Part 3


["You think life is like a movie, where it all works out in the end."]

"Yeah? What?" JC barked into his cell phone when he'd finally groped around for it and found it in the dark of his bedroom. Its shrill ringing had broken into his dreamland, and he'd been too groggy to even check the caller display panel.

He hadn't slept for more than two hours at a time since he'd been publicly bitch-slapped by the NFL on Wednesday, and today had been a nonstop whirlwind of pressurized madness - including the aforementioned cell phone going off approximately every six seconds.

He'd written and released to the media his own personal "statement" about the whole ridiculous mess (the edited, tamer one, of course). He'd fielded tons of tense phone calls from the Associated Press, MTV News, and a very emotional one from Ryan Seacrest's talk show, which he was scheduled to appear on in a few weeks for a CD-promoting performance.

Driven and escorted by Lonnie, he'd gone over to the "Access Hollywood" studios where he'd taped an interview with them to be shown in syndication that day. And when CNN had also called, he'd agreed to drop by their facilities for another one the following morning.

He'd wanted desperately to "air out" his side of the psychodrama, to vent his views on how he'd been mistreated and maligned undeservedly. And, thanks to some heavy hitting by his publicist and his own associations, he'd been given several key opportunities to do just that. And he'd jumped on every one of them with both exasperated feet.

Never before in his professional life had he felt so miserably helpless in controlling his own career, and never before had he felt the steam of that frustration build to a burning aggressiveness, a hot desire to fight back and break free from the ignorance and bullshit holding him down. He'd gotten his point across. He still wouldn't be doing his thing at the Pro Bowl on Sunday, true. But he'd said his peace. He'd spoken his mind.

And now, as a result, he was exhausted. Hopped-up tension still coursed through him, and he hadn't yet recovered his appetite. But he was drained and stressed and oh-so-tired. His mother had threatened to fly in from Chicago to check on him if he didn't promise to get some rest soon because, she said, she heard the fatigue in his voice. So Carlos had given him a sedative, and, after another dinner he didn't eat, Tony had forced him to go to bed. At least for a while.

"Hello?" he rasped into the phone again, vaguely surprised that he'd fallen asleep at all.

"Hey, Jace. Did I, um, wake you up?"

No. Shit. Not now. No. Can't do this now. Wasn't prepared. Why now? Fuck.

"Oh. It's you. Hi, J," he whispered. And for a foolish split second, he almost casually added, as if this was a normal, everyday chat, "Whassup, man?"

"Jace, I'ma……….I'm sorry about all this, you know, about what happened Sunday in Houston and how it's gone down for you since then. I'm sorry, man. I had to let you know."

JC didn't respond immediately, just lay there in the silent dark, alone, listening to the echo of Justin's soft voice drift through the empty chambers in his head. Listening to the fear and the anxiety and the insecurity and everything else that was so unquiet inside Justin.

When he spoke, the words that came out weren't the words he'd intended to say. And he wasn't sure where they'd come from. Maybe the remnant of a conversation from a dream he'd just had?

"Well, you know. Shit happens. And then it rolls downhill."

Justin made a small wincing noise, as if he'd just been bludgeoned. Perhaps with the cold, sharp truth. "I didn't intend for it to, Jace. I never meant to hurt you or mess with your gigs. Honest, man. Never in any way, shape, or form in even my wildest dreams did I ever think this crap would trickle down and affect you. And I apologize. I'm really so sorry."

"Thanks, J. I appreciate that." JC stopped because, well, the word-generator in his mind suddenly shut down.

"You know that, don't you, that I'd never do something to deliberately hurt you?"

"Of course, J. I know that. You're not like that. Never have been."

"Are you, um, okay? I was kind of worried about you."

"I've been better, have to admit. But I'll be fine……….What about you, man? It must be zoo-like intense where you are. Are you okay?"

"It's crazy, and I'm in hell. But still plugging along. You know me……….Hey, I've been keeping track of you all over the press, Jace. And I've never heard you so pissed off. Never."

"Yeah, I showed my ranting-bitch side a little, I guess. Call me the disgruntled diva. I was totally hot under the collar, man."

"Yeah, you were hot, babe. I'll give you that. Hotter than ever."

Boom. JC flinched and slammed his eyelids down tightly. Things were sailing along fine, and the asshole just had to cross the line like that, didn't he? Damn him. Just damn him. That cavalier, breathy little giggle of his flushed angry red through JC as heatedly as the sudden twitching reaction in his cock did.

"Don't, J. Just don't. Bad timing. Like the worst timing ever. Fuck."

