It’s another two hours before JC can smile big enough, shake enough influential hands, give enough stilted hugs, peruse enough take-home novelties, pose for enough asinine photo ops, and just generally jump through enough annoying, pompous hoops to finally get the hell out of the gala AIDS Benefit event. There are a few more suitably strong cocktails along the way as well, though, so he’s relaxed and reclined in Lonnie’s leather-appointed, tinted-window SUV and on his way back up into the safety of the Hills now when he sighs with relief and loosens the fucker of a tie from around his neck. “Dude. That was a blast……….Not.” “You survived, C. Got yourself seen and photographed out and about. Looking all fancy in the process too. Juss sit back now, let go, and chill,” Lonnie mutters, tiny muted lights on the digital dashboard shimmering in the dark. “I’ll get you home, man.” “I need to make a call,” JC remembers and whispers, mostly to himself. “What the fuck time is it?” “Close to the witchin’ hour, bro.” *Hell. How’d it get to be THAT damn late? Well, she said to call “anytime,” didn’t she? And midnight’s not REALLY so late, is it?* JC reaches for the small black Prada handbag he’d brought along with him and left on the SUV’s floor during the party. “Man purse” slithers through his head like a silky, mocking siren, and he smirks. *Jesus. Sometimes, you need something stylish but casual to carry your shit around in. Okay? Get over it. Have some class. Fuck.* He flips on the personal overhead light above him to find Dr. North’s business card inside his wallet. Inside the cute little shoulder-strap bag. She doesn’t *sound* half-asleep when she answers the cell number after four rings. No, not even the least bit groggy. And when she’s told who is calling, she perks up to the friendly, willing-to-assist disposition JC had remembered from the day before. He smiles when he hears in his mind again a repeat of Justin’s smartass “bum” comment from that afternoon. “Sure, you’re fine, JC. And no, it’s not too ‘ass-o’clock late.’ What can I help you with this evening, hon?” she asks, clearly a little out of breath. That part, the winded-sounding soft voice, doesn’t register with JC until he thinks — No, man. He’s absofuckinglutely *sure* — he picks up on a faint background noise that slips through the good doctor’s phone. A muffled masculine voice. *Well, now! Getting some pipe laid over there, Doc Marie? Did this call “come” at a bad time, babe?* “Um, did I disturb you, Doc? I can call tomorrow if you’re, you know, busy.” *Or getting busy.* JC covers his phone with long, tapered fingers and snickers quietly. “Oh, no! Now is good! What’s up? Is Baby Shadow wearing you out?” “Well, see, we’re calling her ‘Calli.’ Long story. And she’s doing great. Adjusting perfectly fine,” he beams proudly and turns his head to look at nothing out the window. *Well, almost “perfectly” fine. We’re working on the 100 percent part. I hope.* All right, so, according to the good doctor, “person-food” canned tuna isn’t the most fan-fucking-tastic choice to be feeding a three-month-old kitten. It’s not totally *wrong and horrible*, as she gently explains. It’s just that a young cat needs certain vitamins and nutrition and shit like that for her growing body, and she gets those goodies from the brand of kitty chow he and Justin had chosen for her. Not from Chicken of the fucking Sea. *Duh. I knew that. Just call me “The World’s Hugest ‘Tard.” I just figured kittens like fish. Damn. Sue me.* “It’s not a major faux pas or anything, JC, to give her stuff like that. But maybe just once in a while. Okay? Like a treat.” “And cream is okay instead of milk? Or too damn rich for her?” “Cream is fine. And may I just say that your Calli is an awesomely lucky girl.” JC smiles again in the dark SUV as it rolls smoothly along the freeway. He wonders if she means “lucky that she gets real cream instead of just regular milk” or “lucky that she gets to have your hands all over her and gets to snuggle up next to you.” “Thanks, Marie, for everything……….And so I was also thinking……….I need to swing by and drop off a little something for the clinic. A donation, I think you call it. Is a certified check acceptable? Or I should I just