"This isn't Lucky..."

"Don't J...don't even." Trace sighed and gazed out the window.

"You know...you left your wallet here." Justin laughed. "How'd you pay? Did you tell the guy it was for me?"

He was silent.

Justin was confused. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Trace let out a small laugh. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Trace..."

"That girl that picked my pocket yesterday was in there." He supplied. "She gave me a dollar."

Justin cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"I told you you wouldn't believe me." He laughed.

"Bull."

"Scouts honor."

Justin snickered. For a moment, he let his mind drift back to when he and Trace had been young. Even then, Trace had always said "scout's honor" when he hadn't believe something he had told him. Some things...no matter how old you got, never changed. "Small world." He said finally. He pulled a coin out of his pocket and scratched off his lottery ticket. "Woohoo!" He exclaimed. "It's the big winnnaaaa the big big win-na-na..." He sang and did a victory dance in his seat.

"What? Did you win a hundred bucks again?"

He stopped his private celebration. "Yeah."

"That's the third time this month." Trace nodded.

Justin threw the ticket somewhere behind him. "I know."

"Aren't you gonna cash it?" Trace smiled.

"Why? I don't need it. You know I only buy those things cus'..."

"I know, because they're fun." Trace said sarcastically, and reached behind him to retrieve the ticket. He opened the door, and stepped out of the limo.

"Where are you goin?" Justin questioned.

"I'm going to cash it."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Its a lousy hundred bucks."

"A hundred bucks is a hundred bucks." Trace reasoned.

"Lonnie's gonna be back with the food any minute." Justin protested.

"Wait for me." Trace smiled before closing the door.

"But I have..." Justin began, but the door closed before he could finish. "Interviews." He grumbled.

He hated being late for interviews.
***************************
They had ham sandwiches on sale for fifty cents each.

It was truly a rich man's feast. She wiped the crumbs off her mouth with the back of her sleeve and smiled, satisfied at last. She got up from the sidewalk and began to stroll along, as if she hadn't a care in the world. On a full stomach, the city didn't seem so dark and emotionless. It looked beautiful. With it's tall skyscapers and its giant signs everywhere. To any tourist, she knew, this must have been an amazing place to visit. It was truly was an amazing city.

But as for Dru, she had yet to see New York City grant her any justice.

She was in Times Square again. She was surprised, after what had happened earlier in the week, she normally would have avoided it all together. But finding that five dollars the other day had put her in a good mood, so she didn't really care anymore. That was then, and this was now.

But even so, she still couldn't believe she had actually given that guy a dollar. What was his name...Trace. Correction, she couldn't believe she had given Trace a dollar. Come to think of it, why had she bothered? Who really needed the dollar more, Trace or herself? The answer to her question was an obvious one. She had just, well...felt bad for him, and thought she owed him a favor since she had tried to rob him the day before. He hadn't seemed to care that she had done him a favor, and she didn't blame him. But she felt good about at least attempting to make up for what she had done. No, she wouldn't be picking pockets for awhile.

It was Sunday. It was Sunday and she really needed to find somewhere to stay. The building was being knocked down tomorrow, and there was no way she was going to chance sleeping there tonight. The last thing she wanted was to be killed in her sleep. No, she didn't have the best life, but she didn't want to die. She was stronger than that. Much stronger. She sighed, knowing that tonight she would probably be sleeping in some Subway station, using her bookbag as a pillow again.

She hated sleeping in the Subway station. There were so many scummy people down there. Drug dealers, perverts, bums, and just about any other kind of lowlife that you could imagine. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew that there was no place else to go. She wasn't about to sleep outside, it was much too cold for that.

She stopped at a newsstand. Even though she couldn't read, she always liked to look at the covers of the magazines. She liked to see all the glamorous people that were adorned on the covers, and imagine what it must have been like to live like they did. She scanned the many selections that the stand offered. Then she saw him...again.

