JC's Hitchhiker

 

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CHAPTER 21

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"What?" Josh asked quickly, paling. 

"This is about you," I said, jabbing at the newspaper so hard with my finger that it almost punched through. 

"What do you mean?" he asked, walking around the table to peer over my shoulder at the page. 

Josh's chest was against my back, and I could feel his heart fluttering nervously through his shirt even as his breath quickened on my neck. Absently I reached around for the hand I knew was on its way to mine, and I gripped tightly as his eyes followed my pointing finger to a tiny paragraph about halfway down the gossip column. 

"Reliable sources tell me that a member of a Pop-ular boyband was seen in the Valley at a Pop-ular men's club last night. You know, the kind for men who like the company of men. Reports have it that he was seen drinking, dancing, and yes, even kissing! I'm not naming any names, but I bet if you think about it you'll find your instincts in sync with mine!" 

"Oh, ok," Josh sighed, patting my shoulder. 

"OK?" I asked, incredulous, as Josh walked back around to his seat. I looked around the table, and saw that Chris and Joey didn't appear especially concerned, either. "Wait a minute. Why isn't anyone else upset about this?" 

"Sorry, Jack," Chris said, giggling. I gave serious thought to slapping him. "But it's not that bad." 

"Not that bad?" I asked. "This is about Josh! It has the name of the band in it." 

"Not exactly," Joey said, shrugging. 

"What is wrong with you people?" I asked, looking across the table. Josh didn't look especially upset, either, just a little unsettled. "Josh?" 

Josh reached across the table and took my hand. 

"Jack, it's not as bad as you think," he said. "It's a blind item. Papers run blind items about us all the time. They do it to everyone." 

"But it practically comes right out and says who he means," I said, looking back down at the page. "Look, he keeps separating the word 'Pop', and he uses the name of the band right there." 

"Yeah, but he doesn't actually say it's me," Josh said. "Which means he has no pictures, probably. Since it's just rumor, he can't really report it, so it gets dropped into a blind item instead." 

"But," I began again, but then stopped. No one else seemed really bothered, so why should I be? 

"This guy's been writing about us since the plane landed," Chris said, shrugging. 

"If he could figure out where we're staying he'd probably be out back going through the garbage," Joey added. 

"And this is legal?" I asked. 

"Jack, it's a gossip column!" Chris said, laughing. 

"Yes, it's legal, because he doesn't actually name names," Josh said. "That thing with the 'Pop' is what he does when he writes about us, and people know who he means." 

"Look, Jack, there's a ton of them on the page," Joey said. "He does this to everybody." 

"You should see what he does to the Backstreet Boys," Chris said. The others smiled. 

"What do they do?" I asked, curious. 

"Not all of them," Chris said. "But Nick Carter has slept with everything." 

"What?" I blurted, almost shooting beer out of my nose. 

"I saw him molesting a chair at this club in Orlando," Joey added seriously. "These kids today." 

At that we all cracked up, letting the moment pass. 

"Besides," Chris said, taking the paper from me and folding it back up. "Even if this one's a little closer than most, we all know it's not true. Josh wasn't out cheating on you last night." 

Dead silence greeted this, and Chris immediately realized that he'd said the wrong thing. Josh gaped at me, eyes wide, but I still had hold of his hand, and didn't let go. Joey watched, eyes bulging as he struggled not to ask questions. 

"Well, actually," I began, not sure what I could say to cover this one. Chris had a way of catching us off guard. 

"Actually, I was," Josh said, looking down. "I was upset, and I made a mistake, and Jack forgave me for it." 

"Because there's nothing to forgive," I added. "And because I love you." 

"I love you, too," he answered. 

We stared into each other's eyes as if the others didn't exist. 

"Get a room," Joey said, and we all laughed again. 

"I'm sorry, guys," Chris said, shrugging. 

"Don't be," I said. "It's nothing." 

"Can you pass me another water?" Josh asked, changing the subject. 

Chris dropped it, but I could tell he still felt a little bad about it. Maybe we could talk about it in the morning, when we went on our jog. I had forgotten I didn't mention that to Josh, but he seemed pleased when Chris brought it up. 

"You want to go?" I asked. 

"No, I usually work out at the gym with Justin," he said. "But you guys have fun." 

"You never asked me to go jogging," Joey said, staring at Chris, his bottom lip pushed out pitifully. 

"I want someone who can actually run," Chris said, laughing. "You can call Jack if you need someone to go pick up donuts with you." 

They both laughed, punching each other in the arm. 

"Jerk," Joey said, smacking the back of Chris's head. 

"Fatass," Chris said, throwing a balled up napkin at him. 

Josh and I just watched and laughed. It was nice to see the camaraderie between them, and to feel included. I was still thinking about it later when Josh and I finally went up to the apartment, bidding Joey and Chris a good night. Joey grinned, winking with exaggerated suggestiveness as he carried the leftovers into his apartment. Chris just waved, calling someone on his cell phone as he rolled the grill off to the side. 

It was dark in the apartment, and Josh swept me up into his arms as soon as we got through the door. I felt his hair brush my cheek as his lips slid toward mine. He pulled me against him, his mouth tasting faintly of steak, as his hands slid down my back and mine slid up his chest to rest on it. I felt him breathing as he kissed me, pulled back, and then kissed me again, soft kisses, not chaste but not urgently needing tongue kisses, either. Josh's lips were soft, but still firm, and I was happy just to press against him and let him do whatever he wanted. 

"What was that for?" I asked. 

"Because I love you," he answered, as if I should have known. I should have, actually. "And I love that my friends love you, too. Thanks for being so perfect." 

"Josh, I really didn't do anything," I said. "But thanks for thinking I did." 

"No, I mean it," he said, still holding me. "It's important to me that you guys get along. I'm glad you and Chris are going to start running, too. It'll be nice for him to have someone, you know, his age to hang out with." 

"I so want to smack you right now," I said, as he playfully restrained my hands. "I'm only a year older than you." 

"You know," he began, pressing against me, pushing his entire body against mine. "It feels like it was a really hard year." 

"If that's not a sleazy pickup line, I don't know what is," I said, tugging him toward the bedroom. "Let's get cleaned up, and then maybe I'll show you just how hard." 

We both stripped down to our shorts quickly, and then jammed into the bathroom together to brush our teeth. For some reason, the sight of the two of us, side by side in the bathroom mirror, both with foamy toothpaste gobs spilling out of our mouths, was absurdly touching to me. I thought it might be the most romantic thing I'd seen all day. When we finished, I gave him another quick hug, feeling the warmth of his bare chest against mine, but I saw him wince a little. 

"What's wrong, Josh?" I asked. "Are you still sore from the car wreck?" 

"A little," he admitted. "My shoulders and my back feel kind of tight." 

"Why don't we go on into bed, and I'll give you a nice backrub," I said. "We can use some baby oil, and I'll loosen you up, and then we'll see what develops." 

"Sure," he said, grinning. 

Josh lay down on the bed on his stomach, crossing his arms under his chin. I climbed on top, straddling him, but being careful not to rest too much of my weight on him, as I didn't want to make it worse somehow. I squirted a little baby oil onto his back, not stopping to think that it might be cold, and saw him jump a little. 

"Sorry," I said, quickly running my hands through it, pressing down firmly. 

"It's ok," he said, turning his head to the side and little and closing his eyes. "It feels nice." 

"Good," I said, moving up to begin rubbing his shoulders. 

When Josh had come to visit me, he had surprised me on the second night with a fantastic massage that I still remembered. He had also surprised me by blindfolding me and tying me to the bed, but tonight all I really wanted to do was reciprocate that massage for him, and give back some of what he had given me. It hurt me to know that he was in pain, and I wanted to do whatever I could to help take it away. 

Josh responded to my gentle ministrations with groans, and shifting, telling me where to put my hands as they slid easily over him. I traced the topography of his back, which I was already intimately familiar with, admiring his rounded shoulders and the obvious strength of his neck. I ran my hands over the fans of muscle on either side of his spine, and gently kneaded and pressed where he guided me. Just being close to him, I began to get hard, and rubbing my hands over his oil-slickened back did nothing to alleviate that condition. As I worked my way down his back I occasionally let my fingers slip a little, creeping around the sides, and then I reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, brushing the tips of my fingers over the rounded rise of his granite ass. 

"Hey, Josh," I whispered, trying to frame some sort of sleazy come on line in my head. 

No answer. 

"Josh?" I asked, leaning up. 

He had fallen asleep. 

And I was stuck sitting on top of him with an almost painfully throbbing hard on. 

Sighing, I climbed carefully off of the bed, trying to figure out what I should do. I set the alarm clock, so that I'd be up in the morning for my jog with Chris, but that didn't really do anything to help me out with my present condition. I decided that maybe I'd just take a quick swim in the pool, to cool myself down, and then I'd come up and go to bed, too. If Josh was tired enough to fall asleep without sex, he probably needed his rest. I changed quickly into a pair of trunks, grabbed a towel, and went downstairs to the pool. 

I didn't see anyone while I was in the pool, and it was kind of relaxing being out there by myself. I floated around on my back for a while, staring up at the sky and thinking about how it was kind of sad that you couldn't really see any of the stars in the city, because the light washed them out. You see all of those movies where people look down on Los Angeles, and the city is all lit up with the shining night sky above it, but those people are outside of town. If you're actually inside, you hardly see anything when you look up. There are lots of other stars, though, to compensate for the lack of celestial ones. 

I pulled myself out of the pool, finally, my little problem long since taken care of, and was standing off to the side, drying myself, when I heard a door open above me. Running footsteps pounded over the walkway and then clattered down the stairs, and I saw Lance run into his apartment and slam the door behind him. I'd been standing half in shadow, near one of Jackie's obnoxiously large potted plants, so he probably hadn't seen me. I wasn't sure, but it looked almost like he was crying. I debated what to do. If Lance was having some sort of emotional moment, he probably didn't want me, of all people, knocking on his door to see if he was ok. On the other hand, I hadn't heard the door on the upper level close yet, so if I looked out now, I could see where he had come from. 

Climbing the stairs quickly, my towel thrown casually over my shoulders, I saw that Justin's door was standing open. A faint, flickering light came from inside, and I knocked, my hand pushing the door open the rest of the way. 

Justin was sitting in the middle of the couch, sprawled back in that comfortable way of his with his arms slung across the back and his legs wide in front of him. The flickering light came from the television, as he idly sat flipping through the channels. He was shirtless, the light playing across his chest and abs, and he was wearing a pair of white warm up pants with buttons up the side. They seemed to glow unnaturally in oddly bluish light of the television. 

"Yeah?" he asked, turning his head. His annoyed sneer changed to a smile when he saw me. "Jack! What are you doing up?" 

"I was in the pool," I began uncertainly from the doorway. He waved at one of the chairs, and I walked in and sat down. Justin was extremely attractive, especially half naked, and I locked my eyes onto his face to keep them from roaming over his body, not that it really would have mattered, considering what we'd done. "I saw Lance go running out of here, and I thought maybe I'd check and see if everything was ok." 

"I'm fine," Justin said, shrugging. "We were having a discussion, and I said some things Lance didn't want to hear, so he left." 

"He looked kind of upset," I said, surprised by Justin's lack of concern. Chris and Josh had both told me that there was a lot of strain between Lance and Justin, but I guess it went a little deeper than I had thought. 

"He probably is," Justin said casually, glancing at the television again. "Like I said, I said some things he didn't want to hear. He'll come back, though." 

"How do you know that?" I asked. Why would Lance come back to finish a discussion that made him leave the room in tears? 

"I just know," Justin said, shifting. The twirls of golden hair under his arms glinted in the light of the television as his arms and shoulders flexed, moving him a little closer to me. "Just because he doesn't want to hear it doesn't make it less true. He'll come back for the rest." 

I shrugged. Justin's explanation sort of made sense, but I had the feeling I'd missed something important. Then again, I didn't really know anything about Lance, except what I'd heard from other people, so I had no idea if this was typical behavior for him or not. 

"So why are you out in the pool, and not next door?" Justin asked. "Everything ok?" 

