Part 8


“Britney, come on!” Justin groaned as Britney dragged him down to another shop. His arms were aching under the boxes and packages he was carrying…how much more could the girl need?

“There’s just one more after this, I promise,” she said, disappearing into the store. Justin put his armful of purchases down and leaned against the window.

The two of them had been on Michigan Avenue for hours. Britney, bored without Lance, needed some kind of activity, and had decided to go shopping. Justin, frustrated without JC, jumped at the chance to do something. For as much as he might find shopping with Britney a chore, it was better than being at the club without JC.

For the past two weeks, JC and Lance had been in Canada on business. Justin had wanted to go along, but JC had refused, not wanting to involve him in that part of his business. Justin had at first been angry for not being included, which turned into loneliness, which eventually became frustration at the long separation. His missed JC. He missed being with him, talking with him, sleeping with him. He missed playing for him, too.

Britney joined him again on the sidewalk, and after picking up the boxes and bag, she and Justin walked to the next shop. Justin peered into the window, his eyes brightening at the site of the wares in the store.

“Really?” he asked.

Britney nodded. “Yes, really,” she said, smiling shyly. They had stopped at “Anne’s Wedding Apparel.”

Justin put the packages he was holding down on the sidewalk. “What changed your mind?”

Britney cocked her head. “I don’t really know,” she answered. “I think this trip he’s been on has a lot to do with it. He’s been gone for a long time, and I realized I’ve missed him so much that the idea of marriage is less scary to me then the idea of being without him.”

“They have been gone a long time,” Justin grumbled.

“And it’s not as if I want to give Lance a reason to make him come home to me, but rather, something to come home to,” she said, shaking her head. “Am I making sense?”

Justin nodded. “Yes. You’ll make him happy, Brit,” he said.

“I hope so.” She blinked back the sudden tears. “Now, I’m going inside and ordering a dress. Would you like to join me?” She laughed at the look of fear that crossed Justin’s face, reaching up and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Be right out,” she said, disappearing into the dark store.

Justin leaned against the glass window, thinking of Lance and Britney, and how happy they’ll be. They would have a good life together, he knew. There was so much love between them. Just like him and JC. Justin smiled to himself, thoughts of his reluctant lover and his stubbornness filling his head. JC hadn’t admitted it to Justin—hell, he probably hadn’t even admitted it to himself yet. But JC loved him. Justin was sure of that. All the need was time. Time to get use to the idea. Time to get use to the fact that Justin was not going away. And Justin had all the time in the world.

He closed his eyes, his thoughts still centered on JC, and as such was unaware of the automobile that pulled to the curb, or the three men that who exited it, and were now approaching Justin where he stood.

Britney came out of the store, momentarily blinded by the bright sunshine, and looked around for Justin. She noticed the packages lying on the ground, right where he’d left them. But Justin wasn’t there.

“Justin?” she called out, a trickle of fear shimmying down her spine. She noticed the automobile at the curb, and became aware of noises coming from the alley next to the dress shop. She walked over and peered in, her movements freezing at the sight before her.

Two men were holding Justin against the building. His face was bloody, his eyes bruised. One man held his hand over Justin’s mouth to silence him. The other was holding his left hand flat against the wall. A third man, wielding a baseball bat, was approaching, and Britney watched in horror as the man swung the bat and struck Justin’s outstretched hand. The sound of Justin’s muffled shout of pain and the crushing of bones shook Britney out of her shocked state, and she used all of her considerable lungpower to let out an ear-piercing scream.

“What the hell?” the man with the bat said, walking over to Britney as she screamed. “Shut up, bitch!” he said, backhanding her across the face, knocking her to the ground. She felt the gravel bite into her hands and knee, but gathered a deep breath and screamed again. She felt herself being pulled up, but suddenly thrown down again as her screams had drawn a crowed to the alley. Windows were opened, and passerby’s had stopped to see what the commotion was about.

“Let’s get out of here,” the man said, swinging his bat to clear a path through the crowd. The other two men let go of Justin, the boy sliding to the ground. Britney crawled over to him and cradled him in her lap, holding him gently as people approached to help.


A thousand demons were poking and stabbing him with knives and stick and other sharp, painful things. He couldn’t even decide what hurt the worst. Every breath he took made his body ache with an almost unbearable pressure. His head was pounding to the rhythm of some kind of sadistic drum. And his hand…he was convinced that one of those thousand demons was holding his hand in fire, burning the flesh off…

"Josh...Josh...Josh..."

