Part 19


Sometime on Saturday afternoon, Wade woke up in his dark, musty bedroom in a rotten, foul mood. A more rotten, more foul mood than he was used to. It hadn't set well with him all night that Justin The Asshole had assumed the fucking audacity to just blow off the little Deer Park new account celebration with all of his coworkers the evening before. Hell, he'd already given them the damn cold shoulder this week when the guys had gone out for karaoke, hadn't he? And with what lame excuse? "Other fucking plans"? What the hell? Aww, hell no. Who, really, did that arrogant son of a bitch think he was anyways? The lord and ruler of them all? Was he too fucking good to party with the peons now? Fuck that.

And, on top of all that, Wade hated that smug way Justin had of looking at him sometimes - as if Wade was one big gross urine sample. Yeah, yeah. He just knew that's what Justin was thinking. He also hated the fact that that fine-looking piece of ass Lance Bass wouldn't give up the goods on where His Highness Timberlake had preferred to spend his precious time rather than spending it with the Austin-Adair folks who had slaved their asses off getting him that damn account in the first place.

Lance. Gorgeous little prick. Wade figured that if he had Lance tied down on his bed, naked, spread-eagle, and glowing with sweat, fucking his brains out so hard Lance would scream in desperate whispers, then the Bass booty would be forthcoming with some Timberlake info or else he wouldn't be coming at all.

Yes, yes. The sheets that half-covered Wade's old faded mattress were stained and crusty under him from all the "figuring" he'd done on that little fantasy scenario with Lance last night. His dick was sore too from all the pounding friction from his palm.

After he finally hauled himself up out of bed and stumbled into his messy, cluttered kitchen, where he found a couple of Budweisers in the fridge that were perfect for brunch, he decided that the only thing that would satisfy and maybe salve over this aggressively vile state of mind he'd awakened in and was suffering from might be to do some investigating himself into the personal affairs of one Mr. JT. His own way, damnit. To perhaps ease this maddening curiosity that constantly burned inside. Since Bass and that faggot-ty boyfriend of his were so bitchy and unwilling to help a dude out. And since that retarded bumpkin Ayala rarely could distinguish his dumb ass from a tree stump, especially after - God help us - a few swigs from that bottle of Jack Daniels he was carrying around by the neck last night at that bar.

Eventually, the cheap beer began to clear Wade's head and return a comfortable buzz to his bloodstream. He didn't even mind so much when Britney hung on him, appalled and screeching at him that he would have the "idiotic nerve" to call her and demand that she tell him "shit like that." Hell, all he was asking was if Justin was seeing somebody now. What the fuck was wrong with that?

Bitch. She'd never been worth all the trouble he'd put into her - to try to actually get into her. Haha. Always on the damn rag too. Wade had even lost the urge to fuck her now. All he'd ever really wanted was to be able to say he "had" her, to say he'd taken her from Justin. To hell with her and her stingy coochie. He had other plans, better schemes. He didn't need that silly, uncooperative twat.

After swinging in the drive-through and grabbing a super-sized Double Quarter-Pounder with Cheese Extra Value Meal to nosh on, he stopped and picked up another 12-pack of Budweiser. It would come in handy if his evening in the car turned out to be a lengthy one. And who really gave a damn if the cans got warm anyways? Booze was booze. It still went down and juiced up the ol' brain waves like it was supposed to do, didn't it?

Justin lived on one of those narrow, winding little hillside roads that Wade despised because they were a fuck of a time to steer on if you lived in the valley and didn't come up in these uppity-ass 'hoods very often. But, luckily, the stretch of lane Justin's house was located on was lined with lots of thick trees, and his crib sat quite a ways off the beaten path. Perfect conditions for concealing a 1990 Taurus that might be staked out in the vicinity with the sole purpose of watching the comings and goings past the security gate that blocked the partially hidden Timberlake driveway. Especially after darkness had fallen like a blanket up in these mysterious Hollywood Hills on a prickly-mood Saturday night.

"Yeah, yeah," Wade muttered to himself behind the sticky wheel of his ride, popping the top of one more 16-oz can of beer and slinging a French fry in his mouth. "This deal is gonna be ah-iight, yo."