"Yeah, everything's fine," I said, curling my legs up under me on the chair. "Josh fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake him." 

Justin leaned forward, the shifting and bunching of his bare muscles creating another beautiful show in the flickering half-light of the television screen. 

"I know this is probably none of my business, but I'm kind of worried about Josh, still," Justin began. "Did you guys work everything out?" 

"Justin, you can ask that," I said simply. "He's you're best friend, and you and I are getting pretty tight. If you ask something that you shouldn't, I'll just tell you. Back to your question, though, yeah, we did." 

"And you're not mad?" Justin asked. "About, you know, those guys?" 

I guess Josh really did tell Justin everything. 

"No, I'm not mad," I said, shrugging. "Josh was upset, he was drunk, and he thought I had left for good. He made a mistake, but an understandable one." 

"You're pretty understanding, " Justin said, leaning back, his torso stretching in new and different ways. "It doesn't bother you, knowing that he touched all those different guys?" 

I stared at Justin, wondering why he'd even bring that up like that, but then thought that maybe he just wasn't thinking. 

"Honestly, it doesn't exactly thrill me to know," I said. "But they didn't really do anything, and it was a mistake. It's not like he's going to do it again." 

"What about you?" Justin asked, leaning forward again. "Would you ever cheat on him, you know, to get back at him?" 

"No, Justin," I said, wondering if this was going where I thought it was. But Justin wouldn't do that. We'd already had a discussion about this, and he had explained that he didn't want either me or Josh. Maybe I was just misreading his signals. 

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I upset you, and I didn't mean to. I was just curious, and wanted to make sure you guys were ok." 

"It's fine, Justin," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just drop it, ok? It's not my favorite topic." 

"Sure," he said, settling back into his original, arms flung position. "I'm curious about something else, though." 

"Yes?" I asked, trying to read his face. 

"How come you came to check on me, instead of Lance?" he asked. 

"Your door was open," I answered. 

"His was closer," Justin pointed out. "Are you still mad at him?" 

I thought about it for a moment. 

"I am, a little," I said. "I mean, he sort of apologized, but I don't think he really meant it. I think he was just trying to smooth things over for Josh's sake. Actually, that's what he said, and I guess I kind of resent that he doesn't seem to think he did anything really bad." 

"He hurt you both, didn't he?" Justin asked. 

"Josh more than me," I answered. "But hurting Josh is as bad as hurting me." 

"How does Josh feel about it?" Justin asked, his head cocked thoughtfully to one side. 

"I'm not really sure," I answered, shrugging. "I mean, we talked about it when he went to talk to Lance that first time, after the barbecue, but not since then, when Lance said all that other stuff. I haven't brought it up, and neither has Josh, so I didn't really want to push it if it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. I think Lance really hurt him, though." 

"He did say some pretty fucked up shit," Justin said, shaking his head. "He was really out of line." 

"Is that why you clocked him?" I asked. I'd been wondering about this since Justin did it. At the time I thought maybe Lance was hitting a nerve because Justin was still confused about his feelings toward me and Josh, but then Justin had explained later that he wasn't all that confused after all. 

"I clocked him because he was out of line, and because he was talking shit," Justin said simply. "He was hurting you, he was hurting Brit, and he was hurting Josh, and it was all over shit that Lance really has no business talking about anyway." 

"True," I agreed. Lance was a virgin, after all. What business did he have arguing about sex, and whether it was right or wrong? 

"He just makes me so mad sometimes," Justin said, his hands balled up into fists. "I mean, he made Josh cry, and he made you cry. And he's always giving me shit, too, and once he even made Brit cry." 

"Her?" I asked. "She doesn't seem like the type." 

"She's not, usually," Justin said. "But he's always dropping these little side comments, and one day he was just harping and harping on her, and she started crying." 

"And you didn't punch him then?" I asked. 

"I wasn't there," Justin answered. "If I had been, I probably would have, but I was out talking to a reporter or something, and Chris and Josh had to scream at him to leave her alone. I thought Josh was going to strangle him. Gave him a long, loud lecture about being friends, and all of us being a family, and how Lance was being an ass." 

"I think that's what hurt Josh the most, actually," I said. "Not what Lance said, but that it was Lance who said it. You guys are important to Josh, and I think he felt betrayed more than anything else." 

"I kind of felt the same way, " Justin said. "When I walked in and Lance was yelling at all three of you, something in me just kind of snapped, and I let him have it." 

"Did it make you feel any better?" I asked. 

"No," Justin answered bluntly. The directness and firm tone of his voice surprised me. "No, it didn't. Lance needs to be taken down a couple pegs. He walks around here like he's on this high horse, and he's always telling us what's right and wrong. You should hear him go after Chris with the smoking, and the models." 

"Models?" I asked. "There's more than one?" 

"Yeah," Justin answered, grinning, his whole face lighting up as he smiled. "Which one did you meet?" 

"Vlada?" I said, trying to remember if that was her name or not. "Tall girl, green eyes, foreign accent." 

"Yeah, that one's Vlada," Justin answered. "You met her this morning? That means tonight Chloe is over. I can't remember who else there is, but there's at least one more." 

I giggled. No wonder Chris kept to himself so much. He was probably exhausted. 

"Anyway," Justin said, dragging me back to the subject at hand. "Lance has been fucking with all of us for a while. He even tried to give Joey this lecture about gluttony being a sin, and Joey responded by ordering six pizzas while Lance was talking." 

I giggled again. I was really starting to like Joey. 

"Was he always like this?" I asked. "I mean, why would you guys even have him in the band if no one can get along with him?" 

"He didn't start out like this," Justin said, shrugging. I was so engrossed in the conversation that I'd more or less stopped noticing his attractive half-nakedness. "I mean, he was always very into church and stuff, and he read his Bible on planes a lot, but he never used to be such a judgmental prick about it. During this past tour, though, he's just been getting worse and worse, and it's driving us all crazy. It's most of the reason why we moved in here." 

"Most of the reason?" I asked, wondering what the rest was. 

"Well, Lance and Josh were the whole reasons, really," Justin admitted. "Josh was pulling away, and closing himself off, and at the same time Lance was just getting meaner and more self-righteous. For a while there we weren't sure if there was even going to be an album after this one." 

"I had no idea it had gotten that bad," I said. "Josh said there was some strain, but he didn't say it was anything like that." 

"I don't think he saw a lot of it," Justin said. "Lance wasn't bothering him. Anyway, all five of us sat down at the end of the tour, and we had a long talk about what we were going to do. We spent a little time doing our own projects, but we also decided that when we recorded the new album, we were going to do it together, and try get back some of that spirit we had when we first started out." 

"Has it worked?" I asked. 

"More or less," Justin answered. "I mean, Josh has really opened up, and he has you here. But Lance, he hasn't done anything except make things worse." 

"He seems like he might be trying to change," I admitted grudgingly. 

"Not fast enough," Justin said. Maybe it was just the light from the television, but his face looked almost cruel, twisted into an angry sneer. "But I'll help him along." 

I didn't want to stay and ask Justin what he meant by that. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, and wished that I was back in Josh's apartment, next to him in bed, where I felt safe. There were strange currents here, and I didn't want to get caught up in them. Whatever went on between Justin and Lance was their business, not mine. Maybe if I repeated it to myself enough times, I'd even start to believe it. 

"I think I'm gonna go turn in, Justin," I said, standing. 

"Sorry I got all serious there for a minute," Justin said, standing as well. He patted me on the shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow after we have that interview we should get together, maybe do something. Would you like that?" 

"Sure," I answered. "Ask Josh about it tomorrow, too." 

"I will," Justin said, smiling. "Good night, Jack." 

"Night, Justin," I said, turning to leave. I still felt strangely unsettled by the entire conversation. 

I felt even more unsettled when I got back to Josh's apartment. I jumped in the shower really fast to rinse the chlorine smell from the pool off of me, and then walked around the apartment, shutting lights off, as I toweled myself off. As I turned off the lamps in the living room, I noticed a shadow pass by the front window, next to the door. I peeked out from the side of the curtains, trying not to be seen, and saw Lance knocking at Justin's door. After a moment, Justin let him inside, and closed the door behind him. 

END SEASON 1 

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CHAPTER 22

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BEGIN SEASON 2 

I didn't sleep well, unable to get the thought of Justin and Lance together in Justin's apartment out of my mind. I wasn't really sure what I was afraid might be happening over there, but I just kept thinking of the way Justin had said that he wanted to take Lance down a couple of pegs, and the way his face had looked when he had said it. 

Or the way I thought his face looked. 

Maybe it really had been distorted by the light of the television. And Justin hadn't said that he intended to hurt Lance in any way. He just seemed to want to teach him a lesson, and, really what could be wrong with that? If anyone needed to be taught a lesson about being hurtful to others, it was Lance. He had been deliberately nasty, almost as if he was trying to be as hurtful as possible. If nothing else, he hadn't done anything in the past few days to make me suddenly feel any amount of concern for him, and yet I did anyway. On the other hand, he had helped look for Josh, and he'd muttered out that half-apology in an attempt to make peace, so he couldn't be all bad. He was just a little misguided. Maybe he really did need to be taken down a couple of pegs, whatever Justin meant by that. 

And what did I think Justin was going to do to him, anyway? So Lance had run away in tears. Justin said Lance hadn't wanted to hear some of the things he had to say, but they couldn't have been all that terrible, because Lance had come back to hear the rest of it. If Justin was doing something deliberately hurtful to Lance, Lance wouldn't come back for more. It would be illogical. I was just worrying excessively, inventing problems where there were none. And it's not like Lance would worry this much about me, anyway. 

The alarm woke me from my uneven sleep, and I quickly smacked it off. Josh stirred against me, snuggling in, throwing an arm across my chest to pull me in closer. 

"Is time to get up?" he muttered, nuzzling his head under my chin, eyes closed. 

"No, Mr. Sleepy," I answered, gently removing his hand. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, and I'll wake you when I get back from running." 

His response was an unintelligible wordless mumble of syllables. I slid out of the bed, and then pulled the sheet back up over him as he already began drifting back into sleep. I quickly got dressed in suitable running clothes, brushed my teeth, and walked down the stairs to Chris's apartment. I knocked once, and a curly haired brunette, as tall as Vlada, opened the door. 

"Good morning," she drawled in a twangy southern accent. "You must be Jack. Ah'm Chloe." 

"Hi, Chloe," I said. Justin had been right when he said Chloe's day was after Vlada's. She was clearly also a model, and she looked familiar to me. "Where do I know you from?" 

"Aren't you the sweetest thing?" she asked, taking my arm. "Ah was on the covuh of last month's Cosmo." 

"And what a cover it was," Chris said from the doorway, following Chloe into the courtyard. "Be right with you, Jack." 

Chris was already dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and pulled on his shoes as he walked Chloe out to the parking area. The scene from yesterday morning was repeated: hug, kiss, placement in cab, wave goodbye. As the cab pulled away, Chris walked back to me, and we began stretching. Joey stepped out of his apartment in Superman boxers and a Pac Man t-shirt, and walked over to the front archway to check his mail. 

"So, Chris," I began. "How many models are there?" 

"How many days of the week are there?" he asked, smirking. Oh, the life of an international pop star truly must be difficult. "We doing three miles, or five?" 

"Let's go for three," I answered. "I haven't done this in a week. You know, I thought you said Nick Carter has slept with everything that moves." 

Chris laughed. 

"No, I said he's slept with everything," Chris said, standing. "That includes people who can't move to run away. Besides, it's not my fault if so many of the ladies want what Chris has got." 

"The ladies want crabs?" Joey asked seriously. I cracked up, sitting on one of the lounges before I fell over, and Joey laughed along with me. 

"Fuck you," Chris said, smiling. The he looked at me. "And you, for encouraging him. Let's go." 

I was still giggling as we started our jog through the parking area and out onto the road, and Chris quickly increased the pace until I stopped. As we jogged along, I marveled at the way the city was slowly waking up around us. Things were so different out here. Where I lived, everything was more or less the same, but here we saw people of every age and race out jogging as well, or opening stores, or waiting in traffic to get on with their day. Chris had covered his hair with a bandanna, which he insisted on referring to as a dew-rag, and had on huge wraparound sunglasses, so we figured there was little chance of him being recognized. He had been running the same route for weeks and no one had noticed him yet. I guess there were some advantages to being one of the lesser known members of the band. 

