Chapter 4: Scattered Dreams
“You left me hanging from a thread we once swung from together, I've lick my wounds but I can't ever see them getting better, something's gotta change, things cannot stay the same.”
The notes and voice floated through the window. The dark head bent over the instrument, fingers strumming the song that had played on the radio earlier that day acoustically. The tune changed to an almost haunting quality with just the guitar playing the melody and one voice.
“The room was silent as we all tried so hard to remember, the way it feels to be alive, the day that he first met her, something's gotta change, things cannot stay the same.”
Izzie perched on the windowsill, the blanket from the bed wrapped around her as she listened to Josh’s voice. The purity of the sound betrayed the true emotion behind the words.
“You make me think of someone wonderful, but I can't place her, I wake up every morning wishing one more time to face her, something's gotta change, it must be rearranged, oh.”
She leaned her head against the window frame, listening. The rawness of the melody coming through the guitar was something that she’d never heard before. She wasn’t a huge music fan; she couldn’t name any songs, artists, or even remember the lyrics. She had her favorites that were plugged into her ipod when she’d received it as a gift from her family. She was known to tap her foot to a catchy beat, but mostly music was an inspiration to her writing and then it became white noise.
“So much to love, so much to learn, but I won't be there to teach you, oh, I know I can be close, but I try my best to reach you, i'm so sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl, it's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of a heavy world.”
She’d hear a lyric and it would give her an idea for her characters, then she’d tune the voice, the music, and the lyrics out until everything went away for her. Most of the time when she’d come out of a writing jag; her ipod was dead, the stereo on full blast, and the news was streaming through her laptop.
But this, this she would listen to… and remember, and it had nothing to do with the words or the music; it had to do with the voice.
~*~
The last note faded into nothing as he held the chord. His finger trailed down the neck of the guitar, before he shook himself out of his reverie.
“Some poet.” Her voice snarked into his consciousness.
The finger paused, every pore on his body tuned into that voice. Taking a deep breath, he calmly toed open the guitar case and replaced the instrument. “It’s a hobby.”
“With that voice?” He didn’t need to look up to note the incredulity in her voice. “If I had that voice I’d be making millions.”
Grimacing, he shrugged. “Singing is just a hobby. I like playing, but…” He shrugged again, not knowing what to say, as he played with the latch on the case.
“So you’re a writer,” She paused, climbing out the window with the throw blanket from her bed, “a musician, and can sing.”
He looked up at her warily, waiting for her to continue. “So…”
She eyed him closely before sitting down on the lawn chair next to him. “Did you write that? I think I’ve heard it on the radio before.”
JC tried not to look at her incredulously, before shaking his head no. “No, that song was by Maroon 5.”
“How did you know it so well?” Her head cocked to the side, she looked like a cocker spaniel with her curly hair, and he tried to hide a grin at the image.
“I… I have a good ear.”
Watching him intently, she leaned forward. “So, you can hear something and immediately pick it up?”
“Sorta. I have to hear it a few times.”
“And why aren’t you doing this professionally?”
“Who says I’m not?” He bit out, not wanting to really get into it. He’d hoped to keep all of this quiet and thought it had been safe with her asleep. Who knew she’d wake up?
She giggled, leaning back in her seat, wrapping the blanket tighter around her as she looked out at the lake. “If you were, would you be sharing a place with me? No, you’d have been able to buy me out and then some, or stayed somewhere that didn’t have a shortage of rooms.”
He leaned back studying her. Was she for real? She’d heard him sing, seen him up close, and still didn’t know him? “I already told you that I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“And if you were in the ‘business’, you’d have another place in an instant.” She said, using air quotes.
“Maybe.” He said casually, leaning back in the chair.
“Do you want to be?” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she studies him. He had closed his eyes, head leaned back as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She watched closely, trying to see a reaction. The minute the words were out of her mouth, she noticed the tightening of the corners of his eyes and his mouth.
“What?” One eye opened to look over at her.
“In the business?” She smiled brightly, leaning back in her chair, the blanket secured tightly around her shoulders.
“I don’t know.” The eye closed again, effectively shutting her out.
“I think it would be interesting.” The words were said lightly, but the eyes narrowed as she studied him as if he were a specimen underneath the microscope.