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

Justin thought he would never get rid of his mother after dinner Saturday evening. It was their weekly get-together-and-get-caught-up meeting - this week's occurring on a Saturday night because it had been postponed from the usual Tuesday evening - and Justin was feeling particularly antsy throughout this one, trying like hell to hide from his mother's powerful intuition radar that he'd finally discovered "a nice young man to be interested in." She would, he knew from past experience, get way too excited for this soveryearly stage in the game and proceed to give him the hopped-up thirty-third degree about "the new fellow," driving him stark-raving mad wanting every tiny detail, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

He didn't want that. Not yet anyway. He didn't need her hounding the crap out of him every single day about how it was going with not being single any longer. Hell, what if things with JC didn't move past a second date? He certainly didn't want or need her nagging him about that possibility either. What he did want (and need) tonight was for dear ol' Mom to pick up on his polite but not so subtle hints that he had plans later to go out clubbing with Lance and some other guys - so that she would not hang around forever after they'd finished eating the barbequed chicken feast she'd kindly cooked and brought over.

He didn't really have any plans. He just told her he did. He understood, sure, that she was concerned for him as his mother and wanted to spend time with him, her only son, and that she loved him like crazy and all that crap, but he was also glad for the unexpected but handy intrusion of a phone call from Lance just as Lynn was swallowing down the last of her fourth after-dinner cocktail.

"Oh, hey there, Lance!" Justin answered, overly cheerful. "No, I didn't forget at all. Spider Club tonight, right? You need me to drop by and give you a ride, dude?"

"J, have you gone and lost what little bitty part of your mind you had left? What the hell are you talking about?" Lance grunted. "Is your moms still there? Is this the sound of you trying to boot the poor woman out on her ass?"

"Absolutely," Justin purred sweetly into the phone while turning to smile even more sweetly at his mother. "I'll tell Mom you and Jesse said hello, sure. And, yeah, I can be there by 10. No prob at all."

Lance chuckled. "You bullshitter, Justin. I swear you should do this professionally."

"I do, Lance. Remember? Duh."

"Don't 'duh' me, Timberlake. And I didn't realize I was walking into the incredible disappearing act at the circus, man. Is Lynnster poofing into thin air yet?"

Winking at his mother, Justin laughed softly and breathily. Convincingly. "Um, no. Don't I wish? And yeah, she's doing great, man. I'll tell her you guys asked. 'Kay? And what time is it anyway?"

"Oh, you are one smooth-talking operator, J."

"Wow! Is it getting that late? Okay. I hear ya. Is there anything else then, Lance?"

Lance snorted. "Well, just the part about the REAL damn reason I called."

"Oh, yeah. I'm listening. Shoot."

"Details later 'cause I know you're in a rush right now, but you will seriously not believe what happened in fucking Santa Monica this afternoon, J. No joking. I'm still not believing it myself."

Justin flashed a pair of raised eyebrows over to his mom. "Oh, that's right. You guys checked out that arts festival thing out there today, didn't you? Find any gems worth snatching up? Anything hot?"

Lance chuckled into the phone, gravelly and mischievously. "Ah, well, you might say that. We ran up on something hot all right. Something you're definitely going to want to hear about, man. Trust me."

Justin sighed, clueless as to what Lance was getting at, but, knowing Lance, figuring something major was up. "So why all the mystery? Want to give me a hint or what, buddy?"

"Nope. No hints. I gotta see your cute little Timberlake face when I spill the low-down on this fucker, J. You really want to go out later?"

Justin groaned. "I am dying to. Yessss."

"Cool. So here's the deal. Jess is in a mood over here, maybe coming down with a cold or something. I dunno. Anyway, he needs some quiet time, and I need a drink."

"Well, hey. There's something unusual for you, buddy. Can't remember when I've heard you say THAT." Justin giggled, pacing around his living room.

"Shut up, J. I see what your problem is, dude. You get yourself a little pseudo boy-on-boy action, and it makes you go all giddy and wiseass. So see? I was thinking of busting out of here for a cocktail or two somewhere. Just to unwind? You interested? You sure as hell sound like you could use some unwinding."

