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Chapter 2

Ten minutes later we were all sitting around our small dining room table in silence. That table had seen many silences. Usually when there was a game on the TV that was visible from the dining room, one of us was pissed off at the other or the food was just so good that there was no time to talk. This silence, however, was the worst kind of silence. The awkward kind. The kind that made you uncertain of who you wanted to kill more, the awkward bastard that you were in the awkward silence with, or yourself, so you wouldn't have to be in that awkward silence for a second longer. My brilliant sister had yet to make the Lynn and Justin connection, so every few minutes she would shoot daggers at me with her eyes, probably because my silence was partly to blame for the weird situation we were all in. Our eyes met and Jess gave me a look that could kill before nodding her head towards Lynn, who could see everything she was doing, frantically. I wanted to smack her.

If Jess loved anything it was running her mouth, so she'd managed to fill most of the silences up until now. We'd heard the story of how Lynn and my father met (he'd rear ended her coming off of the 405 a month ago and it was "love at first sight"), why we hadn't heard a peep about Lynn until now was still up for questioning. They must have discussed a million and one things because we'd all been sitting at that table for an hour but damn if I could remember any of it. All I could remember, all I could think about, was Justin's naked chest, how his hands had felt all over me, how I wanted to throw myself off the edge of a cliff for not giving him my number. How--wait a minute, my father is marrying his mother, I can't think about these things.

That was how I'd spend my last hour. With those exact thoughts. On repeat.

When the silence became too much, I decided that honesty was the best policy. "I was just surprised to see you, Lynn, standing at my door. I was a big fan of your son when I was young so I recognized you immediate--"

Lynn, who for a moment seemed to be stunned that I was speaking to her, at all, didn't even let me finish, "Oh my god. Yes! Oh lord. For a minute there I thought, 'Oh my god this child hates me and she's going to make my life a living hell'. But you were just shocked to see me because of..." I waited for her to say his name, but for some reason she didn't, "Oh good lord!" She laughed so hard that her stomach hurt and she had to lean down, her hair nearly touched the eggs on her plate. She laughed so hard that her face turned red.

Before I knew it, I was laughing to, ignoring the completely mystified expression on my sister's face. I was used to it.

"What?" Jess howled, hating to be left out of anything, "What's so funny?"

Lynn straightened up, "I can't believe I haven't mentioned him, yet, seeing how he's my only son and, well, he's a celebrity, but--"

Jess nearly choked on her orange juice. If you didn't count "millionaire", "celebrity" was her favorite word. I was convinced that there had been a special chip implanted in her brain as a child that prompted her to respond immediately to those two words above all others. Her eyes lit up brighter than every bulb in the small room and I could almost see the dollar signs taking life and springing out of her bugged eyes, just like in the cartoons. "Your son is a celebrity? Who?!"

My father, always the strong silent type, seemed disappointed that Jess was responding like such a maniac. His sanest daughter, moi, had already failed him this morning, and Jess had been his last hope.

Lynn was beaming like the proud mama she was, "Justin Timberlake." She answered.

The forkful of food that Jess had just put in her mouth came flying right back out in huge chunks, one of them hit me right in the eye. Then, of course, Jess was choking, hands clasped across her throat, eyes bugging out like golf balls. My father and Lynn both jumped from their seats, immediately, to aid her.

I just rolled my eyes and continued eating, watching like I was sitting in a seat at the movie theater. Yeah, hoe, I thought, as my father lifted Jess' right arm in the air and Lynn began slapping her back, forcefully, now you understand why I haven't uttered a single passable sentence since this woman walked into our lives. She deserved a little choke action after how she'd treated me that morning. Besides, Jess had always had a flair for the dramatic. I wouldn't actually take this choking of hers seriously until she began to lose color in her face or lost consciousness. She was the kind of girl who would pretend to pass out on the floor or drown in the pool just to see how hysteric you'd become. Then, just when you were in that special second right before real panic set in, she would wake up, point at you and laugh hysterically. Seriously. This was a weekly thing when we were kids. My sister has "died" so many times in our lives that if she was ever really dying, she better pray I wasn't her only hope, because I wouldn't take her seriously until it was far too late. And you know what? She'd have no one to blame but herself. The evil wench.

I had no doubt in my mind that she was faking right now, so I scooped another spoonful of eggs into my mouth and chewed carefully while Dad and Lynn fussed over her.

"I'm fine." Jess waved them away with brave eyes, still holding her throat. She threw me a quick look of displeasure since I hadn't responded to her little show the way I should have, but then she was smiling courageously back at Dad and Lynn, "I'm fine, I'm fine. You just startled me." She beamed at Lynn, who had taken her seat again. "Justin Timberlake." Jess said to Lynn, before looking to me, "Justin Timberlake."

I nodded, tightly. Yes, dear sister, you are now entering last week.

Jess exhaled, "Well! That is just..." Her eyes jotted across the table, but when the landed back on me, they were overcome with amusement, "Special." She finished.

