Friday, Showtime 21:22
All but five minutes of the taping have played out. Lance fished around in his head a little bit, looking for questions to ask Justin that wouldn't repeat shit everyone knew but also weren't rude or uncomfortable.
Justin laughed for no reason, put his hand on Lance's shoulder. "You know why I love coming on your show, man?"
"Because I always take you to lunch after?"
Justin laughed again. "No, although that doesn't hurt. Not a little bit."
He smiled and Lance's breath caught in his throat, because Justin had never smiled at him like that before, not where anyone could see. "So, what makes Lance Live your favorite daytime destination?"
"Well, for one thing, you always wind up saying something like a cheesy announcer guy, and that's just funny, you know, it makes me laugh every time."
Lance nodded. "I always kind of wanted to be that movie voice over guy. I auditioned once, during that hiatus between Celebrity and Hard at Work. They said my voice was too deep."
Justin just shrugged. "Yeah, well, the other reason I like coming on your show is you don't ask stupid questions about the rumors I'm dating whoever, or I got in a fight with this guy, or I pitched a diva fit and walked off a set."
Lance smiled, but not real. Photoshoot smile. "Yeah, well, I know this stuff about you already, man. I'm your friend."
Justin laughed, stood up, cupped Lance's face. He stood so as not to block the cameras, and Lance wondered if it was creepy that it was unconscious on Justin' part. "Except, really, you're not." He got down on one knee.
Tuesday, Showtime 05:37
Lance hated having his friends on the show. Well, no, he loved being able to work with his friends, whenever he got the chance, but they had to watch so much of what they said on camera.
"So, Joey, tell everybody how the family's doing," he could say. But then Joey couldn't tell how Joe Senior was doing on the new salt-free diet his doctor insisted on, or if Brianna was still dealing with a pop star/Broadway father by being a crunchy granola baby dyke, and whether Kelly was just making noises about having more kids since Brianna was so close to going away to college or if she and Joey were really working on it.
Instead, Joey only said, "We're doing great, man, doing great. Kelly's been out to see my new show three times already. I think it's 'cause of the lead singer. Tall skinny tenor with super curly hair. It's like being back in the band, man!"
And Lance followed up with, "Heh, Mr. JT. He'll be on later this week." And he waited the three minutes while the screaming teenies worked it out of their system. It was funny to watch Joey's fans, transplanted New Yorkers a lot of them, how they glared at the little girls who've traveled all the way to Orlando. He'd imagined that by the time he was thirty-five their fans would have grown up, too. And that was actually true, according to marketing, but the pilgrims were probably always going to be short and shrill and young.
But then Joey said, "Oh, but Justin, he came by the show last week, no two weeks ago."
Lance sat up, because he didn't know that, and he found it very annoying that neither boyfriend nor best friend saw fit to mention it. "Yeah? I have got to get down there and see this thing. I'm, like, the next to last one. Did he like it?"
"Yeah, actually, it was funny, he said, 'Oh my god, Joey, you should totally try to get back on RENT. Because your singing and dancing was great then, no doubt about it, but you always rushed your lines, and I think you've got the hang of it now. It would be funny.'"
"But good, man, totally good."
Joey shrugged. "I don't know, man, I'm a little old for the part." He turned to the audience. "What do you guys think?"
The crowd roared.
Thursday, Showtime 17:44
"So, are y'all gonna sing something for us?" said Lance, and it was strange, so very strange and wrong, to be asking JC that question. Not because it's so awful that *NSYNC is finally, truly put to bed, but because he's asking JC and Tony.
Lance has always, just a very, very little bit, hated Tony Lucca. For being there first. In all other ways, Tony is a really nice guy. But he was the one JC really fell in love with. And he was the object of Justin's first crush, the one Justin never mentioned on camera.
"How much time you got, cat?" said JC.
"We've each got a solo and we've got a duet ready to go," said Tony.
JC giggled, and Tony swatted him absentmindedly, and Lance didn't know why. He looked away, to where his director was waving two fingers at him, and said, "We've really only got time for one song, so how about the duet?"
They sang "Right Here By Your Side." They sang it dancing around with each other, swaying, holding hands, bumping sides. The movements looked unrehearsed, but Lance could see the choreography behind it, and approved. He always thought the best dancing was the kind that looked a lot like real life.
They sat down at the end, JC just a little more awake and centered than he had been for the rest of the interview, Tony a little stiff. "I haven't done that sort of thing since MMC," he would say, later, after the show. "It's weird as hell."
