“Try
it again, Brit,” Justin instructed, running his fingers over the keys of the
piano.
The singer sighed, exasperated. They’d been rehearsing for hours, and she’d
done the song perfectly the last two, no three times! Justin was driving her
crazy!
“Justin, I’m tired of singing it,” she complained, walking over to him and
sitting on the piano bench next to him. She dropped her head dramatically on his
shoulder. “Let’s stop now, okay?” she whined.
Justin shook his head. “Come on, one more time,” he insisted, and was
pleased when she rose from the bench to take her place on the stage. Justin was
wrong, however. Britney had seen Lance enter the club from the back, and the
girl raced off and jumped into his arms.
“Thank God you’re here,” she exclaimed. “He’s a slave driver, I tell
you. Get him to stop.”
Lance lowered his girl to the ground, placing a kiss on her head. He looked at
Justin and smiled. “I’m stealing her away, Justin,” he said, sitting down
in a chair and pulling her into his lap. The couple kissed passionately.
Justin laughed at them, shaking his head. “Hey, Lance,” he said, coming off
the stage to join the couple at the table. Lance looked up at him as Britney
continued to kiss his neck and ears. “I haven’t seen Josh all day…is he
around?”
Lance and Britney exchanged a glance. “No, he’s not around,” Lance said.
“And when you do see him, you may want to stay clear of him.”
Justin cocked his head at his friend. “Why would I do that? What’s wrong
with him?”
“Today’s kinda a bad day for him, sweetie,” Britney explained. “He,
well, he usually wants to be left alone.”
“I don’t understand,” Justin said, straddling a chair.
“It’s complicated,” Lance began, but stopped.
I must be getting use to it, Justin thought, feeling that tingle up his
spine. He turned in his chair and watched as JC walked across the room to the
table. Justin started to speak, but stopped when he got a good look at JC’s
face.
He looked tired and worn and sad. There was no sparkle in the icy blue eyes, no
smile that usually greeted Justin when they saw each other.
For the past two weeks, JC had been, well, courting Justin. They had dinner
every night, then afterwards, JC watched Justin perform. After the club closed,
JC walked him to his room in the back where they shared kisses and touches in
the hall, never stepping over the bounds to going to far, and never stepping
over the threshold into his room. Justin wanted more, of course. And he was
pretty sure JC did, too. At least Justin thought so by the feel of his hardness
against him each evening. But JC always said no, not yet, and left him with a
smile.
But there was no smile in JC tonight. He reached a hand out to lightly touch
Justin’s curls. “Would you play for me?” he asked.
Justin nodded. He rose from the chair and jumped onto the stage, sitting at the
piano and flexing his fingers. Slowly, softly, he began to play. No song in
particular, just the music that always filled Justin’s head, the music that JC
seemed to enjoy. He closed his eyes as he played, but wasn’t surprised when he
felt someone sit down next to him. Again JC reached out a hand to brush
Justin’s curls, then lightly stroke his back. Justin leaned into the touch,
and JC laid his head on Justin’s shoulder.
“I thought it would be different this year,” Lance said, shifting Britney in
his lap to watch his boss and the younger man.
Britney nodded. “He’s so happy with Justin…so, I don’t know, caring, you
know?”
“Yes,” Lance agreed. “Maybe it’ll be better, maybe he won’t come over.”
Britney turned frightened eyes to Lance. “You won’t be far, will you?”
“Never, my love,” he assured her, kissing her on the nose.
“What’ll
I do...with just...a photograph
to tell my troubles to.
When I’m alone...With only dreams of you
That won’t come true
What’ll I do”
Justin watched as Britney smiled as the music softly ended and the applause came.
He immediately started up the next song in the set, his eyes scanning the club
for JC. It wasn’t hard to miss him. He was sitting alone at a table in the
back, a glass of bourbon and a bottle in front of him. This was the first time
he’d seen JC drink anything, Justin realized.
He had played the piano all afternoon, JC sitting quietly beside him, stroking
him now and then. The hustle of the nightly preparations for opening the club
faded into the background as the two men sat, Justin playing and JC listening.
JC had only left the piano when the other musicians had shown up, taking up
residence at the table with the bourbon. Justin noticed that Lance was also
keeping an eye on his boss, but was also watching Britney closely, more so than
usual. It was all confusing for Justin, who wanted to, no, needed to know what
was bothering the man he loved.
Suddenly, there was a disturbance at the entrance that got everyone’s
attention. Justin watched as Britney stopped singing and jumped off the stage,
running straight to Lance and hiding behind the man. Justin followed her line of
vision and watched as a stranger entered the club.
He was a smallish man, dark hair, good clothes. A man who wouldn’t make an
impression normally, except for the complete lack of life in his eyes. They were
black, hard, and did not even change when he smiled evilly. Now Justin followed
the man’s line of sight, and watched as he walked over to JC’s table, pull
out a chair, and sit down.
“Hello, Chasez,” he said, pulling the bottle and the glass toward him,
pouring the liquor and drinking it down.
“Kirkpatrick.”
The darker man smiled. “You knew I’d come.”
JC nodded. Chris always came. He’d never miss an opportunity to humiliate JC.
It didn’t matter that they’d been apart for over ten years. Chris came every
year. JC fought to remain calm, and refused to look at the older man.
“How have you been, JC?” Chris asked, drinking another glass of bourbon.
“Fine.”
Chris nodded. “I’m fine, too, thanks for asking.”
“Go away, Chris,” JC said flatly. “You can’t hurt me anymore.”
Chris raised a brow. “Can’t I?” His eyes left JC’s face and looked
around the club. “Where’s Britney? I’d like to say hello.”
“She doesn’t want to see you, Chris.” JC said, finally looking at the
older man’s face.
Chris turned cold dark eyes on JC. “I don’t care what she wants,” he said
before turning and looking for the singer. He spotted her, hiding behind JC’s
lackey. He was about to say something else when his attention was caught by
someone else.
“Well, well,” he said, a slow smile creeping over his face. “I’d heard
you’d gotten a new piano player, but didn’t realize he was so…pretty.”
JC looked at the stage. Justin was sitting at the piano, but wasn’t playing,
only watching JC. A shiver of fear walked up JC’s spine. “Get out. Now.”
“Oh, my,” Chris laughed. “Seems I hit a nerve. Maybe I should introduce
myself to the boy.”
JC reached across the table, grabbing Chris’ wrist so hard he dropped the
glass of bourbon. “I said,” JC repeated, pulling Chris out of his chair,
still holding his wrist, “GET OUT.”
“Josh,” Justin said, joining the men at the table, eyes skimming over JC’s
hand clenched on the older man’s arm. “Is something wrong?”
“Leave, Justin,” JC said, icy blue eyes never leaving Chris’ dark ones.
The boy shook his head. “No.” He didn’t want to leave JC with this man,
whoever he was.
Chris laughed. “Ooo, he’s feisty.” He twisted his hand away from JC’s
grasp. “You’d best teach him some manners, JC.”
“My manners are fine, sir,” Justin said. “But I think you’ve overstayed
your welcome here.”
Chris laughed, a hollow, evil laughed. “Maybe I have at that, Justin.”
He leaned toward Justin. “But you’ll see me again, boy,” he said, running
a finger down Justin’s chin. “Oh, and JC?” He turned, a slow, sick smile
spreading on his face. “Happy birthday.”