"Special." I repeated before turning to my father, "May I be excused?"

They were all stunned by the question, "Absolutely not." He answered and I could tell from the sound of his voice that he meant it. I wasn't sure how long I could sit at this table now that Jess knew that Justin was Lynn's son. She was offended that I hadn't collapsed into tears while she was "choking" and now she was going to make the rest of this breakfast a living hell. Just for me. Jess was sweet that way.

I threw my father a pleading look as Lynn spoke up, "That's actually why your father and I--"

Jess and I both looked at Lynn. 'Your father and I' was a sentence that was going to take some getting used to.

"Your father and I called you both down here for a reason. We know that you wanted to spend your last week of summer in San Diego, but we were talking about the best way for this new family to bond before the wedding and I mentioned a beautiful cabin that Justin and I have on Lake Tahoe that we have barely used." Lynn reached across the table and took my father's hand, her bright red curls flew into his face as she turned back to us with a smile, "We thought it would be fun to spend the rest of the week up there. A fun family trip."

I didn't know what frightened me more, the idea of spending an entire week on a lake, the fact that a woman was holding my father's hand across the table or the term 'family bonding'. I looked to Jess and saw she wasn't exactly pissing her pants in excitement, either. My father sensed this and said, "You're going." In that no bullshit tone of his. It was decided. We were going.

"Justin is going to be there, too." Lynn said, hopefully.

Mine and Jess' head snapped in her direction. We were going to have whiplash by the end of this breakfast. "Really?!" Jess roared.

Lynn nodded, "Yes, really, the whole week."

Jess' gaze flew to me and she didn't even have to speak because I knew her too well. She was enjoying this. The bitch was enjoying watching me squirm.

"He can't wait to meet all y'all. In fact, I told him we'd all be at the airport to pick him up. He's flying in from Las Vegas this evening."

"Is he?!" Jess cried.

Lynn nodded, "Yes."

Jess' eyes shot to mine. She was turning red with the effort it was taking to conceal her laughter. "Las Vegas, huh? Crazy city." Jess remarked, tucking her soft, carmel colored cheek into her hand and bearing her green eyes into Lynn's, "Craaaaazy."

"Yeah, you know I always worry about what kind of young girls Justin's picking up out there." Jess nodded understandingly, coaxing Lynn on, "I mean it's Vegas. You never know what kind of sexually transmitted infections most of those girls are carrying."

"1 in 4 people is infected with the herpes virus, did you know that Lynn?" Jess asked her, innocently. "I hear those numbers are doubled in Vegas, since people with herpes are drawn in by the city's slogan. You know the slogan... 'What happens in Vegas--"

" 'Stays in Vegas." Lynn finished, shaking her head with eyes full of concern.

I looked at my father in distress. Was this conversation actually happening? But he was gazing at Lynn in adoration. Love-struck.

Lynn shuttered, taking my sister more seriously than any human being ever should, "And, you know what? Justin's the type of boy to trust people. Even after being in the business for half his life he's still not as thick skinned as I'd like him to be. I mean, I'm not saying I want him to be mean and cynical..." For some reason, everyone at the table looked at me, "I just want to make sure he takes care of himself without losing himself, you know? He wears his heart on his sleeve and that worries me so much. He falls in love so easily, ever since he was a boy."

Daddy opened his mouth from where he was quietly admiring all of us silently, a smile lighting his face, "Yeah, didn't he call you earlier today talking about some girl--"

"Oh my god!" Lynn didn't even let him finish, she seemed to have an unconscious habit of interrupting people, "Some little girl, some hussy who probably has herpes..." She motioned to Jess, who nodded, "Waltzes into my baby's party and-- and this is just like Justin-- he took one look and her and, I quote, 'Had to have her.' It was infatuation at first sight."

My father was shaking his head as he ate, laughing quietly at whatever people his age laughed quietly about.

"This girl just waltzed in wearing a purple dress--"

Jess' fork collided with her plate.

Lynn didn't notice, "And before she even opened her mouth she had him." Lynn looked at my father, "She had him." She repeated, before looking back to us, "He took her back to his room and she had to leave early and wouldn't give him her number. Now I know my son, I know him well, and I know that there is nothing--nothing, that he loves more than a girl who's hard to get. Even if she's one of those girls who isn't hard to get but just knows to pretend. He loves that shit." She covered her mouth immediately when the word 'shit' slipped out.

Jess and I were staring at Lynn in complete shock, which only excited her since she was under the impression that we were shocked by her story and not the fact that I was the star of it.

"Like I said, some hussy. He met her seven hours ago and he's all tore up like they've been lovers for years. I don't understand that boy sometimes. He loves Tahoe, so maybe this little trip will get his mind right. I don't know." Lynn finished, then there was a long silence as she looked to Jess and I, expectantly.

We both looked at Daddy and, for once, we were on the same wavelength, "May I be excused?" We both asked at the same time.

