*Guess it’s true what they say about love Late June, but Justin may need to be reminded of that fact. If he even cared. Slumped and sunken into the thick vinyl cushions of a lounge chair, he stares blindly at the leaves that had been blown into his swimming pool by strong, spastic winds that flew in from nowhere and occasionally managed to push heavy, dark clouds off the sun and allow ponds of bright blue to peek through. He should clean the pool, he knows. Or at least call in a service to do it. If he even cared. The blustery breeze drives through him again, and he shivers, pulling the hooded sweat jacket tighter around him. Dampness still hangs in the air from an overnight rainfall, and trees rustle behind him furiously as if they too shuddered from the unseasonable chill. The third week of June? For real? Shouldn’t that mean springtime and warmth and rejuvenation and all that good, hopeful shit? Especially in the damn “sunshine” state? This looks like fall, for chrissakes. The time of year when things cool off and die. And lie around the pool area waiting to be swept up and discarded. But, if he even cared, Justin would explain that he’s well past all that on the inside. In there, he’s full into the cold dead of winter, where what’s left of his soul has frozen solid and might never rejuvenate again. And he wishes like hell the damn wind would stop messing with those thick, blackish-gray clouds and quit shoving them around up there. The expanses of blue behind them hurt Justin’s eyes. And his heart. The exact shade of azure as those eyes……….If he could only force himself to not care. *Wish like hell I could go back in time “What? What do you want?” Justin’s large hand clutched his tiny cell phone tightly enough to crush it in a thousand sharp bits, and he clamped his back teeth together, hoping that would keep his voice from rising and cracking. “I’m going to LA for a few days. I thought you should know.” “Why should I know? Why should I even give a fuck? And, speaking of ‘fuck,’ you taking HIM with you? What was his damn name anyway? You never bothered to introduce me.” “Justin.” “What?” His heart raced at dangerous speeds in his ribcage in spite of his efforts to hold onto the reigns. “I’m going alone.” “Oh, yeah. You’re such a fucking playa now. Have yourself a helluva time.” The phone had become slippery with sweat in Justin’s palm, and he bitterly choked back, “Have yourself a helluva *life* too.” He just couldn’t bring himself to say that. Or to hear it. “It’ll be good for us both, Ju, if I leave. We won’t have to worry all the time ‘bout crossing each other’s space.” “Okay. Like you even worry ‘bout me at all, JC. You’re so full of shit.” The searing pain masqueraded itself as cold hostility, and Justin was grateful that JC couldn’t see him swipe at the hot moisture flooding his sore eyes. “I do worry ‘bout you, Justin. Twenty-four seven. I still……….” JC didn’t finish, saving Justin’s cell phone from certain smashing-against-the-nearest-wall-brutally death. Justin is sure that if he hears that silken-smooth voice tell him he’s still cared about or (worse) *loved* — what with the current wasted state of his internal affairs and how that’s all the sole responsibility of the voice’s owner — he’ll come totally unhinged all over again and destroy a few more walls in his house. “Go to Cali, JC. I don’t have a damn clue why you thought it was any of my business.” “Why’d you answer my call this time? After avoiding them for days?” “Careless, I guess. Forgot to glance at the Caller ID.” “That’s bullshit, Justin. You never forget.” *Yeah. Unfortunately for me. Yeah. So fuck me. I can’t seem to forget stuff. A curse I’m plagued with. And fuck you too for loving me and then leaving me with a shitload of memories I’ll never be able to flush out but will have to live with for-fucking-ever, playing over and over in my head and torturing me to death. Yeah.* “So why do you keep calling me anyway?” “I miss you.” “That’s bullshit, JC.” “Touché. But I do. And I need to know you’re okay.” *Yeah. I’m fine, you asshole. My soul is evaporating and shriveling up right in front of my eyes, thanks to you. And I’m living on 80-proof Johnny Walker Red. But I’m fine. Nice of you to ask. Thanks a ton.* “Well, look. Here’s the thing. Call Johnny or my mom or whoever next time if you’re so damn curious. Don’t ring me. Okay? You and me, we need to cut all ties.” “ALL ties? Permanently?” “It’s too late, JC. Leave me be.” *Would have given up my life for you* ##Do you remember……….Valentine’s Day?