"I'm sorry. It just slipped out. Seeing you all riled up like that, well, it made me sad, made me want to damage some dickheads for doing this fucked-up shit to you……….But you still looked and sounded so damn sexy and gorgeous, Jace. You can't help it, and I can't deny it."

"Thanks. I guess. Whatever."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Jace, and make you all uncomfortable. I guess you've had enough of that shit lately as a result of something I've done."

JC sighed. "It's okay. And who knows? All this unexpected negative exposure might just turn out positive results at the, you know, end of the day," he answered through clenched teeth. He had to change the subject. Definitely had to.

And not for one minute did he believe that line of crap he'd just uttered. All that nonsense about how every dark cloud has a silver lining or how this will be better exposure than a half-assed televised NFL Halftime Show in Hawaii. Hell, he'd even wanted to pummel the crap out of everyone who'd dared suggest that stuff to him over the past two days - with the sole exception of his mother. But here he was saying it to Justin just now.

Because his brain had been more focused on keeping his hand from sliding its way down the laid-out length of his body to the swell in his crotch that was beginning to burn and ache under the flimsy boxers he was wearing.

"Will you come to the Grammys now?"

"I'm working on getting them to let me crash."

"I can pull some strings for you. I've got a little clout left."

JC shuddered silently. At the feel of the warmth of his flat palm grazing over the warmth of that throbbing mound between his thighs. "I'd rather you not, Justin. Thanks and shit, but I have my own fucking clout. I'll get by."

"I know you do, babe. I was just trying to……….to make it up to you in any way that I can. I want to so bad. I don't know what else to say."

"Justin, you said you're sorry. I believe you. I accept. You don't have to say anything more. The shit shouldn't have fallen on me, but it did. And you can't reverse that now. It happened. It sucks. But we just gotta forget it and move on. Okay?"

"Okay. But."

"But what?"

"I miss you, Jace."

"No, you don't, Justin."

"I do. I miss everything about you."

JC groaned softly. His fingertips brushed up and down the hardness he couldn't control, but he was determined not to give in to Justin's whispery, succulent pillowtalk.

"Your apology was enough, J. Okay?"

"I still love you, baby. I wanted you to know that."

"Um, thanks for calling, J. I do appreciate it. But the thing is -"

"Jace, wait. Don't hang up. Please. Don't cut me off."

JC hesitated, his hand absently and gently rubbing and squeezing his hot erection, a wet spot growing over the lap of the shorts that were stretching tighter and tighter across the bulge. "Okay. I'm listening."

"Please come."

Almost there, baby. Almost. Just a few more long, fast strokes. Oh, fuck.

"Please come to the awards Sunday……….Cameron won't be around. And it'd mean a lot to me just to know you're there……….even if you don't want to talk to me. I'll understand. But please come."

"Justin -"

"Jace, I'd give any-……….I'd give you EVERYthing if you'd let me."

"I'll see what I can do, J. About Sunday. Okay?" JC undercut the direction of the conversation. Again. Or at least tried to.

"Love you."

"Look, man. I really need to go. The phones are insane around here. I'm sure you can relate," JC hissed as waves of fire tingled through him, spreading outward from his cock. "I'll, um, catch you later. Best of luck Sunday, man. You know I'm pulling for you to win, no matter what else goes down. Keep that Timberlake chin up, okay?"

"Yeah……….Okay……….Later, Jace."

Justin drifted out flatly and gloomily, but JC snapped the phone shut anyway and tossed it on the mattress. He half expected it to ring again, but it didn't.

So he yanked off his boxers and took his dick, hard as stone, in his fist and moaned as he slowly pumped warm fleshonflesh friction up and down the thick length, rolling over the slick, swollen head with his thumb. His hips began to a side-to-side swivel on the cool sheets as he pictured, in his head, Justin's full red lips closed tight around his cock, sucking furiously, sliding hot saliva over the smooth sleek surface. And when he slipped his other hand down between his legs and lifted his balls, it was Justin's dick rather than two of his own fingers that he imagined penetrating his sensitive asshole and ramming against his tender prostate.

"Please come," he heard Justin's hushed voice beg again. His hips bucked up off the mattress and humped his closed fist in wild, arching thrusts, and stars exploded brilliantly behind his eyes as he came once and then twice, shooting his warm juices all over his wrist and thighs and abdomen, finding more sweet release in four minutes than he'd found in the previous four days.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

["Won't trip out on disappointment 'cause failure is just not me. Still I gotta do my job' cause you know my show can't go on without me."]

"Wow! You look absolutely ravishing tonight, hon! Stunning, I tell ya! Who's that you're wearing? It's flawless," Lynn Harliss gushed out all over JC like a splashing southern waterfall as she hugged him fiercely and lovingly.