We must have passed the breakfast test because, to my complete shock, he said yes.

--

The moment after we stood from the table we'd both run up the stairs like two little girls with a secret. Naturally, I'd gone straight to the door of my room, but Jess insisted we go to hers, instead. I sat in the middle of the bed in her old room, which Dad had yet to turn into his own personal gym, indian style, and my head seemed to be in a permanent back and forth motion, "This is bad, this is bad, this is so bad." She didn't seem to be disagreeing with me or offering any advice or condolence so I threw my arms out, "That's your cue, sis. What am I going to do? What am I going to fucking do? Advise me!"

Jess was sitting next to me on the bed, rubbing my back, "Well, the solution to this problem is simple." She started, and when I nodded, eager for any suggestion, she shrugged, "You're going to have to move to Mexico."

I groaned and collapsed onto the millions of pillows on her bed, "Oh my god, Jess. You heard what Lynn said at the table. He's going to see me and what is he going to do? Is he going to hug me? Is he going to kiss me since he never got the chance to do it in Vegas? Is he going to give me those come fuck me eyes that we both know he's amazing at? Can you imagine how Lynn will react when she finds out we almost had sex? Think about what Daddy will do when he finds out." My mind was running a mile a minute, "I will have to move to Mexico!" I wailed.

"Okay, Kiki? Breathe. Relax. Maybe you and Justin can just... forget it ever happened. I mean it's not like the two of you slept together. You can both just make a fresh start."

I shook my head, "You weren't in that room with us that night, Jess. The attraction was so pronounced. It was alive and dominated everything in the room. The way he looked at me... it was like he wanted to eat me alive. In a good way. How do you fake something like that? How will I be able to look at him, ever again, and see only a step-brother?"

She chuckled, "Well, as soon as he finds out you're seventeen I doubt he'll be so attracted. He's going to hate your guts."

"Oh god." I cried, throwing my head into my hands. "This is such a disaster. This is such a nightmare. And you want to hear the worst part?" I looked back up at her, "I don't want him to forget about that night in the hotel room and move on. I don't want that. I want us to have another chance at what we missed last night. I want him." I whimpered. This was one hell of a fucked up situation.

"Well, of course you want him, baby. He's young, rich, famous, and spent the better part of your childhood pinned up on the wall."

I threw her a look of death.

But she continued, "Of course you don't want this to end the way it's going to end. A calamity. But, Keelah... I honestly don't see any other way around that." She took a moment, brushed my hair like I was a small child, and looked away. Seconds past, and her sweet brushes began to feel more like pats you'd give to a dog. Clearly she was thinking, losing concentration, since multitasking had never been Jess' strong point. I looked up at her, and saw her bottom lip trapped between her teeth right before she muttered, "Unless..."

My entire body jolted. Thank god! She was having an idea! I was so thankful, even though most of Jess' ideas were far from inspired, but at that point I was grasping at straws, "What?" I was like a hungry puppy nipping at meat.

"Maybe..." Jess seemed to have a moment where she was going to change her mind, all together, as if the thoughts running through her head were insane, but then she bounced back, "Maybe he doesn't have to know that the woman who had him entranced in his hotel room is going to be his future step sister, at all."

I peered, not following.

"Remember those red glasses you wore all through middle school? The ones with the squares frames? You looked like a completely different person when you wore those. Plus, I've always hated that horrible brown contact you insist on wearing. Your natural eyes are so much prettier."

Okay, my sister had officially lost any and all respect I may have had for her point of view with that last sentence. "I have one brown eye and one purple, Jess. I look like I walked right out of a episode of Star Trek when I don't hide that thing." The 'thing' I was referring to was my right eye, which was a pale violet color with a splash of blue in the center. By itself, it was a stunning eye. A stunning eye. But, you see, eyes come in a set. I needed two purple eyes to pull off the pretty, otherwise it was just a waste. Don't even get me started on my left eye, a brown that wasn't even an appealing brown that most people would find comforting. No, it was just an ugly brown eye, the color of shit. So many times in my life perfect strangers had gone out of their way to stare at me. Pretty girl, but something just isn't quite right. Acquaintances were baffled by them, barely able to grasp the concept that two eyes could be different colors, let alone that there was actually a human being on Earth with the balls to rock them out. Needless to say, halfway through my freshman year of high school I begged my father to take me to the eye doctor for a color contact. I had one in brown and one in purple, though I used the brown one more.

"I love your eyes. They are the eyes you were born with and they're fabulous. Especially the purple one. God, talk about fucking gorgeous."

"Thank you, Jess, that's sweet. But no matter how gorgeous, it is still an eye. It's supposed to come in a matching set. Like earrings." I tried to explain.

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever, we're getting way off track. Like I was saying... when you don't have that contact in your eye you look kind of different, too. Plus, you've been in the market for a haircut," She fingered a few strands of my long, black hair, "And a color, might I add, for a while now...."

"Jess..." I was extremely troubled now, especially at the mention of my purple eye and the red glasses that had been the bane of my pre-teen existence, "What are you saying?"

