I took
a walk around the world
To ease
my troubled mind
I left
my body laying somewhere
In the
sands of time
I
watched the world float to
The
dark side of the moon
After
all, I knew it had to be
Something
to do with you
I
really don’t mind what happens now and then
As long
as you’ll be my friend at the end
If I go
crazy, then will you still
Call me
Superman
If
I’m alive and well, will you
Be
there holding my hand
I’ll
keep you by my side with
My
superhuman might
— 3 Doors Down
“So you wanna hit a club later on? Have some drinks,
maybe do a little dancing?”
Justin asked his short series of questions softly,
almost hesitantly, and watched the person sitting across from him. The one he
preferred to call his “partner” or maybe “significant other” or even
“better half” rather than “boyfriend” — because, well, he was
certainly no longer a boy, this one, and he was definitely far more to Justin
now than a mere friend.
Ah, and then there it was. The slight shift of the
angular shoulders, barely noticeable, but Justin caught it. He’d been waiting
for it, expecting it. As usual. Same with the quick little twitch of the
dark-pink bottom lip that came next, which Justin could have easily predicted.
His “companion” used all of the beautiful parts of
his body to communicate, not just his voice. On stage in front of thousands, as
well as in Justin’s private audience of one. And Justin figured he was more
familiar with that lovely language than anyone on the planet. Hell, he’d damn
well *better* be.
“Um, I don’t know. Aren’t you sorta beat? After
all that hard work on the shoot and then the long plane ride?” The silk-like
voice drifted out into the air as the up-tilting of the dark head gave Justin
access to eyes the color of a clear sky on a late afternoon in mid-August.
He basked in the intense, focused glow and shrugged.
“Eh, I’m tired. Dawg-ass tired. But this crazy, raw adrenaline’s cranking
me up, man. Feel like I gotta do *something*. Know what I mean?”
“Well, there are other ways to burn off excess energy,
babe.”
The quiet, affectionate name and the sly, one-sided
smile created a tiny fluttering in Justin’s aorta. And a warm surge in his
cock. He grinned in return.
“I figured I’d worn your fine ass out already.
After that fuck-n-suck marathon this afternoon.”
The shiny, coffee-brown curls re-arranged themselves in
the mop as the head shook slowly. “Jesus, Ju. And you kiss me with that mouth?”
“You know it.” Justin laughed as his right leg
bounced giddily. “All the hell over that sexy body. And you know you get off
on it, C. Don’t play all innocent.”
After Justin had completed his practically-nonstop
two-day shoot for “Like I Love You” in Hollywood the day before, the two of
them had hired their usual private jet to go from one coast to another. They now
sat facing each other out on the enclosed, mostly-secluded balcony of the
apartment they sublet from Eytan when in Manhattan. A light rain fell between
the buildings around them and danced off everything with a steady rhythm, and
random flashes of far-away lightning occasionally revealed heavy, slow-moving
clouds in the distance.
JC rolled his eyes at Justin’s last comment and then
cast them back downward to the large white drawing pad in his lap, the smile
still playing around his mouth. “A real charmer, you are. You know that? Even
in your little MTV Diary show. Your chance to be your own man, and there you go
leaking in the cuss words like you done sneaked away from Mama Lynn and Daddy
Wright and can be a bad-ass boy now……….Trash-talking brat in the hood.
Lord, help us all.”
Justin snickered again, at the faux scolding tone and
the small pink tip of JC’s tongue as it quickly peaked out to dab at the full
top lip. “Hey, that IS, like a cable channel, man.”
“Okay. Whatever. My boy’s all grown up now. And too
damn cute too.” JC chuckled and concentrated on his project at hand, the
sketching.
Justin huffed, faking frustration. “Look now. Stop
busting my balls, sweetness. You ‘sposed to be helping me through this brand
new flying-solo gig. Not dawging me out.”
“You know I’m here for you, Ju. I’m not going
anywhere, babe.”
“You’d better NOT is all I gotta say,” Justin
told him and stretched out his long leg to nudge JC’s bare foot. “I’ll
hunt you down, man, because……….”
JC’s hand, holding a fire-orange pencil, swept across
the page in front of him with colorful flair. Listening, yes. Glancing up, no.
“Because?”
“Because, well, you’re my good luck charm,” had
come tumbling out of Justin’s mouth hastily.
But what had been resounding in his head captured the
real, on-the-spot truth far more precisely: *Because it’s your warmth I want
to feel next to me every night and your serenity that makes me sane in the chaos
around us all the time……….Because I need you……….so much*
And, as if he’d willed them to, the smoky-blue eyes
rose up to meet him again. One thick ebony wave of hair fell from its messy tuck
behind the ear.
