All Justin had wanted to do was slip into the Austin-Adair copywriters' "bullpen," as they had affectionately named it, long enough to thank and compliment both of the men on the fine job they'd done on the Deer Park pitch earlier that day. He'd sent out a company-wide e-mail acknowledging everyone who had put a lot of work into the campaign. But he liked to take it one step further and do a little one-on-one back-patting as well when it was deserved. He knew it was good for office morale, and it usually encouraged folks to do a good job for you next time around when you needed it. So that had been his only intention when he'd walked into the huge, casual warehouse-style area Wade and Joe shared as an office. He certainly hadn't expected any mouth from Wade - although, in hindsight, he guessed, he probably should have. As he walked down the hall, he could hear their usual macho banter back and forth. Joe: "Yeah, man, that shit's as smooth and tight as a Vegas showgirl's long legs. Know what I'm saying?" Wade: "Maybe so. But those quickie stand-up tanning booths mean you don't have to lay your naked ass down in somebody else's leftover short curlies, dude. You thought of that?" Justin wrinkled his nose, shuddered, and decided not to pursue the history of a conversation like that and whatever had led up to those two oddball exchanges or how they could possibly be related. He did not want to know. "What's up, you wankers," he said, strolling in with a noncommittal smile. "How's the slacking coming in here?" "Yo! Lookee here! It's the head honcho himself! Chairman and CEO Jussy Thimblelake!" Joe belted out and grinned when spun around in his chair and spotted Justin. "C'mon in, buddy! What up?" "Careful, Fatone. Boy Wonder may be bearing pink slips," Wade snickered sullenly and tossed the miniature foam-rubber football over the partition that separated his wide desk and work area from Joe's. Justin stopped a few feet from them and rolled his eyes. "I'm not the head honcho around here, and I don't handle pink slips." "Do you, uh, wear them?" Wade giggled again, propped his long legs up on his desk, crossed them at the ankles, and slouched in his chair. Joe cracked up with peals of laughter. But Justin just wrinkled his nose again and smirked in Wade's direction, unimpressed. "Wow, that was a funny line, man. Did you write that yourself?" Joe lobbed the ball back over to Wade and laughed, rich and hearty. "Justin, even if you aren't the head honcho, you are the man with the plan. The slick one that could sell reading glasses to Stevie fucking Wonder. You know you're good at what you do." With practiced finesse, Justin brushed aside the flap of his business-casual suit jacket and shoved his hand into the pocket of his slacks. "Well, sometimes it all comes together and works right. But, you know, I couldn't pitch anybody anything without you guys and the ways you come up with the awesome ad copy. So I stopped by to say thanks. Great work on Deer Park. I'm getting the vibe that we won them over hands-down." "Yeah, yeah. We got your e-mail, dude," Wade mumbled and fidgeted with the football and avoided Justin's eyes. "Good. Now you've got me." "Hahaha! You wish, don't you, Robson? Hahaha!" Joe guffawed, leaning backward in his chair until it rolled. "What you wouldn't give up to 'get' some of that fine Timberlake ass, right, man?" "Yeah. Right. When hell frosts over," Wade snorted. "Um, don't worry. It would take more than hell frosting over," Justin snapped back and glared at Wade, daring him to look his way. Seemingly oblivious to their snippy retorts back and forth, or maybe just enjoying it, Joe caught the ball again with one hand and changed the subject. "Hey, man. What have you got going on tonight, Timbo? Want to hang out? We're going up to Campy's to toss back a few and do some karaoke." "Thanks, man. But I've got to pass this time. I've got plans, believe it or not." This announcement from Justin garnered Wade's full attention, and he jerked his head around to look up. "Oh, yeah? A hot date?" "No," Justin shot out quickly and then stopped himself. Those fluttery stirrings were suddenly messing with his gut again. And they weren't holdouts from his former hangover. Anticipation could take physical form sometimes, couldn't it? "Just……….just something to do." "Jussy's got a day-ate," Joe chimed and laughed. "Gonna finally get some boo-tay." Justin shook his head and sighed as he let his eyes roam around the large, airy room. The "playpen," as he always referred to it. "For toddlers." Dart boards, indoor golf putting greens, small-sized basketball goals, beanbag chairs, an elaborate and well-stocked magazine rack, even supercharged water weaponry for when the boys were feeling especially frisky and playful. He wondered sometimes how they ever managed to get anything constructive done in there. "The toys help get the creative juices flowing, man," they assured him time and time again. "It's not a date, Joe. It's nothing really. So you can drop the karaoke warm-up, if you don't mind." "Yo, it must be something, Timberlake." Wade smiled up at him cattily. "You just turned fire-engine red, dude. So what's his name?" Justin focused a narrowed-eye stare back on him, acutely aware then of the flush that had just burned over his cheeks. "I did not. And what do you care, Wade? Huh?" "Dude! You're the only one of us who can carry a damn tune! Somebody in our little group's gotta have some game when it comes to singing up there." "Oh. So you just want to use me for my voice." Justin half-smiled, and he noticed how Wade craftily shifted the emphasis off his evening plans and onto the after-work entertainment. But what he noticed more was the warm thud in his