“See you tomorrow then, JC,” Britney
smiled, waving good bye as she walked out the door.
“Bye, Brit,” he called, smiling. She
was going to be huge, and he was very proud of the work he’d done on her album
so far.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. It
had been a long day, and he was ready to get out of the studio.
And home. To Justin.
He smiled at the thought of curling up on the sofa with his boy, popping in a
movie and munching on popcorn until they fell asleep in each others arms, waking
up in the middle of the night to make love.
The sudden tightness in his groin signaled that it was time to get the hell out
of there, and in the blink of an eye, he had the studio locked up and was on his
way home.
“Justin?” he called, kicking the door open and tossing his jacket aside. “I’m
home, baby.”
He heard the TV blaring in the living room, the sound of canned laughter
floating through the house. “Are you watching that stupid sitcom again?”
Justin didn’t answer. "Probably
has the TV too damn loud," JC muttered to himself, walking in long strides
towards the sound. “Baby, you
should really turn that…”
But Justin wasn’t there. JC
frowned, wondering where he could be. “Justin?”
he called again, poking his head around the corner to look in the kitchen. “Justin?”
Louder this time, a sudden panic gripping his heart.
He took the steps two at a time, throwing the bedroom door open, hoping to find
his boy curled in bed, sound asleep. “Justin?” Not there.
Back down the stairs, calling Justin’s name as he went. No
answer.
“Calm down, JC,” he said aloud, fingers tangling in his own hair. “He
probably just ran out for something.” He
opened the door to the garage, expecting to find Justin’s car missing. But
there it was, gleaming under the light he had flipped on.
He ran to the phone, dialing Justin’s cell phone frantically. He
heard it ringing in the other room.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the walls were closing in on him.
And then he saw it.
On the table.
A single sheet of paper, red words scrawled on it.
“Get over it, JC. He’s not coming back.”