Date: Tue, 19 Dec 2000 14:03:55 EST
From: FishofHappiness@aol.com
Subject: The Magnificent Journey, Part 2

Disclaimer: I know no one mentioned in this story. None of this is true.
Don't read if you're too young or too immature to handle it.

Feedback, as always, is appreciated and can be received at
FishofHappiness@aol.com.


The title for this chapter comes from Splender's "Yeah, Whatever"

The Magnificent Journey
Chapter 2: "We don't have to stay friends. Let's pretend to be enemies."

   "What do you mean there are no rental cars left! Do you know who I am?"
Oh, no.  Lance groaned. Chris's voice had that edge in it again. The very
same edge that had pissed off the airline worker to the point that she
would even check for plane tickets. Not to mention the fact that his
attitude on stardom at this particular minute was one of the things that
had always irked Lance about the 'old Hollywood'. This very same
superioristic attitude had cost them a good car at the last rental place,
and had stuck them here. Lance was not going to let it happen a third time.

   "Shut up, Chris. I'm sorry for my friend. Are you absolutely sure you
don't have anything?"

   "Well, we do have one car but, it's a little older..."

   "Which means it probably doesn't run anymore." God, Lance was getting
sick of that snarl in his voice. Chris could be rough at times, Chris was
almost always a to-the-point person, but even Lance had never seen him with
this kind of caustic attitude, and he had had enough. He still hadn't
gotten an explanation about why he was here, and why Chris couldn't just
buy a plane ticket back, but he wasn't going to ask when Chris was this
ill- tempered.

   "Shut up, Chris. We'll take it." Lance grabbed the keys from the
attendant, and paid her the deposit. "We can return this car in Orlando,
right?"

   "Sure, absolutely. If it makes it that far, you can do whatever you want
with it."

   Lance decided that in their situation, that was one warning he would
choose to ignore.  He grabbed up the keys, and made his way out to the
lot. It took awhile, but they managed to locate the car in the very back of
the parking lot. It was the junkiest looking blue convertible Lance had
ever seen. In fact, it appeared that the driver's side door had been
replaced at some time, because it was a pale pink-red color. The entire car
appeared to be covered in a film of dust. It reminded Lance of the car from
the video "Scar Tissue" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, only it was in worse
shape.

   "Well, at least we got a sports model."

   Now, that was closer to the Chris he was used to--sarcastic in a fun
way. Lance smiled at him, encouraging, and manually unlocked the
passenger's side first. "Ride or drive, Chris?"

   "Ride. I'm exhausted." It was said, as if Lance wasn't also exhausted,
as if every bone in Lance's body was aching with fatigue. He should have
refused, he should have made them go back, and rent another room, and spend
another day out here so that Lance would actually be safe on the road. But,
he didn't. He just nodded, and complacently took the driver's side
seat. Their bags were stowed away in the back seat, the cloth top was
securely shut, the hot air fan that passed for an air conditioner was
blowing...it was good enough, he figured, and he pulled out onto the road.

   He waited until about a half an hour had passed before he glanced to
Chris, and started conversation. "So, what happened?"

   "Danielle and I broke up."

   Shock registered for a second, but Lance had figured it was something
like that. "What about your money, your credit cards, your atm card?"

   "She took 'em." The sentence was fast, almost shot out. Lance chalked it
up to anger at the situation.

   "She did what?"

   "She took my whole wallet, Lance. She'll return it, I'm sure, she's not
that type of person, but she ran off and abandoned me there."

   "Why?"

   "She said I was acting like an asshole and she was sick of it."

   Now that part, Lance could believe. "Why did you call me?"

   "You're my band mate."

   "You don't even like me."

   "Well, Justin's with Lynn, Joey and JC are both with family... I figured
you were the only one not doing anything important."

   For some reason, the fact that that statement rang true made Lance even
angrier. It wasn't his fault that the break just happened to coincide with
his mom and dad's cruise through Alaska. It wasn't his fault that Stacy and
Ford were busy with work, and couldn't get off. That didn't mean it wasn't
important. That didn't mean he wasn't important. While anger made Chris
outspoken, it made Lance introverted, so the convertible soon rolled in
awkward silence once more. So many things about the two were opposites.
Lance had light green eyes, while Chris's were deep brown. Lance's skin and
general complexion bordered that of an albino, while Chris was dark and
tanned. Lance's voice was deep and low, while Chris was practically a
soprano. Not to mention that Lance's clothing choices stuck to the preppy
side of conservatism while Chris tended to be more daring. Maybe there was
too much different about them, and that was why they could never get along
alone. Sure, when one of the other guys was around, they were fine, they
could all banter together, as long as there was a buffer. When it was just
Chris and Lance, though, things got ugly quick. They had always tried to
keep it from the other guys, but the tension was almost a physical being
sometimes, and it was always with them, always present, like a poltergeist
that haunted their every move.

   Lance risked another glance over at Chris, but he found that Chris had
curled up to sleep, his face leaning towards the window so that his deep
brown spikes were smashed up against the glass. Chris looked rough, he
looked hurt, he looked...lost. Without the sarcastic bite to shield his
vulnerability, Chris looked like a kicked puppy. There was more to this
story with Danielle then he was letting on, and Lance wanted to know. He
would find out, eventually. Really. Even if Chris just called him for a
plane ticket and money, and not for any actual companionship. There was
trouble brewing, though. Lance only had a little over a hundred dollars
left in his pocket, and he had left all his cards at home. He thought it
was just going to be a quick trip, maybe an overnight if he was lucky. But,
no, it looked like it was going to be a long hard drive home.

   God, why did he always end up in these messes?