Playing It By Heart: A J.C. Fanfiction Saga

Chapter Three: A Present

Six months later

Justin and Chris were playing Sony PlayStation in the back of the tour bus. Lance was working on a crossword puzzle. Joey was sleeping in his bunk. J.C. was typing on his laptop.

"Hey guys, what's a four-letter world for bread spread?" Lance asked.

"That would be 'oleo,'" Chris answered.

"Thanks," Lance said, scribbling it in.

Justin put down his controller and stared at Chris.

"What?" Chris said, shrugging his shoulders. "I know things. That word is in every other crossword puzzle, I swear. Whenever they need vowels."

Justin continued to stare. "You never cease to amaze me. Or freak me out."

"Yeah," Chris said, hitting his fire button. "And you, my man, have just perished."

The younger member threw down his controller in despair. "Hey J.C.," he called. "You want in?"

"Nope, I'm all right, thanks," J.C. said, not looking up.

Justin scrambled over to peer at his computer. J.C. was answering an e-mail from Dale, a fellow Mickey Mouse Club alum he'd kept in touch with.

"Tell Dale I said hi," Justin said.

"Will do," J.C. said, typing "and Justin says hi" in the message.

Justin bit into an apple. "I got an e-mail from Emma today."

"Yeah? How's she doing?"

"She got the Soundwave job."

"You mean she'll get paid?"

"Yep. And she might eventually get to write something."

"That's awesome. I'm so happy for her. I'll give her a call."

"You can tell her in person. We're going to New York." Justin watched his friend's face for a reaction.

J.C. looked up from the computer, confused and surprised. "When?"

"You know how we're going to vacation in Florida in a month?"

"Yeah."

"Well for two weeks before that we'll be in New York. The whole time."

"What for?"

"Lots of press, interviews and stuff. They had it scattered everywhere, so Ron convinced them to crush it into one time frame so we wouldn't have to jet back and forth and still do it all. I'm talking talk shows, magazines, Times Square, national exposure. But at least we don't have to travel so much. They're renting us a house, like what movie stars get. And we get to hang with Emma too."

J.C.'s mind was slowly registering everything Justin said. Two weeks in New York. No hopping on a bus every day, no checking in and out of hotels. And after that, they'd be rewarded with a vacation.

And then there was Emma.

He hadn't forgotten their little moment by the piano. It was the last time he'd seen her, though, so it stayed fresh in his mind. She had been luminous that night, from the moment he stepped from the stage into her arms to their rapport in the lounge. And he couldn't help thinking.

Since that night, when he was alone, J.C. replayed the conversation over and over in his mind, going through his words with a fine-toothed comb. Mostly he liked drinking in the sensations of the evening, from her peach-vanilla scent to her skin and the sound of her ungraceful, uproarious laugh. How her untrained singing voice still resonated in his bones.