his.

“I wanted you to come here tonight…be-because I’m…um, I was close to the bottom when I came to you that night…that was the beginning of the end…for me,” he began slowly. “I just kind of…shutdown, I turned off any kind of emotion because it was…easier to make it through the days that way…I left…Britney. I just distanced myself from everything…I buried the pain…and it damn near killed me. Chris…and my family have been great…they’ve dropped everything to help me…through this…I’m...seeing a therapist…she’s weird, but good. I’m…taking this drug, some anti-depressant thing, which helps, but I’ve got such a long way to go. I can’t…I can’t make it alone. I need as many people to just slap me when I’m not fighting hard enough…” Justin felt the wetness caked on his lashes and he blinked, staring at his hands fisted hard in his lap. “I need you…and I have to right to even say that I do. What happened, happened and as fucked up as it sounds, the only thing that I would change was me leaving…after…everything…but I’d really appreciate if you could...”

“…forgive you?” Mona whispered incredulously.

“Yes.”

Mona was silent as she dropped her head into her hands, sniffling wetly. Justin didn’t know what to do. He felt a strangely heavy sense of guilt as he watched her mull over his words.

The door swung up and a nameless crew member entered, without knocking. “Mr. Timberlake, five minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Justin glanced at Mona, turning to face her. Her eyes avoided his. He tucked a delicate spiral of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek. “….thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

Mona didn’t respond as she stood up, stumbling through the room. She grabbed her coat, shrugging into it blankly.

With teary eyes, Justin watched her leave, closing the door behind her, barely making a sound. With a strangled cry, he remembered doing the same thing, easing through the barely-opened door, because if it opened too far, it would squeak.

Chris peered inside the room. “I saw Mona leave…” he began.

“Yep.”

“Justin…clean you face, man,” Chris handed him a small packet of tissues from his pocket.

Justin dabbed at his cheeks, then blew his nose. “She’s bolder than I ever could be, Chris. She left…just like I did, expect I was awake,” he whimpered, grabbing his hat. “Showtime.”

**

Chris felt awkward sitting in a small table, in the midst of the crowd, when Justin was mere seconds from taking the stage. His body was tingling with the cool twittering of nerves, but he wasn’t performing. It was just Justin, just the baby of the group.

Armed with another drink, he gulped it hurriedly as the stage lights dropped and it was announced that Justin would be performing a few songs from the album. He appeared with quiet exuberance, strutting on stage, one hand in his pocket, another grasping a microphone. The rhinestones glittered in the stage lights, mingling with Justin’s brilliant aura and Chris smiled.

“First, man, I just wanna thank all of you for coming to this party tonight. It really touches me. I’m serious. This album is my baby, the ONLY thing I’m married to and the fact that off of y’all showed up…just…thank you. I really haven’t performed in a long ass time and that’s like torture to me. So I thought I’d do a few songs from the LP, so chill and just vibe with me….”

The music began, delicately and grew in strength, fortified as Justin paced the stage. He sang differently than Chris had ever heard him, contorting his voice beautifully, in ways Chris never imagined he could. While most vocalists, to prove their skill, would crash into the notes, executing them with as much power as possible, Justin’s voice caressed them, his tender falsettos easing brilliantly up, and gracefully down.

He breezed through a few songs, looking for alive than Chris had seen him in months, but suddenly, Justin sitting on a stool talking candidly.

“I know have been some talk about me that wasn’t focused on my album and I dunno, I wanna be honest. Sometimes life is hard and it definitely hasn’t been easy. Things happened and it’s been a struggle just to face each day, but I have to remember that I’m blessed….with some beautiful souls, my mother, my brothers, my whole family. But sometimes you’re tugged in a million different directions and you don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing…you’re just lost,” Justin took off his leather, fingerless gloves, maneuvering around the microphone as he spoke earnestly. “I know I was lost, hell, I probably still am, but I can see the light, I know where I want and need to be…I just have to make the journey,” he paused as the audience clapped sporadically, a few people standing up to show their support. “I created this song, after the album was finished…and with some help from a friend, I’m going to put it out as a single….the profits will go to charity…but I’d really love to introduce it to the world…right now…”

He took off his hat, tossing it to the side. He pulled out his shirt, unbuttoning it, so it flapped open, revealing the tight black tank underneath. Setting the discarded items aside, Justin continue to speak. “I’m gonna get personal, so I have to strip off the layers. This is me…no costumes, no props, no pyro, just me…”

JC walked on stage, brandishing his guitar and the mask of smoothness that slid over his chiseled features whenever he was on stage. With a timid wave to the audience, JC sat down, his fingers poised on the strings. Justin began in a profoundly soft, almost haunting tone, his lips pressed against he microphone.