One, two, three...there were too many to count. Justin must have been on the cover of almost every magazine that the newsstand had to offer. She wanted to scream. Of all the times she wished she had learned to read...this was definitely one of them. The question of just who he was and what he did had been plauging her mind for too long. She daringly picked up one of the magazines and thrust in the cashier's face. "Excuse me."

"What." The man grumbled.

"Can you tell me something?"

The man looked up from his newspaper and narrowed his eyes at her and the magazine she was holding. "It's four bucks."

"No...I need to ask you something else."

The man rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"Who...is this?" She asked him eagerly, pointing to Justin's picture.

The man looked at her, as if she were insane. "You don't know who that is?"

She hesitated for a moment. "No." She said quietly.

The man laughed. "What...do you live under a rock or somethin' kid?"

She looked at the ground. The man couldn't have been more right. "Sort of."

"That's Justin Timberlake."

"What does he do?" Her voice was filled with curiosity.

"He's one of them pop singers." The man rolled his eyes. "I never took to him personally, but he's real big. I know, because even I know who he is and what he does, and I don't even listen to the radio." The man half smiled and leaned foward. "You gonna buy it then?"

Dru put the magazine back on the rack. "I can't."

The man's eyes softened. He knew he had seen her before, begging for money on the street, and even though he had never tried to help her, he still felt sorry for her. She looked much too young to be living like she was. He reached over and pulled the magazine off of the rack, handing it to her. "Go on...take it."

She took the magazine, still unsure of what was happening. "Huh?" She said, with a quizzical expression.

"Consider it...a gift." The man smiled again, and leaned back in his chair. "Now go, before I change my mind."

A warm feeling came over her. Nobody had given her any sort of gift, in years. "T-thanks." She stuttered.

The man simply winked at her. "Take care of yourself."

She nodded. "I will."

With that she walked off, magazine in one hand and her bag of sandwiches in the other. It was going to be an evening of true entertainment...even if she couldn't read.

********************
Justin was completely drained. After a long day of press and photoshoots with only one small break for lunch inbetween though, who wouldn't be? Exhausted, he made his way inside his hotel room, leaving a trail of his belongings behind him as he made his way to the bedroom. He flopped face down on the bed, and let out a long tired yawn. He closed his eyes, ready to conk out for the night, but of course he wasn't going to be able to. No sooner had his eyes closed than his cellphone began to ring.

First it had been Trace, calling to ask him about his schedule for tomorrow. That had lasted fifteen minutes. Then Johnny had called, wanting to know how the day went...another hour. Those calls were followed by his mother, and then by a few girls he had been introduced to at various parties. By the time he had finished the last phone call it was nearly one in the morning. He groaned, he was so tired, and he still had to be up for seven the next morning. His schedule was getting crazier every day. Even more so than it had been when he had been with NSYNC. He shook his head, he didn't know how much longer he could go on like this. He just needed a day to rest, but it didn't look like he was going to get one of those anytime soon. He realized a long time ago, that in this buisness, there really weren't any breaks. Even when you were on a break...you really weren't. People were constantly following you, hassling you for an autograph or a picture. For once, he wished he could just go someplace where nobody knew who he was. To be normal for a day...was the ultimate fantasy.

He tried to shut his eyes again, but he couldn't. He was wide awake now. "Fuck." He muttered. So much for getting in any sort of sleep time tonight. He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand as he did so. He winced, he tasted it.

Blood.

He drew his hand away from his mouth slowly, and surveyed the damage. He let out a small sob. What the hell was wrong with him? He shrugged and got out of the bed to wash the blood off of his hand. Was it that he was tired? Probably...he hoped that was all it was anyway. He stared back at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like complete hell. His face was a ghostly white, more so than it had been this morning. He turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face. It didn't do anything. If anything it made him feel worse.

His teeth chattered, and his body trembled. He was cold now. He quickly made his way back to bed and curled up under the warm comforter. It felt good, and after several minutes of lying there, being careful not to move, he began to feel better.

He was tired...that was all it was.

Nothing was going to convince him otherwise.

 

Chapter Five