Song, Dance, Giddying Up
by Kaelie

~..~

"Oh god. This song fucking sucks."

It was said quietly, but Joey still did a double take and raised his eyebrows at JC's vehement tone.

"This song? This lovely song that we helped write, JC?"

"Oh god. It didn't turn out right. It doesn't sound anything like what we had in mind. I really, really hate this." JC seemed to be hovering between spitting rage and despair, and Joey smiled, puzzled and amused.

"Dude, don't sugarcoat it. Tell me how you really feel." But his smile fell flat as JC continued to glare through the glass into the studio sound booth, jaw tight, and Joey frowned in bewilderment.

"It's stupid," JC continued in a slightly quieter voice. "There's no reason to have two gratuitous ‘band name in every chorus' songs on this cd." JC's face was starting to turn red, and a vein pulsed in his forehead even as he slumped against the glass. "Joey, we'll be laughingstocks. I mean, it just wasn't supposed to be this way, you know?" he finished miserably.

"Hey." Joey nudged him. "Relax. There's nothing you can do about this song. Just deal with it." JC turned to glare at him and he smiled encouragingly. "It'll be okay. Next cd, we get to make more decisions. This one is almost over. Look at it as a learning experience."

JC shrugged and continued to gripe moodily. "At least we won't have to perform this one. I mean, it's not like we can dance to this. Giddy up. What the fuck is that supposed to mean anyway?" His tone rose as he waved his hands around, gathering steam. "Joey, have you listened to these lyrics? Even worse than what we started out with! I mean, at least those were funny. This is just lame!!"

Joey elbowed him, hard, as the primary songwriter and producer walked by. "Christ, JC. Keep it down. You know we couldn't use the original lyrics, they were obscene!" he hissed. JC turned back to the glass and grumbled himself into silence and Joey regarded him, frowning. It wasn't like JC to throw fits about songs this late in the game. He'd handled the horrors of Riddle and his distaste over Lance's porn voice-over on Everything I Own much more calmly. Giddy Up wasn't that awful. There were worse songs on the cd, definitely. There must be something else bugging JC. Joey turned back to the glass, watching Justin lay down his vocals in the sound booth.

Joey had to admit it was worth watching. Justin's eyes were closed, hands on his headphones as he grooved easily to the beat, his hips rocking with a fluidly far beyond his years. The speakers bled the sound of Justin's voice as he crooned the ending chorus. "Ride it ride it ride it ..." Joey shook his head and smiled fondly. That kid and his hips were going to make them all rich.

JC groaned again and Joey looked at him questioningly. JC had his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he knocked his forehead lightly on the glass. "God, Joey. I hate this song. Tell me that I'll never have to watch, uuuhmm, I mean, listen to it again after today. Tell me that we won't have to perform this." Joey shot another look at Justin, undulating effortlessly on the other side of the glass, and opened his mouth to answer.

Chris interrupted, entering the room with his usual flourish and an exaggerated swagger. He surveyed the scene with a scowl, tipped an imaginary cowboy hat up on his forehead and drawled, "We ready to giddy up, boys?" in the world's worst John Wayne imitation. He mimed spitting a wad and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, hitching them up. "Let's saddle up." He pointed a finger at JC. "It's your turn for vocals, pilgrim."

Lance looked up from his magazine warily, unsure whether he was being made fun of. His green eyes were watchful on Chris, who continued to swagger into the room. Apparently deciding he wasn't the butt of the joke this time, he grinned and jumped up, distracting Chris with a demonstration of a true John Wayne swagger. "You need cowboy boots to do this right, you know ..."

Joey turned back to JC, who was rubbing his forehead wearily. "JC. You know we'll probably have to perform this song. I mean," he smiled, trying to coax an answering grin from JC, "it's not like we have all that much material, man."

JC groaned again as Joey shoved the lyric sheet into his hands and pushed him into the sound booth. Justin greeted him with a grin, but JC avoided Justin's eyes as he took his place at the microphone.

"And you, young feller!" Chris's enjoyment over his John Wayne impersonation apparently hadn't peaked yet. He crossed the room with an exaggerated bow-legged gait, removed an invisible stick of hay from his mouth and stabbed it in Justin's direction. "I reckon you sounded alright, fer a greenhorn from Tennessee."