While we jogged, Chris also pointed out important spots in the neighborhood to me, which was a big help. I'm not good with directions, being more of a visual person. If you tell me to take Main Street until it hits State, I'll get completely lost, but if you tell me to drive to the Mobil and then take a left, I'll know exactly where I'm going. I was thankful that Chris was taking the time to point out restaurants and stores that Josh liked, because I wanted to be able to move around the neighborhood with some level of confidence while I was here. As it was, I wasn't even entirely sure of how to find the studio. 

I guess I had been too quiet for most of the run, because Chris spoke up finally. 

"Jack, is everything ok?" he asked. 

"Oh, yeah, why?" I answered. 

"I don't know," he began. "You just seem kind of quiet. Are you still upset about yesterday?" 

"Yesterday?" I asked, not sure of what he meant. 

"You know, what I said at dinner," Chris said, frowning. "I didn't mean to hit a sore spot." 

"It's ok," I said, shrugging as we ran. "You didn't know, and really nothing happened. Josh got drunk, and let some guys kiss him. No biggie. Shit happens." 

"Are you ok with it?" Chris asked. "I mean, I get the impression that you and JC aren't really an open couple." 

"We're not, and yes, I'm ok with it," I snapped. "I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to snap at you. Like Josh said, he was drunk and he was upset. He made a mistake. I'm just getting tired of talking about it, really." 

"You guys have been talking about it a lot?" Chris asked. "That's good, though, right?" 

"It's good to talk it out," I agreed. "But Josh and I talked about it. And then Justin and I talked about it. And Justin and Josh talked about it, too. I really just want us all to stop talking about it for a while." 

"Yeah, it's nice that JC and Justin are getting close again," Chris said. "That's not a problem for you, is it?" 

"No, I don't mind Josh having friends," I said, shaking my head. "We had a little friction when Justin stayed with us, but the three of us have worked it out. And Josh needs someone else to talk to, besides me." 

"So do you, you know," Chris said. 

"That's why I'm out running with you, isn't it?" I asked, smiling. 

"I admit nothing," Chris said. "But if you need an ear, well, I respect both of you, and I don't mind being here if you need it." 

"Actually, Chris, since you're offering to be my sympathetic ear, can I bounce something else off of you?" I asked. 

"Sure," he answered, one eyebrow raised. "Fire away." 

"What's going on with Justin and Lance?" I asked. 

Chris looked thoughtful for a second. 

"That's not really a pair that you see together too often," he said. "Do you think something's going on with them?" 

"I don't know," I answered. I told Chris what I had seen last night, and then told him that I talked to Justin afterward without really telling him what Justin had said. I didn't want to betray Justin's confidence. "And then Lance came back up to talk to him again." 

"Talking is good, though, right?" Chris asked. "I mean, what exactly are you worried about?" 

"That's just it," I said. "I don't know. Chris, how do you think Justin feels about Lance?" 

"Well, I can tell by your story that you left a whole bunch out," Chris began, and I nodded. "And I don't mind. I don't want to stick my nose into your friendship with Justin, but it's probably not going to surprise you to hear that Justin doesn't particularly care for Lance." 

"I know, and that's why this baffles me," I said. "You don't think Justin would say anything really bad, just to get back at him, do you?" 

Chris didn't answer. 

"Chris?" I prompted. 

"Look, Jack, Justin is my friend, and yours as well," he began. "And sometimes when someone is our friend we overlook certain qualities. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Justin has a very protective streak toward people he cares about, and he doesn't take it well when they're hurt." 

"But he cares about Lance, too, right?" I asked. "I mean, they were friends once, right?" 

"Yeah, they got along pretty well before Justin and Brit started hooking up, and Lance turned so bitchy all the time," Chris said. "And I get what you're saying. I'm sure Justin wouldn't do anything nasty to a friend, no matter what they'd done or how strained the friendship was. Maybe they're just talking things out, like Justin said. It won't be a painless process with all the shit that's gone on." 

"I guess," I said. "I'm probably just overreacting." 

"You know, if you're really worried about Lance, there is someone else you could talk to," Chris said. I stared at him blankly. "Lance." 

"But Lance and I don't talk, " I said, digesting the idea. 

"Maybe you should start," Chris said. 

I pondered this for a while, before our conversation moved on to other topics. By the end of our run, I decided that maybe Chris was right, and I should talk to Lance. He may not want to talk to me, but on the other hand we had agreed to try to get along. If we were going to, then we'd have to talk to each other someday. But what was I going to do? Show up at his door and tell him I saw him crying, and ask if he needed to talk about it? I'm sure that would open him right up. 

I dropped Chris off at his door, and walked up to the apartment, still trying to decide what to do. I wasn't sure if I should talk to Josh about it, since he and Lance hadn't talked yet, and he and Justin were working on strengthening their friendship again. Sighing, but being careful not to make excessive noise, since I didn't want to wake Josh, I peeled off my clothes as I walked to the bathroom, laving a trail of them across the living room. I turned on the shower and hopped inside, closing my eyes and just standing under the spray for a minute or two, letting the hot water roll over me, pushing all of these confusing and conflicting thoughts out of my head. 

I heard the curtain slide open and closed, and then Josh's hands were on my neck, kneading. 

"You're tense," he said, working at the spot where my neck met my shoulders. 

"And you're awake," I answered, not really responding to what he said. 

"Yeah," he answered. "I figured I owed you a massage for last night. Sorry I fell asleep." 

"Don't be sorry for needing rest, Josh," I said, rolling my head back. His hands were firm, but skilled, and I felt the knots beginning to work themselves out of my shoulders. "Just keep doing that with your hands." 

"I love touching you," Josh said, pressing on my shoulders as I braced my hands on the wall of the shower. "You're so beautiful." 

"Me?" I asked. "You're the pretty one, Josh. You're so beautiful it should be illegal." 

"No, no I'm not," Josh said sheepishly. 

He meant it, too. Part of Josh's charm for me was that he never seemed to realize exactly how attractive he was. Don't get me wrong, he knew he was good looking. He'd have to be blind not to, but for Josh the way he looked was almost an afterthought, like, "Oh, yeah, and I'm kind of cute, too." It was an unassuming quality that made him seem that much more beautiful, because he didn't play on the way he looked, or try to use it to manipulate people, like Justin did. 

Wait, where had that thought come from? Why was I thinking about Justin while I was naked in the shower with Josh? 

"God, Jack, I want you so bad right now," Josh sighed in my ear. 

Somewhere along the way his motions had changed from massage to caress, his hands now tracing lightly over me. I sighed, leaning back against him, pressing my body into his. I felt his hard cock pressing between my ass cheeks, and his hands played lazily over the front of me, twisting my nipples, tugging at my balls, sliding over my hard, wet cock. Josh was nibbling at my ear as the shower cascaded down over both of us. 

"If you want me, then take me," I sighed, feeling the way his chest moved against my back as his arms drifted back and forth over me. 

I heard him reaching for the shower gel, and felt him slide his hand up to get me ready. The smell of apples, absurdly enough, filled the shower as I felt his hard cock sliding up into me. He squirted more gel into his hand, and wrapped it around my cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. I still had one hand on the wall of the shower, holding myself up, but I draped my body back against him, impaling myself fully, feeling him push urgently into me. 

He was making little "unh" grunts in time to his thrusts, and his hand on me was almost brutally tight, sliding over the shaft and the head, and then skinning back down. His other hand continued to rub my abs, or squeeze my pecs, before he grabbed one of my nipples and twisted it, hard. I twisted my head to the side and his tongue jabbed into my mouth, his hand sliding up to hold my head there as his arm held my body against his, feeling him flex as he pushed into me. 

"Harder, Josh," I whispered, and he began to slam into me, his pelvis banging against mine. 

I clamped down on him, hard, trying to hold his cock in place, feeling its curve, and the rounded ridge of his head pushing into and out of me, and he groaned again. His abs crunched against my back, and his chest flexed, pushing me just the slightest bit forward with every movement of his arm. His mouth crawled over my neck, kissing the nape, running up and down the sides, covering whatever parts of me he could reach with kisses and little nipping bites. His hand continued working on me, faster, harder, still matching his thrusts, carrying me to the same point of urgency where he was. 

I felt myself near the edge, and then just let go. I came hard, blasting cum over his hand, looking down to see my own chest flex, my own abs crunch. He sucked in a breath, and began to pump even harder, fighting to keep going even as I involuntarily spasmed around him, squeezing even harder. My arm slipped, and we fell against the curtain. There was a loud series of pops as we ripped it down on our way to the floor, and I thought detachedly of the shower scene in "Psycho". It wasn't blood swirling down our drain, though. 

Josh didn't miss a beat, driving himself into me as I reared up from the bathmat. The curtain was wrapped around us, clinging to us, as the shower continued, spraying everywhere. Josh held me up with his arms, pressing me against him as he reared up again and again, his hips pushing straight up from the floor, and finally he bent me painfully backward as he stabbed into me and held himself there, jerking against my ass as he unloaded. 

"Yeah, Jack," he panted, catching my earlobe again in his teeth. "Yeah." 

We sat like that for a second, kneeling on the bathroom floor, before I felt him start to slide out of me. Wordlessly, still trying to catch our breath, we climbed back into the shower stall, and cleaned ourselves up before finally turning off the water. I turned, running my hands over his chest, before catching his face in them and pulling him toward me. I kissed him, and he kissed back, crushing me against him again. 

"Damn," he said, looking around as we stood in the tub. "We flooded the bathroom again." 

"Maybe we should stop having so much sex in the shower," I said. "We could be overdoing it." 

"I don't think I could ever have enough of you," Josh said. "No matter where we're doing it." 

"You say the sweetest things, " I said, stepping out of the tub. I winced a little. 

"You ok?" he asked, a hand on my back. 

"Yeah," I said, handing him a towel. "You just leave me feeling a little bowlegged sometimes." 

"Oh," he said, grinning, looking down, and blushing, all at once. "I felt kind of like that last night." 

"I bet," I said, smiling. "I've never had any complaints. How are you today?" 

"OK," he answered, following me into the bedroom. I handed him the cream for the powder burns on his arms. "Everything just felt kind of loose for a while there, you know?" 

"Um, yeah, I know," I giggled. What is it about guys that makes us unable to discuss sex, ever, without giggling like grade schoolers? 

"Can I ask you about that?" Josh began, pulling on a pair of boxer briefs. 

"Sure," I said, stepping into a pair of boxers. 

"I don't know if I really liked that," Josh began. Immediately he went on the defensive. "I mean, you were really good, and I know you tried to go slow, and it did start to feel good after a while. But, you know, it just felt, kind of, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not used to it." 

"Come here," I said, patting the bed next to me. He sat, gazing earnestly at me. "Josh, I can tell you're being really careful not to offend me, but don't worry about it. Your first time, and even the first couple, aren't always fun. One of my friends used to say it was like getting reamed out with a hoe handle." 

"It wasn't really that bad," he said, smiling. 

"I didn't think so," I said, squeezing his hand. "Since you seemed to enjoy it, but still, I hear what you're saying, Josh. I realize we never really had a talk about this, so I'll say it now, and hopefully you'll feel better. You and I have fooled around quite a bit, but you're still kind of new at this, and you're still trying to figure out what you like. You don't have to like everything, Josh." 

"You don't?" he asked. 

"What kind of wanton whore do you think you're dating?" I asked, smiling. "Seriously, no, I don't like everything. You'll never catch me giving you a rimjob, for example. What I'm trying to say, Josh, is that you can take your time, and I'll be patient. If you're ever curious about something, we can try it. I don't want you to do something because you feel like you have to. I want you to be comfortable." 

"You mean it?" he asked. "I mean, it's not always going to be, you know, me on top, but you don't mind if it is a lot?" 

"Have I minded so far?" I asked, smiling. "You may not have noticed, Josh, but your boyfriend is a definite bottom." 