## “Hmm. Low, jazzy music……….a trail of soft, red petals leading to a bed of roses……….candlelight……….an expensive burgundy……….What are we now? Girls?” Justin chuckled into JC’s hair and tightened his from-behind embrace around JC’s slender waist. They stood together in the shadows of the bedroom they shared in JC’s LA mansion. Justin had stopped at nothing to make this Day of Love their most memorable one yet. Because he did love so very much. “Aw, c’mon, C. You know anybody more romantic than me, baby?” “No. And I don’t want to either.” “So you don’t think it’s too — I dunno — hokey? Overkill on trite?” “Nah, sweets. It’s amazing. Totally Justin-style. I’m flattered.” “I wanted to do special, jacked up right. For you. ‘Cause you’re the Grand Masta of special in my book.” Justin dipped his shaved head in to brush lips and tongue over JC’s neck. JC turned his head slowly, savoring the sweet, wet touch, and raised an eyebrow. “The ‘Grand Masta’?” Justin’s featherweight giggle vibrated along the skin covering JC’s angled jawbone, tickling him and sending him shivering closer to Justin’s warm body. Between the light kisses, Justin clarified his proclamation. “The Top Dawg, baby……….The Best o’ the Best……….The only one that matters……….to me.” Swiveling around in the circle of strong arms that held him, JC faced his complimenter and grabbed onto the broad shoulders in front of him. Lips found lips, tongues slid over tongues, and the candles in the room seemed to flicker with the soft moans and sighs that came from the entwined (and unaware) tangle of lovers and floated around them. “See? Not such a femmy idea after all, huh? It’s suh-weet now, isn’t it? Feels good, yeah?” “Hmm. Feels……….velvety and luxurious.” Down to their flimsy shorts, they lay on the rose-strewn bed now, JC flat on his back, several pillows under his head and another supporting his knees, and Justin reclining on his side next to him, propped up on one elbow. The purplish-red wind in their crystal glasses had given them a warm little buzz and sent out a bittersweet aroma in the dim atmosphere. “But not as velvety and luxurious as your hair, C.” Justin raised his free hand to stroke the waves of charcoal-streaked-with-bronze splayed across the pillow. His bright eyes danced slowly over the lithe and lovely length of JC’s form. “You’re just so……….beautiful.” JC smiled and reached up to graze his fingers along Justin’s taut chest and abdomen, causing the muscles under the flesh there to ripple reflexively. “Ah, but you’re the Adonis, my love. Look at you. Who woulda ever thought that the after-effects of golf, for crying out loud, could be so stunning?” Justin blushed with his small, modest laugh. “Stop it now. You know you’re the showstopper, baby. The walking sex.” JC smiled again, seductively, with one corner of his mouth, as he palmed Justin’s hardening nipple. “So are we going to argue ‘bout who’s hotter or make love? I’m warning ya……….I’m not above raping your fine ass.” Justin watched the deeply-inset indigo eyes as they roamed over his face and felt the waves of affection they bathed him in. Never before, he understood, had he been looked at, loved, like that. Never. “Hey. I got another gift for you, C,” he blurted out. “For Valentine’s Day.” “Hun, the turquoise was awesome. And more than enough of a gift.” Justin wrinkled his brow, thoughtfully. “I’m gonna end things with Brit……….get out from under it all. It’s too much.” “But we need her, Ju,” JC answered him calmly, rubbing the thick thigh that rested against him. “One of us should have a steady chick. And your high-profile gig with her is perfect.” Justin smirked. “Perfect in public only. Man, I’m tired of the charade. And I think she is too……….We’re, like, always bitching at each other over something stupid, trying to keep the story straight — Yeah, pun. Haha. — and it’s just exhausting as hell……….I want out. I wanna be free. For us. For you and me.” “Justin, baby. Don’t be so hasty,” JC purred and squeezed Justin’s thigh. “Don’t ‘Justin, baby’ me, JC. I’ve thought lots about it. I’ve made up my mind. I don’t have room for her in my life anymore. No more fake relationship bullshit. I wanna be a *real* person, someone folks take seriously. I wanna grow up to be somebody, baby. I wanna be *me*. And I only want you beside me. Not Britney.” JC had let his hand come to rest on the warm rhythm of Justin’s fast-thumping heart. And Justin watched from above while the blue-topaz crystals in those eyes shifted as they studied him. Then the voice, as shimmery as chiffon………. “Okay. I think I understand……….And so why don’t you do that solo deal like I keep saying you should? Hmm?” Justin grimaced and looked away. “I dunno. Am I really ready for all *that*?” “I think you are. You’d blow ‘em away, Ju. You know it.” “But that’s like, SO huge. What would the other guys say, man? Would they be down with it or be thinking I’m all about busting up things just to go out on my own?” JC picked up a few of the delicate rose petals beside him and brushed them over the contoured cheekbones of Justin’s face. Gently and lovingly. “We’ve got — what? — two weeks before the tour starts? That’s enough time to hook up with each of them and run it past ‘em. See how it’s gonna fly. But I know they’ll be behind you, sweets. They always have been.” “But what about you, C? You should be first to break out, babe.” Justin bent forward and kissed the richness of his mouth. JC slowly licked his lips, as if to get every trace of that delicious kiss. “I don’t have the itch bad enough yet, sweets. There’s plenty of time. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with ya.” “But JC, baby —” “Hey. Don’t ‘But JC, baby’ me. You *know* it’s the perfect time to do this, Justin. Lance and the space thing. Joey checking out Broadway roles. Chris……….well, whatever. You gotta take advantage of the hiatus after this Celebrity tour and spread those gorgeous wings of yours. You won’t get a better opportunity, my love. Seize the day.” Justin felt his heart swell inside up to exploding levels and let his eyes soak in the exquisite, compelling presence lying in haunting candlelight beneath him. “You’ve always been there……….always had my back……….always showed me the way to go……….always.” “I’ve always loved you……….wanted the best for you.” Justin fought down the lump in his throat with several hard swallows. Then he smiled. “Want s’more wine?” “Nah. How ‘bout s’more you? You taste better.” “You got it, babe.” JC sat up and turned to set his empty glass on the nightstand. “Um, there’s a small extra gift for you too in the drawer there.” “What? What is it?” Excitedly, Justin yanked open the drawer and giggled as he pulled out a clear bottle of baby oil. With a dainty scarlet-red bow on top. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweets. Can you get some use out of that?” JC whispered as he lay back down. “You’d better believe it. Every fucking drop,” Justin snickered. “On you.” *Sadness has me at the end of the line “What the FUCK do you want this time?” “You don’t even say ‘hello’ anymore?” Justin gripped the phone in his fist and dropped his head into his other hand. “Okay. Hello. And what the FUCK do you want this time?” “You.” “Fuck you, JC. Never again.” “That’s my boy. Standing up for himself. Like he should. You make me proud.” “You’re terminally delusional, I’ve decided, JC. And just plain whack.” “I’m going to London tonight. I thought you should know.” “Why?” Justin shot out the question quickly and quickly regretted it. Regretted the audible weakness, the evident need. “Lance is there. On a little furlough from the Russian concentration camp. And he’s lonely. Needs a friend.” “Oh. Well, have a bloody fucking banger of a time then.” “Justin.” “What? I’m sick to fuck of this same dumbass conversation, JC. I thought we agreed you’d leave me the hell alone.” “No. I didn’t agree to that.” “Well, you lost agreeing rights anyway when you screwed me over. So it’s a moot point. You know about moot points, JC?” “Yes. Things that don’t matter any longer.” “And that would be you and me. Moot point. Got it?” “Justin.” “Don’t, JC. Just jet off to London. Tell Bass I’ll call him.” “Are you okay? I need to know.” “Go away. Do us both a favor.” “Please, Ju. Talk to me.” “Fuck off, JC. Please. Oh, and stop calling, damnit.” *Click* Justin stabbed the off button on the pad of his phone and sat down to choke back the familiar rolling waves of sobs he already felt building inside. *And now I’m half the man Justin sits alone by his pool in his fabulous melancholy funk and his festering inner rage and shivers, still not seeing the soaked leaves or hearing the rustle of the trees around him. Behind his dull, pale blue eyes, he’s remembering the fantastic qualities of baby oil — how it magically slicks up eager fingers and readies them for gentle insertion into hot, tight crevices, two or three at a time, depending on how insistently the hot, tight crevice bears down and closes around the digits, begging for more; how the taste of it isn’t so greasy when blended with the salty-sweetness of JC’s skin; how smooth and sleek it feels between your palm and the muscles of JC’s legs, especially those powerful inner-thigh babies that you know will wrap around your hips later and fiercely urge you in, deeper and harder; how ungodly magnificent it glides JC’s hot grasp up and down your length in a mind-splitting cadence while he’s murmuring against your neck that he’s never wanted anybody as fucking much as he wants you right then……….“my love.” Shit. Rose petals make one hell of a globby mess when they get all sticky and clingy, don’t they? But hadn’t it been heavenly to peel them off each other one by one, replacing them with tender bites and kisses? Hadn’t it? Hadn’t it? Justin slams his head backward against the lounge’s cushion and squeezes his eyes shut. One single thing he *cannot* remember is a time in his life when he hadn’t loved Josh Chasez. In one form or another. JC had been there in every hauntingly significant scene of his short life — befriending him, teaching him, guiding him, listening and sharing when no one else had seemed interested. Encouraging him to do “different” things and “branch out” on MMC, helping him after hours with weird choreography and fucked-up stunts when they’d hooked up again as members of NSYNC, and just being the loyal friend Justin knew he could unfailingly count on at all costs. When their relationship had evolved into an emotional and then sexual one about two years ago, Justin had given in and fallen hard with no resistance whatsoever, not minding at all being sucked into what he considered JC’s beautiful force-field of energy. He already loved this person on so many other levels. Why NOT succumb to the physical, heart-involved one as well? It only made the best sense. *He’s everything I adore, everything I want.