She shrugged innocently, "I'm just saying that, with a few nips and a few tucks you could become... a whole other person."

"Jess..." My heart was beginning to pound uncontrollably, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." She said, in a tone meant for stupid children and stubborn adults, "Justin doesn't have to look at you and see KiKi. He could look at you and see.. anyone." She raised her eyebrows and dragged out that last word, clearly proud of herself.

"Are you actually suggesting that I pretend to be a different person? Because that's bound to piss him off much less than me lying about my age, right?" I rolled my eyes, "God, why do I listen to you, ever?"

"Look bitch, I'm your big sister and I know better. Respect your elders!" She pushed me and jumped off of her bed, crossing the room to her vanity table. Through the mirror I saw her open her mouth, unfortunately, to speak some more. "Come to think of it, coloring your hair is a bad idea because you have that perm in it. So, yeah, that's out unless we want to see chunks of it in the shower drain halfway through the shampoo." She laughed to herself. "I spent way too much time growing it out to lose it in one fell swoop."

My hair fell down my back in thick black waves, stopping just a few inches above my bra strap and Jess was right, I had no one to thank but her. My hair wasn't extremely long, but I had the longest hair of any other black girl in my school and some of those bitches hated me for it, which only made me love my hair more. When Jess permed it at age twelve I'd loved it, but, when my father saw it , I was sure he was going to murder Jess right where she stood. I remembered that night clearly. He'd been making spaghetti in the kitchen and was using an unnecessarily large knife to cut the noodles in half. I'd walked in with my hair (it was barely past my ears back then) straight as an arrow. I remember the exact moment he'd stopped breathing, right after I asked him if he liked what Jess had done to my hair. He swept past me, eye manic, stride quick and purposeful.

Unfortunately, he only screamed at her until his voice was gone, he hadn't killed her, which was why I was sitting where I was now forced to listen to her drivel. She carried on talking about what a great plan it was to lie to Justin even more than I already had and it was harder to drift off into my own thoughts and completely zone her out than it usually was. Seriously, if the US Military ever needed some fresh torture devices to use on their enemies my loud mouth sister was the quintessential solution. She could end the war on terror in record time, honestly. Forget about ripping out teeth, cutting off fingers and injecting debilitating liquids. That's just a waste of good, America tax dollars. Throw Osama in a room with my sister while she talked about strappy back sandals and he would sing like a canary in under twenty seconds. I guarantee you.

I stared at her back, "Why are you rambling on and on as if I've agreed to anything? You're asking me to do this to a man who is going to be our step-brother. I wont do it."

"I'm sorry, KiKi, but I was under the impression that you wanted to fuck Justin Timberlake." She finally finished fussing in the drawer of her vanity and turned to me. She leaned against it and balanced against her arms behind her back. "Or did you leave Pure and go back up to his hotel room to play a rousing game of Scrabble?" Her eyes widened and she laughed at her own joke.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're a little jealous."

"Of course I'm jealous. We were at the biggest party hosted by the biggest star and he chose you over me. Of all times for hell to freeze over it had to be last night, at Justin Timberlake's birthday party." Jess was such a snob, at moments like these I wondered if she even knew it, "Whatever, there are a million rich guys out there, Justin Timberlake is not the end all, be all. I can have any man I want, you on the other hand... " She sighed a dramatic sigh, and I wanted to strangle her, "I'm just trying to help you out because I love you. How many chances like this are you going to get in life? To fuck a hot, rich guy? It's been two years for you, what better way to get back in the game then with Justin Timberlake? It's not like I'm telling you that you should disguise who you are for the rest of our lives. Just until you get yours."

"And what happens to me when I get mine? I'm just supposed to come clean with all of it, giggle and hope that he doesn't mind being a castoff? Common, Jess, be for real. I'd be better off throwing myself to a pack of wolves!"

"So you're ready to go to that airport tonight and face him? You're ready for him to look at you and see nothing but a snot nosed, seventeen year old brat? And a lying one, at that?"

I wasn't ready to see his face at the airport, not at all. I wanted to see Justin, again, more than I would have imagined. With every minute that passed I hated myself a little more for not giving him my phone number when he'd asked for it. More than anything I wanted to call him right now and warn him, warn him that the twenty-two year old woman he'd almost slept with in his hotel room was actually me, a seventeen year old girl and, oh yeah, I'm the youngest daughter of the man who's marrying your mom. It obviously wouldn't be the most delightful conversation, but at least then, when we went to pick him up at the airport, there wouldn't be that moment of uncertainty, the painful awkwardness and the mystery. The mystery of how he'd react. Pissing him off over the phone seemed much more appealing than doing it in person. I could barely look into the pissed off eyes of representatives at retail stores when I was returning an item, let alone a man I'd almost slept with.