"Sounds perfect. I can always count on you, Lance. I'll buzz you from the car when I'm on my way over to your place. 'Kay?"

"Okay, man. You deceptive little devil. If yo mama only knew the half of it."

"Oh, Lance?"

"What now, J?"

"Mom sends her love. She says to come around for some down-home cooking anytime you're free."

"Give here a hug and kiss for me, man. Before you shove her out the damn door. I swear. Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Justin stifled another giggle and swung around to give his mother a second wink and a bright grin. "See ya soon, Lance. And thanks, pal. I owe you again."

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

Wade had met Lynn only once, when she'd visited her son at the advertising agency one day months ago. But, even in a slight Budweiser buzz, he recognized her as her Ford Explorer exited through the security gate at Justin's house and she cruised slowly past his parked car without even glancing at him. And he couldn't decide if he was elated or disappointed that it wasn't some hot young stud leaving Justin rather than his mom. By the time he'd finished off another one of the lukewarm beers and tossed the crunched can over his shoulder to the backseat, his small reserve of stakeout patience was rewarded with the sight of Justin himself easing through the gate in his cherry-red sports car and pulling out onto the dark road.

Wade ducked behind his steering wheel clumsily, but it wasn't a necessary move. Seemingly preoccupied and staring straight ahead, Justin drove on downhill, away from Wade's camped-out position.

Wade cranked up the Taurus and began following slowly, keeping what he figured was a safe distance behind Justin's BMW M3 convertible and grumbling to himself all the while about, "that fucker thinks he's such a sexy player in that pretentious fucking jacked-up ride. Prob'bly gotten blown in the front seat more times 'n he can remember. Shithead."

Wade wasn't surprised that Justin's route took him directly to Lance's house. And he waited across the residential street behind another parked car, assuming he was being inconspicuous and secretive, staring and licking his lips several times as Lance strolled out through a glossy flute of light from his front porch to hop in the car.

"Fuck. The things I could do to that cocksucker……….and he'd fucking love every one of them," he muttered/slurred, like a growl in his throat. Then he shivered as he reached down to rub his crotch with the heel of his palm, never taking his eyes off the sight of Lance-in-motion.

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

"Now refreshen me here, J, for just a sec. WHY exactly are we at THIS place again when I THOUGHT we were going for a double cocktail somewhere else?" Lance huffed and squinted in the bright lights of Trinity Fitness's lobby.

Justin grabbed his forearm to pull him along more briskly and whispered. "I want to get my good running shoes out of my locker. I didn't mean to leave 'em in there last night. Guess I wasn't thinking too straight then, if you know what I mean. Now move your slow ass unless you want your little balloon-bosomed girlfriend to spot you from that reception desk and flag you down so she can interrogate you some more on your best bud JC! Now that you're so down and tight with him and all! C'mon, man!"

"The floppy-hooters chick? Miss Scary Bodacious Tah-tahs?" Lance made a disgusted scrunched face. "And 'straight' is the LAST thing you were thinking last night, J. More like how much you wanted to bone your hot, sexy date out in the parking lot. Haha."

"Shhh! Keep your voice down, man! It's deep, and it carries like crazy!"

Lance rolled his eyes, laughed, and let Justin drag him down the wide corridor toward the locker room. "Now wait. Hold on. Did you just say 'YOUR' locker, Justin? As in you actually RENTED one on a permanent basis?"

Suddenly alarmed and paranoid again, as if he'd missed a huge flashing billboard with crucial info he should have read, Justin stopped and turned to him, staring, eyes round and brilliant. "Well. Yes. Does that make me look way desperate or too attached already or something like that? Damnit, Lance! Does it? After just two lessons? Am I assuming too much, expecting too much, or overdoing it too soon by getting my own locker?"

Lance shook his head and smiled, coyly. "No. You're still cool. It's just a locker, and you need a place to stash your stuff, right? Jesus Christ. I'm playing with you. Turn down the damn freak-out volume, why don'tcha?"