Justin slid easily into an exaggerated drawl. "Aww, the vocals are the easy part, hoss. Wait until we start the choreography!" He aimed a brilliant smile at Chris as he reached for a cup of tea, and Joey reflected that one of Justin's best qualities was his easygoing adaptability. He could be intense about the music with JC, play with Chris like the children they both were, discuss business with their management team, country music with Lance, women with Joey. He was, already, at barely seventeen, a confident and magnificent performer. His powers of persuasion were considerable, and he'd been instrumental in getting this, their only writing contribution to their first album, considered for the line up.

The kid had more performance experience than all of them including JC; probably he had a perfect right to be a little condescending. Joey frowned. It certainly seemed to infuriate JC lately, though. And JC was the only one Justin really didn't condescend to; JC had been performing on television for years and was practically in Justin's class.

Joey had assumed that Justin and JC were great friends from their year together on the mouse club, and knew that it had been Justin who suggested JC to Chris and their management when the group was formed. But he'd been wrong. Lately, it seemed like the only time they got along was on stage. JC had told Joey in confidence that Justin had always driven him a little nuts during the television show, that he was a nice kid but a hotshot with huge talent and a competitive instinct and ego to go along with it.

Watching Justin match horrible John Wayne impersonations with Chris and Lance, Joey reflected that he really didn't see that. Justin was usually polite, well mannered, friendly. In the year and a half of trying to make nsync work, Joey hadn't seen Justin be anything other than a professional and a team player. Until it came to this song. Giddy up.

It had started as a joke, a stupid tune with obscene words that they'd written on a long bus ride. It had been an amusing private joke, and perhaps it should have remained one. But Justin had quietly taken what they'd laughingly referred to as ‘that saddle up' song to Veit Renn, one of the producers Lou had hired for this cd. They'd worked it, changed it, cleaned up the downright filthy lyrics and polished it up, and Justin had presented it as a fait accompli to the rest of the guys. They'd all been vastly amused, except JC, who had been horrified and just hadn't gotten over it.

Justin was still beaming, presumably enjoying the process of recording the first song they'd ever had a hand in writing, and Joey tuned in just in time to hear him inform Chris and Lance that Juan had already agreed to help them out with choreography. "This song'll be phat live, dude," he sparkled. "I got, like, all these ideas. Really, it's going to be awesome." Justin gulped his tea and choked a little as Lance pounded him on the back.

Joey winced and wondered if JC knew about this.

"We shouldn't be doing that move!" The words were strident, but JC's voice sounded almost pleading and Joey wiped the sweat from his eyes, looking across the rehearsal studio with interest.

Two days into rehearsals, and JC had fought the choreography just about every step of the way. He objected to the hip swiveling, the thrusting, the air humping, and when his objections were mostly ignored, he tried not "getting it. I just am not getting this, man. Maybe if we changed it up a little ..." he added hopefully.

Juan scowled at JC in exasperation, and Joey could sympathize. Most of these moves were child's play for all of them, even Lance. There was only one tricky section, and they were slowly - very slowly - getting the hang of it. JC's objections had passed the point of simple stubbornness; he was just holding up the process now. Joey used the delay to gulp some water, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. This was silly. JC had never had a problem with sexually explicit choreography before, and now he was coming off like an outraged virgin. It didn't make sense.

Justin bounded across the studio and slid up closely behind JC, saying earnestly "like this, C. If you shift your weight to the left, right at this point when we step forward ..." He wrapped his too-big hands around JC's hips, flexing his long fingers, and JC froze a minute before shoving him away.

"I got it, I got it," he snapped grumpily. "Don't touch me."

Justin stepped back with a cocky smile. His tone was low and intimate. "Do it right, dude, or I won't."

Chris laughed hard, slapping Justin on the shoulder as he passed, but Joey saw JC's eyes narrow in the mirror and gulped his water hard. Justin continued cheerfully, "I love this choreography! I think we should make it a new band tradition - every song we write we have to perform live. And every song we ever do should have one of these moves." He stopped and faced the mirror, raising his arms over his head and executing a flawless hip/swivel/flex/thrust, complete with a bit of tongue action and a huge grin.