“You clipped my wings
Put me in a cage
Made me perform
On a thorned stage
I sang and dance
Just wanting to be free
Waiting for the day when
I could be me…”

Chris braced himself, hand gripping the table. His mouth fell open and he sat forward, listening intently.

“But dreams turn to handcuffs
And I couldn’t spread my wings enough
My true colors could never show
My soul no one would ever know…”

Tears lingered on Justin’s cheeks, his arm wrapped around his stomach as he pushed out the notes, revealing a part of himself that he promised he never would.

“Let me fly above the hate
Soar to my own fate
Let me fly out of my dark prison
Into the spotlight I’ve chosen
Let me breathe in the air
And sing to the stars
Let me be me
Just let me fly…”

The last words were whispered…a choked gasp and Chris stood up, clapping until his palms itched. Justin hugged JC, not bothering to wipe his face and turned around, laughing voraciously as the entire audience stood up, clapping. The room became a din of noise, of support, of hands lifting up him. Chris’ chest hurt, his vision was blurred by emotion as he stood back, just watching him move out into the crowd, shaking hands. A familiar haze of purple alerted him to Mona, lingering in the doorway, smiling brightly. With a hearty laugh, Chris turned back to the spectacle, grinning sadly, lingering in the darkness, as finally, Justin took flight.




Review of Justin Timberlake’s Album Party…by Kenneth Unda, NYC Times

On November 1st at Manhattan’s renown Club Electric, Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears’ former beau, entertained a crowd of more than 500 celebrities, fans and reporters. The entire upper half of the club had been transformed into an extravagant display of how much the popstar really earned. The setting was too loud, too vivid, too polish and too colorful. This proves that Timberlake has learned more from P Diddy than how to make chart-topping songs. Long remixes of all 13 of Justified tracks played on a continuous loop during the night, where Timberlake himself arrived late, but greeted the crowd with a practiced smile.

The youngest NSYNCer had cancelled a slew of appearances prior to his album release and neglected to issue his public (consisting of mostly teenage girls) a statement as to why he had been suddenly too busy to promote his own album. Timberlake’s camp, however, have been very vocal on his absences from Jay Leno, TRL on MTV and several magazine interviews that have all been pushed back. Johnny Wright, Timberlake and NSYNC’s manager issued a statement claiming that his client was “exhausted both physically and mentally and needed a few days to step back before promoting his much-anticipated debut album at full force.”

As the party waned on, the most recognizable member of NSYNC walked on the small stage dressed in an ensemble that could have been plucked straight from Michael Jackson’s closet. A black, rhinestone-studded hat drawn low over his eyes, he performed several of his tracks from “Justified” dancing and singing as we’ve always seen him, unfortunately the popping and thrusting was lost on the older generation.

In what appeared to be a vague explanation of his absence, Timberlake treated the audience to a free strip-tease, shedding his hat, gloves and outer shirt to sing an untitled song that does not appear on his album, but will be released as a charity single. The song, tentatively titled “Let Me Fly”, consisted of guitar from Timberlake’s bandmate, JC Chavez. It was a mediocre attempt at emotion, with breathy vocals and elementary lyrics that begged everyone to just let him fly.

Ultimately, Timberlake seems to be confused about what direction he wants to head. He claims he is a solo artist, but he is still tied to NSYNC. He made a spectacle of arriving at the MTV Video Movie Awards in August alone, but then he jumps on stage with his bandmate when his songs get semi-personal. Also, Timberlake’s album is a poor impression of Michael Jackson meets Britney Spears with some acoustic tossed in.

All in all, Timberlake may have been justified in making this album, but he genuinely lost in his own stardom to do anything of meaning. He needs step back in the NSYNC line and let Chavez take over next time and I am justified in my opinion.

© Copyright by Kira, 2002

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