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4: Music Britney marched down a long hallway, her black leather boots clacking against the linoleum. Chewing at her lower lip, she scanned each room she passed. As she proceeded down the corridor, a faint buzzing came into earshot. It intensified with each step, and soon became words. "Why not hang out with Chris?... Look, JC, I'm busy too! Britney's new album is coming out... yes, I DO need to be here!... No, you don't understand..." Britney turned a corner and slipped into an open room. Her eyes fell upon a shadowy figure illuminated by the window in front of him. One hand held a cell phone to his head; the other rested on his waist. The hand on his midsection raised, and waved around in the air. "I don't know what you're supposed to do! I'm sorry, JC! I really would love to chill with you, but I can't. See you later?" Pause. Justin held the phone out in front of himself. Heaving a sigh, he hit the power button. Britney rapped her knuckles on the doorframe. "Justin?" He bolted upright, and swirled around. His mouth dropped open. "Britney! Listen, I'm sorry about before. I shouldn't have pushed you like that..." "Justin, it's okay!" Britney lay a hand on his bicep. "Baby, I know you were trying to help me." Justin wagged his head. "I went about it the wrong way." Wrapping her arm around Justin's neck, Britney whispered, "Don't worry about it." She kissed the top of his ear. He slipped his arms around her bare midsection, and they embraced. They stayed in one another's arms, swaying back and forth. The previous phone conversation drifted through Britney's mind. She slid her hands over Justin's shoulders and pulled back. "Justin?" She knit her brow. No other words came to mind. What WAS she supposed to say? "I, uh, need to get back to recording." Justin withdrew his arms and nodded. Holding out a hand to the door, Britney smiled. *** Johnny heaved a sigh. Pressing his fingers into his forehead, he asked, "What's HE doing back here?" "Just give him a second chance," Britney pleaded. "He can be a real help." "Or a real pain," Johnny muttered. Grimacing, he pointed to Justin. "Behave!" Justin gave him a cheesy grin. He slapped his manager's shoulder. "Don't worry about me, Johnny! You just do yo thang!" Air hissed out of Johnny's nose. He turned to Britney, and butted his head toward the recording booth. "All right, girl. Get back in the box." Exchanging glanced with her boyfriend, Britney crossed the room. She closed herself inside the white cell. Her eyes remained steady on Justin as she slipped the headphones onto her ears. The music started up again. Reflexively, her head swayed to the beat, and she sang: "Say hello to the girl that I am..." She shook her head. "You know what, Johnny? It's still not right." Johnny's lips moved in Justin's direction, and the wide-eyed boy threw up his hands. Scowling, Johnny leaned into the mic. "Britney, we don't have time for this. You're doing fine. Now don't doubt yourself. Let's try this..." Justin leaned toward the manager, and whispered into his ear. Johnny glared back at the pop star, who spoke further to him. The older man's lips moved rapidly to the other. Then Johnny turned, and fell back into the chair behind him. Justin ducked out of view from the window. Britney furrowed her eyebrows as the knob into the recording booth jiggled. The door creaked open. "Justin, what are you doing in here?" Britney questioned as he approached her. She rubbed her hands over her knees, and tapped her right foot against the leg of the bar stool. Taking her hands in his, Justin said, "Close your eyes." Britney's lids fluttered shut. "Now, imagine yourself singing the song," his voice spoke through the darkness. "Imagine how it sounds, how it feels to sing it. Think of who you are when you sing the song." Britney took in slow, even breaths. Music drifted through her head. But not from her ears, from outside herself, but from within. Her head floated along to the tune. She heard her cue to sing. But the lyrics didn't flow naturally. Not yet. Britney clenched her eyes shut. Onward the music played, and she breathed along to it. Inhaling. Exhaling. Feeling the beat. The rhythm. It became her own. And the song, as a complete, beautiful entity, flowed through her, all one. Her face relaxed. She opened her eyes, and leaned into the microphone. "I'm ready now, Johnny." Johnny jumped in his seat. He drew closer to the soundboards. "You sure now." "Absolutely." He eyes met with Justin's, and they smiled. Then the boy bowed his head, and stepped toward the door. A hand grabbed his wrist. The music started. ------------- A'ight, I'm betting SOMEBODY's thinking, 'But what about Justin? Why was he crying?' [I know that because Appypie and Diana specifically asked]. And SOMEBODY might think that was the end. BUT IT AIN'T!!! Chapters five and six have yet to be typed up. I'm going to try to keep up with my posting, but I only have two weeks left to write this charming psych of personality paper. I have to write my own personality theory, using pieces from preexisting theories, AND I have to find empirical evidence to back up my claims, meaning I have to meander through stinking psych journal articles. Boy oh boy! Sounds like a real winner, doesn't it. But writing goes before school work, so I am going to really REALLY try to keep up. Okay? Please read and review! People have been good about that so far, and I thank you!!! |