“Okay. Cool. I’ll stay.” JC winked at him with
that faint smile still intact and then went back to his artistic meanderings in
his lap.
Justin watched him silently for a few moments,
absorbing as much as he could of the strong, unpretentious peacefulness his
lover gave off. To maybe slow down the spiraling stray thoughts in his mind, the
beginnings of anxiety that would soon creep in with the surrounding mega-hype
over the new CD — or, as referred to in some circles, the new “joint”.
“Hey. Whatcha drawing?”
“A sunset.”
“A sunset? Are you fucking kidding me? Dude, only you
would envision a sunset in the damn driving rain.” Justin giggled and nudged
the foot again.
JC sighed patiently, undaunted. “Not a sunset *here*,
dumbass. Use that over-active imagination of yours, love.”
“‘Kay. Hit me with some clues.”
“Go back a coupla months……….Remember that
weekend in Key West? Just you and me? Dark shades and stupid hats? Quiet and
privacy?”
“Aw, yeah.” Justin slumped backward, letting his
head rest on the chair and recalling. “That was like Paradise. Craploads of
dark rum and lotsa kick-ass sex in the bungalow after hours on the beach……….Damn……….I
know for sure which one was hotter……….You beat the damn sun hands-down,
sweetness.”
“How ‘bout the sunsets? Remember how slow and
vibrant? Glowing and beautiful? Shades of the horizon changing every few seconds
as we watched time move in techni-color? How it was enough to get us high, just
sitting there and looking at such a naturally gorgeous phenomenon and feel so
together?”
Justin closed his eyes for a heartbeat and let out a
loud, deep breath. For a second, he’d gone back there, to those sweet days
they’d shared at that locale.
“It was awesome, Jace. The whole weekend. Just us.
Like we’d found a little love nest or something we could hide out in.”
“Yeah, exactly. So romantic,” JC whispered, almost
as if to himself alone. His hand brushed over the paper as he saw the scene in
his mind all over again. “And sometimes I go back to that weekend when the
madness rushes right up in our faces.”
Justin rolled his head around on the cushion to see him
better. “And you recreate our sunsets?”
“Yes. I try to.”
“Can I see?”
“Of course. When I’m done.”
“I love you, JC. Ya know?”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I feel like doing this. A
domino effect, ya know.”
Justin pondered that last comment as he hopped up on
his feet and leaned in to attach his lips to the side of JC’s neck for a
sloppy-wet taste of the salty skin. On his way to the kitchen to fetch them
another beer, he determined that the “domino effect” — at least in this
case — was a good thing. One positive something triggering another.
*I love JC, and so JC creates. He feels loved. He feels
inspired. And that makes me love him more……….Circular domino effect. Cool*
And what could be wrong with that simple process? What?
What?
“My turn,” JC said as he grabbed Justin’s arm on
his return and pulled him down to plant a sucking/biting kiss on Justin’s
throat.
Justin snickered and backed away. But not before
grazing his beer-dampened mouth over JC’s. “Hmm. You’re the bad boy,
yo.”
“Thanks for the brewski. And I’m not that bad,
yo.”
Justin plopped back down in the chair across from him
and laughed. Always laughing.
“I guess I can live with ya no matter how ya are.
Since you’re so cute sometimes. Know what I’m saying?”
JC glanced up briefly and swigged from the cold bottle
he held. “Jeez. Thanks for the vote of confidence, baby.”
“Aw, I’m just playing. So are we gonna hit the town
or what, sweetness?”
JC contorted his face into a grimace and sighed again.
“I’m not exactly in the mood for all that loud noise and the smelly people
and whatnot. But you go ahead if you want. You’re all wired and edgy. Go shake
your pretty ass and have a few cocktails. You deserve it.”
“Not without you, C,” Justin whined and puffed out
his bottom lip in a perfect pout. “That would suck.”
“Ju, don’t be a baby. Now c’mon. Go out and have
some fun……….Hey, why don’t ya give Marcella a ring. She’ll go with
you.”
An acidic scowl broke across Justin’s
smoothly-chiseled face before he could stop it. “Marcella? What do I want with
HER? That’s YOUR ho. Besides, da bitch hates me anyway. And don’t even try
and tell me you don’t see those ‘eat shit’ looks she gives me when I’m
around.”
Switching colored pencils, JC continued to draw. “She
doesn’t hate you, babe. She’s just envious that you’ve got what she can
never have.”
“Your dick.”
JC looked up, unfazed by the familiar crass honesty.
Highlights deep in the blue orbs shimmered. “And my love. Don’t worry about
her. She’s nothing but a friend to hang out with. You know that.”
Justin’s nose twitched. “A friend who’s always
got her grabby little hoochie hands all over you,” he snarled out in a
gravelly whisper.
