8: "That's Me In The Corner..."
"Great!" Michael murmured under his
breath. He stood arms crossed beside Anthony, sporting a white silken tie and
suit shirt beneath a black suit jacket. The silver-buttoned cuffs peeked out
from beneath the jacket. He nodded his head toward the approaching figure. "Here
comes Timberlake!"
Clutching her sheer, pale pink shawl to her chest,
Britney drew closer to Anthony.
"Anthony!" the individual grinned. The
tight golden ringlets crowning his head danced in the breeze as he approached
and flung his arms around the Chili Pepper. Flashbulbs went off around them. "So
good to see you, buddy! How've you been?"
"Uh, fine, Justin." Anthony
patted Justin Timberlake's back. He could feel the NSync frontman's breath at
his ear. Cologne wafted off him, assaulting Anthony's
olfactory.
"Asshole!" Justin muttered under his breath, just loud enough
for Anthony to hear. He drew back, a toothy smile gracing his lips. "Good to
hear! Hey, good luck tonight!" He swaggered off, toward his bandmates.
"I
hate that guy!" a voice grumbled behind Anthony. Kevin ran a hand over his
goateed chin, then smoothed his shiny orange tie and suit shirt. He adjusted the
broad collar of his ebony suit jacket. Shaking his head, he added, "I don't know
where he thinks he gets off."
To Kevin's right, Brian sighed. He stood in
a suit matching Michael's. "Don't let Justin make you feel bad, Anthony,"
Brian's puppy dog eyes made contact with his bandmate's. "He's having a lot of
problems right now, and we should be praying for him."
Kevin patted
Brian's shoulder. "That's right, brother. Absolutely right. I'm
sorry."
Leaning toward Anthony, Michael muttered, "I still say
Timberlake's an asshole." The two snickered.
Ear piercing shrills
erupted as the Chili Peppers sauntered down the red carpet, leading to the
building's double doors. Security guards lined either side of the carpet, facing
the crowds, their arms up and hands grabbing at the lunging fans. Anthony stared
wide eyed at the people. The last time he had felt this scared was Woodstock
'99... He furrowed his brows. Woodstock '99? Images of mud ridden people
smashing stuff and howling around a climbing bonfire engulfed his mind. Anthony
shook his head. That was just a dream, just a dream... just a dream.
Out
of the corner of his eye, Anthony caught sight of a bowed figure, shuffling
behind Kevin. The individual squirmed in his all navy suit, shocks of his ragged
jet toned hair streaking his features. Dark eyes peered out between strands,
wide and darting about.
"Come on!"
Anthony turned as Michael
beckoned him toward the open double doors. He watched as his bandmates waved to
the screaming horde and followed suit. They strode inside.
A hand slipped
through the crook in his arm, a whisper through his ear. "What's the matter,
Ant?" the sweet voice tickled his neck.
He leaned toward Britney.
"Something doesn't seem right," he mumbled his reply.
"Everything's fine,
honey," she chuckled back. "You're just nervous. It's okay. Everything is going
to be fine!"
A team of security guards escorted the band backstage. As
the group swept past rows of camera clad individuals, Anthony shook his
head.
"I don't think that's the problem," he whispered, glancing at the
figure shuffling behind Kevin. "Something's the matter with
John."
Raising an eyebrow, Britney exclaimed, "John?!" Michael and Brian
eyed her. "Why do you think that?" she whispered, her eyes trained on the
staring band members. The two turned back to one another and struck up a quiet
conversation. "Why are you worried about him?"
"He's so, so..." Anthony
watched as John rubbed the side of his nose and hung his head. "Just DETATCHED
from everything. Don't you see it?"
Britney shrugged. Pulling her
slipping shawl over her shoulder with her free hand, she whispered, "I don't
know, Ant. Isn't that just the way he is?"
Truth rang in her answer.
Anthony bit his lower lip. "That's true, yeah." He felt Britney's arm stiffen
and her grasp tighten around his own. She stared straight ahead. Anthony
followed her sights, to the figure before them. An involuntary shudder wracked
his body. A stout middle aged man scowled at the Chili Pepper, pudgy hands
resting on the spare tire around his hips. Glaring at Anthony through wire
framed glasses, the man stepped forward. Wisps of silver streaked brunette hair
shot in every which direction from his head.
Recognition flashed in
Anthony's eyes, and he smiled. "Hey, Lou! How's it..."
Louis Pearlman
drew back a chunky palm and drove it across Anthony's jaw, knocking the end of
the sentence out of the Chili Pepper's face and slamming him to the ground.
Anthony's head hit the floor with a thump. His eyes fluttered shut as he lay
where he landed and rubbed his jaw. Opening them, Anthony fought to focus on the
black trees before him, which materialized into his manager's legs.
"What
the hell is wrong with you, boy?" Lou's voice hollered through Anthony's head.
"I turned on the radio this morning only to learn that you didn't feel like
going! Don't you know how that makes the band look? Don't you care about anybody
but yourself?"
Teeth chattering, lower lip trembling, Anthony uttered,
"I, I'm sorry, Lou..."
The legs caved, and fell into a kneeling position
before Anthony. And Lou's round, snarling face overtook the Chili's filed of
vision. Hot feta cheese breath hissed through clenched teeth. "Sorry?!" Lou
swept an arm around his victim's back. The cuffed fabric around Anthony's neck
tightened as Lou rattled him, and he coughed. "The damage is done, boy! How dare
you think sorry is enough!"
"Please, Lou!" a tiny voice braved. The
manager gyrated his torso, allowing Anthony to see the figure quaking past him.
Lines creased Brian's forehead, his brows slanted toward his nose, his eyes so
wide that they appeared cartoonlike. He chewed at his lower lip.
"Lou
heaved a sigh. "You say something? Did I hear you say something,
Littrell?"
Brian released his lower lip from his teeth, and it trembled.
"Yea, ah, yes s-sir." His eyes welled up, and he shuddered. "I...
I..."
"What is it, Littrell?" Lou barked. The boy jumped and stumbled
into Kevin. His manager stared him down with a sneer.
"N-n-n-nothing,
sir." Brian's teeth took hold of his bottom lip.
Lou's glare returned to
Anthony. "I've given you everything, boy! Don't make me take it all away! Go get
your sorry ass ready! You're not screwing his up like you did at the AMAs!" He
shoved Anthony's head into the floor and got to his feet. The portly manager
shuffled away from the band.
Groaning, Anthony raised his head and held
the base of it in his left hand. His fingers swept through his hair, across a
forming egg. His entire head throbbed, his hand along with it in sympathy. He
clenched his eyes shut. And opened them. They focused upon cold blue eyes.
Michael turned away and sauntered after Lou.