Atlantic city


“Here,” he said, said, stuffing three hundred dollars into the cab driver’s hand. “Thanks,” he said, jumping out of the car. JC surveyed the area, the barricades, the crowds. How was he going to get through there?

His goal, indeed, his only thought since he’d seen the report on the Philadelphia news was to get to Justin. He’d tired Justin’s cell—no answer. He tried Johnny’s. And Lynn’s. And Trace’s. No one answered their phone. So JC had left the hotel in Philly, hopped into a cab, and talked the driver into taking him down to Atlantic City.

He pulled his hat lower as he approached a crowd, peering over the girls gathered outside the venue to try and look inside. He caught a glimpse of twisted metal as the door open. “Eric!” he shouted to the bodyguard as he exited the building. Heads swiveled in his direction as JC pushed through the crowd. He hit the blue sawhorse barricade, the venue security guard blocking his way. “Eric!” he called again, this time getting the big man’s attention.

“What? Jesus, I should have figured,” Eric said, nodding to the uniformed guard.

JC shoved past and ran into the venue. His heart stopped at the sight of the bent metal and shattered glass littering the stage and audience area. He turned to Eric, who had followed him inside. “Where is he?” JC asked.

Eric didn’t answer, only led the way past the wreckage of the lighting system to the backstage area. JC’s eyes saw fire marshals and OSHA people and roadies all milling about backstage. He spotted Johnny in the distance, saw the manager wave to him, but didn’t stop, only continued to follow Eric. That’s all that was important.

They came to a door marked “Quiet Room.” Eric punched a code on the lock, and turned the knob. JC slid past him into the room.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light put out by the candles. He scanned the room, finally finding Justin sitting on the couch.

Justin looked up at JC’s entrance, a smile crossing his face. “You need to get a new cell phone, Jayce,” he said simply, rising from the couch.

JC grabbed him, holding him close, the breath he was holding finally being released in a sigh as Justin filled his arms. JC didn’t speak, just held Justin tight, his eyes closed, the sight of the fallen rigging playing in his mind.

Justin’s arms came around JC, holding the older man close. “It’s okay, JC, I’m okay,” he said, his hands rubbing the older man’s back, trying to quell JC’s shaking. “I’m okay,” Justin repeated.

JC pulled back a bit, his eyes searching Justin’s face. “I couldn’t get anyone on the phone,” he complained, kissing Justin lightly, his hands running over Justin’s arms and hands. “Why didn’t anyone answer?”

“Because your cell phone sucks,” Justin said simply, pulling JC over and sitting them both down on the battered couch.

At just that moment, JC’s cell phone rang, indicating a new text message. JC smiled ruefully at Justin as he flipped open the phone, noting the message was from Justin, saying he was okay. “Fine, fine,” JC agreed, closing his phone. “I’ll get a new service tomorrow.”

Justin laughed. “Good.”

“I was so scared,” JC said, lifting his hand to pet Justin’s cheek. “All they said was a huge accident, three injuries, and…”

“Shh…” Justin said, laying a finger across JC’s lips. “I know, and I understand,” he said, leaning in and kissing JC soundly. “It’s scary…it was scary, but I’m okay.” Justin quickly decided that he wouldn’t tell JC that he was on the stage right before it collapsed. That was information the older man just didn’t need to know. “I’m okay,” he repeated, pulling JC close.

JC felt Justin’s heartbeat under his cheek. He felt Justin’s chest rising and fall with each breath, he could feel Justin’s warm arms around him. JC finally relaxed, his shaking stopping, his pulse returning to normal.

Justin was here, in his arms. And he was right.

It was okay.



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