Part 7


The three friends sang loudly as JC drove toward to his house.

I’m coming out so you better get this party stated

Justin added a beat box as JC turned a corner.

Get this party starteeeddd!

JC stopped singing as the car pulled into the drive. Justin stopped next, ending his beat box at the sight that greeted them.

Britney soon realized she was the only singing and looked at the men in the front seat. She leaned over and peeked out the windshield, then sat back quickly, slipping down into the seat.

“Britney, is there something you neglected to tell us?” JC asked as he watched the three men exit the large vehicle parked on the drive.

Justin swallowed as Lonnie, Eric, and Robbles stood shoulder to shoulder in front of JC’s truck, arms crossed and frowns on their faces.

“Britney, you did say that security knew we were leaving, right?” Justin asked, turning to face her.

Britney was studying her nails intently. “Of course I told security,” she assured them.

By the looks on their faces, JC thought, they weren’t informed the way they should have been. “Exactly how was security informed, Brit?”

She mumbled something they didn’t quite hear.

“What was that?” Justin said, his glance uneasy on the mound of bodyguard outside their vehicle.

“I said I left Robbles a note, explaining that I was with you and we were going out of town!” she exclaimed.

JC leaned against the steering wheel as Justin exploded. “That’s ALL you said?”

“What else was I going to put?” she exclaimed, eyeing the angry men outside. “That we’re off to Chicago to research your past lives?”

JC banged his head against the steering wheel. “No, of course not.” He turned to Britney. “But you could have given them a bit more detail.”

“Dammit, Brit,” Justin fussed. “You know how they are when we go out without them, especially Robbles.”

Britney waved that comment away. “Please! Robbles will be fine as soon as I speak with him.”

Justin and JC exchanged a glance. “Fine,” Justin said, crossing his arms in a move that mirrored the bodyguards’ stance. “Go talk to them.”

“What, you scared of them?” she asked.

“Damn right,” JC agreed.

Britney rolled her eyes and opened the back door. “Pussies,” she said, kissing them both before exiting the truck with her overnight bag slung over her arm.

JC and Justin watched as Britney approached Lonnie, Eric and Robbles. The tiny girl barely reached their shoulders, but it was evident that after no more than thirty seconds, she had them where she wanted. She talked fast, gestured excitedly, and more or less flirted her way out of their predicament. Justin and JC watched in awe and wonder as the men all nodded, turning to get back into their vehicle. Britney looked back at JC and Justin, throwing a wave and a huge smile at them before leaving with the bodyguards.


He walked slowly to the door, opening the portal and peering inside. Tables, chairs, a bandstand, a piano. Nothing out of the ordinary, but all of it feeling familiar. Voices sounded to his right, and he turned swiftly.

“I can’t believe you did it, Josh,” Justin complained, looking at the envelope.

JC smiled, his eyes bright over his coffee cup. “Quit fussing and read the letter, would you?”

“Hold on,” Lance said as Justin ripped open the letter. “Honey, come on, you’re going to want to hear this!”

Britney walked through the kitchen door, her steps slow and measured to accommodate her protruding stomach. “Did I miss it?” she asked, sitting in Lance’s lap. She smiled as Lance placed his hands on the baby.

“No, he’s stalling,” Lance complained.

“I’m not stalling,” Justin said, unfolding the white sheet and skimming the contents quickly.

“Out loud,” JC ordered.

Justin glared, but complied. “Dear Mr. Timberlake: Thank you for submitting your compositions to our music office. They are wonderful works, and we would love to speak with you about more. While we truly believe that talking pictures are the future, these pictures will still need good music. Music we think that you can write. Please send us a wire advising us as to your arrival in Los Angeles. Yours truly, Leo B. Mayer.”

“Justin.” Britney reached over and grabbed his hands. “You’re going to do it, right?”

Justin sought out JC’s gaze. “Of course he is,” JC said.

Justin shook his head. “I’m not leaving Chicago,” he declared.

JC raised a brow. “No?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m not leaving you, so if they want my work, they can just come here and get it.”

“I don’t think it works quite like that,” JC mused. “Besides, who said you were leaving me?” JC looked over at Lance. “I guess we should tell them, shouldn’t we?”

Lance nodded. “Justin, JC sold me The Deuces last month.”

“So, unless Lance can give us both a job, there’s nothing keeping either of us here,” JC said with a smile.

Justin reached out and grabbed JC’s hands, standing up and pulling the other man close. “Are you sure?” Justin asked. “Chicago is your home, Josh.”

This time it was JC shaking his head. He lifted a hand and tangled a finger in Justin’s curls. “You’re my home, Farm Boy,” he said, leaning in for a kiss…

He turned to his left as voices sounded again, this time strained and tense. He opened the door in front of him and walked through it, recognizing the kitchen of the house in Los Angeles. Different, yet familiar.

“I’m telling you, it was him,” Justin said, pacing the kitchen floor.

JC sat at the table, his head in his hand, fists full of lightly graying hair. “Goddammit, ten years.” He looked up at Justin. “Why now? Why at all?”

Justin pulled out a chair and sat down. “Maybe now would be a good time to tell me what happened between the two of you,” he suggested.

JC shook his head. “It’s over. Done.”

“Obviously not if he’s still around, Josh,” Justin observed.

“It wasn’t him.” JC stood up, each nerve held tense.

“Josh.”

“IT WASN’T HIM!” JC looked at Justin with wild eyes. “Please, Justin, it couldn’t have been, it can’t be…”

Justin scraped his chair back and pulled JC close. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured. “If you don’t think it was him, then it wasn’t.” Justin held JC as he sobbed in Justin’s lap.

A breath of air blew behind him and he turned, facing yet another door. Again he opened it, and again he recognized the room. The living room in the Los Angeles house. And again, it was familiar yet different. The most glaring difference was the fact that Justin was seated in a chair in the middle of the room, a knife against his throat.

“You thought I was gone for good, didn’t you?”

“I’d hoped.” JC looked over at Justin.

“Ah, but how can I give you up?” The knife turned, reflecting the lights in the room. “How can I let him have what belongs to me?”

“If you let him go, I’ll belong to you again,” JC said, stepping closer.

“Well, of course you’ll belong to me again.” He pushed the knife in a bit and Justin winced as the sharp blade pricked his skin. “But I don’t think I’ll let him go.”

He pulled back Justin’s head by his hair and raised the knife just as JC leapt towards them…


With a gasp, both men shot up in bed, breathing heavily. JC reached over to gather Justin to him at the same time the younger man was reaching for JC.

“Oh, god,” Justin said, his voice shaky with fright. “Oh god, what a dream.”

JC held him close. “Me, too,” he admitted, rubbing his hands over Justin, trying to absorb some warmth into his chilled frame.

“It was okay at first, you know?” Justin said. “It was about the other JC and Justin. I think I was at the club in Chicago. The Deuces.”

JC’s movements stilled. “And Lance was there?” he asked.

Justin pulled away a bit, searching JC’s face in the moonlight. “And a really pregnant Britney,” he added.

JC nodded, leaning over to turn on a light. “Then it changed, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Justin confirmed. “I was here, and I was watching them in the kitchen.”

“And JC was scared of someone.”

“Then it changed again,” Justin stated.

“To the living room,” JC revealed.

“Where I was…I mean, where Justin was…”

“With a knife,” JC finished.

Two pairs of troubled blue eyes locked, saying the name in unison.

“Chris.”



next

Email: whatweallwishfor@yahoo.com