Lance threw his towel at him and Chris shouted, "Oh my God!" He doubled over, still laughing. "Look at our little boy go. Giddy on up there, Jup!"

They all laughed except JC, whose eyes remained narrowed on Justin's form in the mirror's reflection. Justin's eyes met his, and his smile didn't falter. "What do you say, JC?" He twitched his hips again, for emphasis. "New band tradition?"

"Speak for yourself," JC bit out rudely. "It's your stupid tradition, not mine."

"JC!" Joey gasped, shocked; but JC wouldn't look at him. He simply strode across the room toward his gym bag, looking sullenly straight ahead, his face dark and defiant. He fished out a towel and turned his back to them.

Tension in the room was suddenly thick and the others seemed quite accidentally to have drifted a few steps away. The choreographer moved quickly to the corner to answer his conveniently ringing cell phone, Lance and Chris started a loud towel-snapping battle and appeared to be somewhat oblivious. Joey held his breath, looking from Justin's still face to JC's rigid back.

"In that case," Justin said pleasantly, smiling but looking a little white around the mouth, "forget I mentioned it." He nodded graciously, still smiling, and turned his back on JC and Joey, moving toward his own bottle of water. He left behind him an acutely uncomfortable silence, and four people who unhappily did not want to look at one another at all.

The toothbrush made a fluttering lump in his check as Joey scrubbed vigorously at his teeth; his brown eyes, reflected in the mirror, were worried. Dinner had been a horror, with Justin and JC elaborately unaware of each other's presence. The atmosphere in the meeting room later, instead of being relaxed and lazy and friendly as it always was, had been thoroughly uncomfortable from the moment Justin had come in, damp from his shower and shirtless, and JC, without a word, had stood and walked out.

Sighing, Joey reluctantly decided that he would have to talk to JC, although knowing JC's prickly temper lately it certainly wasn't going to be easy. But this tension between JC and Justin was too hard on all of them, and to just ignore it and hope that it would go away if they ignored it wasn't working. Justin was undoubtedly bending Chris's ear at this very moment, and Lance sensing trouble like a highly trained hound, had made himself scarce. And JC had known Joey the longest, if not the best. It looked as though it would be up to him, no getting around it. He spat and wished he knew how to begin.

He didn't have to.

JC was sitting on the edge of his bed in the hotel room next to Joey's, staring out the window at the faint rippling patterns of the rain on the glass. He whirled around as Joey entered the room and exclaimed,

"Dude, I know; I can't help it. I know he's always perfectly nice and completely professional and super talented, I know that everyone is in love with him and I know that I've acted like an absolute fucking bastard. But I just cannot stand it when he behaves like this! It just, he just, it rubs me the wrong way, and every time he shakes his ass and acts like he knows what it means to move that way, I, I just want to - - hit him with something! It just makes me want to scream, and he's still just a kid, and I know I'm wrong, but, but, I just can't apologize to him. I just can't. Honestly, Joey. I think it would kill me."

"Well, you ought to," Joey said, leaning against the dresser and looking down at JC's troubled face. "You've been a complete prick to him, you know, and he hasn't really given you any reason to be."

"I know it," JC murmured miserably, "but I just can't. I just. I can't help it."

"C'mon, JC. It's kind of rough on all of us here," Joey said reasonably. "And dude, I really think you're wrong. I mean, you never used to have this sort of problem, you and Justin always got along fine. Now, all of a sudden, you can't stand him." He spread his hands helplessly. "I mean, what the fuck?"

JC shook his head forlornly. "I know, I know, it's just... Joey, he really makes me crazy. And this song, and the choreography ... He makes me so mad, and I just don't seem to have any tolerance anymore."

Joey regarded him steadily. "Well, for all our sakes, you need to find a way to get along with him. We're not going to get far if we start arguing among ourselves, you know."