Justin frowned. "Sometimes, man, you're such an ass. Like ALL the time."

Lance snerked and pushed at Justin's shoulder, a low laugh escaping him. "What I'm waiting for is the day you two lovey-dovey birds get side-by-side lockers or maybe double-wide adjoining ones, with those plushy matching J&J monogrammed towels and all that good shit. That'll be as sweet as cotton candy, I'm talking. And that's when I'll have me a field day with your ass, J. Bet on it."

"That's more than enough from you, Lance."

"Never say never, man."

Justin rolled his eyes and huffed. "You're just all cocky and start with your misbehaving tonight 'cause you and your boyfriend played Spy Kids 2 on JC in the park today. And thanks a bunch for that too, by the way. Did I say how much I appreciate all the special little things you do for me?"

"Oh, don't be so damn intense, Justin. It was no big deal."

"No big deal? Shit, Lance!"

"Shit what?"

Again, Justin huffed. "I can't wait 'til he rings me up and says, 'Dude, how 'bout you call off your friends, The Hardy Boys. And grow up too. 'Cause you and I are NEVER going out again.'"

Lance couldn't hold back a snicker. "Calm down, Queen o' Drama. We didn't spy on or stalk your boy. Jess wanted to, but I totally refused. For your sake, J. We even tried to avoid his ass instead. I told you that. It just worked out like it did, man. Purely accidental bumping into him and his bud. We honestly didn't know his hot self was in our direct line of fire. It just happened out of nowhere. I swear. Like fate or luck or a fluke or whatever."

Justin shivered with those queasy rumblings in his intestines again, the same ones he'd felt when he'd first found JC's business card on that restaurant wall. The Kismet Jitters. They were following still, finding him and messing with his head. He knew Lance was telling the truth. He bit at the inside of jaw and sighed.

"So you were that close and you really got a good vibe off him?"

Lance nodded. "Absolutely. He's a cool guy. Everything you said he was. And fiiiiiine-looking too in person."

"Yeah, you said that. About 97 times."

"Seriously, if I wasn't married, man. I'd go for me some of that -"

"But you ARE married," Justin snapped and wrinkled his nose at Lance. "So shut up and keep your lusting eyes to yourself. You were probably all up in his face flirting with him and shit. Ho."

"I was not. But now if I'd been alone and run into something like him……."

Justin scowled. "And fuck off, Lance. Could you and my mom stress me out a little MORE tonight? Thanks so fucking much."

Lance laughed. "There you go. Messing with you again. I'd never hit on your stuff. You're such a girl, J."

"What if he remembers you, Lance? Jesus! I told him about you and Jesse AND your two dogs. He's not a fool. What if he fucking puts it together, man?"

Lance rolled his greengreen eyes. "Okay, one more time. Slower and with easier words for you. Hopefully, you'll get it this time. There's nothing to put together besides a coincidental meeting at an outdoor public event. That's all it was, J."

Justin thought about things for a moment. "And his friend Chris? He was okay too? JC mentioned him to me last night. They, like, live in the same building. I can't believe your ass got to meet him before I did. Asshole."

"Hey. Can't help it. That's the way the ball bounces." Lance shrugged. "And the Chris guy was crazy! All over the place! I liked him a lot. And he and your boy seemed close too. Like they're pretty tight pals. Jesse swears the dude was pinging, but I think he's just got a wild streak to his straight personality. Man, I'd like to get drunk with him sometime and pick his brain. He seemed like tons of fun."

Justin smiled and shifted his feet. "Okay. Well, no harm done, I guess."

"Will you just fucking relax then?"

"I'm fucking relaxed."

"So besides being hot as hell, your new squeeze likes dogs too. He's a-okay by me, J. Completely." Lance winked and snickered.

Justin smirked and started down the hallway again. "Great. Your oh-so-important seal of approval. That's exactly what I was waiting for, Lance. I should have left you in the damn car."

"Don't pretend. You love me."

"C'mon and shut up. I'm itching for a martini now too."

"Hmm. I'll drink to that."

"Surprise, surprise."



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