"Venice isn't really my 'hood, see. I just work out here a lot 'cause that health club is my favorite. I live in the North Hollywood area," JC was saying across one of those high wooden tables for two near the back bar inside Burkhart's. Justin leaned on the smooth tabletop with his forearms and listened, watching intently, seeing no one else in the semi-crowded bar except JC. He'd known from the previous night that Trinity Fitness did not, in fact, have a communal shower in the locker room, but rather supplied small individual ones for private use. (Damn Lance and his getting a guy's hopes up.) He'd prayed, in spite of that, that JC's personal locker would be close enough to the one Justin had been assigned so that he could at least catch a sweet glimpse of that nice body with a lot less on it than a tight muscle shirt and gym shorts. But, alas, he'd have to settle for the amazing good luck he'd already come by this evening because JC's locker space turned out to be many rows over on the other side of the huge dressing room from his own. And maybe that was best, he'd figured while nervously showering and dressing after the lively match they'd played. Maybe he needed to take the sight of JC's body in varying degrees of unclothedness rather than all at once. To avoid steameduphothothot spontaneous internal combustion of his own body. So when they'd met up again, Justin had been sitting patiently on the narrow bench in front of his locker, all dressed minus his shoes. And he'd wished for a few minutes to simply stop the universe and time and just stare at how lip-smackingly handsome his "instructor" had cleaned up. JC had approached where Justin sat, half-grinning, tucking the tail of his crisp dark-blue button-down shirt into tight black jeans. His dark waves of hair had hung loosely down over the collar, still slightly damp in spots, exactly like Justin's tighter, shorter curls were - as if they'd both been in too much of a hurry to completely finish the task of hair drying. Justin noticed immediately the scant glimpse of sleek chest skin inside JC's half-unbuttoned shirt, how gorgeously the blue shade of the shirt offset JC's twinkling hooded eyes, how the black leather boots elevated his slender frame to precisely Justin's height. How his everyday street clothes somehow gave him more enhanced overall identity, more presence in Justin's life than a mere racquetball opponent. He was more now than a name on a kitschy little business card or a cute guy across the net on a court. He was JC. They had walked the short distance up the beach together to this place, taking the minimally populated sidewalk and chatting comfortably. Justin had openly gawked at the view as JC led the way in front of him into Burkhart's. The easy sway of those hips and that ass with the black Calvin Klein denim hugging them snugly. The soft curls still spilling down over the shirt's collar, begging to be touch, caressed, by Justin's fingertips. Still longing to touch, he looked across the table now and admired the sexy shadowy beard stubble that lined JC's sharply-cut jaw. Low-volume top-100-hits music rumbled and hummed unobtrusively above the conversation buzz in the room. "North Hollywood's nice. I've got some friends who live out there," he offered quietly. "And where do you call home then?" "I've got a little bungalow up in The Hills." Impressed, JC raised his eyebrows. "The Hills you say? Woo hoo! You do pretty damn swell for and ad man, eh?" Justin shrugged and sipped his beer. "It's not much. Quaint little crib. Nothing fancy. I like it." "So you live alone?" Justin smiled at the pointed question. He'd been dying to ask the same thing about JC. "Totally. Me and my two pooches. They're mostly decent roommates." "Aww, man. Really? I love dogs! What breeds have you got?" "They're both Shelties. You know, the ones that look like toy Collies? I have a brother and a sister from the same litter. They're my babies." "Those are so cute! And not too big or too small. Just right." JC shifted in his barstool chair, enthused by the talk of pets, animated by the living light in Justin's eyes. "But it's a bitch to take care of one in an upstairs loft. Especially with my wicked-crazy schedule." "You've got a loft?" JC nodded and reached for another chunk of fried calamari, one of several appetizers they'd ordered between them. "Top-floor unit. Building used to be an old factory warehouse of some sort. It's cool. Well, except for the not-too-damn-dog-friendly issue. That kind of sucks ass." You can come to my house and be friendly to MY dogs anytime you want, Justin thought of blurting out but decided not to scare the crap out the guy with too much too soon. Take it slow and easy, man. There's no fire here, except maybe in your crotch. So just cool it. It's going way too good to screw it up by rushing things. "Warehouse lofts are awesome. My buddy at