use a credit card.” “Oh, no!” the doctor exclaims in her chipper little voice. “That’s not necessary. Not at all. Don’t worry about a thing.” “What?” JC’s confused. His phone connection is probably fucked, and he must have missed most of what she said, he figures. She’s turning down a monetary gift? The fuck? “Come again?” “It’s all taken care of, JC. You see, Justin made a very kind contribution yesterday when you guys adopted your kitten. He was way past charitable and generous. And we appreciate it more than we can say.” “He did? For real?” JC blurts out. Justin has secretly flabbergasted him once again. Damn him. “Can I ask how much?” “Quite a bit. A sizeable, unselfish amount. Again, we’re very grateful at the shelter. He’s a super-nice guy.” “Hmm,” JC sighs and closes his eyes, settling backward against the seat’s headrest behind him. “He forgot to tell me, I guess. But yeah……….He’s good at giving.” *Always giving me something. Such as, right now, a full-up, gooshy, beating-hard-for-him heart.* “Thanks, Doc.” “No problem at all, JC. Nice to talk to you again. And do feel free to come by or call anytime you’d like or need to,” she says a lot cheerily and a little breathily. And JC is pretty sure he can hear the subtle but hopeful waves of “yespleasedo” in her silky voice. “Everything’s down, bro?” Lonnie asks quietly when JC snaps his phone shut and groans. “Yeah, it’s all cool……….Justin……….That fucker,” JC whispers, with a small hoarse laugh. “He surprises me every damn day, man……….Take me home.” “Aww, you two still on the honeymoon, aren’t ya? That’s so damn sweet.” Lonnie chuckles. The security big man takes a second glance over at his client and friend. When he sees the closed eyes and the ticklish little smile highlighting that face, he knows that everything really *is* “all cool.” And he steers toward the Timberlake/Chasez crib. ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ *……….It’s another two hours or so later when Justin’s reminded that he’s not entirely alone in the house.* He feels her rather than sees Calli approach this time — silently, she pads across the back headrest of the lounge, her sleek fur brushing his nappy hair teasingly, startling him. Before he can sit up and turn to face her, she climbs down from her perch to the cushion beside him, weightlessly and bravely using his shoulder and upper arm for the leverage and stairs she needs. As he’s sitting there simply for her climbing benefit. Then she sits and gazes at him, blinking those surreal eyes, as if to say, “Okay, dude. What’s next this evening?” Not quite as brave, Justin sighs. “Well, if it isn’t the witchy bitty kitty! I’ve been looking all over for your butt. Where’ve you been, girl? Oh, and let’s get one thing straight. No more of that trippy ambush shit like you pulled on me upstairs. You hear me? I’ve got my eye on you, girl. I’ve had my damn share of drama for the day, thank you awfully much. Okay?” he pleads gently. Calli hardly moves at all, only calmly watches for a few seconds. Then she casually and slowly begins cleaning her left front paw with long, sweeping licks of her pink tongue up the slick fur, front, sides, back. When she’s satisfied that it’s spotless and pristine enough, she replaces it on the cushion and looks over and stares at Justin once more, waiting for him to entertain her. And the gaze compels him to do what he does best — entertain. “Okay, princess. What up? Daddy JC will be home later, girl. I swear I didn’t eat him up or anything like you pro’bly think. So just stop giving me that evil look, you dig?” “Meep,” she answers, blinking. She digs. “Cool. Now we got that understood and outta the way……….So what do ya want now?..........Hey, wait. I think I saw a brush over here that Jace bought you. Didn’t I see him using it on you before he left? Lemme get it. Hold up.” Justin swivels around to grab the small cat brush from the end table and then gingerly drags it over the back of her head and down the slope of her compact body. She responds by standing up on all four legs, stepping closer, giving him better access and leaning into the caress for more. “Oh, check you out! You like that? Like to be stroked?” he snickers. “I’ll bet you really love it when