What do I do to ignore them behind me?
Do I follow my instincts blindly?
Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams
and give into sad thoughts that are maddening?
"I'm sorry sir, but without a reservation you have to wait in line with everyone else," the guard said. Justin threw his hands into the air. He had never had this much trouble getting into a night club before. Without having to say his name anyway...
"Ok man. My name is Justin Timberlake, you know? NSync ring a bell?" he shouted.
"Well, JUSTIN, frankly I wouldn't care if you were Boy George! You're not getting into this night club until you go through the line just like everyone else. No get at the end of the line or I'll call security," the guard shouted back, over the thumping of the clubs walls.
"Why do you need help? Can't get me back by yourself? Not as tough as you think you are now are you?" Justin retorted.
"Ok, that's it," the guard said as he motioned with his hands for back-up. Three men, twice Justin's size, came out of the shadows a picked him up as if he were a feather. Justin struggled with the guards until he was out of their grip. By that time they were in the club parrking lot. "I can escort myself," Justin said. He turned and walked to his car. He climbed into his BMW and slammed the door. He had no clue what that guys problem was, but he was sure going to call Johnny and let him know. He could hear Johnny already. "How dare he treat a celebrity that way!" Trying not to let the guard ruin his attitude, he headed for the nearest coffee joint. Starbucks was the closest one in sight.
Do I sit here and try to stand it?
Or do I try to catch them red-handed?
Do I trust some and get fooled by phoniness
or do I trust nobody and live in loniless?
Justin pulled his car into the nearest parking space and slammed the car door a little harder than he meant to when he got out. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and dug through the mass of cards. He found the Starbucks card that he had been given for Christmas allowing him to get anything he wanted free. That was a perk of being famous. People sent you free stuff all the time. He walked into the cafe and stepped up to the counter.
"Umm...I'll have a vanilla cappuccino," he said. The young gave him a look of digust as she rang up his order.
"That'll be two forty-seven," she sighed. He handed her his card. She looked at the front and back of it before turning and walking into an office behind the counter. Justin sighed and tapped his feet as he waited.
A man walked out of the office and over to the cash register where Justin was waiting. He would have been a pleasant looking man if he didn't have a mustache that covered the top of his upper lip. "Son can I ask you where you got this?" the man asked.
"Umm....the record company gave it to me," Justin said, a little irritated.
"Well your card is invalid. I can't accept it," the man said, not attempting to hide his amusment with the situation. Justin didn't see an ounce of humor in it.
"I don't understand. What do you mean the card is invalid?" Justin asked, trying to cage his temper.
"Your card is invalid. This store cannot accept it," the man pressed on.
"Can I ask why not?" Justin pressed back.
"Your card is no longer valid..."
"I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TWO TIMES! Will you tell me why?" Justin shouted. He was normally very leveled headed, but this man had pushed his buttons.
"Son I'm going to have to ask you leave," the man demanded, and he was no longer laughing.
"Can I have my cappuccino?" Justin asked in a cocky tone.
"You have to pay me and like I said your card..."
"Yeah, yeah yeah," Justin uttered as he dug into his pockets. He kept digging until he had scratched up $2.47 even. The man handed him his cup and Justin turned and walked out of the Starbucks, slamming the door a little harder than he meant to. He walked back to his car, opened the door and set his drink in the cup holder before climbing in. "That's the last time I go there again," he said to himself as he turned the keys in the ignition.
The car wheezed, but the engine failed to turn over. Justin sighed and tried again. And again. And again. And again. Justin pushed a button below the steering wheel that turn on the lights inside the car, but they just flickered and then went out. "Damn cheap ass battery," he said before opening the car door. He stepped outside and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.
He tried to dial, but the phone was roaming. "Oh, I'm not about to pay a freakin roaming charge," he yelled in anger. He shoved it back into his pocket and went off in search of the nearest pay phone.
If I turn my back I'm defenseless
and to go blindly seems senseless.
