“Justin.”
JC watched as the younger man paced around the small room, and it was beginning
to get on his nerves.
“What if we find out something really bad?” Justin asked, moving fast past
JC. “What if we find out we, I mean they, were murderers or something like
that?”
“Justin.” JC reached out as Justin passed by again, but he missed his mark.
“I mean, what if we had to leave Chicago?” he fretted. “I don’t
want us to be bad, Josh,” he said, passing by JC again.
JC was quicker this time, and grabbed Justin, stopping his movements and
bringing the boy to stand in front of him, pulling him between his knees.
“Justin, relax,” he said, holding Justin’s hands in both of his. “It
doesn’t matter what ever we find out,” JC explained. “It’s not really
us. I mean, the us of now.”
Justin flopped down on the chair next to JC and chewed a fingernail. “I know,
rationally, that it’s not us, but here,” he pointed to his heart, “I feel
we’re connected to them.”
“I agree,” JC said. “But remember, anything they did, or didn’t do, is
in the past.” JC pulled Justin’s hand away from Justin’s mouth and brought
it to his own. “What ever is going on, we’ll handle it together,” JC
assured, kissing Justin’s hand.
Justin nodded, smiling. Sounds came from outside the office door, so both men
donned their disguises of sunglasses and hats quickly. They watched as the door
opened, and a woman entered. She was an older woman, probably about sixty, with
gray hair and sensible clothes. Both men rose as she walked toward them.
“Hello, I’m Harriet Logan,” she said, extending a hand. “I understand
you’re interested in Chicago in the 1920’s.”
JC nodded his head as he shook her hand. “Yes, ma’am. My name is Scott, and
this is J.T.”
Justin rolled his eyes behind his glasses at the names. “We appreciate you
seeing us on such short notice,” he said.
“Your assistant said it was almost an emergency when she called,” Harriet
explained. “Now, what exactly would you like to know?”
JC and Justin exchanged a glance. “We need some information about a place
called The Deuces.”
Harriet nodded and she turned to her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard.
There was a whirl as the printer engaged, and soon she was handing over sheets
of paper to JC and Justin. “Here you go,” she said efficiently.
The men took the papers and skimmed over them, one item catching their attention
immediately. “It says here,” JC said, pointing at a particular paragraph,
“that the owner was someone named Joshua Chasez?”
Harriet nodded. “Yes, indeed.” She reached over and flipped a few pages.
“Here’s his picture.”
It was the same picture that Britney has showed them from the Internet. The one
of the other JC and Justin standing in front of the club. “Who is he with?”
Justin asked.
“That is Justin, his lover,” Harriet explained. “Is that the right term
for it now?” Both men nodded. “They were quite a couple, from what I
understand. It was a much more tolerant era then, and their relationship
wasn’t even noticed as being different. It was just them.”
Justin and JC exchanged a quick smile. “Do you know what happened to them?”
JC asked.
Again Harriet reached out and flipped some pages. “Joshua sold the club in
1928. After that, there’s no record of them anywhere.” She cocked her head,
looking at the men quizzically. “Did any of this help?”
“Yes, ma’am, it did,” Justin said. He looked at JC, and the older man
nodded. “There’s just one more question we have, Mrs. Logan.”
“We wonder if you have any information on him.” JC reached into his pocket
and pulled out a picture, handing it over to Harriet.
“My, my,” she said, looking at the photo. “You boys are farther along in
your research than you think if you’ve already come across this connection.”
Again she turned to the computer, and soon was printing more sheets. “If one
can call any club owner and bootlegger in Chicago during the twenties as
honorable, it was Joshua Chasez,” she said, handing over the new batch of
papers. “But Joshua’s complete opposite had to have been him.” Harriet
pointed to a picture of a familiar face.
****
Britney blinked at them owlishly. “Chris?”
The three friends were in Britney’s hotel room. When JC and Justin had
returned, they’d ordered room service, but refused to tell Britney anything
until the food had arrived. JC had taken that opportunity to take a shower,
leaving Justin with an oh-so-curious and demanding Britney. She was already in a
bad mood, having been left at the hotel while the men went to see Harriet Logan.
But JC and Justin had felt it was too dangerous for the three of them to be out
and about.
Not to mention it was very hard to disguise Britney.
Now, the food had arrived, and they’d given Britney all the information
they’d received from Harriet, and had brought her up to date on Chris’
strange behavior in the kitchen the night before.
“Yes, Chris,” JC said.
“Chris Kirkpatrick? she asked. They nodded. “Really, really straight
Chris?”
“Yes, Chris Kirkpatrick,” Justin said shortly, taking a bite of his chicken
sandwich. “Straight Chris.”
“I’m sorry,” Britney said, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to
understand all of this.”
“It wasn’t any easier for me,” JC agreed, rubbing his head where Chris had
pulled his hair.
Justin watched JC’s movements and felt a surge of anger. Anger that anyone
would hurt JC. Anger that anyone dared touch JC.
“I guess it makes some kind of sense.” Britney was reading the information
that Harriet had given them. “They were rivals in the club and bootlegging
business.” She took a sip of her Coke, and then choked as a thought struck
her. “Oh my god! What if there was more to it? What if that JC and Chris had
some kind relationship?” She watched as Justin’s eyes narrowed with jealousy.
“Before you, I mean, the other Justin came into the picture,” she amended.
JC shrugged. “It’s possible they did,” he acknowledged. “It might
explain Chris’ strangeness.”
“That would make this situation so much weirder, wouldn’t it?” Britney
asked, snagging a fry from Justin’s plate. “Have you told Chris about this?”
JC shook his head. “No, not yet.” He sneaked at glance at Justin, who seemed
unusually quiet. “Not sure if we’re even going too, right Justin?”