Justin began thrashing against the bed again, the pain waking him from his laudanum induced sleep. Britney watched as the doctor prepared another shot. She looked again at the clock. Thirty minuets since the train bringing JC and Lance should have arrived. She looked back down at Justin, calming as the drug took effect.

By the time the police had shown up in the alley, the men who’d done this to Justin were long gone. Luckily for Justin, the officers that had responded were friends of JC’s, so they had helped Britney get Justin into their police car, and had brought Justin back to The Deuces. She’d sent one of the waiters for the doctor, and now, six hour later, they were waiting for JC and Lance to arrive. Since she had known they were arriving back in Chicago today, Britney had asked the policemen to pick up JC and Lance at the station. They’d agreed. JC had always been generous with them, so they were willing to help.

She removed the cloth from Justin’s brow, placing it in the cool water in the bowl beside her before wringing it out and gently wiping the boy’s face. She was just about to repeat this when she heard a noise downstairs. Lightly skipping down the steps, she saw Lance and JC entering the club. In one leap she was in Lance’s arms, holding tight.

JC walked the officers to the door, then shut and locked it, returning to the couple in the middle of the club. Britney raised a tear-streaked face from Lance’s chest and looked at JC.

“He’s upstairs,” she said, leaving Lance’s arms and holding JC close. “Doctor says he has bruised ribs, and a concussion,” she sniffed, reaching inside JC’s coat for his handkerchief.

JC put a finger under her chin, raising her face. There was a bruise under her eye, and a red streak across her cheek. “You’re alright?” JC asked, his voice flat and controlled.

Britney nodded, dropping her eyes from JC’s gaze. He forced her face back up, reading something in her eyes. “What else, Brit?”

She swallowed. “His hand,” she whispered. “They broke his hand….”

JC nodded. He reached down and kissed her gently on the head, then handed her back to Lance. He left them and ascended the stairs.

There was just a bit of sunlight coming through the shades, casting the room with an eerie glow. JC’s eyes adjusted to the room as he looked at the bed. Justin looked small and pale; the bandages on his head and his hand a glaring spot of white in the dim room. He noticed the doctor, standing by the bed closing his bag, but didn’t speak with him. Instead, he pulled a chair to the bed and sat down, his own hand reaching to touch Justin.

JC closed his eyes with relief when he felt Justin’s’ warm skin. He’d been so afraid, convinced that by the time he’d gotten to him, Justin would be gone. But Justin was warm, and JC could feel his pulse as well, so he knew the boy was alive. He peered over the bed and saw his broken hand, swaddled in a thick bandage, and felt his rage build again. He looked up at Justin’s face, watching as his eyelid fluttered and slowly opened, reveling his soft blue eyes.

JC reached up a hand to pet Justin’s curls, surprised by how it was shaking. “Hey, Farm Boy,” he said, stroking gently.

“I knew you were here,” he said, smiling. “I felt it, and woke up.”

JC returned the smile. “Yes, I’m here,” he said softly.

“It was Kirkpatrick,” Justin said.

JC nodded. “I thought as much.”

“When I asked them who they were, they laughed, and said that Kirkpatrick had sent them. They said it wasn’t anything to them, but that Kirkpatrick specifically told them to hurt my hands.” Justin lifted his bandaged left hand, wincing at the pain.

JC reached over and slowly lowered the hand across Justin’s chest. “Shh…you need to sleep, baby,” he said, stroking his brow and leaning in to kiss him gently on the lips. “Go to sleep.”

"I love you, Josh," Justin said, his eyes searching JC's.

"Shh...sleep," JC ordered.

He watched as Justin’s eyelids closed, and his breathing became regular. He sat there, watching. The sun went down and the room became darker, but JC continued to sit next to Justin, watching. He heard Britney and Lance enter the room, and vaguely realized they turned on a light and joined him by the bed.

He just sat there. Watching.

He suddenly leaned down and kissed Justin’s bandaged hand, then rose from the chair. His eyes caught Lance’s, and he nodded at his manager. Lance nodded back. JC walked to the door, but , Britney stopped him before he could leave.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He looked down at her, raising his hand to lightly touch her cheek, noticing that his fingers were no longer shaking. “I’m going to church,” he said.

Britney blinked in surprise. “To pray for Justin?”

He shook his head. “To pray for forgiveness.” He gently pushed her aside and opened the door. “I have to ask God to forgive me, because I have to kill someone.”

With that, JC left the room.



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