January 4th, 2002

Randy wasn't feeling the best these days, and yesterday had just been the pinnacle of it. It was confirmed that they were going on a press tour, and his mom had done TRL France yesterday. It was the essence of the thing that it was live, and Randy had watched it on TV with Maya. His mom had looked cool, wearing a short cropped top and low rise jeans, showing entirely too much skin for someone over forty, in his opinion. But, she had the abs to carry it off, he thought. She looked good. But, of course Maya had been a basket case on the couch. She hadn't stopped being a basket case since L.A, and did anyone blame her?

"So we are going. WE ARE GOING!"

"Shh. I can't hear."

"Don't you care? You've been all isolated since we got here. Going to a ballet studio, squirreling away with Yuna. You haven't been paying attention!"

Randy's head was in his hands. He didn't want to face it just as much as she didn't want to, but she was making him. So, he thought about it for way longer than he wanted to. His usual escape route, which was dance, was mostly taken away from him now. He did ballet for six hours a day, six days a week. Without it, what was he literally supposed to do?

Violin was his escape, too. But, he needed ballet to balance it. It gave him two outlets instead of one. If he didn't feel like doing one, he did the other. It was pleasurable to switch. A breath of fresh air. Violin invigorated his mind, but ballet invigorated his body. So, in this way he felt imbalanced.

All day yesterday, he'd "squirreled away" in his room like she was convinced he was doing. His mom didn't come home that night before he went to bed. It was true, she was preparing for a press tour and they had to go with her. He hadn't wanted to believe it at all. As a result, he got very little sleep.

The next morning, the whole apartment was abuzz. Nancy was helping Maya pack her last things, which were numerous. Sam had brought over additional things that he'd bought for Randy and his mom was taking care of the compensation. So many conversations, so many bodies. Sam's wife was getting Randy's bags ready, going over lists.

Randy was in the kitchen, trying to grab onto some semblance of his routine. But, he was having a breakdown. Make an egg sandwich. Do something normal. Eat it.

"How many outfits do you think he'll need?" Sam's wife was asking. His mom liked her name, which is Lorraine. A good, French name.

"More than a few," his mom was saying. "What do you have?"

She went into Randy's temporary bedroom with Lorraine to pack for him. He really couldn't bring himself to pack anything. Too overwhelmed.

He really didn't realize how overwhelmed he was until he attempted to bring his plate over to the table in the dining room.

There was a crash, a plate breaking, and a scream from Lorraine. Sam was more calm, however, because that was his job.

"Lorraine, Anais, somebody go get his testing kit."

"Did he faint?!"

"Do it!"

"I knew it, this is too much for everyone! I don't know what to do!"

Maya was the one to get his testing kit. It was already packed away in a dark pink purse. She sat on the floor, testing him. Something she'd done so many times.

"You know, I knew this was going to happen," she was saying as she stared at the monitor, waiting for it to display his no doubt low blood sugar number. "Nobody was paying attention. I saw him yesterday. He didn't say a word to me. That's not normal."

"What does the monitor say?"

"Eighty-one. I'm not surprised."

"Glucose shot. Now."

"Yeah, okay."

She went to the fridge and took the shot out of its special black bag. She handed it to Sam and he rolled up Randy's dress and gave him a good jab. She watched on, not at all bothered by the needle going into his skin.

"Did he hit his head or what?"

"We'll know when he wakes up. Do you have smelling salts?"

"What is this, the 18th century? Just smack him."

"Maya!" Anais was appalled.

"Just smack him. I do, when he gets like this. He doesn't care."

Instead, Sam shook him gently and that did the trick.

"Uhh..what..."

"Did you hit your head? Does it hurt?"

"Yeah, kind of."

Sam was already picking him up. He was in his arms in no time. "I'm taking him to the couch. What kind of hurt is it? Migraine, or because you hit your head?"

"Migraine."

"Okay. Maya, get him some Tylenol."

"Okay."

She scurried away. Sam breathed out and placed Randy on one of the couches in the living room.

"Did I turn off the stove?"

"Maybe not. We'll check."

"Alright..."

Randy took a short nap after he took the Tylenol. Anais was very concerned about him eating, and Sam had a brilliant idea.

"Let's all eat. Calm down. Talk about this."

Anais nodded heavily, very willing. It seemed like everything had caught up to her, too. Realizing the weight of everything. If it was stressing Randy out this much, Sam couldn't imagine the stress on her. At least Maya seemed resigned to her fate. She had a friend in this, in Yuna's daughter. He knew they were about to have a blast on the bus. Likely, they'd homeschool together also. But, Randy had nobody but Sam. That wasn't a buddy. There was no one to get the stress off of him.

They ordered breakfast, and Anais had another concern.

"The bus is going to be here. It's going to block the street. We only have permission from the city for it to block the street for thirty minutes."

"Okay. When is it going to be here?" Sam asked.

"In two hours."

"We have time. When is your manager coming?"

"In an hour."

"Okay, she can join us, too. We'll all discuss this. Make more sense of it. Does that sound ok?"

At that exact point in time, Sam got a phone call that made him want to throw his phone across the room.

"Hey, man. Hey. So there's people around the house. I don't know. I think they jumped the fence. What should I do, man? I was here watching some TV and there they are on the camera."

Tommy. The greenhorn at this. Now this was a major, major problem.

"Call the police. Right now. I mean it. What do you mean they're- are they on property?!"

"Yeah. Totally. They're in the backyard."

"You're sure they're not coyotes?"

"Very sure. They're talking."

Sam wanted to smack his head against the wall several times. It was about nine hours earlier in L.A. The middle of the night.

"Okay. Hang up. Call the police. Then call me back. Do not let them approach. Shine your flashlight out the back door and whip it around. Let them know there's somebody home. Do not go outside."

"Don't go outside?"

"DON'T GO OUTSIDE!"

This caught Anais's attention. "What's happening? Sam?"

"I have to go now. Call the police."

"Okay. Wow. Okay."

They hung up. Anais was all over him. "What happened?"

"Tommy has a situation. He's calling the police."

"Excuse me, what?!" Maya burst out.

Sam pointed to Randy in the living room. She got much quieter. Luckily, the situation at the L.A house was a good distraction from their current situation. Instead of talking about the press tour, everyone was talking about the backyard invasion.

Tommy had called back thirty minutes later to give the all clear. By then, Randy was awake and breakfast was being spread out by a housekeeper who was very willing due to being able to eat, too.

"Yeah, it was madness. Some crazy fans who read too many tabloids. Too much TMZ. They know nobody's at the house, because obviously all of you are in France, and Michael's in Colorado. They thought they'd come have a look. Nobody threatening, but they did scale the fence. If you can believe that. There were four of them."

Anais sat down in a dining chair heavily, wiping her forehead. "We're replacing the fence. RIGHT NOW."

"Yeah, I agree," Tommy was saying. "You need a, what do you call it, security system that go ee-ee-ee, you know."

They all sighed in relief at this, laughing at his impression of an alarm.