“Interesting?” Both eyes slid open this time and studied her right back, and his right hand began to tap against his thigh.
“Sure, fans singing along with you up on stage, dancing in the streets to your songs, and hearing all of your hard work on the radio.” She danced in her seat, squirming first to the left then the right.
Scoffing, he put his arms behind his head, closing his eyes to shut her out again. “Fans chasing after you, prying into your life, paparazzi following you everywhere for a picture, and never allowed to go out without a bodyguard.”
“The price of fame.” She said seriously, still looking for that reaction.
“Is that what you call it?” Both eyes jerked open again and he quickly looked over at her, incredulously. “You’re doing what you love, but your life is your own. Why should actors and musicians be any different?”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way, I don’t know.” Her forehead creased in thought, all provoking aside. It was a valid question.
“That’s why I’m not in the business.” He said, watching her closely, before leaning back in the chair again.
“But, you didn’t answer my question.” The crease disappeared as she smiled slightly, looking him straight in the eye. Provoking was back in the forefront.
“What?” The word came out in a sigh as if he couldn’t believe she was still on this topic, his eyes rolling to stare into hers.
“Would you like to be?”
Not breaking eye contact with her, he took a deep breath, and answered honestly, “What would you say if I said I already was?”
“I’d laugh and ask you to play me one of your songs and then ask why you were here, what brought you to this point, where you wanted to go forward, and try and figure out the package.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but he could read her curiosity and knew he needed to shut this conversation down.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what I do.” She shrugged. “I figure people out. That’s my gift, then I write it all down. So are you?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Really?”
“You’d make it into this big Hollywood drama and I’d be hung out to dry.” He smiled, laughing slightly, trying to lighten it and change the subject at the same time. He placed his arms behind his head again, starting out at the beauty of the lake. “But, I hate to break it to you, I’m not a puzzle, I’m not in the industry, and I’m not anything like what you’re thinking. I’m just me.”
She eyed him closely, as if she was trying to peel back the layers and see what was underneath it all. “You’re something. I just don’t know what yet. But, I do know you’re lying.” She pointed at him, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, then stood up, pulling the blanket from the chair where it had gotten caught.
“How do you figure?” He said lightly, wishing she’d leave him alone.
“The fingers on your right hand twitch as if its playing the guitar to an unhead melody.” She said absently, still tugging on the blanket.
He jerked upright in the chair, his eyes swinging to stare at her again, no longer playing it cool or calm. “No, they don’t.” He lied, knowing full well they did when he had a hook running through his head, which he’d been thinking of while she’d been talking.
She wiggled her eyebrows at him and giggled. “Are you sure?” When no response was forthcoming, she stood up to go back in. “I’ll figure you out yet, Josh, and what you’re hiding.”
~*~
For the first time in over a week, Izzie had ventured out of the condo, all in the name of research. She’d mentioned something about going to the library and trying to find a western store, but by then he’d learned to tune out her ramblings and had simply waved goodbye, hoping to get some of his own writing in.
JC pulled out his laptop, opening up the word processing program to get the lyrics in head down on paper before he lost the paper thin trail. It wasn’t much at the moment, but he’d had this chorus in his head all morning; ever since talking with Izzie out on the patio, and he wasn’t about to dissect that at the moment. It had only been months before the words would even come to him and now after a week living with a smart-ass redhead, the words were slowly starting to trickle back. Circumstantial. That was it.
“I’ve been standing in the darkness, everyone passing me by, then I saw you, and the sunlight touched me once more.” He hummed, shaking his head before crossing out the second half. “That isn’t working. I like the beginning though,” he muttered to himself.
His cell phone vibrated along the table, shaking him from his thoughts. His eyes still on the screen, he picked it up, punching the talk button without looking at the called id. “This is JC.”
“Yo, C, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for months. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.” The voice in his ear laughed and he grimaced, as that had been exactly what he’d been doing.
“Hey, Justin.” He mumbled, closing his laptop, leaning back, one arm flung along the back of couch. Justin Timberlake, superstar, had taken time out of his busy life to pick up the phone and call him. The last he’d heard, Justin was on his world tour, performing his third record to sold out stadiums. Closing his eyes, he tried not to feel like a charity case, as he knew why he was calling. He’d been expecting and was honestly surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner.