She'd sent for him, via an usher, to come and join her on the end of the front row in the Staples Center auditorium that Sunday afternoon. And she would have done so even without Justin's tight-jaw hiss of "Get him up here, damnit. I want him in front of the cameras no matter how he reacts. 'Kay?" just before he left to get dressed for his performance. She'd actually been looking around for him herself since she and Justin had been seated down front.

"Ah, it's just Valentino, JOAN," JC laughed and kissed her cheek. The overhead track lights flickered, indicating 60 seconds until the Grammys went live again, and so they sat down, JC keenly aware that his ass was now where Justin's had been only minutes before.

"Just Valentino, you say. Well, it certainly makes you look even more like an angel than ever, JC. That gorgeous mother-of-pearl shade is fabulous with your dark hair, which, by the way, is looking lovely tonight too."

JC busted out with another laugh and brushed another quick embrace across her shoulders. "Mama Lynn, you're too much. But I'll pass all the kudos along to the wardrobe consultant and the hair stylists. They fixed me up good."

"Honey, you don't need much fixing up. You've always been just classically handsome."

"Well, thank you, ma'am. You're a godsend for my ego tonight. How've you been anyway? It's been, like, an ice age since I saw you last!"

JC swallowed hard and tried not to notice all the roving TV cameras creeping around everywhere up here in the AAA-list celebrity section of the room. At least one had been following him since he'd arrived in the limo and walked the carpet, but this was warp-speed here in the front of the room.

He'd always adored Lynn, all through the years, because Lynn had always adored him - especially since he and Justin fell in love and set each other's world on fire. Whatever/whoever made Justin happy made Lynn happy. She still called him from time to time, even now, genuinely concerned about how he was fairing, and she'd come to one of his club shows in L.A. recently. JC naturally assumed she kept Justin updated on him, like a well-meaning (hopeful, maybe?) mother would.

"Sugar, you don't have to call me ma'am. You know that."

"Okay. Woman."

Lynn laughed almost as loud as JC did. "So tell me……….How the hell have you been, mister? All this nasty business after that Super Bowl fiasco has gotten way out of hand, I tell ya. And I hate it that you lost your Pro Bowl show, hon. I saw you on television, and I was terribly upset for you, JC. That was awful what they did to you. Are you better now? You seem a little calmer."

JC blushed a little under her sympathy, glad suddenly for the heavy tint on his glasses. "Christ. You saw that stuff?"

Lynn reached over and pat his thigh affectionately. "Sweetheart, we ALL saw it. Everybody everywhere. They did you wrong for a dumbshit reason. And I was so proud of you for speaking out for yourself. I'm sure Karen was too."

JC smiled. "Mom was stressed about me stressing. And she was pissed at the NFL dudes too. Man, you should have heard her cussing. But, at the end of the day, she thought I did the right thing all around. So do I. It had to be said. They screwed me."

"And you did good, hon. Bravo for you. I was, like, standing up and clapping when you came on CNN Friday. And you know what? I'm glad you're here tonight too. Fuck that lame Pro Bowl and their hula hoochies or whatever it was."

"Exactly," JC said and let out another crazed giggle as the lights began to dim to darkness and the pit orchestra started up. "It's been fun so far. The parties and stuff, seeing all these cool cats from the industry I haven't seen in a long time. I even got the awesome swag they're handing out. And, man, walking down that red carpet earlier out there was wild. I've never really done that, like, by myself before. Totally a rush."

"You're quite the star on your own now, honey. I'm really so proud of how you've handled yourself," Lynn whispered and leaned closer to him, looping her arm through his.

It occurred to JC, as the broadcast ceremonies droned on, that she hadn't brought up Justin's name one time, and he assumed this was a deliberate ploy to make him feel more at ease. He knew her better, though, than to think the gag order would last.

"Sweetheart, Justin said he phoned you and apologized for what happened," she said softly when it was time for another commercial break. Still she sat very close and held JC's bicep. "Jeez, what a mess it's all been."

"Yeah, he did. We talked about it. I don't blame him. We don't have a beef at all. We're cool," he answered. Because he figured that was what she wanted to hear. And because it was true. Mostly. They didn't have a beef. In fact, they had very little at all anymore.

"It's a damn crying shame that you two aren't as 'cool' with each other as you used to be, JC. I mean that things between you are so -"

He turned to her and stopped her with a melancholy curl of his lips that was supposed to imitate a smile. "It's okay, Lynn. Things don't always work out like you want them to. You know?"

"Yeah, hon. I know. And I also know that sometimes that hard-headed kid of mine needs himself a good, swift kick in the ass to set him straight - well, you know what I'm saying - and show him what's best for him. And what's not. Sometimes the boy is just a stubborn ass. If you know what I mean."