Daddy JC strokes you……….I know I sure as fuck love it when he strokes me. Haha.” She arches upward against the movement of the gentle bristles along her spine, behind her ears, and spins around in slow, writhing circles at his easy, natural touch. She’s crazy about the brushing contact. “Yeah……….There ya go, girl……….You’re a pretty baby, aren’t ya……….So silky and smooth.” “Meep,” she replies softly again. “Yo, does Calli wanna play?” Justin murmurs to her as he rubs her with the brush, and he smiles when he hears her quiet purring sound. Audible approval. “Got your little engine going now, don’t ya, baby? You wanna play some and burn off some of that kitty energy?..........Let’s see what this fool thing does.” He turns again and drops the brush as he bends forward to reach the fishing pole contraption that leans against the end table there. Calli waits patiently for his undivided attentions to return and then goes wild for the bright multicolored feathers as he taunts her with them, floating them just above her grasp, exactly like he’d seen JC do that evening with the pink ribbon. He laughs as she stands on her hind legs and claws at them enthusiastically — fiercely — catching one occasionally and bringing it to her mouth and biting at it. *Shee-it. I can do this. It ain’t no big thang. See?* After a few more minutes of “fishing,” Justin tires of it before the kitten does and puts the toy away. But she’s still hyper and ready for action, gazing at him, begging for more. “Dawg, girl. You’ve got more go-go juice than your other daddy when he’s on stage, and that’s saying something. You know what I mean? You’re working my skinny ass off, babe. You know that?” “Meep, meep.” He giggles again. “Damn, that is a weak-ass little meow there, Cal. You’re gonna have to work on that, girl. Why are you so vocal tonight anyway? Yapping up a storm. You know you’re living with two lead singers now, and you just wanna be heard too? Is that the deal?” “Meow……….Meow.” Justin throws his head back and howls a feathery laugh. “That’s what I’m talking about. You go, girl. Let it rip to the sky.” The kitten inches across the cushion two steps nearer to him on her short, black legs, hesitant still despite all of their playtime. He decides to press his luck and pick her up, to be closer and friendlier. So he slips his hand under her belly as he’s seen JC do and lifts her, bringing her toward him gently. Calli puts up no resistance and stays calm and okay with being in his palm, then against his chest. Her small paws begin to knead those tiny claws rhythmically back and forth into his T-shirt, and he can barely feel them penetrate the cotton and prick at his skin. He grazes long strokes of his fingers over her body soothingly and looks down at her looking up at him. “So you’re fine with me after all, huh, princess? I’m not the weird-as-fuck you thought I was, am I? She doesn’t respond verbally this time, only purrs gently. And Justin takes that as positive and smiles. Continuing to pet her tenderly, he eases her down on her back into the inside bend of his elbow and strums her stomach easily with his fingertips. She mewls softly and writhes against him, loving every second of his delicate touch that matches his voice. “Aww, Cal, baby. Look at you. You’re a little ho for this belly-rubbing, ain’t ya, girl? C’mon. Fess up. You dig it.” She’s enjoying it so much, her hind paws kick reflexively at his hand and wrist as he plays her, and he notices for the first time how pink and clean the little pads on the underside of all of her feet are. He massages her warm stomach with his palm and then holds a fragile front paw still to feel its soft, pale bottom. “Meep,” she says and wriggles gently in his hold. “Okay, okay,” he laughs a whisper and eyes her, caressing under her baby chin as she leans her head backward for him to do just that. “Spoiled little angel-bitch already……….Can’t blame Jace, though……….You’re kind of intoxicating……….and goddamn if you’re not the spitting image of a feline version of *him*……….Check you out, girl……….Beautiful dark, dark hair that begs to be touched, like his……….deep-set sultry blue eyes that see in to your very soul, like his do……….gentle and frisky and sweet, like he is…………Love it when I touch you, the way he does……….You’re gorgeous, babe……….just like him……….I think you and I just might have us a fine future together, Miss Cal……….What do ya say to that?” “Meep.” Justin chuckles, feeling his blues defeated and drained right out of him to nothingness. “C’mon, bitty kitty. It’s time for your treat, and I need another Molson. Let’s take a hike, girl.” ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ JC listens carefully when the back door closes behind him, listens to the house, listens for it to give him clues about its current status quo. And he hears nothing but the faint drone of the television from the den. That tells him that Justin has certainly fallen asleep in front of it again, slouched comfortably in either the sofa or his throne, the leather recliner. Not surprising at all, considering that’s where Justin almost always falls asleep when JC isn’t home to steer him to the bed proper. So, as he pulls off the Valentino suit jacket, JC takes a quick survey around the quiet kitchen and spots Calli’s close-to-full bowls where they should be. Justin has fed her. There’s even a saucer of soft, wet kitten food from a can that she’s been nibbling at too. JC smiles. This is a good sign. He’s already loosened his tie during Lonnie’s escort home, and now he drags the noose of it over his head and drapes it on the back of the chair with his jacket. As he yanks the tails of his shirt from inside his slacks and unbuttons it half-way down his chest, he saunters from room to room until he comes to his destination: the den. What he finds in there, with the low-volume TV playing *The Breakfast Club*, cranks his suave smile up to a full-featured grin. He’s fully expecting to see Justin snoozing peacefully and snoring gently in the same worn T-shirt and holey Levi’s he’d had on when JC had kissed him good-bye and left earlier. What he’s no-fucking-way expecting to see is the furry black ball of kitten asleep as well herself, comfortably resting on Justin’s warm abdomen, his arm under her, holding the curve of her against him protectively. If JC had known how to squee, he might have just fucking squeed his ass off at this sight. If he had ovaries, they’d more than likely be acting a fool and threatening to implode right now. “Goddamn, that’s cute,” he whispers and kicks off his $400 dress shoes. Justin’s long body is laid out over the length of the sofa, and JC tip-toes over quietly and sits down, crossing his legs Indian-style, on the floor beside the sleeping duo. He laughs, very feathery, watching them. Loving them. First, he skims the circle of Calli’s little body, barely touching her soft fur with the pads of his fingers. Then, he slides those same fingertips over Justin’s stubbly cheek and his full, scarlet lips. As if petting them both. “So. This is what perfect looks like,” he murmurs absently again and smiles, warmth unrelated to the alcohol he’d consumed spreading through him like warm syrup. This is what feeling like you’re home again looks like. When he reaches for the remote half-shoved up under Justin’s dead-weight thigh and clicks the TV off, both snoozing forms slowly stir — Calli waking and yawning and unfolding and stretching paws in the air lazily in Justin’s restraining arm, and Justin blinking open and squinting those ice-blue eyes, gradually focusing them on JC and smiling. “Hey, sexy.” “Hey, yourself, baby. How long you been home?” “Long enough to watch you and the princess here all sweet and cuddly together on the couch. Purty, purty little picture, I tell ya.” Justin laughs a satiny rasp and glances down at the bundle safe and relaxed in the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, we’re tight now, me and her. I kept her entertained while you were out schmoozing A-list-style.” “Any troubles?” “Nah. Except for her psycho-kitty flying-squirrel act that gave me a fucking heart attack,” Justin giggles. “What?” “Never mind, baby. I’ll fill you in later……….Oh, and I accidentally shut the laundry room door, and Miss Priss couldn’t get to her damn litter box……….She let me know she wasn’t too fucking thrilled about my asshole-ish negligence……….left me some bitty kitty turds on the kitchen floor.” JC snickers. “Did you clean it