* And it had worked. Oh, fuck, had it worked. They’d been created for each other, it was deemed by those around them. A perfect union. Of Fire and Ice. Charismatic meets Elusive and forms a lovely unified ball that rolls along flawlessly. They had that “together” chemistry of Nobel proportions. And not just another “flava” of the month, but something stable and lasting. “Yeah. Stable. Lasting. Fuck you,” Justin mumbles in his chilly, concrete, solitary surroundings. And the blistering wind whips through him again. *And I believed you ‘cause I loved you more than life* ##Do you remember……….Bimini?## You said let’s go there right after the tour had ended and the Britney-breakup media feeding frenzy had begun. For almost three weeks. You and me. Nobody else. You said we deserved it. You said we needed it. Your sanity. My creativity. We’d both benefit. And I trusted you. Like I always do. Because I loved you so damn much. “Can I see what you’ve been working on?” you’d ask me every evening over those fruity, blender cocktails while dinner marinated and awaited the grill and we relaxed after laying on the beach all day. “Do you mind, baby? I know it’s good. It’s bound to be.” And you’d smile that smile, and I’d have to hand it over to you every time. What I’d been scratching out that day. And I always thought my heart had stopped beating forever while you read over the words and played out the notes in the air with your fingers, magically hearing it all in your head. Anxious as hell, I’d watch your beautiful face for as long as I could while you concentrated on the music. Then I’d have to lean my head back on the couch and close my eyes ‘til I heard you whisper, “Play it for me, sweets. Please. I think it’s gonna be killer.” And then I’d be able to breathe again. You’d found that ritzy rental home on the less-populated end of the island that had a private stretch of beach. Oh, and a well-tuned piano. For me. Fuck knows how long you’d had to search for those special accommodations. You were the best. Always the best. “So how many tracks so far?” you asked me one night as we sat all wrapped up in each other on a blanket in the sand, checking out the stars, listening to the rough high tide, and passing a joint. “Twelve right now. That’s prob’bly plenty.” “Perfect……….You’re gonna blow ‘em out of the water, baby. I can already see it happening. You’re gonna be a star. A superstar.” *And all you had to do was apologize…………….and mean it* “What? You must seriously be in some kinda big-ass trouble, like a hostage situation or some shit like that, or deathly ill or SOMETHING jacked-up horrible to be calling me now. What the fuck is it?” “Just wanted to hear your voice.” “I’m fucking hanging up, JC.” “Don’t. Please.” “Why?” “Why did you answer, Ju? Again?” His breath caught quick and help captive in his windpipe, Justin paused. “Are you……….okay?” “Is that why?” “Yes.” “Then, I’m okay.” “JC, I’m not going to answer anymore. Stop calling. I mean it.” “I saw you on TV at some of the Laker games.” “Yeah. So? You went to some too. Or so I heard.” “I’m coming back to LA tomorrow.” “Oh. After Lansten shuttles back to Ruskieville?” “Justin, I haven’t seen Lance in a week.” “Whatever. Makes no nevermind to me.” “We’ve got CFTC coming up, you know.” Justin rolled his eyes, only for himself. “Not for, like, a fucking MONTH. Christ. Chill out, dude.” “Justin……….I wanted to see you before that. Just you and me. To talk. Will you think about it? Please?” *Fuck you. I think about it ALL the damn time. Yeah. Lucky me. Sure.* “No. Maybe. We’ll see.” “Okay. That’s something.” *I’m trying so hard to make myself believe that you’re not worth how bad this is all making me feel, JC. Trying so damn hard. And you’re only making it worse. Damn you.* *You didn’t say you’re sorry ##Do you remember……….God, how am I ever going to forget? How?## The raised toilet seat in the downstairs bathroom should have been your first warning bell. JC never forgot to put it back down. Never. And neither did you. But that little sign slipped by you unnoticed that day as you absently glanced in there before bounding up the stairs, two at a time. To doom. To the end of the world as you knew it. “Maybe that ass Carlos had been over, brought JC back from the airport or something,” your subconscious probably whispered, easing any latent worries you may have had. That one *always* made a sloppy mess of things when he was around. “C! Baby! You here? I saw your car outside! I know you’re back! I can’t wait to see your sexy ass again! Where are ya, baby?” He’d been gone for a few days — taping that Summer Music Mania thing with Chris and Jennifer Love Hewitt at a casino