“Jealousy isn’t very attractive on you, sweetheart.
And I already told you she means zilch to me. You’ve got my heart. Only
you.”
“Fine,” Justin huffed petulantly. “But I’m not
clubbing with her skinny ass. No fucking way.”
JC smiled at him, attempting to dispel the storm
clouds. Also familiar. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m a dumbass.”
“No, you’re not. I’m just mental.”
“You’re not mental.” JC leaned across to rub his
hand down Justin’s denimed leg. “You’re just stressed out and tense.
You’ve been working too hard, pushing yourself for too long now. You need to
burn off some steam and loosen up. Going out and ‘getting rowdy,’ as you say
so adorably, would prob’bly do you some good, baby.”
“Maybe.” Elegantly, Justin shrugged his broad
shoulders. “I was just hoping you’d come along with me. I wanted to be with
you.”
As JC sat back and picked up his pad again, Justin felt
the warmth of his touch fading far too quickly. *Not enough. Can I have more? Or
does that make me greedy?* The sounds of the endless light rainfall drummed in
his ears. Something feverish and prickly sneaked its way ominously through his
bloodstream, building a dark pressure against his veins.
Unsure of where this frenzied, jittery nervousness had
come from, he also didn’t have one hint about how to get rid of it. Was it
just fatigue or something more threatening? Should it be released or satisfied?
What he did know, however, was that he’d have to do something soon before it
raced to a peak and boiled over dangerously.
And so what JC said next was very much akin to standing
in a pool of gasoline and dropping a lit match.
“I’ll be here when you get back, babe. And anyway,
Lance is going to buzz me later so we can finalize plans for Houston on Tuesday.
I need to hang around for his call.”
Justin wasn’t quite sure about how many (or more like
how few) bitter curse words screamed silently in his head before the rolling
wall of bright red flames washed over him and instantly consumed the weak leash
he’d had on his self-control. All he saw and felt for a moment was the searing
crimson of his tsunami temper.
“What the fuck? You’re standing me up for LANCE?”
JC stared at him, not yet comprehending the sudden
outburst. “I’m not standing you up for anybody. What are you talking about?
I told you yesterday he was calling tonight. What’s the problem?”
“And that’s why you want me outta here then? So you
can fucking talk to him in private?”
“What?” JC squinted, more and more confused. “It
was YOUR idea to go out, Justin. Not mine.”
“But you kept on at me to go, to just get the hell
outta here. So you could have Bass all to yourself.”
JC flung his pad of paper to the floor beside his
chair. Clearly, he was making an effort to stay rational here so as to not make
the situation worse. And, clearly, he wasn’t doing very well at it.
“Look, Justin. I’m not arguing with you about Lance
or anything else tonight. We talked about this, about me visiting him while
he’s back from Moscow. You assured me you’re okay with it. It’s just two
days.”
“And one fucking night.”
“Oh, for chrissakes! You’re totally off the hook
now!” JC threw his hands in the air and let the palms fall and smack against
his thighs. “What are you trying to say? Lance and I are OVER! Been over for
what now? Two years? Do you honestly think I’m screwing around on you, Justin?
Do you? Because if you do, that will really piss me the hell off. To think you
don’t trust me after all this time together. That’s whack.”
Justin glared out into the dark rain, seeing nothing.
“You’d rather stay here and talk to him than go some place with me. Fuck
it,” he growled.
“That’s your answer? ‘Fuck it’? What does THAT
mean? No, wait. I’m not doing this with you. You’re wound up and tired and
freaking out over nothing. I’m not gonna fight with you like this.”
“Hmm. Didn’t see THAT coming,” Justin sneered.
JC sighed, exasperated. “Justin, if you wanna sit
here and scream at me like a spoiled kid, then fine. Knock yourself out. But I
think what you need to do is track down your posse — did I get that right? —
and go somewhere to clear your head. We can talk about it later.”
“Fuck you, JC. You’re not my damn father.”
“No, I’m sure as hell not. But *somebody* needs to
beat your adolescent ass for you right now.”
Justin stood and towered over JC in the shadows of the
balcony. Quietly, he hissed his response. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe.
I’m getting outta your face like you want me to. Enjoy your evening as much as
I fucking plan to enjoy mine.”
“Justin! The hell?”
If he’d been given an answer, JC would have
elaborated: *What the hell happened here? What’d we do wrong to fuck up the
good time we were having? Why? Why?*
But all he received was the slamming of the
apartment’s front door 10 minutes later. After Justin had re-wardrobed and
charged out into the night.