"I like hearing that," he said, touching the side of my face. 

"That I'm a bottom?" I asked. 

"No," he answered. "That you're my boyfriend." 

We both sighed, and I suddenly felt really schmaltzy. Then again, the discussion of who got to be on top wasn't really one of those Hallmark moments. 

"OK, let's get you dressed for that interview," I said. "I'll mop up the bathroom while you're gone. And I think Justin wants to do something this afternoon, so I'll hold off on lunch until you guys are back." 

"OK," he said. I was glad he didn't question when I might have spoken to Justin, because I still didn't feel like getting into that with him. 

The guys all met in the courtyard, dressed in their many varying styles. I winced inwardly at what Josh had chosen, wondering where one could even buy a pair of red leather pants with green splotches on them, but hey, if they made him happy, I was ok with it. 

"You get dressed in the dark?" Chris asked, giggling. 

"Dip your hair in crayola again?" Josh countered, staring at Chris's new bright blue highlights. 

"Play nice, kids," Joey said. "You both look like crap." 

I waved them all away as they piled into Joey's car, the five of them squeezing in. Justin put himself between Josh and Lance in the backseat, which I thought was a good idea, and then they pulled away, and I was all alone in the apartment complex. Actually, I might not have been alone, since Jackie could be there, but I had yet to physically lay eyes on the woman, so I didn't count her. 

I went back up to the apartment and mopped up the bathroom floor. The shower curtain couldn't be salvaged this time, as several of the hanging holes had ripped, so I folded it up and stuffed it into the trash can. I tidied up the apartment, washing up the dishes and tossing laundry into the basket, cleaning up the trail of clothing I'd left earlier. While I was straightening up, I realized that we hadn't checked the mail in a few days, so I went down to get it. 

Josh had several things that I didn't really look through, although I paged through several sales flyers for "Occupant" and "Current Box Holder". There was a large, bulky envelope addressed to me, from Carla, and I sat down at the table to go through it. I had talked to her the other day, and asked her to send me my mail, since I had bills and stuff that needed to be attended to. I found all of my bills, along with a note from her to call more, because she was dying to know how things were going, and then I found a white greeting card envelope addressed to me. 

There was no return address, but the postmark was a town about an hour from where Carla and I lived. I ran through all of my friends and acquaintances in my head, and wasn't sure I knew anyone from there. Curious, I tore it open, and pulled out a card. It was rather plain, the kind of quick card you might grab at a drugstore or a gas station, but it was the papers that fluttered out when I opened it that really caught my attention. 

There were four clippings inside the card, two from newspapers and two from magazines. I recognized them immediately, as I had the same clippings in the little scrapbook I had started keeping. The first was a picture of Josh, Justin, Britney, Chris, and I in front of Planet Hollywood, smiling for the crowd. One of the newspaper clippings was also from our Planet Hollywood dinner, although it wasn't the same picture. The other two clippings were from the night we had gone clubbing. In one of them I was climbing out of the limo while Chris and Josh stood on either side, and in the other we were all in front of the club, posing for the crowd. 

A chill ran down my spine as I realized that these weren't quite the same as the ones I had. In the originals, I had been identified as "an unknown friend" or just "and a companion", but someone had altered these, carefully painting over that with White Out and printing my name in a blocky script. Stunned, I looked at the card again. The front had a rather innocuous picture of a puppy looking out a window, and inside was printed, "Thinking of you." Beneath that, someone had scrawled, "Having a good time, Jack? Which one of them is yours?" 

As I was staring at the message, unable to think or even to move, I heard the guys outside, walking back into the courtyard. Dashing for the guest room, I pulled my empty suitcase out of the closet and stuffed the card and clippings inside. I didn't know why I was hiding them from Josh, but I didn't stop to think about it. Considering how he'd reacted when Chris figured out what was going on between us, I worried that this would throw Josh into a full-out panic attack, and after his last two days I didn't want him upset any more. We could talk about it in a day or two, when things had settled down. 

Josh walked in just as I was walking back into the living room, and smiled as he pulled me into a hug, giving me a quick peck on the lips. 

"Miss me?" he asked. "Because I missed you." 

I was still too panicked to come up with an answer, suddenly thinking that he'd be able to see right through me, no matter what I said. Luckily I was saved by knocking at the door. Josh turned and pulled it open, and we saw Lance, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. 

"What?" Josh snapped, starting to swing the door closed again when he saw who it was. I put a hand on his arm. 

"Josh," I said softly. 

"What do you want?" he practically spat at Lance. 

"Can I talk to you?" Lance asked, not looking up at either of us. 

"Why? Haven't you said enough yet?" Josh asked. 

"Josh," I said again, more firmly. 

Lance looked up finally. The expression on his face was unreadable. 

"Please?" he asked. 

"Fine," Josh said, pulling open the door. "Come on in." 

---

CHAPTER 23

---

Josh stepped away from the door, holding it open, and Lance shuffled inside. His head was down, his shoulders slumped, and he walked as if he expected one of us to smack him. Josh didn't offer him a chair, but it was just as well, since Lance was giving off an overwhelmingly uncomfortable vibe. His eyes darted all around the living room, over the furniture, up and down the walls, anywhere but at the two of us, and he continued shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

"You had something to say?" Josh barked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"I wanted to come talk to both of you," Lance began quietly, staring at his shoes. 

This was obviously painful for him, and Josh was determined not to make it any easier. I couldn't decide which one to side with. 

"Why don't you look at us if you're going to talk to us?" Josh asked nastily. "You didn't have any problems looking at us any other time." 

Lance looked at me. I tried to keep my face neutral. 

"My face is over here," Josh pointed out. 

Lance finally looked at him. 

"I wanted to come and, um, I wanted to apologize to you," Lance began weakly. His voice lacked the authority it usually carried, but it was also missing every other tone as well. I realized that he sounded almost rehearsed. "I wanted to apologize to both of you, for the, um, for the, you know, the pain I caused." 

"Which time?" Josh asked, his voice icy. 

"What?" Lance asked, his eyes widening. 

"Which time are you apologizing for?" Josh asked, stepping toward him. "Is it for the first time? Because when I talked to you about it you said it was ok, so maybe you're apologizing for the other time. You know, after I talked to you, but you attacked Jack anyway. Is that what you're apologizing for? For pretending you were ok with it, and pretending to be my friend again, and then attacking my boyfriend behind my back?" 

"I," Lance began, his jaw flapping. I don't think, after all of Josh's tears, Lance ever expected this level of hostility. 

"Josh, you're not even letting him talk," I pointed out. It was exactly the wrong thing to do. 

He spun toward me, his blue eyes frosty snowballs boring into me. 

"Why should I?" he demanded. "Haven't we heard enough from Lance?" 

"We haven't heard anything from him, yet," I answered, crossing my arms as well. I looked past Josh. "Lance, please just tell us whatever it was you came up here to say." 

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for all of it," he said, mumbling quickly through the words. "I had no business saying anything to either of you because I wasn't being a good friend to you and I don't have any business judging you on things that I don't really know anything about and I'm very sorry for hurting you both." 

Josh and I both stared at him. He was still shifting from foot to foot, and the toneless jumble of words didn't exactly reek of sincerity. 

"Is that all you had to say?" Josh asked, his voice still frostily civil. 

"I, yeah, I guess," Lance said, shrugging. 

"Fine," Josh said, opening the door again. "Thanks for stopping by." 

Lance and I both stared at Josh, and then Lance shuffled toward the door. 

"I guess I'll go," Lance said, walking out. 

I followed him through the door, and Josh slammed it behind me. 

"Lance," I called. He stopped, and turned toward me. His whole face drooped, and he just looked completely defeated. "Lance, I can't make excuses for Josh. He's angry and hurt, but I appreciate that you tried." 

"Yeah, whatever," he sighed, turning away. 

When I walked back into the apartment, Josh was leaning on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, glaring at the door, waiting for me. 

"Happy? We listened," he snapped at me. 

"What the fuck, Josh?" I asked, snapping right back. 

"What?" he asked. 

"That was rude," I said. "He came up to apologize. The least you could have done was listen." 

"Why?" he asked again. 

"Josh, he drove around just like everyone else when you were lost," I said. "He made calls, and he even came up here to talk to me, and try to reassure me, and this is how you treat him for it?" 

"I wouldn't even have been out there if not for him!" Josh barked. 

"Don't blame Lance for that, " I said. "It was him, and you, and me, and Justin, and all the rest of this shit. It wasn't just Lance, and you know it." 

"Why are you making excuses for him?" Josh asked. 

"Why aren't you?" I countered. "Before I even came here you told me about how close you guys are, and how you're practically a family, and how you're all brothers. Is this really the way you want to treat your brother, Josh?" 

"He hurt me," Josh said sullenly. "He hurt us both." 

"Quick, hurt him back," I snapped sarcastically. "That'll solve the problem." 

We glared at each other, neither wanting to give any ground, but both aware that we didn't want to get into a fight. Before either of us could say anything, we were interrupted by knocking at the door. 

"What the fuck?" Josh barked, stalking past me to get the door. He jerked it open, revealing Joey standing with two bottles. "Joey?" 

"Hi, guys," he said brightly. "Bad time?" 

"No," I answered as Josh blurted, "Yes." 

We glared at each other again, Josh holding the door in a white knuckled grip and me with my arms still crossed sulkingly over my chest. We might as well have had a sign over our heads that read, "Catfight in Progress". Joey held out the bottles. 

"Here, put these in your fridge," he said. "Then finish bickering, then kiss and make up, and then come outside and meet us in the parking lot. Justin says they're holding a table for us at Spago, so I figure we better hurry and grab some lunch before you two break up again." 

"We're not breaking up, dick, " Josh said, glaring at Joey now instead of me. 

"Give me those," I snapped, pulling the bottles out of Joey's hands. Walking to the fridge, I glanced down at the labels. "Joey, why are you giving us champagne?" 

"You'll see," he said, stepping back. "I'll leave you to your rumble now." 

"We'll be out in a minute," Josh snapped, shutting the door in Joey's face. He turned back to me. "I don't want to leave if we're still fighting, Jack. I don't want you to still be mad at me." 

"I'm not mad, just disappointed," I sighed weightily. It had always worked when my mother said it. Josh walked over and hugged me. 

"How about if I agree to think about Lance's apology?" he asked. "Is that ok?" 

"Sure, Josh," I said, hugging him back. "Let's go get some lunch." 

"Not so fast," he said, refusing to let go of me. "We were instructed to kiss and make up." 

"How could I have forgotten?" I asked, smirking. 

Josh kissed me, just once, but deeply, one of his famous sloppy wet kisses, lips everywhere, tongue almost strangling me. I loved it. We practically skipped down to the parking lot, hand in hand, where the other four guys were waiting for us. Lance was standing off to the side with his hands in his pockets, and Justin and Chris looked up guiltily from the huddle they were in with Joey. I realized Joey must have been talking about us, but smiled anyway. 

"We're ready for lunch!" Josh chirped. 

"You've got spit on your chin," Joey said, giggling and pointing at me. 

"Do not," I said quickly, wiping it away with the back of my hand as I grinned. 

"Fucking honeymooners," Chris muttered, snickering. 

We ended up taking two cars, as no one had a vehicle big enough to seat six. When we got to Spago, we stopped at the front of the restaurant so that the guys could have some pictures taken, and Josh again pulled me into a group shot. I was starting to feel a little like a mascot, but no one seemed to mind, so I tried not to let it bother me. I realized, too, that they were all in full-out public relations mode. Everyone was smiling, even Lance, whose entire demeanor had shifted when he got out of the car. If you weren't on the inside, you would think that everything was perfect, and the division between what I knew and what I saw bothered me through all of lunch. 

"Jack, you ok?" Josh whispered, leaning over. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?" I asked, shaking my head. 

"You just seemed a little out of it for a minute," he said, taking my hand for the briefest second before letting go. 

"Sorry," I said, whishing he could hold on. I felt out of my depth. "I guess I'm just distracted." 