resort in Connecticut. You’d been recording “Cry Me A River” in a West Hollywood studio with Timbaland. And you’d both needed a quiet weekend together to just chill and regroup. Away from everyone and everything else. Just you and him. Today was to be the beginning of that sanctuary. What it turned out to be was more like your version of the ninth level of hell. “JC? Man, I gotcha something yesterday! One of those platinum bling cross necklaces you’ve been eyeing, babe! And it’s suh-weet. You’re gonna look SO fine wearing nothing but that, and you know —” You’d practically run down the hallway, and when you’d darted into the bedroom, your heart thudding out of control with excited anticipation, your words and all the living cells in your body died away. Instantly. JC, the keeper of your soul, lay on the bed before you in precisely the same elegant position he always did, the one you’d seen him in a million and two hundred times — his head on a stack of pillows and another pillow under his long legs at the knees. You recognized it immediately because you were always there beside him, resting on your side, snuggling into the warmth of him and gazing down at the jewel-eyed beauty that you loved and felt loved by. But this little scenario playing out in front of your eyes now was a slim reality away from the one your were familiar with. That was certainly not YOU there in YOUR role. That was someone else, someone you’d never seen before………..someone being stared at the way he should be staring at YOU. And this was just……….wrong. “What. The. Fuck.” JC turned then to the blunt crackle of the words you’d managed to spit out in a gritty snarl. And his face was dark, expressionless. Unrecognizable. “Justin,” is all he whispers. And it’s the sound of your heart bursting into an infinite number of jagged little pieces that won’t ever fit back together the same way again. “Justin,” he cried out to you again, and you realized he was up and leaping after you because, somehow, you’d turned and were charging away from the scene of the crime. “Please. Wait.” “Please wait for WHAT? An encore performance of you fucking whoever the hell that was, JC? I don’t remember buying a ticket to see THAT.” “Stop. Just for a minute.” He caught up with you from behind and overtook you with a tight bear hug, and you were amazed at how deceptively strong he really was. You became aware then that you were shaking violently with your fresh, new rage and pain, shivering against his arms and upper body. “Let me go, JC. I shouldn’t be here.” “I love you,” he whispered at your earlobe, and the words ricocheted stingingly off the frozen things that, 45 seconds ago, had been your insides. “Fuck that. No, you don’t.” “I do, Justin. I do.” “You don’t do shit like *that* to people you love, JC. Maybe you forgot that part……….I’ve……….never……….never done that to you.” “I know, sweets. I know. And if you only knew how much I love you.” Hot, angry tears were burning down your cheeks now, and you couldn’t believe what he kept purring at the side of your head. You couldn’t believe how warm he felt when you, on the other hand, felt so damn cold. “Well, thanks for proving it to me……….with some other asshole. I’m, like, totally convinced.” “That was……….nothing, Justin. It meant nothing.” “It was enough to ruin us, JC. I’m fucking OUTTA here. Burn whatever stuff I’ve got laying around here. I don’t want it back.” “I know I hurt you bad, baby.” “Good for you. Now let me go.” “That’s the hardest part……….letting you go.” You tore away from him, because you HAD to, and bolted down the stairs, still shuddering and still feeling his hot breath on your neck. At the bottom, you turned and, with your overflowing blue eyes, glared up at him standing there watching you with what you didn’t recognize as sadness. “You’re……….you’re……….you’re not even sorry, JC. Jesus fucking Christ. You don’t even care.” In your frantic haste to get out of there and away from the source of the raw hurt that was seizing you mercilessly, you never heard his faint answer. “Ah, you’re wrong there, my love. I *am* sorry. And I *do* care. More than you know. Maybe one day you’ll understand. *You didn’t love me enough Justin drags himself up out of the uncomfortable pool chair and starts for the empty, unlit house. The sun has fallen behind the horizon without him realizing it, leaving the sky filled with streaks of darkening maroon, burnt orange, and lavender — the color of a nasty, new bruise. He has to call Johnny. Or Pharrell. Or whoever the hell should know. To hell with the “unlucky 13” superstitions. The new CD will have one more track to be laid down. Oh, yeah.
It’s blind*
Maybe then I could see how
Forgiveness says that I should give you one more try
But it’s too late, it’s over now*
Helpless watched you break this heart of mine
And loneliness only wants you back here with me*
That I used to be when it was you and me*
I don’t understand
You don’t care that you hurt me*
My heart may never mend
And you’ll never get to love me
Again...*