All Good Things: The Final Fanfiction Saga

Chapter Twelve: One True Thing

The seat-belt sign blinked on, and Justin adjusted his blanket. He drummed his hands impatiently on the armrest, then checked his watch. He had a seven-hour flight ahead of him. His co-passengers were all settling down for a night of bedrest, but Justin couldn't sleep. He needed the time to think.

Lance's message had sounded urgent. "Justin," he'd said. "I hope you're having fun frolicking in the woods or whatever you're doing. We need you in New York ASAP, and already booked you a red-eye flight. Everyone's here. The Waldorf-Astoria, OK? Suite 1413. Give me a call when you get in."

After a pause, Justin slid his credit card in the slot and picked up the airplane phone. Dialing his voice mail, he listened to Lance's message again. There were four others.

"Justin," said Celine, their wardrobe coordinator. "I have to start putting together outfits for the Teen Choice Awards and you need to tell me whether you want the glitter patches on the right side of your pants or the left side ..."

Beep. "Justin," began Sonia, their publicist at Jive. "They're starting to book interviews for you guys on 'Good Morning America,' and your call time is 4:30 a.m. two weeks from now. But the night before that you have a charity benefit, so somewhere in between we have to squeeze in half an hour for Spin regarding your upcoming duets. It's very important that we give them this interview because ..."

Beep. "Hey, Justin," said Frankie, their assistant. "I've got you guys in a suite at the Westin on the 23rd of this month, but the only thing they had available was a courtyard view, and I've been hassling them about switching rooms but there's a delegate conference that week so space is tight. I was thinking about switching you guys to the Four Seasons instead, what do you think? They do have better bedsheets, but then again the Westin's room service is ..."

Beep. Justin punched the keypad in annoyance. "You have one saved message," the mechanical voice reminded him, and he curiously hit the button. It was from a month ago.

"Hey, boyfriend," a familiar voice intoned. "I'm just here, outside my speech-communications class. I have completed my final two minutes ago, and let me just say that I KICKED BOOTY! You know, I didn't even break a sweat. It's cake after this, my man. Just summer classes, and my job, and of course ... you know what? I was thinking we should try to hike at Big Bear this summer. You could wear your new boots, at least break them in or something. I'll make my famous potato salad and ... Oh my goodness, Justin, you should be here right now because there's a puppy across the street playing with a little boy and dangit, it's beautiful and I think I'm gonna cry so I'm gonna get off the phone. Have fun in New York hon, and don't flirt with the other girls! Haha, just kidding. I love you; I love you to pieces. Bye!"

Justin's grin spread wide as he heard the rambling message, then wider as he hit the button to hear it two more times before hanging up the phone. As the pilot began discussing the expected smooth flight, Justin ran his fingers through his hair and recalled Emma's observation. It never occurred to him that his fallout with Madeline had caused his current hairstyle. She had that effect on him, Justin supposed.

Then again, Madeline seemed to influence everything he did. And the more he thought about it, the more it became apparent that she would always be a part of him, whether he wanted her to or not.

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"He didn't want you to live your own life. It had to all be about him."

"Keep going."

"He didn't support your dreams."

"Keep going."

"He's a little too skinny," a voice piped up through the speakerphone.

Madeline glanced over. "Thanks, Nat," she said into the machine. "Nothing like a little cross-country moral support."