If I hide my pride and let it all go on
then they'll take from me til everything is gone.
If I let them go I'll be outdone.
But if I try to catch them I'll be outrun.
If I'm killed by the questions like a cancer.
Then I'll be buried in the silence of the answer.
By myself.
Walking down the sidewalk, Justin spotted a payphone outside the theater. "Thank god," Justin said. He was really ready to get off his feet and get home. He weaved his way through the small crowd and noticed something. Every single person outside the theater had stopped what they had been doing and stared him down with a look of pure evil. He passed one girl who whispered something that sounded a lot like "ugly faggot". Justin ignored them and picked the reciever of the pay phone.
Justin dialed the number from memory and turned back around. Everyone was still looking at him with pure disgust on their faces. "Hello," a voice said in the reciever.
"Chris? Dude, my battery's dead in the BMW. I need you to come and get me," Justin said as he kept a watchful eye on the crowd. He was afraid they would pounce on him any minute.
"Good God Justin, it's 1:30 in the morning," Chris said, sounding like he had just woken up.
"I know man, but Jc out with Emanuelle and Joey and Lance are out of town. You're the only one that can come and pick me up. Do it fast, too. I got a strange feeling about this crowd," Justin said, without looking away from the people still staring at him.
"Why? They gonna ask for an autograph or something," Chris asked, puzzled.
"No. More like a hitman," Justin laughed, even though it really wasn't funny. "Listen my car's in the parking lot of Starbucks a block down from the theater. I'll see you there." With that Justin hung up the phone and hesitated. He was a little afraid to try and make his way through the crowd. He took a breath to calm his nerves and stepped forward.
"Brat," he heard some yell. He didn't look to see who it was. He just kept walking.
"Ugly homo," he heard another person say. Pretty soon the entire crowd was yelling everything from asshole to jerk as Justin broke into a run to get away from the crowd.
He reached the parking lot of the Starbucks and saw a girl leaning up against the passenger door of his car. He slowed his pace back down to a walk and slowly approach her. "Can I help you?" he asked politely.
"Yeah I was just wondering something," she asked.
"Go ahead," Justin panted.
"Well I was just wondering was if buying this car made you feel any more important," she said as if her question had been so simple.
"What?" he asked.
"Well I mean it must be hard. You're in the most successful group in the country and maybe even the world. You have four incredibly gorgeous bandmates, with incredibly great voices and personalities. Where do you fit in? I mean you really can't sing that well, you sound like a whiney five year old. You really aren't that good looking either. So I want to know is that how you make yourself feel better? By buying nice clothes and fancy cars?" Justin stared at her in complete and total shock before he let her words sink in.
"You know what... your a spoiled brat," Justin said. "As hard as I've worked to get where I'm at, it shouldn't matter how good looking I am or whether I have the best voice in the group or even what kind of car I have. I've worked too long too hard for it to matter!" he shouted at her.
"Well I hate to break it to you, Justin," she said as she stood to walk away. "But it does matter..."
How do you think
I've lost so much?
I'm so afraid
I'm out of touch?
How do you expect
I will know what to do
when all I know
is what you tell to?
"No......no......NO!"
Justin up quickly and gasped for breath. He looked around. He was in his bed, in his bedroom, in his house, and he was completely alone.
"Thank God," he sighed and he put his head in his hands. "It was only a dream."
He sat their and rocounted the events in his dream one by one. It was the most rediculious thing he had ever heard of. Like anyone would actually walk up to him and say things like that. He didn't deserve it.
Or did he? Well I am a little cocky and conceided. And that would have been enough to set me straight any day. He thought. He rolled over and pulled his blanket back over his neck. There's always a catch though. No one actually have the guts to say something like that to my face...
But I guess the real question is, do they really need to say anything? Or do I already know what they are going to say?
I can't hold on
to what I want when I'm stretched so thin.
It's all too much to take in.
I can't hold on
to anything watching everything spin.
With thoughts of failure sinking in...