work, Lance, owned one before he bought a house with his boyfriend Jesse. They have two dogs too, and yeah, the loft didn't fit their lifestyle after a while. The situation had to be relocated. Hence, you know, the house." Justin smiled. JC studied him from across the table for a moment, letting the whole easy vibe roll around them in gentle relaxing swirls. "So are you and your buddy both out at your office?" "Yes. But we're the only two. There's a few other queens still hiding in the ol' closet. Pussies." JC laughed. "You crack me up. You know that?" Justin snickered. "Um, okay. I hope that's a good thing." "Absolutely." JC paused for a moment, squinting slightly. "And, so……….are you, um, hooked up with somebody like your friend is? You know, a boyfriend or whatever?" Justin's mouth twitched with a tickle of a smile as he watched JC. He'd been dying to ask that too. Then he bit his bottom lip to bridle it from a full-blown grin. "No. I'm not. No boyfriend or whatever in my little world……….What about you?" "Nope. None in mine either," JC murmured, as if he'd expected a return volley of the question and was pleased he'd received it. Whew. So now that we've got THAT out of the way………. A tune started playing on the undercurrent sound system in the bar then, a soft and slow one that JC seemed to recognize right away. He lowered his eyes to the table and smiled, strumming the fingertips of his left hand on the shined wood. "Un.Be. LEEvable!" he said in a whispery rasp. "Do you hear that? Can't imagine how they got that one in the musical rotation, man. I haven't heard it in eons. You know it?" Justin listened for a second and then hummed a line or two. "Oh, yeah. I remember it. Few years old, right? Didn't that boy band do it? What's their damn name? Shit. Right on the tip of my tongue." "InTouch? InTact? InClose?" JC's brow wrinkled as he dug through the clutteredness of his memory. "InStinct? InTwine?" "Damn, it had to be one of those. I can't remember right now. They've been, like, In Hiatus for centuries now. But this little number was a big-ass hit for them, if I remember correctly. One of their slow ballads that made it to the top." Justin tilted his head, listening. "What was it called?" "'I Promise You.'" "'THIS I Promise You.'" "Yeah, that's it. Easy-listening and mellow. Laid back. I catch myself tapping the wheel along with it if it comes on the airwaves in the ol' car. Go ahead. Call me a dork." Justin eyed him and laughed. "I wasn't gonna. I do that too sometimes when I'm driving around. Even to the slow ones like this. Call ME a dork and a sap. But I kind of like it." "Yeah. Same here. It's a real relaxer if you're, you know, stressing or tense or whatever." A couple of warm moments drifted by, along with the gentle lyrics and melody, before they spoke again. The food, the music, and the companionship. The simmering swell of it all between them. It was working magically. "Are you into music?" Justin whispered so that only JC could hear the hushed words. JC looked up and nodded. "Sure. It's one of the reasons I moved to LA, since the music scene in this town is so ripe with opportunity and all……….Um, I mean, you know, so much of it out here to choose from. And I like it all. Must have 80 bee-zillion CDs, man. It's crazy. Haha. I dig the club scene too, when I get a chance to hit it up. Music makes the world go 'round, eh? And you? You like music too?" The quick-blooming smile JC offered kept Justin from noticing the near-fumble of some words from his mouth and the swift turn from one direction in the conversation to another. There was just so much else about JC's face for Justin to notice. "I love music, man. I seem to always have some song or another rolling around in my head. And I'm into all kinds too. Like you, I've probably got 95 percent of all CDs ever damn recorded. And we won't even go into how many loaded-up MP3 players I've got laying around. Ah, man." "Yeah?" JC seemed truly interested. And glad the focus was off himself again. "Yeah. I am SO a nut about buying music. Lance is, like, always putting the smack-down on me when I'm going overboard in the record store. Haha. It's insane. And then sometimes we go out after work and crash the karaoke nights at some clubs." JC giggled. "And you hop up on the stage and belt some rhymes out too?" "Well, I've, um, been known to," Justin murmured bashfully, turning his gaze downward. "Occasionally. After the booze kicks in, you know." "Ah, don't be modest. I'll bet you're the star, Justin. The really talented little star that's so good that everybody wants him on their team when it's time for the competitions. You have a good-quality voice. Seriously." Justin blushed, still fidgeting with his napkin. "Thanks. I just play around with it. It's like a fun drinking game for drunk dumbasses." "And do you dance too? Get out there in the clubs and shake it? Hmm? Don't