And I was. Everyone in the restaurant knew the guys. Everyone was watching and people, famous people, people I'd seen on television, were waving or stopping by our table to say hi. The guys sent drinks to other tables, and drinks were sent to us. Josh offered to take me around to introduce me to anyone I wanted to meet, but I really just wanted to have a quiet lunch, and stop feeling like everyone was looking at us. It didn't help at all that we were seated almost in the center of the restaurant. After lunch, there was another flurry of picture snapping as we left, and then Josh and I piled into Justin's car, with Lance. 

I knew that Josh didn't want to sit with Lance, and I didn't want to have a repeat of any of the arguments, so I sat in the back with Lance while Josh sat in the front, staring out the window. As soon as we were away from the restaurant Lance relaxed back into his former moody state, slumping against the side of the door, physically turning away from me, not saying anything. Josh wouldn't even turn around the look at me, and I watched Justin's eyes bounce all over the car in the rearview mirror. There was so much tension in the car I was finding it hard to breathe. 

"I thought we were going straight home," Josh blurted suddenly. 

"Oh, I, um, I wanted to stop by the studio for a second," Justin said. It sounded a little forced, but nothing in the car sounded natural. "I didn't think you'd mind." 

"No, no, I don't mind," Josh said, shrugging. 

Justin slammed his car into a parking space, and jumped out, promising to be right back. Josh jumped out to follow him, leaving Lance and I in the car. 

"So," I said, watching them both walk away. 

Lance didn't say anything. 

"Lance, I'm sorry Josh didn't want to listen to you earlier," I said. 

"Leave me alone, Jack, please," Lance said pitifully. He still wouldn't look at me. "I don't want to talk to you. Please." 

Wait a minute. Did Lance just ask me not to talk to him? Did he actually almost beg me not to? 

"Lance, are you ok?" I asked. "I mean, I realize you and I don't really get along, but I can see that something is bothering you. Are you really ok?" 

Lance finally turned toward me, His face was conflicted, still looking morose, but also sort of hopeful. His eyes searched mine, looking for something, maybe for a harsh word, or some sign of a trick. Before he could say anything, though, Justin and Josh reappeared, pulling their doors open. They both had bundles of mail in their hands. 

"Hey," Justin said. 

"Hi," Josh said, smiling at me. "Miss me?" 

"Sure did," I answered, as Lance turned away again. 

We drove back to the apartment building in silence. When we pulled in, Joey's car was parked, but he and Chris were nowhere in sight. As we got out of the car, Lance pulled Justin aside. 

"Can I, um, can I talk to you?" Lance asked quietly. 

"Sure," Justin said, smirking. "I'll talk to you guys tomorrow." 

I thought it was a little early for him to be saying good night, being that we were barely in the middle of the afternoon, but didn't really want to question whether or not he had plans. I was still feeling a little dazed by lunch, and just wanted some time alone with Josh. Josh unlocked the door, and we walked in, but both paused as we saw a large box, wrapped in gold paper, sitting on the table. 

"What the hell?" Josh asked as we approached it. 

"Could be a bomb," I said suspiciously. 

We found a plain gold card on top, and I had a sudden shuddering worry that it would be from the same person who had sent me the other card, the one with all of the news clippings in it. The box would be full of clippings, or dead kittens, or something. Before I could think to tell Josh not to open it he was reading it, and putting my fears to rest. 

"Dear Josh and Jack," Josh began. "We know the past few days have been really rough on you, and we want to do what we can to help you get past it. Please go to your refrigerator now, and take out the champagne Joey brought you earlier. There's a bottle for each of you. Please open them, and start drinking. When you get halfway through the bottle, open the box, and have fun. Your friends, Justin, Chris, and Joey." 

Josh looked at me, and we both began laughing. 

"Please get drunk and then open this box?" I asked, doubled over. "What the hell is that?" 

"I don't know, but they mean well," Josh said. "Should we open it?" 

"I don't know," I answered. "Maybe we should follow directions." 

"We could just shake it a little," Josh suggested, following me to the refrigerator. 

"Here, get this open," I said, handing him a bottle. "How fast can you drink one of these?" 

Josh looked at it thoughtfully. 

"Let's find out," he said, smiling. 

Within minutes the corks had been popped, and we were both guzzling champagne, straight out of the bottles, like a pair of high-class winos. Every time we looked at each other we cracked up laughing again, but we finally consumed half of our respective bottles. Carrying the box to the coffee table, we sat together on the couch and tore the paper open, and then removed the lid. 

"Oh my," Josh said. 

A paper sign on top of the box read, "Official Nsync Fun and Kinky Lovin' Kit". 

"Will you guys be selling these through the fan club?" I asked, pulling a string of glow in the dark condoms from the box. 

"I doubt it," Josh said, removing a dog collar. 

Neither one of us wanted to wear it, so we tossed it aside with the condoms. The box was a virtual treasure trove of odd sexual toys. I wondered how and when the guys had found time to put this together, and then prayed that no tabloids had photographed them at the stores they would have had to go to in order to purchase this stuff. We tossed aside a couple of porn videos, and several dirty magazines, as we pawed through the box like kids at Christmas time, giggling and throwing packages of edible underwear at each other. We were both giddy, and kept drinking our champagne as we marveled at each new surprise. 

"Here," I said, putting a police officer's hat on Josh. "Now you look cute." 

"What about you?" he asked, frowning. 

"I get to be the fire chief, " I said, pulling a bright red plastic helmet from the box. "Want to check my hose, Officer Josh?" 

"Maybe after I give you a pat down," he answered, tickling me. 

"Police brutality!" I shrieked as we collapsed in giggles. 

I handed Josh a pair of padded handcuffs, figuring they went more with his hat than mine, and he set them aside, reaching past me to pull out a large pair of fuzzy dice. 

"What are those?" I asked. 

"Love dice," Josh answered, throwing them. "Oh, look, it says 'Kiss Nipple'. I better do what they say." 

I giggled again as he pulled my shirt over my head, and then put the fire helmet back on as I sat next to him, topless. Josh abruptly stopped giggling, and was just staring at me, wide eyed. 

"What?" I asked, straightening my hat. 

"You're just so beautiful," he said, leaning in. 

I thought he was going to kiss me, but, as instructed, he kissed my nipple. He wrapped his lips in a tight circle around it, pulling the nub into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over it, and pulled at it with his teeth. I felt his soft beard sliding over my chest, and his nose brushing my pec. I reached into the box, and pulled out the first thing I found. 

"What's that?" he asked, turning his head. 

"Lickable massage oil," I answered, twisting off the cap. "Chocolate flavor." 

He nuzzled his face against my hand as I rubbed a little into his jawline. I leaned in, and ran my tongue up the side of his face in one long lick. My fire chief hat fell to the floor, but neither one of us moved to pick it up. 

"Is it good?" Josh sighed. 

"Yummy," I said, unbuttoning his shirt. I smeared some of it onto his chest. "Let's try it here, too." 

I licked up and down his chest like a hungry kitten at a bowl of milk, washing my tongue over his skin. Chocolate flavored Josh was even better than regular Josh, especially mixed with champagne. I smeared and licked Josh for a while, and he found a tube of strawberry flavor in the box, and returned the favor. 

"What else is in here?" I asked, trying to find a way to get us out of our pants, too. 

"I dunno," Josh said, tossing aside a whip and a riding crop. Neither one of us was into really painful sex. "Blindfold?" 

"We've done that, remember?" I reminded him, and he tossed that aside as well. 

"There's these," he said, pulling out a couple jars. He sat them on the coffee table, and pulled out two more. "Wanna paint?" 

I looked at the red, green, blue, and yellow non-toxic Body Finger Paints and grinned. 

"Yeah!" I giggled. "Lose the pants!" 

We both jumped up, still drinking, and shimmied out of our pants, and then out of our underwear, too. I grabbed two jars, and Josh grabbed two, and we took them into the bedroom, suddenly both oddly serious. We sat across from each other on the bed and twisted the lids off. 

"Paint something on me," I said. 

"Close your eyes," he whispered, dipping two fingers into the red jar. 

I closed my eyes and leaned back, feeling his wet fingers trace over my chest. When Josh told me to open them, I did, and looked down to see a glistening red heart. 

"That's your heart," he said. "I love it, like I love you." 

"My turn," I said, dipping into the blue. 

Josh closed his eyes, and I drew a quick cat head on his chest, with little whiskers and pointed ears, and wrote the word, "Meow" across his collar bone. When I was done he looked down at it and giggled. 

"What's it mean?" he asked, smiling. 

"It's a kitty cat, because I can't draw, but I love you," I said. 

"I love you, too," he said, playfully streaking my nose with a fingerful of green. 

"Two can play at that game!" I giggled, running blue through his hair. 

"Hey!" he yelped, grabbing for the red. 

Josh smacked a red handprint onto my shoulder, and then I was reaching for the yellow, and suddenly we were wrestling in the bed, laughing and rolling around. We kept grabbing the paint jars, and were hurling and smearing colors across each other's body like over-sugared toddlers at an arts and crafts lesson. Through it all, our hard cocks slid over each other's bodies, picking up paint and leaving trails of their own, crossing the trails left by our hands and arms. We were drunk, we were covered in paint, and we were ready to get it on. 

Josh fumbled into the nightstand drawer for condoms, and slid one on. Straddling him, I began to ride him as his hands traced new designs over me, a sunshine here, a smiley face there. I stared down at him, my own fingers drawing across him in equally random patterns. A spiral, a flower, a fish, all simple designs, because I wasn't very artistic. The two of us were smeared with paint, and it was all over the sheets, but I continued to ride Josh as he slowly bucked beneath me, his hands gripping, rubbing, and caressing. I began to play with his nipples, which left them painted as well, and felt his hands sliding up my back, leaving trails. 

"I love you," he said, thrusting up into me. 

I looked down at him, down into his wide blue eyes. His mouth hung partly open, and his face was covered with smears and streaks, running across his tanned skin and up into his hair. His high cheekbones bore the visible path of my love, and his perfect lips cut through the landscape of my painted touches. He was beautiful. 

"You're beautiful," I panted. "And I love you." 

We went on like that for a while, me slowly sliding up and down his pole, and him pressing his hands onto my hips, guiding me. Our champagne bottles rolled off the bed, forgotten, but they were mostly empty, and we had long since writhed through the spilled paint from the jars, smearing it everywhere across the bed and each other. Josh and I both began breathing harder, and moving faster together, and one of his hands wrapped around my cock, jerking me as I rode him. When I came, shooting glistening ropes across Josh's chest, he came as well, pushing hard up into me, almost throwing me off. 

He grabbed a tissue to take care of the condom, but other than that we didn't clean up, falling asleep amid the drying remains of our evening of fun. 

I woke up in the morning to the sunlight slanting across Josh's rainbow-hued body. The paint had dried on both of us, transforming the familiar lines of ourselves into something soft, and somehow alien. I slid out of bed, not bothering to put on my boxers, and went to the kitchen for a drink, thinking about how the sheets were probably ruined, but that we could get a really good price for them on e-bay if we wanted to recoup some of the cost. The again, the paint might come out. The label on the jar said that it was water soluble. 

I poured a glass of water, cursing the fact that hangovers existed, and noticed the pile of mail on the table. Idly flipping through it, I saw an envelope addressed to me. Pulling it out, I felt my blood run cold, and I almost dropped the glass. 

All that was on the bright yellow greeting card envelope was my name, but I immediately recognized the slanting, block handwriting. It was the same writing as had been on the newspaper clippings. And there was no postmark. 

Someone had brought it to the studio, and left it for me. 

Someone who knew who I was. 

---

CHAPTER 24

---

I stared at the greeting card, wondering if I should open it. What if there were more clippings in it? What if there was something worse? What if Josh woke up and saw me standing there with it? Spurred by that last thought, I ran into the second bedroom and stuffed it into my suitcase with the last note. I know I had promised myself that I would show it to Josh as soon as the time was right, but waking him up while we were both naked and covered with dried body paint didn't really seem like the right time. 

Speaking of time, a glance at the clock told me that I was due to meet Chris for our morning jog in under five minutes. 

And I was naked and covered in dried paint. 

