At exactly 10:00 that Thursday night, not long after JC arrived home from Trinity Fitness, Chris knocked sharply on his loft door. When JC peaked through the peephole and decided, with a tired sigh, to open the door, he found his friend and neighbor standing there with a slippery smile and holding a thin but wide square box. "Hey, man. You're still up?" "It would appear that way. But I didn't order a pizza." "Correct. I did. It's time for the 'Queer As Folk' episode I missed Sunday night." JC flashed a quick roll of his eyes. "Oh. And your cable is still on the blink. So this is a grub bribe. I get it now." Chris pretended to look hurt. "Aww, no! Not a bribe, C. Give me a little more credit than that. And relax. I wanted to find out about the studly new racquetball student too." "And how do you know he's not in here with me right now, Kirkpatrick?" "Because, dude. You wouldn't be standing here answering the door if he was. Hello? You'd be busy getting busy. Now move aside and let me in your secret lair. Okay?" "You're nosy, man. All up in my business and stuff." "True dat. Busted." JC sighed again. "What kind of pizza is it?" Chris smiled wryly and raised one eyebrow. "How glad am I that you asked. Italian sausage, heavy on the sauce, and extra cheese." JC stepped back then and swung the door open wide enough to allow entry. "Dude. You know exactly how I like it." "Yes, Chasez. Of course, I do. I'm your fwen. Now where's the remote? Flip that flat-screen baby over to Showtime, my man. I'm jonesing for my Q-A-F buds." JC bolted the heavy steel door shut once more and turned to follow Chris to the open-air living area where the television waited. "CK, why in the hell do you like that damn show so much anyway? It's about homos." Chris glanced over his shoulder and frowned as he sashayed theatrically toward the nearest leather armchair. "Duh, C. Hence the title. But, see, the thing is that some of those homos are fucking-sexy lesbos. And them getting it on with each other gets my blood to sizzling. Let me tell ya, bro." JC took a quick detour to the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge, rolling his eyes more dramatically this time. "You are one disturbed, twisted dude, CK." "No, man. I'm just a straight boy. Two chicks getting freaky together is a world-class turn-on. Wait. Forget it. You wouldn't understand." "Oh fucking brother. Whatever. Just pass me a slice and watch your show, man." ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ "So the new talent tonight wasn't so hot after all?" Chris asked some time later, tossing a gnawed "pizza bone" crust back into the box on the coffee table and chugging his beer. "See? That was the problem, man. He was hot. Very hot." "And gay too?" "Absolutely. No problem there." "Okay," Chris said, squinting as if he was very confused. "And that's a problem, um, how? Back up, dude, 'cause I missed something here." Stretched out comfortably on the couch in his gray sweatpants and worn T-shirt, his legs in front of him and crossed at the ankles, JC shrugged. "A problem because I acted a damn fool and didn't do anything about it. I sort of clammed up, man. Like an idiot." Chris sat back into the cushiness of his chair and propped his feet up on the stool near him. "Aww, C. Was he seriously all that? To make you go shy and speechless on him?" "I wasn't shy, CK. I talked to him plenty. We had great interaction, as a matter of fact. I just couldn't think of the right clever thing to say to him in the clutch of the moment. I mean fuck. We had an awesome match, and he was cool to be around and all. We hit it off. What can I say? But then when the hour was over, my brain kind of dissolved on me. It was like I'd never fucking asked a guy out before in my life……….I just froze the hell up. Like an ass." Chris slouched and shook his head slowly. "You are dumb." "I know, man. I suck……….But hold up. There was one good thing. I did snag his business card. You know, so I can bill him." "Chasez, you're going to bill this guy for giving you a damn hard-on?" JC frowned and threw a couch pillow across the room at him. "Fuck you, Kirkpatrick." "I'm just saying. This one sounds worth pursuing. Seeings how you're interested enough to at least be yacking to me about him. There's something going on in that whacked brain of yours. Something good, me thinks." JC finished off his second beer and glared at the images on the TV screen with his mind a million miles away from "QaF"'s Babylon and Liberty Avenue. He would never admit it to Chris, how this Justin guy, after only one hour, had already stolen into his psyche and gotten to him, wrapping around and affecting the inner processes of his being. Maybe even more so than he was willing to own up to himself just yet. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see. I mean he was cute. And I'm talking smoking-hot cute." Chris snorted. "Um, JC, 'smoking-hot' is so last decade, man. Like circa 1993 or maybe even '83. Brush up on your compliments before you get with this dude. I'm just saying." "See? One more reason I don't need to be making an ass of myself in front of him again." JC flung his head backward on the couch cushion and closed his eyes. "Fuck. It's useless. I'm useless." Chris watched him and wished he could wave a magic wand and make it all easier for his pal. "It's not useless, C. And you are definitely not useless. If you have his card, give him a buzz. Take your best shot. Like on the court. Same deal. Damn. You only live once. Right? Go balls-out for it." JC sighed aloud. "I'm thinking about it, man. Head removed from ass now, and I'm thinking about it." Chris smiled and belched. "'Scuse me. You're thinking about calling him? Awesome! 'Cause I sure want to see you all hooked up and happy, C. You've been playing solitaire, like, way-ass too long, buddy." "Maybe I have. Yeah. Feels like I have," JC whispered in the shadows of his living room and distractedly clutched another small pillow to his chest. "Hey, man. You never know. The smoking hottie might just ring your bell first……….for another racquetball lesson, I mean. Or even just for a friendly game. Stranger things have happened." Chris chuckled and tossed the pillow that had hit him back over at JC, bouncing it off JC's chin. JC flinched and grinned but didn't open his eyes. "CK, man. You're brilliant. You just gave me the coolest, best idea ever." "Yeah? Does that mean you got something oh-so clever figured out to say to him?" "I'm going to give it my best shot." "Cool-ass awesome, man." "Well, we'll see." ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ "No, Lance! You weren't there! You didn't see! I totally blew it!" Lance crossed one leg over the other and adjusted the crease in his crisply pressed slacks. He had been killing time on the second floor of the agency for a good half hour - mostly spent avoiding a weirdly-grinning Trace and hanging out in the office of that cool art director Pharrell Williams for a casual chat - while he waited for Justin to arrive to work that Friday morning. "J, stop whining about how you blew it, man. From the tale you just told me, you barely got close enough to the guy to even feel it up last night, let alone blow it." "That's really funny, Lance. Crack your lame little jokes at the expense of my great loss. Fine," Justin smirked from the other side of his desk and reached for his full, oversized coffee mug. "Your great loss. Oh, chill out. You big ol' drama queen. It's not the end of the damn world, Justin. You've still got his little networking business card. And now he's got yours too. Right?" "Only because he HAD to ask for it. To get an invoice to me," Justin sulked quietly, unconsciously swelling out his ripe bottom lip. Lance glanced down at his shoes and brushed a fleck of dust off the immaculately polished leather. Then he sighed and pulled a classic snerky, I'm-over-this-shit face. "Justin, listen up. You're so off your game, man. Where's your sense of strategy? Your cunning? Your optimism? Your go-fucking-get-'em attitude? Racquetball dude didn't need your business card for billing purposes. Duh. That was a pawn, man. A cagey little move. Your boy is sly, I'm telling ya. He SO knew exactly what he was doing." "What the hell are you talking about now, Lance?" "Let me spell it out for you, babe, since you're obviously new to this planet. See, you could've settled up whatever you owed him with Fake-Tit Bimbo at the front desk. That's how Jesse does it when he gets a massage at Gold's Gym in West Hollywood. He can leave a tip when he pays and everything. Simple. This guy asked for your card 'cause he WANTED it. Comprende? Not because he HAD to have it. Hello. Wake. Up." Justin looked up, and a little splash of sunshine broke across his face. "Seriously?" "That's the way it looks from here, man. Alls not lost just because you whooped his ass on the court and then retardedly left without making a next date." "I didn't whoop his ass. He's the expert. He beat me easily. But I did better than I should have. JC didn't seem surprised at all when I said something about not wasting more of his time with lessons I clearly don't fucking need." "And maybe you read that wrong too. Maybe he was heartbroken instead 'cause he had figured on seeing you again, and you cut him down just like that." Justin rolled his eyes. "Heartbroken? Hardly. And I didn't cut him down. Or I didn't mean to, damnit." "Was he really better looking up close?" Lance smiled and lifted a lone arched eyebrow. "Totally. At least a 10. Or more." Justin grinned and blushed. "I swear I would have paid just to sit there and watch him move around the court. He's beautiful. And easy-going and fun too." "Told you you'd have a blast," Lance taunted him and laughed, pleased to hear such enthusiastic interest coming so effortlessly from his friend. "And you know you need to give him a ring and book another lesson. Say you changed your mind or whatever. Say anything. It's your profession to bullshit people, right?" "But I wouldn't be bullshitting if I said I wanted to spend more time with him." "Aww. How fucking sweet. I'm loving the mushy-gushy you already, babe. See? There you go. Call him up. You've got something to build on now, dude. Something to work with." "But what if he's not interested in me, Lance?" Lance rolled his eyes. "Puhleaze. Are we back at this same crapola again? Didn't you say you two 'connected' and got along fabulously? You did, Justin. I was sitting here. I heard your ass. Stop with the insecurity. Damn." "Yes. I did say that. But I could've read that wrong too, you know. I got other shit wrong, remember." "I think you got that part right on, man. From the way it sounds. Go with it." "JT? Um, exscews me." Trace the admin stuck his head inside the doorway of Justin's office, headphones dangling around his neck and emitting staticky heavy metal noise. "Bossman, you've got a call holding. Should I, like, put it through, or are you and Lance having an important pow-wow up in here?" "Who is it, Trace?" Justin glanced up and asked, trying to ignore the insane mocking faces Lance, with his back to the door, was making to imitate Trace. "Dunno. Forgot to ask." "Could be him," Lance whispered. "Sure, man. Put it on through. Lance was just leaving. And Trace?" "Yeah, dude?" Justin blinked patiently, avoiding Lance's cartoonish antics going on in front of him. "Next time, you can buzz me from your cubicle and ask me something or let me know of an incoming call, you know." Trace's eyes slowly went from blank to not so dull as the idea registered less foggily in his head. "Oh, yeah. Fuck me a duck. I totally forgot, JT. Sorry." "It's cool. Go ahead with the call." "Fuck me a duck? Whoa. What a scholar you've got there as an assistant, J. Impressive," Lance slapped his thigh and snickered when Trace was gone. "Shut up, Lance, and go to work. If this is you-know-who on the phone, I'll clue you in," Justin said anxiously, standing up behind his desk and fidgeting. Lance stood too and smiled. "You'd fucking better. And, oh yeah. Jesse sends you his love." "Hmm. Didn't you get all of his love last night, man?" "I got me a double shot, if you know what I mean." Lance winked craftily. "TMI, Lance. Way TMI. Now go. I'll call you later." "Call the sexy guy first, if he doesn't call you, J. I want to feel the earth move when you two finally get together." Justin rolled his eyes hurriedly, nervously but blushed at the same time. "Good-bye, Lance. Have a superb day."