"KiKi, you're terrified of seeing him, I can see it in your eyes. I, personally, think this is a great idea. It's not like he's going to be living in the same house as you or even be around that much. He's a superstar for god's sakes, he'll probably be gone for 75% of the year. He has his own house, probably with his own cooks and butlers. The only time he'll even see you is on the odd weekend and a couple holidays. And, even then, it'll only be the weekends and holidays that he happens to be in town and how often will that happen? Those are the only times that you'll have to pretend. Meanwhile, you, the real you, will see him as much as you want. All he'll know is that he has a really hot black girl on his arm and a really dorky little sister back at home. Two separate, independent people. He never has to know, Kiki. You can so have your cake and eat it, too, right now. Sometimes a woman has to be a little conniving to make things go her way. If you were a smart woman, like your sister, you would be all over this opportunity like a moth to a flame."

Throughout her entire speech, which had excited me way more than it should have, she was waving her arms all over the place. Jess had a habit of doing that--speaking with her hands. Whenever we were in a situation where she was speaking to more than one person, like an entire group, I was always worried for the people who were standing closest to her. All it took was one second of over excitement on her part and the poor, unsuspecting soul standing behind her would take an elbow right to the nose in front of everyone. Right now, while Jess was throwing those arms that doubled as Louisville Sluggers every which way, there was a slither of gold that would vaguely come into my view. "What is that article of clothing you're waving all over the place?"

She stopped speaking, all together, and for a moment it seemed like she was going to unload on me for daring to interrupt such an inspired speech. Instead, she opened her right hand and a wig came into my vision, hanging from her fingers, "Remember that Beyonce wig I wore for Halloween?"

I did remember. The day that Jess and I saw Beyonce's new video for 'Me, Myself and I' she decided that she had to have the blonde wig Beyonce had been wearing. My sister looked exactly like Beyonce, she heard it all the time and she saw it every time she looked in a mirror so whatever Beyonce did, Jess did. I shook my head as I recalled all of the horrible hairstyles, outfits and attitude changes my father and I had to endure over the years thanks to her Beyonce obsession. The wig, however-- a completely gorgeous, completely expensive mass of dirty blonde hair cut into a bob that stopped sharp just about the shoulders, was fierce. It was a fierce wig, and it had looked amazing on my sister. But I wasn't my sister.

"Forgive me, Jess, but I seem to recall your threatening to have both of my hands completely lacerated from my body if I ever went anywhere near that wig."

"That was before you had the chance to bang Justin Timberlake. Besides... I'm over that whole Beyonce faze. I'm too old for all that."

Oh please. Two hours--TOPS-- before she completely contradicted every word she'd just said. I sighed, "My skin is too dark for a blonde wig."

"You are not dark. You're brown. Like a really deep tan or a sepia color. You've got beautiful skin and, as much as it angers me that you tried it on so many times without my permission, this wig does look good on you." She tilted her head at me, "I think it'd be perfect. You'll wear it whenever you need to be Vince's seventeen year old daughter, along with the glasses and your natural eyes. And you'll take it all off whenever you need to be Justin Timberlake's twenty-two year old fuck buddy. You. Can't. Go. Wrong."

"A wig and a pair of glasses is not going to be enough. There is a certain intimacy that comes with fucking a person. They start the recognize the little things. Your natural scent, your mannerisms, that little mark under your knee that you got the first time you tried to shave without your mother's permission. Glasses and a wig just wont cut it." I was shaking my head back and forth.

Jess stared at me, "KiKi, you are severely, severely overestimating the attention span of every man on the planet. However, if Justin does happen to be the million to one exception to that, and he starts to catch on to what you're doing then--" She bared her teeth and made a slashing sound, swiping her manicured finger across her throat, "We cut it off, immediately. Done."

"Suppose I go along with this. How do you suppose I'll meet him, again? The last time he saw me I refused to give him my number. We have no way of getting in contact. The only time he'll really see me is when we're doing family stuff together and I'll have to be in disguise that whole time."

Jess tilted her head at me and I suddenly felt like one of those poverty stricken children on those commercials that everyone felt sorry for, and she was the host. The fat, condescending host of that commercial who talked down to any and everyone who dared watch it all the way through. "Oh, KiKi, you really are seventeen, aren't you?"

"And you're twenty-seven, what's your point?"

"I'm twenty-four!" Her eyes went bright red and foam began bubbling over her lip glossed lips. She was upset, but, honestly, between you and me, Jess had been turning twenty-four for the last three years now. I knew her age was her soft spot, and it was frightening territory that I wouldn't normally venture, not even jokingly. I just hated when she talked down to me. Hated it. Thankfully, she decided to spare my life just that once, and continued like I hadn't say anything, at all. "His mother is marrying our father! For the rest of our lives we have an All Access Pass to everything Justin Timberlake. He's going on this stupid trip with us, isn't he? All you have to do is say you're going for a walk, take off the wig and glasses and accidentally run into him on the slopes, or something."

"Jess, we're going to Tahoe in August. There are rivers and snakes, not slopes."