Crap! 

I sprinted into the bathroom and quickly scrubbed the paint off my arms, face, and neck. True to the label, it came right off with a wet washcloth, more or less. I pulled on a pair of Josh's wind pants to cover my legs, a t-shirt, and a cap to cover my still streaked hair, and bolted from the apartment, hearing Josh shifting in the bed behind me. 

"Jack?" he called groggily from the bedroom. 

"Go back to sleep," I called back from the doorway. "I'm going for my run. Love you!" 

"Love you, too," he mumbled. 

As I ran down the stairs, I almost tripped as I watched not one but two models come walking out of Chris's apartment, followed by him. Not only were they not Vlada or Chloe, they were identical, and they had both of Chris's arms linked through theirs as he walked between them out to the parking lot, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. I heard the cab door slam, and then Chris walked back into the courtyard as I did my stretches. 

"Morning," Chris mumbled, dropping down beside me. 

"Morning," I answered. "I like the cigarette. Very healthy." 

"You're one to talk," Chris said, stretching. "Are you sure you should be running with a hangover?" 

"How do you know if I have a hangover or not?" I asked, not denying it. 

"I know that the Nsync Kinky Lovin' Kit came with two bottles of champagne," Chris said. 

"What makes you think Josh and I did anything with that sleazy collection of dirty toys you left on our table?" I asked, smirking as we stood and jogged out of the courtyard. 

"Well, for starters I still have that bedroom below yours, although I think I'm going to move into the other one," Chris answered. "And it certainly sounded like you were having lots of fun last night." 

"I admit nothing," I giggled, blushing. 

"You don't have to," Chris said. "Right behind your ear, your neck is kind of blue." 

"No comment," I said, still grinning. 

Despite the easy humor I was beginning to fall into with Chris, I was still distracted by the cards. I needed to tell Josh about them, because it would eventually involve us both, but I kept telling myself that it wasn't a good time, because Josh had gone through such a bad couple of days, and I didn't want to upset him again right away. I wanted to give him some time to settle down, but I was starting to get the feeling that whoever was sending these cards wasn't going to give me a lot of time to think on this. The one sent to my apartment had been arrived there maybe a week ago. In that space of time, the sender had come here, and had located the studio. 

I needed to get to the studio, and find out when that card had been dropped off. 

"Hey, you ok?" Chris asked. 

I realized that I had been quiet for at least a mile. 

"Actually, no," I answered. "I need a favor, Chris, and I need for you to not ask any questions yet." 

The only sound for a moment was the thumping fall of our footsteps. 

"What kind of favor?" Chris asked, frowning thoughtfully. 

"A personal one," I said. "Is your car still in the shop?" 

"Yeah, thanks to your boyfriend, Crash Chasez," Chris said, smiling to take some of the sting out. 

"Yeah, yeah," I said, shaking my head. At least we were making jokes about it. "Can you borrow Joey's? I need a ride to the studio, and Josh is still carless as well." 

"Sure," Chris said. "You starting a band?" 

"No," I answered. "But I have to ask you something else, too. Can you take me, and not tell Josh?" 

Chris didn't answer right away, and the sound of our footfalls filled the empty space again. 

"Chris, I promise I'm not doing anything to hurt him," I began. "I can't really explain it right now, but I'm trying to keep Josh from being hurt, actually." 

"This whatever it is that you're keeping from JC, and asking me to help you keep, are you going to tell JC eventually?" Chris asked. 

"Yes," I answered without hesitating. "Chris, I'm going to tell him, but after the past couple of days, I want to give him some recovery time." 

"It's that bad?" he asked. 

"Not like you're thinking," I answered. "In the short run it's going to upset him, but I think everything will work out ok." 

I hoped Chris wouldn't ask why I thought that, because I had nothing to base it on. As a matter of fact, I was embroidering it whole cloth from nothing. 

"When do you want to do this?" Chris asked. 

"As soon as we get back?" I answered. "Unless you have, you know, something else planned. You know, a visit with your model harem or something." 

"Hey, Bambi and Candi are nice girls," Chris said. "I wouldn't have to keep having these girls come over to distract me if these horny bastards who live above me could manage to stop scraping their bed across the floor every night." 

"I think we should sprint the rest of the way," I suggested, smiling, taking off and forcing Chris to follow. 

When we got back to the apartment building, we were both dripping with sweat, and as we stood catching our breath in the parking lot, hands on our knees as we stood bent over, I noticed that Justin's car was gone. 

"Hey, Jack, that your shirt?" Chris asked. 

"I think so, why?" I answered. 

"Because you're sweating a pretty rainbow all over it," Chris answered, grinning. 

I looked down and saw that he was right. We both burst out laughing, looking at the smears and splotches of color faintly blossoming on the white cotton across my chest. On that note, I left Chris, with the agreement that we would both go shower, and whoever was ready first would come get the other. Chris suggested we grab some lunch after we hit the studio, and I told him I'd have to check on Josh first, but that I thought it would be ok. 

Entering the apartment, I found no sign of Josh. The bed was neatly made, and the toys, which we had left scattered haphazardly about the living room, were thrown back into the box, which still sat on the coffee table. In the middle of the dining room table I found a note from Josh. 

"Jack, I went to the gym with Justin. Call me when you get back. Love Josh." 

Putting the note down, I hurried through a shower, and quickly got dressed. After I tied my shoes I called Josh's cell phone. 

"Hello?" he answered, slightly out of breath. 

"Hey sexy," I said. 

"Hey yourself," he answered. "Are you back?" 

"Yes," I answered. "You guys having fun?" 

"Yeah," Josh answered. 

Behind him I could hear Justin saying over and over, "Tell him I said hi!" 

"Justin says hi," Josh finally said. It got a lot quieter, and I could tell that he had walked to a quieter part of the room. "Did you have a good run?" 

"Yeah," I answered. "I have a question. Chris and I were going to go run some errands, and maybe grab some lunch. Is that ok?" 

"That's great, actually," Josh said. "Justin asked if I would go out to eat with him. I think he misses Brit, so maybe this will cheer him up." 

"Are you sure you don't mind?" I asked. 

"Not as long as you don't," he answered. "Are you guys going to be back after lunch?" 

"Yeah, we should be," I said. "I miss you." 

"I miss you, too, and there's somewhere I want to take you later," Josh said. "Is that ok?" 

"Of course it's ok," I said. "Josh, are you all right? You sound kind of down." 

"No, no, I'm fine," he said. "I've just been thinking about some stuff." 

"Are you sure?" I asked. I didn't want to push. 

"Yeah, I'll be ok," he answered. "I have to get back to Justin now. He needs a spotter." 

"OK," I said. "I'll bring my phone with me, so call if you need me, ok?" 

"Sure," he answered. "I love you." 

"I love you, too," I said, hanging up. 

Chris knocked on the door as I was hanging up. I grabbed my keys and my phone and met him out on the walkway. 

"You ready?" I asked. 

"Sure," he answered, shrugging. "Give Josh the slip?" 

"Don't say it like that, Chris," I said, following him to the stairs. "It's for the best, so please, just trust me?" 

Chris turned around on the stairs and faced me. He usually had an easy going, half-smirk on his face, but right at that moment he looked deadly serious. 

"I'm going to say this now, and it's the only time I'm going to, Jack," he began. "JC is like a brother to me. I know he's told you that, but I'm telling you again. He loves you, and I really do believe that you love him, but if this turns out to hurt him, you and I are done, Jack. Are we clear?" 

"We are," I answered. "Chris, thank you for doing this, and for trusting me. I promise this is for the best." 

"Then let's go," Chris said, turning again. 

I followed him to Joey's car, and we drove over to the studio in silence. Chris had resigned himself to helping me, but he clearly wasn't happy about it. I swore to myself again that the only reason I was keeping this from Josh was to check it out myself before running the risk of upsetting him again. Turning off the car, Chris looked at me again. 

"Is there anyone in particular we need to see?" he asked. 

"Whoever handles the mail," I said, shrugging. "It's the best place to start." 

"OK, Secret Agent Jack," Chris said, leading the way into the building. 

Chris and I checked in with security, and he led me through the studio to an office, humming the theme from "Mission Impossible" the entire way down the halls until I smacked him in the arm. He dropped me off in front of a nice secretary, Stacy, and then went to go wait for me down the hall in the bubble. 

"So, how can I help you?" Stacy asked. 

"My name's Jack Springer," I said, offering my hand. She shook it. "You have me on a list somewhere, in case I get mail here." 

"Right," she said, consulting a form on her desk. "All of your mail is to go into Mr. Chasez's box." 

"Right," I said. "Do you track that mail somehow?" 

"As a matter of fact, we do, " she said, reaching into her desk for a clipboard. I was really starting to like this woman. "We track all the mail that comes to the studio, for legal reasons. You know, in case of stalkers or hate mail or something." 

"Excellent," I said, realizing that I might actually have my own stalker. Wow, I certainly had been touched by celebrity. It would be interesting if I weren't completely creeped out. "Josh, Mr. Chasez, picked up mail for us yesterday, and there was a card for me in there. Do you have that on your list?" 

She put on her glasses, which had been hanging on a matronly chain around her neck, and scanned the list. 

"Yes, I have it right here," she answered. "It was brought to the studio yesterday morning." 

I noted it in my head, comparing that date to the time when Carla had mailed the card that came to my apartment. Yesterday morning gave my stalker about four days, maybe five, to get here if he left as soon as he mailed the other one. He or she, actually. 

"There wasn't a postmark on it, or a return address," I pointed out. "Is there any record of who it came from?" 

"Um, actually, no," she said, consulting her log again. "It was hand delivered to the front. Bruce might have logged whoever it was on the visitor sheets. Check with him." 

"Thank you, Stacy," I said, smiling. "Can you do me a favor? If anything else comes for me, can you leave a note to call me immediately?" 

"Sure, no problem," she answered, writing it down. 

I left in search of Bruce, stopping in the bubble to tell Chris I would be another minute. He waved distractedly, and I peeked in to see that he was watching some girl singing in one of the rooms. The sound wasn't on, but she was cute enough to keep him distracted for another couple of minutes. I silently thanked God for sending Chris some eye candy, and walked back to the front to check with Bruce. 

"Well, he didn't sign in," Bruce said. 

"But it was a guy," I said. "What did he look like?" 

"I don't know," Bruce said, shrugging. What was wrong with these people? The mail lady didn't log anything and the security guard couldn't even provide a verbal description of someone. 

"Black? White? Tall?" I suggested. OK, maybe Bruce saw so many people in a day that they all ran together. A little prompting might help. 

"Um, white guy, thin but not too thin, about your age," Bruce said, shrugging. "He had on a hat, and dark glasses, and he just kind of walked in and left it on the desk. I asked if he wanted to sign in or leave a message, but he said just to deliver it, and left." 

I sighed, looking away from him for a second. Someone came in dressed like the Unabomber, threw an envelope on the desk, and ran away, and it didn't ring a single warning bell? My eyes happened upon the video camera in the corner over the desk. 

"Bruce, that camera films the lobby all day long, right?" I asked, pointing. 

"Yeah," he answered, looking at it. 

"So this guy would be on the tape, right?" I asked. I should be a detective. 

"No," Bruce answered. 

"No?" I asked, confused. 

"No," Bruce repeated. "Unless there's something suspicious on the tape, I pop it back in the next morning." 

"So the tape from yesterday morning," I began, shoulders slumping. 

"Got taped over this morning, " Bruce finished. 

"Damn it!" I barked, smacking the counter. "Bruce, can you do me a favor? If this guy comes in again, can you save the tape? And call me?" 

"Sure, no problem," he answered. "Friend of yours?" 

"I don't think so," I said, walking away. A thought struck me, and I turned back, feeling a blush creep up the back of my neck. "Bruce, those cameras, are there any in the recording rooms?" 

"No, why?" he asked, looking perplexed. 

"Oh, no reason," I answered, heading back to the bubble to collect Chris. 

"All set?" he asked. The room he'd been watching was now empty. 

"Yeah," I answered. 

"Everything worked out?" he asked, standing. 