stomach at the mention of "having game." Got racquetball, anyone? "Yeah. What else are you good for?" Wade snickered again. Evilly. "Joe has a good voice. He'll blow 'em away like he always does. You don't need me." "That's right. And my little buddy Lancers too," Joe added, carelessly throwing the football over the partition again. "We can duet, him and me. He's sharp on hitting those low notes, man." "Lance is staying in with Jesse tonight," Justin said. "Sorry to burst your bubble. It's their stay-at-home date night." He watched the eastern sun dawn across Wade's features at the sound of Lance's name and then watched the radiance fade drastically behind fast-moving dark clouds when Jesse skipped into the picture once again. The foam-rubber ball bounced off Wade's forehead as his attention was distracted. So that was what a bubble bursting looked like. "Damn. That's right. It's Thursday." Joe frowned. "Timbo, just bring your date along. We'll buy him some drinks and get him liquored up. He'll have fun. We need you, bro." Justin huffed, running out of patience, and glanced at the SpongeBob Squarepants clock on the back wall. "Look. I don't have a date. And I'll go to Campy's with you guys next time around. Have a blast, okay?" "Brit's going to be there." Emerging from his sulk with eyes hooded and challenging, Wade muttered his dropped bomb quietly. "She'd so like to see you again, Timberlake." Justin tensed up uncomfortably under his white tie-less dress shirt but kept his unexpected reaction hidden because he knew it was exactly the reaction Wade was looking for. Wade had purposely saved this for last. Justin had met Britney Spears in college, where they'd discovered they had tons in common - including a shared taste in men. She'd been his closest gal pal for what had seemed like ages. Up until a few weeks before when she had met Wade at a party they'd all attended. Unfortunately (at least for Justin), she'd fallen victim to the Robson wooing charm, and they'd started hanging out together almost exclusively. And now, it seemed, she never had time for her best gay friend anymore. At times (such as this one), Justin still missed her and all the "girly" stuff they used to do and share together. And he was sure that Wade not only knew this but liked to take pissy advantage of it when he could. "Rut-roh. Formerly Justin's hot little fag hag. Currently Robson's flavor of the month. Stole her right out from under him." Joe chuckled and rested his feet up on his desk. "So very Melrose Place, if you ask me." "Thanks for the running play-by-play, man." Justin glanced at him and rolled his eyes. "And update your homo lingo too. 'Fag hag' out. 'Fruit fly' much better." "Haha. Fruit fly? That's rich, man. I'm writing that down. Robson, you are hereby charged with theft of Jussy's favorite fruit fly." "Stole her right out from under him? Um, not so much. More like took a chance with the one he let get away," Wade rasped smugly. "And, dude. We all know Boy Wonder here can't give her what I give her." Wade's deep-throat laughter was the noise of crunching broken glass underfoot to Justin. But he smiled calmly anyway. This little game with Wade wasn't the one his mind was focused on right now. And he needed to somehow, diplomatically, walk away from all of it. Pronto. He'd done what he came here to do. "Whatever, Wade. If you make Brit happy, I'm good with that. But I still have to pass on tonight. Give her my love, and ask her to give me a buzz. 'Kay? And thanks again to both of you for your hard work on today's pitch. Lunch is on me if we swing this deal. And my hunches are kind of strong that we will." "You have fun yourself tonight, bro. Whatever the fuck it is you're getting into," Joe said and shot him a big grin and a thumbs-up. "Or maybe whatever the fuck is getting into you. Haha!" "Yeah, man. Don't forget the ol' lubed protection," Wade added, his usual surly, cocky smile and all. "On your, uh, not-a-date." Justin nodded with a smirk, the only response he felt like offering. He just wanted to be out of there. So he turned on his heels and waltzed out of the office. It was 4:43 p.m. He had to speed-dial Lance one more time before this years-long business day finallyfinallyfinally came to a screeching halt. And he had to get something more substantial on his stomach than a bowl of miso soup and a spring roll. He was absolutely NOT going to give in to the damn jitteriness that was slowly building in there. No way. ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ JC breezed through the double-wide front door of Trinity Fitness a little early for his first appointment that Thursday evening. He wasn't sure why. By habit, he was usually a few minutes late, and his regular students/opponents had learned to expect that. They were all as laid-back as he was, and it was never a big deal. But today, he'd felt vaguely strange all day, as if he were being moved along, hastened, driven through the hours as they ticked off the clock - propelled and guided toward tonight, toward here. Seemingly by intangible forces or energies that had a purpose in their keen direction and subtle urgency. As if he was supposed to be at this place, at this time. So here he was, arriving on the scene at 6:45 rather than the normal 7:06 p.m. That chick Jennifer sat behind the long "Welcome" reception desk twirling her hair between her overly-manicured fingers. And JC wished like crazy that he could just sneak past her unnoticed like he was able to do at least half the time he worked here. The poor girl had a huge, huge crush on him and couldn't - or wouldn't - get a clue that he wouldn't - or couldn't - crush on her in return. All of the other employees, and even most of the members, of