"I know. I know!" JC rubbed his face hard, and looked up at Joey. He took a deep breath, his eyes wide and then suddenly narrowed as he set his jaw and said "Look, there's nothing in our contracts that say that we're going to fail if we don't like each other. And I care about success too, and so does Justin, and we're going to make it, Joey. We are." He took another deep breath. "You don't have to worry about me, man. I'll do the best I know how. I mean, it's like, you don't have to, you know, be in l-l-love with someone to work with them."

"I guess you don't," Joey agreed slowly, "although I think it would help our morale in general if you could kind of pretend that you didn't hate the poor boy." He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I mean, JC. What is going on? What is it about the kid that suddenly has you so on edge?"

"I just don't know!" JC answered helplessly. "He's just so - so damn cocky; every single thing he ever does or says he does as though there's only one right way to do it and naturally this is it ... I don't know, he's just so arrogant. He's just a kid, Joey, he's a CHILD, and he's so sure of himself, he just thinks he's so fucking good!"

"Well, he not such a child, JC. And he is good," Joey said reasonably, "and he should be. I mean, he's been doing this all his life, really. Why shouldn't he know he's good, or why should be pretend not to know it? And Christ, JC. You're just as good as he is."

"But he's just a BOY, Joey!" JC groaned. "He's a kid, and he's way better than me. One of these days soon I'm going to screw up royally, you'll see. I'll fuck up a song or take some sort of spectacular fall on stage in front of thousands of people, and while I'm groveling on the ground he'll slither gracefully over to help me up, like a perfect little gentleman, and when he does I swear I'll murder him on the spot in cold blood."

Another day in the dance rehearsal studio, and Joey was just warming up when Justin had arrived, wearing a huge pair of sweats that kept sliding off his hips and a t shirt was had been too small the previous summer.

"Dude! What the hell?" Lance stopped talking to JC in mid-sentence and stared incredulously as Justin eased down on the floor and started to stretch. His shirt pulled up slowly and he leaned back, exposing a perfectly toned abdomen to match his perfect "who, me?" expression as he looked up at his band mates.

"What? I'm comfortable," he said innocently, blue eyes impossibly wide.

JC averted his eyes, blinking unseeingly but determinedly at Joey. Lance shook his head, muttering darkly about the dangers of people believing their own press. Chris grinned as he crouched down beside Justin. "Hey," he said quietly. "Is this part of what we talked about yesterday?"

Justin spread his legs and leaned sideways, his shirt sliding perilously up his rib cage. "Maybe," he said with a smirk he couldn't quite hide, eyes on JC's retreating form, and Chris laughed out loud.

"Well, giddy up dude. Just don't let your mom see you dressed like that." Chris slid another look at JC, who was studying the far wall with complete concentration. "Right on."

Their final day in the dance rehearsal studio, and not falling on the hip/swivel/flex/thrust move had gone beyond a game and become a morbid sort of competition. There had been so many mistakes and bobbles on the move that Juan's assistant started collecting a dollar from each of them every time they hit the floor, and even laughingly pitched one of his own in the hat when he had an unexpected slip on a sweaty part of the wood flooring.

JC had not fallen, keeping his feet under him with grim determination, and neither had Justin.

Juan was a small, compact man in his early thirties. He looked Indian, had a Spanish name, and spoke with a German accent. He had very bushy eyebrows and often wore a jaunty little hat with a feather in it. He also had a terrifyingly loud voice and a volatile, almost hysterical temperament. When you failed to execute a move properly Juan screamed at you as though your incredible and incomparable stupidity had finally driven him, a patient and forbearing man, beyond the limits of human endurance. It was enough, Joey thought, to make you wish a hole would open in the earth beneath you, and drain you directly to China. It was no consolation to know that your band mates came no closer than you to meeting his exacting standards.

Juan had some justification for finding fault with everything they did. He was, in fact, one of the most prestigious dance choreographers in the world, had won multiple Tony awards for Broadway musicals, and was responsible for many of pop music's most memorable performances. They were lucky to have him, and they knew it. And Juan liked them all, he was punctiliously polite and friendly to them whenever he met them - except during rehearsal.

During rehearsal, Juan's zeal for perfection seemed to take possession of him; he was a dedicated man, and dance was his passion, and he could not help shrieking in outraged protest when he saw something being done wrong that was so beautiful when done right ...