"Not quite," I answered. "Have a good time watching the scenery?" 

"Sure did," he answered, grinning and holding up a scrap of paper. "She gets to be Sunday for a while." 

"Let's go get lunch," I sighed, giggling. "You're such a sleaze-ball." 

"This from Secret Agent Double-O-69," Chris said, laughing. 

"Womanizer," I said, getting in the car. 

"Shirt-lifter," Chris retorted, starting the car. "McDonald's?" 

"Sure," I answered. "We should get some for Joey, to thank him for letting us borrow the car." 

"Good idea," Chris said. 

We grabbed our food to go, Chris guessing at what and how much Joey would want, and brought it back to the complex. The three of us ate out in the courtyard at one of the tables, but didn't see anyone else. Joey's car was the only one in the parking lot. 

"Where the hell is everybody?" Chris asked. 

"Justin and Josh were going to lunch somewhere," I answered. 

"Jackie said she had to go get scrubbed with sea salt," Joey added. I realized again that I had never actually seen the woman, and wondered if she really existed. 

"Lance?" Chris asked. 

Joey and I both shrugged. 

"What are you doing this afternoon?" Chris asked. 

"Josh said to keep mine open, " I answered. 

"I'm not doing anything," Joey answered. 

"Want to catch a movie?" Chris asked. 

"Or hit a strip bar?" Joey suggested, grinning. 

I left the boys to plan their fun, climbing back up the stairs to the apartment. I wasn't sure how much time I had before Josh got home, but I wanted to open that second card, and see if maybe there was a clue as to the sender. I had also borrowed the paper from Joey, because I wanted to feel in touch with the world again. I also found myself growing kind of addicted to that stupid gossip column, combing through it for mentions of Josh. There hadn't been any since the other day. 

I pulled the card out of my suitcase, wondering if I should be handling it with my bare hands. In all the crime books I read the investigators always said not to touch notes, because you'd get fingerprints all over them, but I'd already handled everything that came in the first one. And I couldn't really take this to the police anyway. I hadn't even taken it to my boyfriend yet. Besides, there weren't any rubber gloves in the apartment that I knew of, and the only alternate idea I came up with was to put condoms on my fingertips. 

Somehow that didn't strike me as a good idea. 

Shrugging, I carefully tore open the envelope. Inside was another cheap card, and I inwardly wondered why my stalker didn't even care enough to send the very best. I immediately followed that with wondering whether or not I might actually be insane for wondering why my stalker wasn't sending me Hallmark cards. The card had a picture on the front of a sunset, and was blank inside except for the handwritten message. 

"I know your secret." 

There were no clippings in this one, but the handwriting, again blocky and all in capital letters, was naggingly familiar. I compared it with the handwriting from the first letter, just to make sure it was the same, and it appeared to be. I looked at the first envelope again, but I was sure I didn't know anyone who lived there. 

I tried calling Carla, but she wasn't home. Judging from the number of beeps on her answering machine, she hadn't been home in a while, or at least hadn't been checking her messages. I left her a message to call me on my cell phone, and hung up. Maybe she'd have some better ideas. 

And what was up with that message? "I know your secret"? Was the next note going to say that they knew what I did last summer? Actually, if they knew what I was doing now, they had a pretty good idea of what I'd done last summer, at least over one particular weekend. And what secret did they think they knew? It was no secret anywhere that I was gay, so they must know that I was dating one of the guys. Or maybe they were just assuming that I was. The first message seemed to imply that. 

Figuring that I shouldn't really leave this stuff lying around, I stuffed it back in the suitcase, taking care to put it inside one of the pockets. I wasn't really sure why Josh would be going in my suitcase, but being careful just in case seemed prudent. Putting the suitcase back in the closet, I pondered my next move. Clearly I needed to develop a list of suspects. Who would want to send me letters about dating a celebrity? And did I really need to be concerned? There wasn't anything overtly threatening in either of the notes. They were just creepy. 

My musings were interrupted by the sound of knocking outside. I leaned out our door, and saw Lance knocking on Justin's. 

"He went to lunch with Josh, " I said, trying my best to sound friendly. 

Lance turned, shoulders hunched, looking almost guilty. He had huge bags under his eyes, bigger than usual, and didn't look as if he had slept. 

"OK," Lance said, turning away. He began to walk toward the stairs, and I noticed that his shoulders were still slumped, and he was more or less shuffling along. 

"Lance?" I asked. He turned back. "Lance, are you ok?" 

He stared at me for a second. 

"Why?" he asked. "What do you want, Jack?" 

"I just want to know if you're ok," I answered. He didn't sound angry, really. He just seemed kind of wary. 

"No, I mean really, what do you want from me?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. 

"I just thought you looked kind of down, and I wanted to know if you were ok," I answered, confused. 

"I'm fine," he said, turning around again. "Have a nice day." 

He sounded about as OK as an alcoholic at an open bar, but I figured I'd just let it drop. I tried, after all. It wasn't my fault he hated me. Going back into the apartment, I settled onto the couch with my book, but hadn't read very far when Josh walked in. 

"Hey," he said, leaning over the couch. He pulled my head up and kissed me on the forehead. 

"Hi," I answered. "How was lunch?" 

"Good," he answered, walking around to sit beside me. I stared into his eyes as he took my hand, and thought of how much I loved him. "Did you and Chris get everything done that you needed to?" 

"Yup," I answered. That wasn't a lie, really. 

"Good, because I want you to come somewhere with me," he said, standing. He didn't let go of my hand, and I stood with him. 

"Somewhere fun?" I asked, curious. 

"Somewhere that I go to think," he answered. "We, um, we need to have a serious talk." 

---

CHAPTER 25

---

"A serious talk?" I asked. 

"Don't worry, we're not breaking up," he said, hugging me. "Why don't you put on, like, a button down or something, and I'll hop in the shower really quick." 

"OK," I said. "Are my pants ok?" 

"Yeah, they're fine," he said absently, already tugging off his shirt on his way to the shower. I saw that I wasn't the only one who hadn't had time for a full paint removal this morning, and smiled. 

"Nice artwork," I called. 

"Don't worry," he said, turning on the shower. "I saved the sheets." 

I waited while Josh showered, and then quickly got dressed. I was thumbing the television remote, flipping randomly through the channels while I waited for him. Josh finally emerged from the bedroom, running his hands through his hair to push it back, and leaned down to hug me. I was curious about where we were going, as most of our trips didn't require a dress code, but he wasn't sharing anything, apparently. 

"You smell good," I said, licking his neck. 

"Thanks," he said, pulling me up off of the couch. "Ready to go?" 

"Whenever you are," I answered. 

Josh took my hand and led me down the stairs and out to the parking lot, where a limousine was waiting. We climbed in the back, and began to drive through the city. Josh held my hand the whole time while I wondered if the driver had signed a confidentiality agreement. It was an odd thought for me, but I was starting to feel a little watched. If I saw one more picture of myself in the paper, or, god forbid, clipped out and mailed to me, I might not want to leave the apartment again ever. 

"Where are we going?" I asked. 

"Somewhere quiet," Josh answered. "I want to talk to you, and I'm tired of the guys coming to the door every time we get a moment together. Lance can apologize to himself for a while, and Justin can talk to Chris or Joey about Brit. I want to talk to you, and only you, right now." 

I watched the city roll by, and eventually we pulled up to a stop. 

At a cemetery. 

"Josh?" I asked, looking out the window. 

"Come on," he said, stepping out as the driver opened the door for us. Josh glanced at him. "Come back in about an hour, ok?" 

"Certainly, sir," the driver answered, nodding his head. 

"Thanks," Josh said, waiting for me to climb out. 

I looked around uncertainly. The cemetery was right in the middle of the city, with skyscrapers all around, and was more or less a large lawn. It was almost like an island, and I wondered why on earth I had to put on long sleeves to go to a cemetery. I thought we might be on Wilshire, but wasn't sure. Chris would have to show me around about ten more times before I actually remembered any of the layout of the city. 

"Josh, where are we?" I asked. 

"Westwood Memorial," he said. "I like to come here to think." 

"You come to the cemetery to think?" I asked, watching the limo pull away. 

"It's quiet, and no one ever thinks to look for me here," he said. "Let's go for a walk." 

"Are we here to see anyone in particular?" I asked, walking alongside him. 

"Is there anyone you want to see?" he asked. "I know where all the stones are. Well, not Frank Zappa, because he's unmarked, but I know what part he's in." 

I stared at him. 

"Josh, this is creepy," I said. "You memorized where all the famous people are buried?" 

"Not on purpose," he said, walking along. "I just kind of learned where they are from walking around here so much." 

"OK, that's marginally less creepy," I said, still trying to put this all together. "Josh, are you about to tell me you're dying?" 

"No," he said, smiling. "I'm sorry. This is just gonna be a little hard for me, so please, let's just walk around, and relax, and then talk, ok?" 

"OK," I answered. 

We walked up and down the paths, passing a lot of people taking pictures, but they were so intent on the dead celebrities that no one seemed to notice that there was a live one wandering around. It was a rather small cemetery, so it didn't take us long to make our way through the lawn, the private garden, and past the wall crypts, but I saw a lot of memorials for people I recognized. Somewhere in one of the back corners of my mind I knew that this was where Marilyn Monroe was interred, but I hadn't realized that there were so many other famous people in the same cemetery. It was a nice day, kind of sunny, breezy, but not too warm, and there were actually birds other than seagulls flying around the trees. Overall, it was a very calming, peaceful place, and I could understand why Josh might come here. 

I just didn't know why we were here now. 

Josh stopped at one of the little benches, far away from anyone else, and sat down. He patted the bench beside him, and I sat down as well. 

"So," he said, looking at me. Even though we were in public I put a hand over his and squeezed gently before letting go, and he smiled. "It's nice here, isn't it?" 

"It's quiet," I said. "And kind of peaceful. Do you come here a lot?" 

"Only when I really need to think," he said. "Or when I need to get away from the guys for a while. I walk around here, and I look at all the stones, and it reminds me of what's really important in my life." 

"So the guys don't know about this place?" I asked. 

"I'm sure they know it exists," Josh answered. "We've driven past, but I don't think they know I come here." 

"But you brought me here," I said. 

"You're important to me, Jack," Josh said, turning toward me again. I felt myself falling into his eyes. "I love you, Jack. You're like a part of me. Even though we haven't really been together that long, I feel it, and I think you feel it, too." 

"You know I do, Josh," I said. "I love you more than I've ever loved anybody. I love you so much it hurts sometimes." 

"I know," he sighed. "Because I feel the same way. All the times that I've told you that you make me feel whole, I mean it, Jack, and that's why this is going to be really hard." 

"Just say it, Josh," I said, staring at the marker across from us. It was Natalie Wood's, listed as Natalie Wood Wagner, and songs from "Westside Story" began to play in my head to fill the silence between us. "Please just say it, Josh, whatever it is. I don't think I can take any more waiting." 

He took a deep breath. 

"I have to leave you for a while," he said, pausing after, awaiting my reaction. 

"Oh," I said, staring at my hands. 

"Just 'oh'?" he asked quietly. 

"For now," I said, turning to him. "I mean, I'm sure you're about to go into a really good explanation, because there has to be one, so I guess I'm just going to sit here and wait for it." 

"You're amazing," he said. "You trust me that much, don't you?" 

"I mean it all those times I say it, Josh," I said. "But I'm not going to be amazing for much longer. Please, just tell me the rest." 

"OK," he said. "It's kind of a long story." 

"That's ok," I said. "Natalie and I aren't going anywhere." 

He glanced across from us, and smiled. 

"As I was saying, it's kind of a long story," Josh began again. "I think it started when Chris cornered us, and I admitted to him that we were together. I hadn't realized how much I felt like I was holding off part of myself from everyone until we told Chris. After we told him, it was like there was this weight that was gone, and that's why I decided to tell everyone." 

I waited for him to continue, remembering how things had gone when he told the rest of the guys, and Britney, at the barbecue. 