Justin threw his sandwich down onto the plate, his appetite ruined at the
thought of JC and Chris together. “I’m going to bed,” he said, leaving
through the connecting door.
With
an angry twist, Justin turned on the shower, his mind seething at the idea to JC
and Chris together. He stepped under the hot spray, hoping to wash away the
image now burned into his mind.
But it would explain a lot, Justin realized. Chris’ behavior toward JC
recently, added to his own seemingly irrational fears of Chris taking JC from
him, fears he hadn’t even shared with JC because they seemed so absurd, so out
of character. Chris was straight. At least, the Chris of today was straight.
Again, the idea of JC and Chris together creeped into Justin’s mind. It was
just wrong, Justin thought. JC belonged to him. Always. In the past and the
future. He couldn’t have had a relationship with Chris. He can’t have one
with him now.
Justin turned off the shower, quickly dried off, and wrapped the towel around
his waist. Exiting the bathroom, he saw JC sitting on the bed in their room
watching television, and the connecting door between their and Britney’s room
shut.
JC looked over at him as Justin neared the bed. “I saved your dinner, in case
you’re still hungry,” he said, clicking off the television.
Justin shook his head as he kneeled on the bed. His eyes traveled up and down
JC’s body, taking in the low riding pajama pants and beater the other man had
put on. Slowly, Justin reached out a hand and lightly skimmed JC’s jaw,
fingers dancing on the sensitive skin as he pulled the older man close.
“Not hungry for food,” Justin said, lowering his mouth to JC’s and licking
his lips. “Just for you.” He crashed his mouth onto JC’s, tongue pushing
for entrance and receiving it, sweeping inside to taste and tease.
JC felt the waves of angry passion emanating from Justin. “What’s the
matter?” he asked, tearing his mouth away for a moment.
Justin tore off the towel he was wearing and straddled JC on the bed.
“Nothing’s the matter…now,” he claimed, bending down to suck and nibble
JC’s neck. He ground his erection against JC, reveling in the feel of JC’s
own hard cock answering in response. He groaned against JC’s skin, shimming
down JC’s body, removing clothing along the way. “God, you’re hot,” he
said, nibbling an erect nipple before scraping his teeth down JC’s stomach.
“And you taste so good,” he continued as his lips moved farther down. In one
move, the pajama pants were off and JC was exposed to Justin’s gaze. “So
fucking beautiful,” he exclaimed before taking JC into his mouth.
JC’s hips bucked at the feel of Justin’s lips, but soon felt Justin’s
hands on him holding him down. “I wonder if Chris thinks you’re beautiful,
too,” Justin said, moving back up JC’s body.
JC blinked. “What?”
“You know, Chris,” Justin said. He nipped a bit too hard on JC’s skin,
causing JC to wince a bit. “Does he think you’re beautiful? Can he make you
feel like this?” Justin demanded, stroking JC’s cock lightly.
“Justin, I don’t understand,” JC said, wriggling beneath the younger man.
“He can’t, you know,” Justin said, continuing his assault on JC’s skin.
“Because you belong to me, don’t you?” Justin moved up JC’s body and
grasped both of JC’s wrists, anchoring them above his head. He slipped his
legs between JC’s, spreading the other man’s thighs wide, and continued to
grind his engorged cock against JC’s groin, smiling at JC’s moans of
pleasure.
“Justin, please,” JC implored, struggling against the bond of Justin’s
hands as well as attempting to get closer.
“Oh, I’ll please you,” Justin laughed, nipping at JC’s lips but refusing
to deepen the kiss. “But you have to say it first.”
“Of course I do.”
“Now and forever?” Justin ran a hand down JC’s body, his nails skimming
across the sensitive head of JC’s cock.
“Yesss,” JC hissed, his teeth clenched against the almost painful pleasure
Justin was creating.
“Past, present, and future?” Justin asked, hovering just above JC and
holding himself tense.
JC looked up at Justin and saw the worry in the boy’s bright blue eyes. “I
belong to you, Justin,” JC assured him. “Past, present, and future.” He
broke the hold that Justin had on his hands and grabbed the younger man by the
ears. “Now fuck me, goddammit!”
Justin laughed with pleasure has he plunged into JC’s wet, hot, tightness.
A
faint beep sounded when he opened the door, and walking quickly, he punched in
the series of numbers he knew would be the alarm code. 013181. JC was so
predictable. He walked farther into the house, rubbing his arms against the cold.
In the kitchen he spied the envelope Justin had held when showing the group the
newspaper articles. He emptied out the contents and looked through it quickly,
skimming the articles.
He laughed after reading the contents. Turns out that all did not end happily in
the world of the other JC and Justin, thought, laughing silently. Seems Justin
just couldn’t keep his man happy. I can keep JC happy, he thought,
tracing a finger over JC’s likeness in the picture.
It was his job to keep JC happy.
He left the kitchen and went upstairs, stopping short at the door of the bedroom,
the sight of the rumpled bed unsettling him. He entered the room slowly, walking
over to the bed and picking up a pillow. Holding it against his face, he inhaled
JC’s scent left on it, rubbing it against his skin as his excitement built. As
he pulled the pillow away from his face, he saw the other pillow on the bed.
Justin’s pillow. With a growl, he picked it up and threw it away, needing to
eliminate all evidence of Justin from JC’s bed, watching as it hit the closet
door.
He threw open the closet doors and sighed with relief. Only JC’s clothes. Once
again, he buried his face in fabric to gather JC’s essence. He pulled the
clothes off the rack as he fell to his knees with a cry, his excitement building
at the smell and thought of JC.
JC will be ours again, he heard a voice say. He belongs to us.
He nodded, holding the clothes closer to his body as thoughts of JC poured
through him. “He’ll be mine again,” Chris said, making the words a vow.