"No, no, NO!" Juan was screaming now, his face flushed and contorted. "It is not like that, the pose, Mr. Bass! This position, this position, it does not exist!!! When I tell you step, swivel, step, pose, you mus' halt where I say! Your arms like so! Your legs like so! And look, Mr. Bass, where you are! Look!!"

Lance stood motionless, one arm extended, one arm down. Joey, next in the waiting line of boy banders, squirmed with embarrassment for poor Lance as his friend stood silent and helpless beneath the torrent of Juan's outrage.

"The arm! The arm is to be exactly at this angle! This! Otherwise, you will be on stage, and the music will stop and everyone will be standing like so, and there you will be, standing wrong! It is not correct!"

Juan paused, and seemed to labor to draw breath; then he said quite calmly, almost quietly.

"All right, Mr. Bass. It was not bad. It was much better than last time, I can tell you have been working. We will try again in a moment." Lance joined the others against the back wall, smiling a little smile that let Joey know he wasn't particularly bothered by the outburst.

"Mr. Fatone. Please. You will show us how this measure is done, yes?"

Joey took a deep breath as the chorus of Giddy Up started playing, cued up by Juan's loathsomely efficient assistant. In the reflection of the mirror he saw Justin return from the bathroom and step over Lance to lean against the wall next to JC. He leaned over to speak quietly in JC's ear and JC shifted, irritably, his face flushing. Justin bent closer and JC, without looking at him, moved away. Joey saw Justin's smile fade and his shoulders slump a little. Suddenly he looked very young.

Distracted, Joey realized he had almost missed the cue, and he focused on remembering every detail as he moved through the steps. Hands to the side, step left, pivot, arms up and step forward for one, two, shift weight and four steps backward and the arms like so ...

"SMILE!!" Juan snapped and Joey grinned, a ghastly attempt, and suddenly it was time for the hip/swivel/flex/thrust/pivot move and he wasn't ready, he was off balance, he was going down, shit, another dollar in that fucking hat ...

Joey froze as the music ended and held his breath.

"It ... was ... correct!" Juan screamed, and Joey was suffused with a warm glow as his band mates whooped and clapped from the back wall. Juan was seldom pleased with anyone; when he did give a word of praise you felt ridiculously like you'd won an award. He jogged back to his place as Juan called for Justin and instructed him.

The music began again, and Justin, still unsmiling, started to move. To Joey he looked a little tired and out of sorts, but he was graceful, fluid. Little motes of dust arose with each step to swirl in the amber sunlight slanting down from the high windows. It was warm in the rehearsal room, the odor of sweat was strong; a little trickle of perspiration ran down between Joey's shoulder blades and he wriggled. He felt drowsy now; he wished rehearsal was over.

He was aware of JC, silent and rigid beside him, breathing hard and staring unblinkingly at Justin as he danced, and Chris on JC's other side, watching JC's rapt face with an amused smile. Chris caught Joey's eye and nodded his head to the pounding music, singing the chorus softly but with an evil grin. "Giddy up giddy up giddy up now ..." JC's hard gulp was audible over the loudness from the speakers, and Joey looked at him in wonder. What on earth was his problem?

In the center of the studio Justin, who had run through the chorus choreography flawlessly, wobbled slightly on the tricky hip/swivel/flex/thrust/pivot move. He recovered immediately and the mistake was almost imperceptible, but instantly Juan was screaming.

"No, no, NO! It is not correct, Mr. Timberlake, it ... is ... not ... correct! You mus' use the loose knee, the living knee, not dead, stiff leg like a block of wood! You mus' FEEL the floor, FEEL the music! You are stiff, Mr. Timberlake, stiff, stiff, STIFF! You mus' be flexible! I have told you over and over, is it possible that you learn nothing here, Mr. Timberlake? Why, why do you do thees theeng?"

Suddenly Justin's immobile face went white as a sheet; without warning it crumbled, and his unshakable confidence crumbled with it. With a single, violent and ungraceful motion he bolted from his position to stand in front of Juan, who had fallen silent in shock. Recovering his balance, Justin drew himself as tall as he could, he stared straight ahead and past Juan's left ear and replied in a voice that shook with emotion,

"I guess not. I guess I haven't learned anything. I ... I guess I'm wasting your time, and it looks like I'm wasting everyone else's time. And my own time. We're not getting anywhere. This isn't working. I think, I think, I've had enough."