"Whatever, you know what I mean. You'll always know where he is, so all you have to do is accidently run into him... on purpose."

I was stunned at how quickly she was throwing these answers back at my face and the fact that they were actually acceptable answers! "How many men have you manipulated in your life?"

"A lot." At least the hoe was willing to be honest about something.

"This is all so Machiavellian." I tilted my head at her, "Haven't you considered his feelings, at all?"

"No." She answered so definitely and so immediately that it took me off guard. I didn't even have a response. Volatile-- yes, egomaniacal--absolutely, slightly dimwitted--sure, but I never believed that my sister was cold-blooded. It would be nice, though, really nice, to have sex with Justin Timberlake. I could just do it once and then cut it off at the source. And for the rest of my life I would wear a stupid wig and glasses whenever he stopped by for a visit. It actually seemed like a very small sacrifice when I actually thought about it.

"Don't you think Dad and Lynn will notice that I just happen to throw on my wig and glasses whenever Justin stops by?" I sputtered, shaking my head.

"You're graduating in a year and will be off to Brown by the fall--"

"Don't jinx me." Brown was my dream school, so much was it my dream school that I didn't even like talking about how much it was my dream school. The more I excited myself the father I had to fall. I got straight A's, sure, I had the extracurriculars, yeah, but the past had proven even those weren't garanteed didn't seal the deal. Plus there was that Asian bastard at school, David Lenney, who was neck and neck with me for the valedictorian title and everyone knows that Brown rarely accepts two students from the same school. That, however, was a whole other story entirely. "Just, don't jinx me." I mumbled, again, my heart returning back to normal after the, always distressing, thoughts of David Lenney.

Jess had always been resentful of my grades, even when we were kids, so she just rolled her eyes. "Spare me, girl wonder, you're getting into Brown. It's not like it some big fucking secret. It'll just be a year. One whole year of you spending time with Justin Timberlake, a good portion of that time will be spent completely the fuck naked. Once you head off to school he'll probably see you once or twice a year and you can gradually get back to your normal look every time you see him. By the time you graduate college and you're back to your normal self, he wont even have realized that you've changed. You'll just be the girl who used to have nerdy glasses and bad clothes, but is now a fox who kinda looks like that one girl he used to fuck." She shrugged.

Okay, my sister was a genius.

Oh god, I was not going to let her talk me into this. I refused! I refused to be talked into this!

"Think about it. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world...."

Oh fuck, she was talking me into this.

"Think about the way he made you feel about yourself. Like a woman. Are you really ready for that man to look at you like a child? Think about it, Kiki." She narrowed her eyes at me, "Are you really ready for him to look at you and only see his little sister?"

--

The sun went down way too quickly.

I changed my mind fifteen times. Fifteen. I'd actually counted. First, back in Jess' room, I'd tried to wig on, then changed my mind for an hour. Then I'd taken out my brown contact, leaving one eye brown and one purple, took one look at myself in the mirror and had a change of heart again, for fifteen minutes. It was a ping pong game with my emotions as the ball. For the entire time we'd been in the house it was a game of back and forth on whether or not I was going to do this, all the way up until the moment that my father screamed from the bottom of the stairs, "Girls, let's go! Justin's plane will be here in an hour!"

Now we were sitting in the backseat of Lynn's car, Jess and I, as it zoomed down the 405. It was a sleek little black BMW with matching black rims and windows so tinted I had a half a mind to ask if they were legal. "Is this car at all visible during the night?" I asked, leaning against my seatbelt and gripping the back of the passengers seat, where Lynn sat. I could hear her laughter clearly.

"No, this car, literally, disappears at night. Justin thinks it's the coolest thing on wheels and he didn't even consider my reputation for forgetting to turn my lights on when he bought it for me. I've had many near accidents in this car."

"It drives beautifully." I was sure that my father was salivating into his own lap as he spoke while turning a smooth corner. This was the nicest car any of us had ever sat in, let alone drove. Lynn was nice to let him drive it, I know I wouldn't have, even if it was the man I was going to marry.

Jess tapped Lynn's shoulder, "You might want to have some tissues ready to wipe off Daddy's seat when he gets out of your car." All of the women of the car fell into simultaneous laughter while my father simmered at the wheel.

"Haha, very funny, the car is going to give your father an orgasm, laugh it up." He said dryly, quickly, clearly unamused by Jess' little joke.

"Ew!" Jess and I were never ready for that kind of talk coming from his mouth. "Daddy!" I cried, leaning forward, I registered Lynn's quiet giggling, "Daddy, let's get one thing very clear. You do not have orgasms." Jess shook her head furiously, obviously in complete agreement.