up?” “Of course, Jace.” Justin rolls his eyes. “Dumbass.” “So she’s got you trained too, eh?” JC winks. “Way to go, Calli. He’s a big ol’ baby at heart, isn’t he, girl? Fuck yeah. What’s that he said?..........’Wrapped around her little kitty finger, Jace. Already. I’m just saying’” he mocks Justin’s soft voice impeccably. Justin grunts and then smiles again. “So how was the gay par-tay, babe? We missed you.” JC shrugs and picks Calli up, perching her on his shoulder as usual and petting her gently. “Gay. And dull as lukewarm shit. I wished I was home. With you two……….Oh, I ran into Lance. He said the ScottieDemon is being, well, the ScottieDemon, but he loves the little guy to death. He and Jesse think you’re just a fucking saint, J, for passing the pup on to them.” “Groovy. Bass has the patience to handle him.” “Oh. And I don’t?” JC lifts his eyebrows. “I’m just saying. I’m glad it’s working out over there. Stop trying to pick a damn fight with me,” Justin laughs. “I’m, like, tired as crap.” “And you *should* be.” JC’s smile takes sly turn. “I called Doc North too.” “Ya did?” Justin’s unconcerned. He glances at Calli and reaches over to smooth her head with his palm. “Yep.” “And how *was* your sweetie tonight?” “Justin, quit. And get this. I heard some dude there with her. She was getting herself some, man.” Justin snorts at him. “News flash, Jace. Other people in the world have sex besides us.” JC ignores the deadpan sarcasm. “The point is, dork, apparently, she’s not all about ME, like you think she is. So get over it. Okay? AND another thing you might find equally fucking interesting……….She laid it on me how kind and giving you were to the pet shelter, told me all about your enormous donation, you sneaky little ass……….They’re granting you saint status too, sweets.” Justin rubs his red-tinged weary eyes and blushes as he snickers again. “Aww, man. Fuck all that. I just did what I thought was right. Princess Calliope’s worth every cent.” “Ah, you say that now, babe. But you weren’t sure of it when you dished out gobs of dinero, Justin.” Justin’s turn to shrug. “Yeah, I was. I’d already seen the way she looked at you and the way you smiled at her. Remember? That was worth it all.” “You’ve got a very big, very good heart, Justin Timberlake,” JC whispers, scooting closer to where Justin lies on the sofa and stroking the short length of the kitty body pressed to his upper chest. She’s just started her kneading action again, front paws digging softly into the silk shirt and his skin beneath. “Well, then you’d better take good damn care of it, baby. It’s all yours, ya know,” Justin whispers back and reaches up to brush Calli too, intentionally smoothing his fingers over JC’s hand in the process. “Hmm. I think I can handle that.” Justin raises his head up off the cushion enough to give his partner a once-over with his slanted eyes. And then raises one eyebrow. “Um, you and your hot date been getting it on in the backseat, Jace? You’re kind of disheveled and half-assed dressed there, babes. Some fucker been ravaging you? I’ll break ‘im in half.” JC giggles at the soft threat that he guesses isn’t entirely joking on Justin’s part. “Nah, man. I did it all myself. Don’t worry your pretty head.” “Oh, yeah.” Justin relaxes backward again and grins. “Did it all yourself, huh?……….Okay, I forgot. My boyfriend is the man who writes songs about beating his meat. Auto-fulfillment, right? I gotcha, Jace.” JC lays his head down, his cheek against Calli’s head, and lowers his eyelids down to simmering for Justin. “But, see, at the end of the day, I’d rather *you* beat it. My meat.” “Hmm. Well. Is that an invitation?” “Could be. Since my sexual preference is, um, you.” “You busy right now? ‘Cause I could, you know, help you out with that. I’m free,” Justin says, low and breathy. “Ah, well, that’s the thing……….See? You being all charitable and generous with the clinic and then getting tight with bitty kitty so sweet and fucking lovely tonight……….You’re making me hot as hell. If I stood up right now, you’d damn sure see how much.” Justin opens his eyes a little brighter. Slyly. “Oh. So you wanna skip on upstairs with me then? Like now?” “And make love. Yesssss. Now.” “‘Kay. I can get with that.”