For two hours, JC sat in the same chair and hardly
moved, just listened to the wilting sadness in the constant downpour outside and
wondered why it had sounded so much more pleasant and comforting when he
hadn’t been alone on the balcony. He remained still and pensive until his cell
phone came to life and jarred him at midnight, 11 p.m. in Houston.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
At 2:30 a.m. when Justin still hadn’t returned to the
apartment, JC poured himself one more shot of Crown Royal and decided to try his
cell phone. Okay, he admitted to himself. He was worried sick about this punk
asshole he loved so frighteningly much.
And he knew Lance would have encouraged him to as well
if he’d spilled his guts to him in their phone conversation earlier. Now that
they were just best friends again and had somehow survived a bad breakup. Lance
had always been there for him to lean on and cry to during the few fights he and
Justin had ever had. Lance would have known how to handle this.
“Reach out to him, JC. Find him. Sounds like he’s
running scared of something. Help him even if he doesn’t know he needs
help.”
JC hadn’t burdened Lance with his
affairs-of-the-heart problems this time, though. Christ, Lance had plenty enough
controversy on his own plate to fret over at this point in the game, with the
space flight funding ordeal and all. He could live without JC’s petty angst.
JC knew, however, that he’d have to resolve this crap
with Justin by Tuesday or else get himself a life-like mask. Otherwise, Lance
would surely see it all over him in two seconds flat.
“What up?” was yelled into the phone when JC
finally got an answer after at least 12 rings. Thumping dance music roared in
the background.
JC rolled his eyes and breathed deeply for composure.
Just frigging wonderful. And appropriate too. Good ol’ Trace Ayala. What a
damn surprise. JC had absolutely no doubt in his mind at all that, if he and
Justin ever carried out their vague plans of a commitment ceremony, Trace would
haunt the backdrop of every fucking photo taken. Justin’s hired shadow.
“Hey, man. It’s JC. Where’s Ju?” *And why the
hell are you answering his phone? You his secretary now too?*
“Uh, well, he’s here somewhere, dude. It’s, like,
way crowded in here. Bodies every-fucking-where.”
“Where’d you guys decided to party?” *And do I
REALLY want to know?*
“Spa, man. Where else?”
*Duh, Chasez. You RE-tard. Could you, like, borrow some fucking hipness from
somebody cool?*
JC closed his eyes, going for calm, trying to ignore
the attitude that didn’t really surprise him. “Ah. Guess I shoulda known.”
“Better yet, guess you shoulda been here, bro. Why
don’t you sling on a little black-dress number and scoot on down here?
You’re blowing off all the damn fun.”
JC smiled at the comebacks he knew Justin would fire
off at that last comment. But still, the calm was beginning to fail him.
“Canya just get Justin for me, Trace? I called HIS
phone to talk to HIM. Know what I’m saying?”
“Whoa! ‘Scuze me then, man! And don’t let the
panties be bunching up. Stay cool. Just for you, I’ll march my ass right out
there on that jam-packed dance floor and rescue my boy from his
slither-and-grind partners if that’s whatcha want, C.”
“Did you say ‘partners’?”
“Yep. Some dude and some chick. All three all up on
each other. Kinda sexy, if ya ask me, bro.”
“And you’re just *watching*? Damnit, Trace!
Aren’t you supposed to keep an eye on him and reminding him ‘bout the damn
macho image he’s gotta uphold in public? You’re just standing there and
letting him dance all over some other guy?”
Trace laughed. “Dude, I’ll be the ‘flame’ guard
for you two all you want. But this show ain’t fairy. It’s hot as hell. You
should SEE this shit. Live fucking soft porn……….although I’d bet
millions on certain body parts in the threesome not being ‘soft’ right now,
if ya know what I’m saying. Haha.”
Trace giggled over the din of noise in the club. And JC
grit his back teeth, desperately fending off the mental image of Justin bumping
and grinding with another “dude.”
“You know what, Trace?”
“What, JC?”
“You should try downloading some class and, oh yeah,
maybe even a personality off the fucking Internet. You might seem much more like
a real person then. Asshole.”
“Look, man. You wanna have a lover’s beef with J,
then have a lover’s beef with J. But don’t take that shit out on me. It
ain’t my fault, ya know.”
“Yeah, whatever.” JC forcefully swallowed down the
clump in his throat. “Just watch out for him. I’m counting on you for
that.”
“Hey, don’t I always?”
JC pressed the No button on his phone and wanted to
hurl it across the room into the huge mirror that stared back at him. But he
didn’t. He refrained.
Instead, he used it to ring Jake, his bodyguard and
assistant, and tell him what he wanted arranged immediately. Jake would make it
all happen, with no questions asked.
And, in the meantime, JC grabbed his notebook and pen
and sat down to write a note of explanation. Justin could read it tomorrow
morning. After he woke up, sobered up, and wised up to the fact that he was now
all alone in the apartment in NYC.