be scurred. It's a natural thing. You can fess up." Justin laughed out loud. "Scurred. You kill me." "No subject-changing here, dude. Dance or no dance?" "I do. Sometimes. I've been caught trying, I guess you could say. And you? You said you dig that scene. Do you ever, say, cut a rug?" JC snickered, enjoying this not-backing-down Q&A session. "What's that you said a minute ago? I've been known to." "Right," Justin nodded. "I've seen you tear up the racquetball court, JC. I'll just bet some big bucks that you can bust some moves on the dance floor, man. YOU don't be modest." He laughed. "Yeah, yeah," JC breached out, smiling, and grabbed for his beer again. "So. Tell me." He glanced up to meet Justin's eyes, which had just glanced up again to meet his. "Do you have a fancy-schmancy automobile to go along with your fancy-schmancy 'bungalow,' Mr. Timberlake?" Justin giggled, lightheaded from the pitchers of Molson Ice they'd already shared. "It's not a fancy-schmancy place. So shut up, damnit, Mr. Chasez. And my ride is just an ordinary ol' BMW M3 convertible. Two years old, for your information. No big thing.……….Now see? What I want is one of those hot little Z4 Roadsters. Now that's a sports car, I'm saying. But I'm waiting for a fat year-end bonus before I lay out the cash for that baby." JC raised his eyebrows again. "I'm impressed. No kidding. That's a nice ride. And here I had you pictured in a Boxster." "A Porsche? Really?" Justin breezed out, creasing his forehead whimsically. "That's what I was guessing. You seem so top-drawer. Like only the best for you." Justin half-smirked. To which JC added quickly, "But you seem really down-to-earth too, man. And hey. The topless M3 suits you much better. More your style." "My style, eh? Okay. So what about you? What do you tool around in while you're tapping the wheel and singing along to silly love songs on the radio, wiseass?" Justin challenged him and laughed softly again, inwardly tingling at the thought that this guy could claim to know his "style" already. And JC was chuckling too. "Man, check this out. What a coincidence. Just so happens that I have a Beamer too. But mine's a wee bit older than two years. It's an '82 635csi. My boy Chris calls it 'vintage.' I say it's just plain ancient." "A 635csi from 1982? Really? That's a fine piece of machinery there, man! A true classic! She'll last forever." "So I've been told. And I'm impressed again. You know your cars." Justin shrugged. "Aww, I just read a shitload of magazines and pick up stuff here and there. Oh, and for the record, I was betting on you having one of those rugged little Jeeps." "Really now? Disappointed?" "Of course not." Justin shook his head before taking a big gulp of his beer. "Totally not disappointed……….More like pleasantly surprised." You know. With the whole hot package. Yes. JC narrowed his eyes and peered across the table at him again. "Okay. I'll take that……….What I still don't get, though……….is why somebody like you is free and dateless on a lovely Friday night in Southern California." Justin glanced up from the crab cakes he was picking at between them and locked into those blue, blue eyes. "Really? Funny. I was over here wondering the same thing about you." "Hmm. I see. Well, the thing is I do have this one major character flaw. I have, like, a lot of jobs. I work all the time. Social life is low priority, usually. And, besides that, I'm, um, kind of, I guess, selective." Justin put on a coy look in the shifting shadows of the table. "Oh. Then should I feel, say, special? Or would that be lucky?" JC smiled in the table's dim lamplight. "Sure. Of course. Special, that is. 'Cause I was assuming I was the lucky bastard here." Justin laughed, bouncy and soft. "In that case, we maybe should do something like this again. So that I can get lucky too next time. If you know what I'm saying." JC sighed out a matching snicker. "Only if you let me pick up the tab on this one." Justin pretended to ponder the predicament. "Can I leave the tip?" "Nope. It's all mine. I was the fucker who showed up late the first time we were supposed to meet." "JC, that's so yesterday." Justin grimaced beautifully. "Stop trying to make up for it. It's, like, way made up for and then some. Okay? And besides, if you hadn't been late, you wouldn't have had a reason to give me another lesson tonight. And then this wouldn't have happened. This, um, 'date.'" "Maybe it would have……….anyway," JC murmured and grinned. "So it's settled then. I'll get this one. You get the tab next time." Justin beamed. "Ah, next time. Sounds good." "Sounds great," JC whispered just before finishing off his mug of beer. "Want another pitcher, or are you ready to shake this dive?" "I'm about ready for a dose of fresh air myself," Justin answered, holding back the confession that his head was slowly spinning, and not from the alcohol either.