the health club here realized he was gay and interested in men exclusively. It was no big secret. Why couldn't this Jennifer get that through her thick, thick thought processes too? On the rare occasions when JC had mentioned her to Chris, he'd referred to her as "LH." Because, although he could never remember her actual full name, he knew the initials were L and H, which, at least in his mind, stood for either "Loud Hooters" or "Low-Hanging" bosoms. JC's lips swelled outward full and pink when he sighed. He had to talk to her tonight. There was no slipping by and avoiding it. It had to be done. Adjusting the strap of the leather Rockport sports bag on his shoulder, he sauntered over and adjusted his attitude as well. To friendly. "Hi, girl! What's shaking this evening?" Jennifer hadn't seen him approach. No big surprise to JC. She'd been sitting hunched over, reading something, which he glanced down quickly and saw was a good ol' entertaining Star tabloid magazine. Another non-surprise. Dim lights flared in her brown eyes as she flinched at being startled and raised them up to him. Then they disappeared completely into a severe squint as a sunburst of a grin took over her whole face. "JC! How awesome to see you! You're early tonight 'cause, you know, I was watching out for you! How ya doing?" For his own safety, JC refrained from stepping all the way up to the counter, fearing that the energetic enthusiasm that had driven her out of her chair and up on her feet might decide to catapult her over the barrier and right onto him with maximum horsepower. "I'm doing peachy, hon. You?" "Oh, I'm doing excellent as can be! I won tickets on the radio today to the Metallica show next week, and I'm SO excited! They so rock, man! And I'm so crunked!" "Metallica. Cool," JC murmured, stifling his howls of laugher down to a simple pert smile. "I didn't know they were still alive - I mean still playing music." Did she seriously just say "crunked"? The fuck? Jennifer smacked her plump lips with each chomp on her wad of gum. "It's like a farewell tour. Or a reunion thingy deal. I can't ever remember which. But I'm going! Woo hoo!" "Congrats. You have a blast, sugar. Now for tonight, I've got the usual 7:00 guy and then a newbie at eight -" "Hey! You want to, like, go with me, JC? To the concert? How slamming would THAT be? Oh, please say you will! Please! It would be awesome!" she bubbled out profusely with wide, animated eyes, practically jumping up and down on her heels which made her boobs bounce and jiggle. It didn't take a lot for JC to keep his eyes off that sight, off her chest entirely, and level with her face. "I'm sorry, Jennifer. No can do." "Awww! Why not?" "Well, hon, if I'm not here busting my butt in the evening, I'm at one of my other gigs. It's a nonstop rat race, you know. My apologies, but I just can't make it." Her features melted into a sudden, sullen pout. "No fair. You work too much, JC. You gotta, like, have a social life sometimes." JC put on his very best, most convincing sympathetic game face and waved his hand in the air. "I know. It's a crock. But you'll find somebody to go with you, and you'll have a blow-out of a time. 'Kay?" Jennifer blew a tiny pink bubble and smashed it between her wet pink lips while she slowly rolled her eyes. "But nobody's as cool as you are, JC." "Thanks, honey," he said and blushed. "And best of luck to you……….Say, um, about tonight. I booked court five for the first hour, and then I'll move upstairs to 12 for the 8:00 client." "Okay," she mumbled, backing up and glancing down at the computer screen on her desk. "It's all scheduled right here. No prob." "The second guy tonight, he's new. So could you please set him up with a locker like usual and show him where the dressing area is? He might want to shower and change afterwards or something. Oh, and clue him in that I'll be in 12 when he's ready to get started." "Oh! A fresh face? A genuine virgin?" she giggled and winked. Or tried to. "Well, a first-timer for me. I don't know about 'virgin' and all that." JC smiled and glanced away, feeling the unexpected warm flush on his cheeks again a strange tingle in his gut. "If you could just do the usual for him, that would be great." "Of course, JC." Jennifer smiled at him again with the heavy squint. Exuberantly. Excessively. "Got it covered. Anything for you." He smiled back again, cringing only slightly inside. "Thanks a ton, sweetie. I appreciate it. Like always." He turned to leave, but she formed a few more words in her head and managed to get them out of her mouth. "Oh, JC? I almost forgot. Did your friend Kevin track you down last night?" JC stopped short, narrowed his eyes, and looked over his shoulder. "Sorry? Come again?" "Your friend. Kevin. Givens or Gimmons or something like that. He popped in here last night, like, looking for you. You guys didn't hook up?" "Looking for me?" "That's what he said. And he was kind of cute too. Said he was a member, but I swear I never saw him in here before." Silently, JC mulled over the weird, spontaneous info and decided after only six seconds that it could wait 'til later to be dissected and figured out, especially considering the source. He didn't know anybody on the planet named "Kevin," but he had other issues on his mind at the moment, issues more pressing for his time. "Oh, yeah! Kevin! Sure! We connected. Thanks, hon. See ya later." "No prob. I'll just send this guy, let's see, Timber……….Timberlake up to 12 for you." "Thanks again! A ton!" And JC picked up his legs as those unseen forces pushed and tugged him down the corridor once more. Why in the hell did tonight feel so strangely different from all the other routine, uneventful nights at the health center?