Lance dropped his water bottle and Joey reflexively hissed "Sh-h-h!" For a long frozen moment the tableau at the other end of the long room remained motionless and silent, Justin standing rigidly at attention and staring unblinkingly but somehow pathetically at Juan, who stood equally rigid and stared back as though he could not quite believe what he had heard.

And then Juan moved, his right hand coming halfway up then stopping. He smiled, slowly and sympathetically at Justin, then said in a quiet voice that nevertheless carried to the others against the far wall,

"Mr. Timberlake. You will one day be very very good performer. You, and Mr. Chasez; and perhaps the others too but you two certainly. Only you must realize that this day is not yet, and not soon; it is still very far off. You must be patient! You must be patient, and continue to try your hardest, yes?"

Juan looked over at JC, still standing frozen next to Joey, and looked back at Justin with sympathy and a little amusement. "And one other thing; you do not like when I shout so loud at you, so rude. Especially in front of others, yes? Very well, I should not like it either if I were you. But I must shout at you, and I will shout at you, and you must forgive. And perhaps you will forgive if you understand this: when I shout, I am excited, it is because I know you can do better that you are doing, an' I am impatient that you be so good as I know you can be!" Juan took a deep breath, and smiled gently at Justin, turning to include the rest of them, still frozen against the back wall. "I think now we end this rehearsal for this day; it is a few minutes early still, but we have done enough ..."

Juan made a jerky little bow to Justin, and turned to face the rest of them, calling out clearly, as he always did at the end of a session, "Thank ... you very much!"

With that Juan about-faced smartly and marched out of the rehearsal room, leaving behind him a stunned and thoughtful group of young men. Justin stood silently for a moment staring at the floor and biting his lip. He didn't look at any of them as he turned slowly and headed for the restroom, looking dazed. Joey, mouth still hanging open in surprise, turned to JC expecting to see the same sort of astonishment. But JC's eyes were wide and sparkling as they followed Justin's retreating form, his expression one of a strange sheepish delight.

"Well! Wasn't that fun?" Chris broke the silence quite cheerfully, "I'm guessing that Justin feels like all sorts of fool, but isn't our little Juan an absolute wizard?"

"Justin," JC said instantly, astonishingly, and the sheepish expression was suddenly entirely gone. "Justin is ... Oh god, don't you think it's great that he's human after all?" He wiped his face with a clean towel, emerging with a sunny smile. "Hey, Chris. Go get him, and let's get something to eat, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer he picked up his gym bag and headed for the door. Joey's jaw dropped as he realized JC was whistling the chorus from Giddy Up.

The final rehearsal for the new choreography and it was only the second time they'd be using the headsets and singing the song as they danced. They all, finally, had the choreography down, but it was always a little tricky putting the vocals to it, especially a song as aerobic as this one. At least, Joey thought gratefully, the words were pretty easy to remember. There were so few of them, really.

Stepping in tandem, watching themselves closely in the mirror as they moved in perfect unison, all smiling brightly except for Justin, who was handling his solo with a thrust and a smirk that made him look far older than seventeen. Joey checked his own reflection, relieved to see his smile in place and his limbs moving easily, almost unconsciously. Juan was silent. It was possible that they were doing this perfectly, and Joey's smile became a little more genuine. In the mirror, JC's eyes met his and they both grinned.

JC had had a short, private conversation with Justin that seemed to have eliminated many of his issues with Giddy Up. He told Joey later that he'd been bothered by what he had viewed as Justin's underhanded behavior in approaching the producer about their private joke song without their knowledge. Justin had understood, had assured JC that it would never happen again, and JC told Joey that Justin had handled the whole conversation like a real adult. It puzzled Joey that he seemed so surprised, but whatever was going on in JC's admittedly cluttered head, his competition issues with Justin seemed to be somewhat resolved. Joey had a sneaking suspicion that JC had even developed a real fondness for this asinine song.