JC saw in her hazel-green eyes that she'd never go against and condemn her son for whatever the whole Nipplegate Advent was, even though she clearly didn't approve of what he'd done and its tangled aftermath. He also saw that, even if it remained unspoken between them, she was pulling for JC. On all levels. She was on his side.

"I understand, Lynn. And yeah. I've known him to be the stubborn ass too. Yeah."

Lynn smiled when JC did. "I wish I could see more of you, Jace. I miss you, sweetheart. Justin hasn't been himself for a while now, especially lately. I think the pressure's piling up and getting to him. And I know you'd be good for him. You were both always so good for each other."

"Well," JC shrugged, unsure of how much to say and how to say it. "I'd come around more often when J's in town. But the thing is……….it's just………."

"It's her. Cammy-Pooh. I know, I know," Lynn lowered her voice to a whisper and rolled her eyes. "She's not exactly friendly and receptive to the folks close to Justin. Hell, she gets her back up in a tizzy when I'm around 'em. And you heard she had it out with Trace, didn't you? Man, that was something to see. Sorry to say it, but she's just bad news all over."

"Yeah, she's not very keen on me either."

JC stopped. He didn't go on to elaborate about how he'd believed for a long time now that precious Cameron's latest starring role was to change Justin into the isolating, egotistical, arrogant Hollywood celebrity he'd become, that she was playing the part (and killing it too, by the way) of manipulating Justin's attention and devotion away from his family and friends and all toward herself. Mama Lynn had hit the nail on the head when she'd said Justin hadn't been himself for a while now - certainly not since Cameron had come into the picture.

To be fair, though, she wasn't solely responsible. No, because everybody who knew Justin well knew well that he'd started changing all by himself a while ago. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when. But they'd all seen it, felt it. "He's just growing into himself," some said, "maturing, becoming who he's going to be."

Cameron had simply accelerated the metamorphosis process, maybe mapped it in a direction it hadn't intended to take Justin. She'd evaporated his sweet gentleness and humility and filled him instead with a chilly uncaring, a brash disregard for the things and people he'd once loved.

Maybe it was melodramatic. Maybe it was drastic. Maybe it was born of resentment and envy as JC lay awake at night and let his mind get lost in it. But it was his theory, the one he wouldn't voice aloud to Lynn sitting there at the Grammys. And the one he hadn't been able to voice to Joey and Lance in Miami back around New Year's Eve when they'd all been ripping on the "Rolling Stone" interview that had everyone's heckles up.

JC hadn't been able to admit to anyone but himself how much that article had torn him apart. Not because of the shocking/disturbing things Justin had said, but because he could no longer hear and feel this Justin saying anything.

What you are is a stranger to me now.

"No, she's not one of my bigger fans," he whispered again to Lynn next to him.

"And I wonder why that could be," Lynn snickered.

"Maybe 'cause I'm not A-list enough for her."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it, hon. Can we say jealous as hell of you?"

"Well, hey. That's cool. Justin's a grown dude. His choices are his choices. Simple."

"Jace, honey, that's just what I'm saying, though. Justin sometimes gets all brain-foggy or something and doesn't see what's what too clearly. Sometimes he needs to be nudged and reminded, say, like what all his choices are."

"Okay, Lynn." JC tried to sound like he still understood perfectly. When he didn't. This sounded like stuff Justin needed to be hearing, not him.

"So listen. After he performs up there, why don't you go backstage and say hello? I know he'd love that." She squeezed his arm tighter. Gentle, motherly prodding.

"That's probably a crappy idea, man. He'll be slammed with people all around him."

"No, he won't, honey. He lets NObody into his personal dressing area unless he wants them in. He's strict as hell about that. So go back and just say hey. He'd like to see you. He's the one who spotted you sitting back there, JC. He insisted I get you up here."

JC wrinkled his nose into a sneer and blurted out the first spontaneous thought that flared through his mind. "Oh. Nice. So I could see him better?"

"No, sweetheart. So everybody could see you better. He wanted you to be visible, more exposure for you."

"Hmm. Please thank him for me," JC quipped dryly, the dark Ray-Bans hardly concealing his quick eye roll.

"Thank him yourself, Jace. He's not expecting you. Throw him off-guard. And, looking like you do this evening, you'll leave him with his lower jaw on the floor. Speechless."

"I'll think about it, Mama Lynn. Thanks for the 4-1-1. You know I love ya, right?"

"I know, son. Justin always said he was crazy about you. And I'm crazy about you too. You remember that, 'kay?"



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