As quickly as there was laughter, though, the car was silent. We weren't all completely used to each other, yet, so the awkward moments always came hard, fast and in very large doses. Jess and I weren't even whispering and giggling to each other in the backseat like we usually did. We both had too much on our minds. If I had to guess, I'd say she was just as nervous as I was, if not more. I reached up, barely able to see my own hand in the car that was pitch black outside of the red lights on the dashboard, and fingered the blonde wig. I adjusted the glasses that I'd yet to get used to and tugged on the too big Counting Crows shirt from back in the day when I was still shy about my body. I adjusted the glasses one more time. Did these things even fit anymore? Ugh. Sure, I'd been squinting at the world for the better part of my life and being able to see was like waking up for the first time, but even that wasn't worth having to wear these hideous things.

Right before we left the house Jess and I had come bounding down the stairs, Jess in her usual outfit that was more fit for the back room at a strip club than the entryway of a single family home, and me... in this. My father had taken one look at me and, man, I'm pretty sure his eyes glazed over at that blast from the past. With the glasses and the wonky eyes and the baggy outfit I really did look like a twelve year old. If I were to bust out my sixth grade yearbook picture right now and set it up next to my face you would never know that almost a decade had past since it had been taken. I hated to admit it but Jess had been right. I really did look like a different person. This insane plan really could work. If I played my cards right I could be having sex with Justin Timberlake before the week was out.

My father hadn't seemed unhappy with my surprising appearance, just confused, "New look?" He'd asked, with a smile, "Is that Jess' Beyonce wig?" His smile died, immediately.

I'd touched the back of the wig and given them the best uncomfortable look I could, "I just figured since the family was changing so drastically that it was time for a drastic change of my own."

Clearly, by the dumbfounded expression on his face, this explanation did nothing for my father. When he was silent for a moment too long, Lynn had jumped in, "I think it's wonderful, KiKi. The wig looks so natural and the color of those glasses makes your eyes pop!" She'd widened her own eyes and thrown the palms of her hands out into the air to drive her point home.

"Thanks." I'd said, smiling past the horror I felt, since I'd rather die a slow, painful death then wear anything that made my eyes POP, "And if you don't mind, Lynn. I'd really prefer it if you called me Nicole, or Nikki for short."

Everyone, my sister included, had been shocked when I'd said those words. Jess was shocked, it seemed, only because she couldn't believe I'd remembered such a small detail as changing my name. Really, though, how many KiKi's do you know? I had to change it. Anything that would give Justin even the tiniest inkling had to be changed. Nicole is my middle name and the only two people I'd ever allowed to call me that without getting their eyes clawed clear out of their heads were my mother and my father. I saw a hint of distrust in Daddy's eyes for a moment, then gratefulness. He saw my request as a peace offering to Lynn. An acceptance of her as my new mother. It was anything but.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Lynn covered her heart, worried that she'd offended me somehow, "Whenever your father talked about you he called you KiKi. He did mention that Nicole was his nickname for you, but.., I never thought." Oh god, I'd thought, she was getting teary eyed, "I never thought that you'd ask me to." She sighed, shoulders collapsing in embarrassment, "I'm rambling! Of course I'll call you Nicole--Nikki! Nikki! I'd love to."

"Great!" And that had been the end of that. We all climbed into the car shortly after and now were were fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. From the airport.

"I'm excited." Lynn was practically bouncing out of her seat, "I'm excited to see him, I'm excited for him to meet all of y'all, I'm excited for the family we're building. I'm just..." She took a deep, thoughtful breath, then faltered.

"Excited?" Jess offered.

Lynn pointed to her, giving her a playful little wave of her finger, "Yes!" She beamed.

And then, right then, I felt bad. Really bad. She was clearly a sweet woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. Already she'd accepted Jess and I without question or hesitation. With that kind of loyalty to two girls she barely knew I could only imagine how much she loved her own son. It was probably the kind of love that our mother had felt for us. The kind of love that made her hurt when we hurt. I was sure that whenever Justin hurt, Lynn felt that same hurt in her heart times ten. Knowing that I could be apart of making her feel that way did not sit well in my already rumbling stomach.

"No turning back." Jess mumbled from next to me. She knew me very well. I hadn't said a word to her the entire ride yet she could sense, immediately, every time I was anxious.

Sooner than I would have liked my father was complaining about how the prices of airport parking were astronomical compared to the prices in his day, while the teenage parking attendant rolled her eyes because she probably heard that very thing all day long and, really, like she gave a shit. Daddy grumbled all the way up to the eight level of the parking garage and all the way into the airport.

It had been years since the terrorist attacks but LAX was still on high alert so once we got inside we weren't even allowed past the baggage check, let alone into the terminal where we'd be able to wait for Justin at the gate. Oh well. I was thankful when we stopped walking at the closest baggage claim, looking out for Justin the entire time. Jess and I were sitting on the edge of the only baggage strip that wasn't moving with Dad and Lynn standing a few feet in front of us. My father was behind Lynn with his hands on her shoulders. Every time she got too excited and jumped up on her toes, his would squeeze her shoulders tenderly, and she would come back down to earth and stay there for several minutes. This went on and on, to the point that it was almost beginning to irritate me. I looked to Jess to see if she was equally annoyed, but she was much more bothered by a hangnail she was picking at with eyes of death.