"You know what happened at the barbecue," he said, as if reading it from my thoughts. "Lance caught me really, really off guard. I mean, I guess in my head I thought that since I was ok with it, everyone would be, and when Chris was, I just assumed that all the guys would be happy for me, too. When Lance didn't take it well, I wasn't just hurt by that. I was hurt because he would still have been my friend if I hadn't said anything. I thought that maybe it was my fault that Lance was upset by it, because of who I am." 

"That's Lance's problem, not yours," I said, adding hastily, "And I think he's trying to get over it." 

Josh looked at me again, a frown creasing between his eyebrows. 

"I don't care how many times he apologizes, Jack," Josh said. "His actions speak louder than his words." 

I looked at my hands again, not wanting to get into another argument over Lance. Josh knew him better than I did, so maybe Josh was right, and I shouldn't just accept whatever Lance said at face value. Still, I kept wanting to. 

"Maybe we shouldn't get into that again right now," Josh said, again reading my mind. I wasn't sure if it was uncanny, if he knew me that well, or if my face was just an open book. "What I'm trying to say is that I felt like I was holding a lot inside, like I was closing part of myself off, and then I told the guys, and I felt better. Even if Lance didn't like it, at least we could talk about it. It was out there, and everybody knew who I was." 

"OK," I said, because he had paused. 

"Sorry, I was just thinking again," he said. 

"It's ok," I said. "I think I'm following you so far." 

"Good," he said, squeezing my hand again. I wished he could leave it on mine, but knew better. All we needed was for some camera happy tourist to stop by, and sell the picture to that damned gossip column guy. "Since we told the guys, though, I haven't really had a chance to catch my breath, except for the past day or two, and neither have you. There was the fight with Lance, and that whole mess with Justin, and then you and me, and then the cars, and we've just been going one thing after another." 

"Jesus, you can say that again," I said. We both giggled a little. "We've had more drama in the past week or so than most people have in the first couple years." 

"Yeah, but the past couple days have been quiet, and I've enjoyed it," he said. 

"So have I," I said, but then realized I kept interrupting him. 

"I hope so," Josh said, smiling at me again, his perfect lips parting to flash his pearly teeth. "But what I was trying to get to was that, since it's been quiet, I've had a lot of time to think. I've had time to think about you, and our relationship, but I've also had time to think about myself, and what's best for me, and what I need to do for myself as a person." 

I felt a little flutter of panic in my chest. 

"Are you breaking up with me?" I asked. 

"No, no, I already told you before we left the house that I'm not breaking up with you," he said, patting my hand again. "I need to get out of here for a while, and I don't want to take you with me." 

"Do whatever you need to, then," I said quickly, standing. Josh grabbed my arm. 

"Jack, that didn't come out right," he said. I glared down at him, but his face didn't look cruel. He just looked concerned. "Please sit back down, and let me explain. That didn't come out the way I meant it to at all." 

"Am I smothering you or something? Are you tired of having me around?" I asked, sitting down. 

"No, never that," he said. "See, when we were at that interview yesterday morning the guy was asking us all the usual kind of questions, and we were giving all the usual answers. You know, what we do in our spare time, how we feel about the fans, how happy we are about the album, all that kind of stuff. And then he asked about our families, and I realized I haven't spoken to mine about any of this." 

"About me?" I asked. 

"Not just about you," he answered. "I haven't told them anything. I've pulled away from them as much as I have from the guys, because I feel like I'm lying when I'm with them. I feel like I have to keep being their Joshua, their brother, their son, and I have to keep being who they expect me to be. I haven't told anyone in my family that I'm gay, Jack. And the not telling them is turning into this wall between us. It makes me not want to go home, and when I do go, I'm moody, and I don't want to talk to them, because I feel like I just keep digging in deeper." 

"Are you planning to tell them?" I asked, curious. 

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Josh answered. "I want to go home, and I want to see my family. I want to sit down with them, and I want to tell them everything. I want to tell them about who I am, and who I love. I mean, I told the guys. The guys are my family, too, but this is my real family, Jack. This is my mom and dad, and my brother and sister, and I can't keep lying to them anymore, because when I do I'm lying to myself. I can't ever be the person you deserve to have if I can't be honest with the people I love." 

"So you're going to go see them?" I asked. 

"Well, they're not all in the same place, so it's going to be a couple trips," he answered. "Tyler's not at school right now, but Heather is still out doing her veterinarian thing, so I thought I'd go see her, and then fly to Chicago to see Tyler and my folks." 

"And you want to go alone?" I asked, just to make sure I was getting it all. 

"Yes," Josh answered. 

I looked at my hands again. 

"Not for the reasons you're thinking, Jack," Josh said. 

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" I asked. "How do you know I'm even thinking anything?" 

"I know you're hurt right now, because I can see it," he said. "I can see it in the way you look at your hands, and the way your shoulders drop a little. I can see it in your eyes, Jack, and I can feel it in my heart." 

I felt Josh's fingers, so soft, slide up the sides of my face as he turned my head toward his. 

"Jack, I'm not ashamed of you, and I'm not sorry that I love you," he said, letting go. I kept my gaze level. "My family is going to meet you someday, and I hope that, because I love you, they will, too. Jack, I know you don't get on so well with your family, and I hope that someday you'll be a part of mine. You already kind of are, with the guys, but I want you to feel like you belong somewhere, and I want it to be the same place where I belong, because I plan to be with you for the rest of my life." 

"Yes, you've said that before," I said, unsure of what else I should say. 

"I know," he said. "Jack, I don't know how my family is going to react. I think they're going to be ok with it, I hope they are, but what if they're not? What if they need time to adjust to this? What if they need some time to get used to the idea? I want to talk to them about all of this, and I want them to understand, and I want them to focus on me. If they have questions, I want to answer them. If they're angry, I want them to be angry at me. I don't want them to resent you, or blame you. When I bring you home to meet my family, I want them to be ready to meet you, so that they can welcome you with loving arms." 

I giggled a little. 

"What?" he asked. 

"I'm sorry," I said. "The phrase was just very Norman Rockwell." 

He smiled, relieved. 

"Do you, you know, understand what I'm trying to tell you, Jack?" Josh asked. 

"I think so," I answered. "You want to reconnect with your family, and rebuild that bond, before you tell them the rest. Are you going to tell them about me?" 

"Yes," he answered immediately. "I told you, I don't want to lie to them anymore. And I don't want to wait very long before they meet you, either. Just until they're comfortable with the idea." 

"Josh, I told you when we first got together to take this all at your own pace," I said, smiling at him. 

"Because of your ex-boyfriend," he said. 

"Yes, because of Peyton," I said, nodding. "And I meant it. When you're ready to bring me home to mom and dad, I'll be up for it, and I'll wait as long as you want to. No pressure." 

Josh smiled, and looked pretty relieved. His shoulders dropped a little, and his face smoothed, his tanned skin stretching again across his high cheekbones, his eyes sparkling. The breeze caught his hair a little, ruffling it, pulling it off of his high, flawless forehead. 

"I guess I knew you'd understand if I explained it to you," he said, smiling guilelessly at me. "I was just kind of scared to tell you. I didn't want you to think I was leaving you, or that it was your fault." 

"You could have just come right out and said, 'I want to go visit my family,'" I said, shrugging. "We didn't have to go through all this." 

"I think we needed to," Josh said. "I'm not like you. You're blunt, but I need to talk things out." 

"That's why we're so good together," I said. "Balance." 

We sat on the bench in the peace and quiet for a minute. 

"You kind of didn't cover something, though," I began. 

"What?" Josh asked, staring at me. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out what he hadn't covered. 

"What do I do while you're gone?" I asked. "Do you want me to stay here, or should I go home?" 

"I kind of thought you were starting to think of here as home," Josh said carefully. 

"I do, kind of," I admitted. "I mean, wherever you are is ok with me, but this really is your apartment. I'm still on vacation, and have weeks of it left, but I do have a home of my own, Josh." 

"What are you going to do if you go home, though?" Josh asked. "I mean, at least here you have the guys." 

"I have friends at home, too, Josh," I said carefully. 

"I know, I know," he said. "Jeez, everything I say today comes out wrong. I guess I just kind of thought you'd stay here. Like Joey says, you're part of the family now." 

"However dysfunctional it might be," I said. Josh gave me an odd look, his eyes narrowed. "Don't give me that look, Josh. I might be part of the family, but the family definitely belongs on a talk show somewhere." 

I meant for it to be funny, but Josh only mustered the weakest of smiles. 

"I know we're not perfect, Jack," Josh said. "I mean, look where we are. When we started this, Justin was only fourteen. None of us thought we'd get this far, or ever be this big, and we deal with it in different ways. Chris smokes, and he has the models, wherever we go. Joey eats. He makes jokes about it, and he isn't like obesely huge or anything, but he eats for comfort sometimes. Justin has Britney, and when things get bad, he just immerses himself in her. And Lance has God." 

"What about you, Josh?" I asked, afraid of the answer. 

He turned to me again, and I saw my fears reflected in his eyes. 

"Are you afraid I'm going to say that you're my coping mechanism?" he asked. "Are you afraid that the only reason I love you is because I need an outlet? Because that's not true. I love you for you. For me, I usually just turn back to my music." 

It was true. He usually spent at least an hour a day at his keyboard. 

"But you're good for me," Josh continued. "And not just me. You're like a little pocket of normal for us, Jack. I need you because I love you, but I also need you because you ground me, and I think you do it for the other guys, too. You've never treated me like you thought I was JC Chasez, superstar, and you know I appreciate that. The guys appreciate the way you treat them, too." 

"It goes both ways, Josh," I said. "All I wanted was for your friends to like me." 

"I know, because you didn't want me to feel like I had to choose," Josh said. "They probably won't say it, Jack, but I think the guys need you. When we're with you, we feel like people again. Everyone else treats us like a commodity. When we're with other people, we're always on our stage, but when we're with you, we can drop it, and you accept us for who we are. And when we do something together, we get to see everything through your eyes, and it's like this is all new to us again, too. It's too easy to get caught up in the business, and we forget sometimes how lucky we are. Having a friend like you reminds us of where we came from." 

"I didn't realize I was so important to all of you," I said. 

"Well, you are," Josh said. "But that's only a fraction of why you're important to me. I love you, Jack." 

"I love you, too," I said. "So you want me to stay with the guys while you're gone?" 

"I want you to do whatever you want to do," Josh said. "I can find you in either place." 

"I think I'd like to stay here," I said. "I mean, Carla's forwarding my mail and watering my plants. I'm just starting to get to know Joey, and Chris and I are really starting to get tight. I think Justin's missing Brit, and if you leave, he's going to need someone to pal around with. And I think I might be able to make some progress with Lance. Or at least try to." 

"I was hoping you'd stay here," he said. "I feel better knowing you're safe, and with my other family." 

We both sighed. 

"So, how long are you going to be gone, do you think?" I asked. 

"Maybe a week?" he suggested. "I don't know how it's all going to go." 

"I guess we'll take it as it comes, then," I said, shrugging. "When were you planning to leave?" 

Josh swallowed. 

"Tomorrow afternoon," he said. 

"Oh," I said, feeling punched in the gut again. I tried to cover it with a smile. "OK, I guess we should get you home and packed, then." 

"I know it's sudden, but I don't want to put this off any more," he said. 

"OK, Josh," I said, patting his hand. "Whatever you think is best. I'm not going to lie, though. This does hurt some, just because I'll miss you." 

"I'll miss you, too," he said. 

"You and I spend more time running away from each other," I sighed. We stared at the memorials for a moment or two, listening to a car horn wail somewhere outside the cemetery. 

"I know, but this is only temporary," Josh said. We resumed staring at the plaques. "Being that, you know, we're having a deep thoughts moment, is there anything you need to get off your chest?" 

I thought for a second about telling him about the mail I'd gotten, but then realized that I could probably solve the whole thing while he was gone. With all the worrying and stress he was under with having to tell his family, it would be wrong to drop this on him, too, I rationalized. 

"Just one other question," I said. "Why did I have to change my shirt to come to the cemetery?" 

"Oh, you didn't," he answered, standing. I stood as well, and we began walking back to where we'd been dropped off. "You needed to be changed for the rest of the evening." 

 

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