But for now, it was Lance talking, Lance who said, "That was on your first album, JC, I know, but I thought, I thought you and Tony wrote 'Build My World' together, not that one."
JC nodded, "Yeah, yeah, you're right. And everything else on Reunion Tony and I wrote together, but 'Build My World' didn't really, you know, fit by the time we were done." And he turned and smiled at Tony and Lance knew exactly why.
Ninety percent of Lance was happy for them, but the part that wasted time hating Tony was especially jealous right then. Because they weren't just in love and happy, but anyone who wanted to know knew. He and Justin couldn't have that. A daytime talkshow host/producer could be gay, but a white R&B superstar, not so much.
Monday, Showtime 2:15
"Some of you may be wondering who Wade is." Lance was looking in the camera, the one right in the middle of the audience. "Many of you have heard of this guy, a multi-talented threat, a Tony-award winning choreographer, a songwriter with a couple of platinum singles and some other songs to his credit, some things he wrote for a little band I like to call *NSYNC," pause for screams, "with a man named Justin Timberlake," pause for screams. "But today, today, he and Britney have an announcement to make."
"We're going to have a baby," said Britney, picking up her cue.
The roar of the crowd was deafening. Lance had begged and pleaded with his producer, Linda, to halve the live audience for this show. They doubled it.
Lance wore a monitor, which should have cut some of the roar, but the noise was so loud and so close that ten years of training broke down and he covered his ears.
Luckily, the live cameras were all on the audience.
Wednesday, green room, Showtime -32:43
"Chris, man, you have had some stupid haircuts, but this may be the stupidest." Lance hugged Chris tight, too close and too long, and kissed him with tongue. They'd never stopped kissing with tongue even once they'd stopped dating.
"Oh, but Lance," Chris answered, "houndstooth is in. Very, very in. I am in the fashion forefront, my friend."
"The fashion forefront where you wear a hat on my show, man."
Chris laughed and slapped his hands to his heart. "Wounded, sirrah, I am wounded." Lance laughed, but then Chris punched his shoulder and said, "No, fucker, I actually am wounded. The first time I see you in a year and it's business. What kind of shitty friend are you?"
Something about the way he said it mashed right on a button Lance didn't know he had, and Lance said, "Whoa!"
Chris put his hands up, backed up a step. "You alright?"
"It's just, it's weird. I'm trapped in New York for my talkshow most of the year, and following him around for rest of it. So, I see him and Joey, and JC & Tony when they come touring, but you never stir your fat ass out of Orlando, so."
Chris shrugged. "So, you're not the only shitty friend in the room." He stepped forward again, hugged Lance again. "I still love you, man."
They stand there for a minute, breathing each other in. "You're wrong, though," Chris whispered after a minute.
"Oh? You've got this tight little band that plays punk music I like listening to, you finally gonna start touring outside Florida?"
"Yep, we totally are. We've just about finished the album and we're gonna take a national tour. Tiny, but it's a start."
"Hey, at least you're out of the mall and high school stage."
Chris laughed. "Thank fucking God."
Lance smiled. "Every day, man, every day."
Sunday, Two Weeks Ago
"Linda! Old Home Week is a no go for the title." Lance is surprised they're even still talking about the name. This should have been nailed down weeks ago; promo spots should have started already.
Linda stopped sipping at her Coke and drummed her fingers on the table. "Well, I don't know what else—"
"Pop Roots? I could get bleach tips and it would be stupid, but." He shrugged.
"But your audience would eat it up with a spoon, you're right." She smiled.
Lance smiled, too. The name thing was probably actually his fault. He'd been thinking of it as "Bring Your Boyfriend to Work" week in his head for so long, it had been tough to pick out something real.
Friday, Showtime 23:22
"Marry me, Babe?"
Lance loved Justin. Well, obviously, Justin wouldn't have popped the question if Lance weren't likely to say yes. But, in front of all these people? Lance couldn't hesitate and say yes later, the way he would have otherwise, and Justin knew that, the fucker.
Except he could, he could buy himself all the time in the world, he just reached down and pulled Justin up (up and up and up; having a six-foot tall boyfriend fiancé bought a lot of sexy slither) and kissed him and whispered against his mouth, "You know…," how much I hate emotions in public, how much I love you, how much you'll pay later.
Justin said, "Yes."
The audience screamed.