I shook my head at her and turned back to Lynn and my father, but my gaze stopped short. There he was. Justin fucking Timberlake was walking towards us with a natural swagger that few men had down pat. With anyone else, I would have been annoyed at the fact that they were wearing sunglasses indoors, but somehow it wasn't as grating when it was Justin. He was wearing airplane clothes. Jeans, a white t-shirt, a white hat and a hoodie that was pulled very low on his head. A small, no fuss brown duffle bag hung from his shoulder. He was simple, but sharp. Fuck, he was fine. For a split instant I was dumb struck, then, in a whisper that matched my shock at the unexpected sight of him, I said, "Oh my god, there he is."

Jess' head popped up, hangnail disregarded.

Two seconds later, Lynn squealed, "There he is!" And took off running. Dad and Jess stayed put. I did, too, but it wasn't without effort. Having been an NSync fan for as long as I had there would always be an advanced level of restraint I'd have to exercise when I was in the presence of any of the five members. To control my natural instinct, and just in cause you were wondering, my natural instinct was to run after Lynn and body slam her before continuing onto Justin, so I could have first dibs at ripping him to shreds, I clawed my nails against the jeans on my thighs.

Justin was close, close enough for me to see the anxious look in his eyes as they searched the baggage claim. Close enough to see his eyes catch Lynn and convey recognition. The smile that crossed his face was brilliant, and I was disappointed that I had only a moment to see it before Lynn catapulted herself into him. The force of her weight threw him and his hood and hat both went flying right off his head. He didn't seem to notice. She was no size two, and he had clearly just woken up, but Justin didn't seem to have a problem catching her with one arm and swinging her around. Their laughter was genuine and jubilant, so much so that every once in a while people would turn and scowl, wondering who had the nerve to be so god damn happy? The last thing Justin needed was the extra attention, but that was obviously the last thing on his mind as he set Lynn down and they clasped hands, proceeding to talk to each other at about a thousand words a minute. I wasn't sure if there was even an actual conversation going on, there was no way they understood each other, or if they just liked the sound of hearing one another talk at full speed.

When my father began making his way over, I stood up and immediately followed. Strangely enough, I didn't feel nervous. In fact, I'd completely forgotten that there was anything to be nervous about until Jess came up behind me and adjusted my wig. Yes! Adjusted my wig! In public. I made a mental note to remind her that adjusting my wig in public was a big, insert finger wag here, no-no.

It wasn't until Daddy touched the small of Lynn's back that she stopped talking to Justin. She turned to us, quickly, as if she'd been there alone the whole time, but when she caught sight of Daddy, she threw herself at him the same way she had at Justin. Justin took that moment, those three seconds they were embracing, to look towards us. It didn't occur to me until that second, that very second, that he had met Jess. He'd seen her face, shaken her hand, talked and laughed with her. She didn't have a disguise. If he recognized her he would immediately ask her where Kiki was, then he would look at me and he would know. He would just know.

Jess seemed to be having the exact same thought at the exact same time because as soon as he removed his sunglasses and turned towards us she immediately turned away, pretending to be studying the designs of the carpet and adjusting her hair to hide her face. I, however, couldn't tear my eyes away from Justin, and when he looked at Jess, there didn't seem to be a hint of recognition. I thought back to the short elevator ride we'd taken at the Venetian, how he'd given me that dumbfounded look when I mentioned Jess, and breathed easy. If he hadn't remembered her then he wouldn't remember her now.

But what if he remembered my nose? My lips? What if he remembered my voice? What if I had some bizarre habit, something that I wasn't even aware of, that I would unleash right in front of him and effectively blow my entire cover? What if? What if? What if?

"And this is Ki-- Uhm, Nicole! This is Nicole!" Lynn cried, so proud you would have believed that this black girl was her actual child, who she'd given birth to, and motioned to me while grabbing Justin's arm and pulling him. She was pulling him closer to me. It was so embarrassing. If he wanted to come closer he would! Now that he was this close, however, I realized his being this close was something that I would never become accustomed to. There would always be that stomach flip, that moment of doubt, that holy-shit-this-is-Justin-Timberlake feeling alive somewhere inside me.

Justin's gaze left my father, who he'd apparently already been introduced to while I was lost in my crazed mind, and landed right on me. A moment of silence stretched on for a moment too long, his eyes boring into mine. Why was he looking at me like that? I asked myself. Why wasn't he smiling? Why wasn't he offering to shake my hand? Why was he just standing there?

He knew it was me. That had to be it. The plan had fallen flat before it even got off the ground and I would have to come up with some excuse as to why I'd lied to him about my age and why I'd been in Vegas in the first place and why I was wearing those disgusting glasses. How was I going to explain the glasses?!

Justin took another long look at me, blinked and said, "Oh my god."

WOOT! Thanks yall. Working on the next chapter right now. Hopefully the archive is back by the time it's done!