Meanwhile, Joey was growing less fond of this song by the minute. And he wasn't the only one. As he pivoted toward the back of the room, Joey heard a thud that could only mean one of them had gone down. His money was on Lance. The music stopped instantly, and he was torn between relief that he didn't have to ante another dollar into Juan's accursed hat and dismay that they'd now have to start this fucking song over again from the beginning.

But it was Justin. Justin the perfectly graceful, Justin who never made mistakes, arguably the best of all of them, was flat on his back on the smooth flooring, his eyes blinking with shock. JC was standing next to him, jaw hanging open, looking even more surprised.

"What happened?" Joey asked no one in particular, and no one answered him; at first he felt cheated that he had missed seeing it, and then instantly he felt bad for Justin. He had gone so long with his perfect record, and he danced so well. JC was still gaping at Justin, slack jawed as Chris whooped with laughter and Lance clucked sympathetically. Justin still looked stunned. Joey hoped suddenly that JC wouldn't gloat.

JC hesitated, then stepped forward and extended his hand. Justin looked at it for a long second, still breathing hard, before slowly reaching up to place his hand in JC's, allowing him to pull him to his feet. They stood frozen for a moment that seemed to stretch eerily, almost nose to nose, staring hard into each other's eyes.

Lance asked if he was okay, and Justin nodded that he was fine, still looking wide-eyed at JC. He seemed unable to look away until Juan tapped him on the shoulder and moved him gently aside. Juan turned to JC, still watching with enormous eyes and he said, with a swift, mischievous smile flickering across his face,

"I suppose we must now congratulate Mr. Chasez on being the only one to get through these weeks of rehearsal without a fall! Well done, Mr. Chasez, well done indeed. You will perhaps be rich from the contents of my little hat, yes? Now, we must start again, from the top I believe ..."

JC took a quick breath and his face twisted oddly. "Juan, if we could, please ... can we start from the chorus, please."

Juan's eyebrows rose, but he motioned silently to his assistant and they quickly took their positions as the music started in mid chorus, "giddy up giddy up giddy up now ..."

The tricky move came all too quickly and Justin handled it easily, his face only a little flushed and smile a little forced. But JC came out of his pivot and immediately threw himself hard to the floor, striking it with his shoulders before rolling easily to his feet.

The music came to a screeching halt again and Juan launched into a high volume diatribe about position and balance that Joey didn't really hear. He was watching JC and Justin, who were staring silently at each other as though they had never laid eyes on each other before, and as JC suddenly turned his head away and walked off there were two spot of high color on his cheek bones. Well! Joey thought incredulously, now what do you know about that?

"Giddy up giddy up giddy up noooowwwww ..." Chris's John Wayne imitation was back, this time for the filming of the video for "For the Girl," presumably because there were horses and they were expected to ride them. None of them had any experience riding horses except Lance, who was pushing hard for a re-institution of the $1.00 per person per fall rule.

"Wrong song, Chris." Joey couldn't help but laugh at Chris's face, covered with sand from his latest tumble but still grinning. "No video for giddy up, thank god."

Chris's smile, if anything, got wider. "Oh Joey. Don't tell me you're still in the dark here."

Joey grinned quizzically as Chris continued to sing. "What do you mean, man?"

Chris jerked his head to the left, eyes sparkling as he sang "ride it ride it ride it ..." and Joey followed the direction of his gaze. Nobody else seemed to notice Justin and JC hanging back a little behind the crowd of video and band personnel moving up the beach, walking close together but not talking, and not trying to catch up to the group at all.

As Joey watched they looked about furtively and took a sharp left turn, disappearing over a sand dune. Joey turned back to Chris with a surprised grin, and Chris nodded happily as he stood and brushed the sand off his face.

"Well, Joe, let's you and me see what we can do to delay proceedings a little bit, huh? Give ‘em a couple of minutes alone. It's all they'll get until after Justin's birthday."

Joey laughed and brushed the sand from his pants. Chris jumped on his back and howled like a banshee as they ran down the beach and dove into Lance with a full body tackle, legging it away from Justin and JC and leaving them alone, for a moment, as they quite obviously wanted to be.