But, maybe it wasn’t what he was thinking, maybe he was calling to catch up and check in with an old friend. The least he could do was give him his full attention, or that’s what he told himself, grimacing, as he was probably calling from the road. Even though they had once been as close as brothers, they’d lost touch once the group dissolved and he’d branched out as a solo artist rising up the charts faster than a thermometer measuring a fever. Instead of Justin, part of Nsync, he was Justin Timberlake, Superstar, forgetting that he’d been one-fifth of a boyband. Everyone wanted to forget that he’d known him long before his face graced teen and tabloid magazine covers, and he was hosting award shows and Saturday Night Live. He’d known him when he was a skinny, peroxide blonde kid and all he’d wanted to do was make music. Now, he didn’t know if he’d recognize his friend anymore if he came up to him on the street.
“I heard through the grapevine that you fired John.” JC heard a pencil tapping through the phone and tried not to roll his eyes. Justin wasn’t calling to catch up; he was calling for the exact reason why he shouldn’t have answered the phone. He could picture him sitting at his cherry oak desk, in his office at the studio. This was obviously a business call, not personal.
“Yeah. I did. I’m shopping labels and agents right now though, its nothing big. Happens all the time in the business. You know that.” He said abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he sat up, forearms resting on his knees.
“Why didn’t you call and tell me what was going on? I had to read it in the paper. I had to read about Jive and now John.”
“Justin, seriously, why would I call you?”
“Because we’re friends.” He could hear the slight snark in the tone, but also the whine.
“Really? Friends call each other when they get engaged, when they want to catch up, and when they want to see how other friends are doing. Not one a year when they need something from someone.”
“C… JC…”
He could hear his friend pause, as he digested that comment. He could also hear the hurt and tried not to feel. So much had happened, did he really think that he’d forget? “Justin, you chose your path. We all understood. But, I have to do this my way.”
“I can help.” This was said softly, and made him feel like a shit.
“I know you can.” Closing his eyes, he banged his head against the back of the couch. “Seriously, but I… I can’t accept it.”
“I want to do this for you, JC.” He could hear the steel in Justin’s voice and tried not to smile, tried to hold onto the hurt and, deep down, the jealousy.
“Why?” He asked, trying to find an ulterior motive in the young man’s voice and actions.
“I…” The voice trailed off and he tried not to let triumph come over him, as he read too much into that one word.
“If it has anything to do with pity, guilt, or for old times sake. You know where you can stick it.” He broke in, cutting him off.
“It’s never had anything to do with that and you know it.” He could feel the bite through the phone and the sudden chillness in his tone; the slight touch of temper filtering through the cell phone.
“How do I know that? I have no label, no manager, no agent, no anything, Justin. I’ve stopped getting invitations to parties, invitations to collaborate, and even invitations to stroll along the red carpet at award shows. The last call I got was to join a reality television show as a guest judge. I’m a joke. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. And then you call…at the exact moment I’ve hit bottom, what am I supposed to think?” One hand slid down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Its over, Justin. I just need to accept it and move on. I haven’t even decided yet if this is what I want.” He said the last softly.
“Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?” He closed his eyes at the words, wondering if they were true or if he was in fact finally being honest with himself. “Justin, I…”
“No. No, C, you listen to me for a change. I’m going to sit here and listen to this. You’re one of the most talented people that I know and I want you to go places. Places you deserve! I know you didn’t get the same support that I did and you should have. I know I didn’t stick up for you the way that I should’ve, but I’m trying to change that.
Jive was wrong to do what they did to you and I’m trying to correct that. It has nothing to do with pity, guilt, or whatever you want to package it up in. Its because I want to do this for you. I need to do this for you. Your talent is… I can’t let it go to waste and I’m offering you a chance because I can and you deserve it. I owe you so much for over the years and if this is something that I can do for you, then I’m going to. You can call it pity, guilt, love, whatever, I don’t care. When you’re done feeling sorry for yourself and doing this on your own. You know where to find me. Because you don’t have to do this on your own. None of us should ever had to do this on our own. Call me when you pull your head out of your ass.”
The phone clicked in his ear and all he could do was stare at the wall.