JC and the Actor, Chapter 3, Copyright 2003 ---------- The following story is entirely a work of fiction. It is not meant to imply anything about the sexuality or the personal lives of the members of NSYNC, or any other celebrities mentioned. If you are underage, or if it is illegal to read sexually explicit gay material where you live, don't read this.
Much thanks to those of you have written. Your comments are very appreciated and I hope to hear more from you and others in the future. Send your comments or criticisms to me at mzbryan2003@yahoo.com
Off we go. ----------
Chapter 3
The next day I had to arrive early at the theater to prepare for the Sunday matinee. Following my last encounter with JC, he had asked for my number, which I gave to him. He was going to be taping a live, two-hour event with his band mates at MTV today, and suggested that maybe we could meet up after he was done, and in between my matinee and evening performances. It occurred to me that were I to have a relationship with JC, a certain level of equality would exist that had never really been present in my other relationships. We were both artists, and both extremely busy. I wasn't the type of person that would be able to just follow him around while he promoted his own career. I had my own fan base, albeit a smaller one at the moment, and it looked as though within a few months or years, I too would be criss-crossing between New York and LA, promoting films.
But this wasn't a relationship.
I walked onto the stage, assuming I would be alone. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being there with no audience, and I thought it would be a good place to clear my head. I was greeted however by Liza, standing in the center of the stage, looking out toward the audience. "Hey Liza," I called. She didn't answer me immediately.
"Good morning, Natty," she finally responded, turning to look at me.
"Three times the charm," I said, in reference to this being our third performance.
"You know something Natty? I just realized that this was the theater that I went to for my first Broadway audition. I had never seen a theater of this size; theaters weren't exactly on this scale in Wisconsin you know?" I nodded my head in agreement. The ones near where I grew up in New Hampshire weren't exactly of this scale either. "All I remember feeling was absolute terror." She pointed up to the catwalk above us. "I wanted to just climb up there and jump off." She started laughing at the memory.
"Do you remember the play that it was for?" I asked, wondering about the sudden trip down memory lane.
"Oh, it was some screwball comedy, I can't remember the playwright, but I do remember that the play folded in a little over a month. I guess that's what they get for not casting me huh?" She laughed again.
"Serves them right," I offered. Something about Liza's tone was making me uncomfortable. She had been very quiet since the reviews came out yesterday morning. I asked her if she wanted to come backstage with me and get some coffee.
"I'll be there in a minute," she said, turning away from me and looking back into the audience. I felt strange leaving her.
"Uh, Liza, you're not really upset about the reviews are you?"
"Oh no Natty," she quickly replied. "I mean, you can't please everyone all the time. Of course it would be nice to please some people some of the time." She laughed again.
"Yeah," I said. "I mean, the way I look at it, the critics have to take issue with something, or else they feel that they won't be taken seriously."
"And they chose me because they know I'm the most seasoned, and that it won't really hurt me at this point."
"Exactly." I hoped this conversation was going well. "Fuck 'em Liza!" She smiled at me.
"Not after those reviews." I laughed slightly and urged her to come get coffee with me. "In a minute," she replied.
The matinee went off without a hitch. Liza seemed particularly into her character, and I found getting into our scenes was so much easier. Maybe the reviews had challenged her to reach deep inside herself, because I could totally see why her name used to be synonymous with Broadway. Back in my dressing room, I had a couple of messages. One was from Allen, demanding that I meet with Larry Ridgecliff in LA next week. The other was from JC. He said he had finished taping and that if I wanted to meet him, I should come by MTV. My first thought was that he was testing to see if I would go. My second thought was of shock, because I realized I couldn't wait to go.
MTV was only a couple of blocks from the theater, but it was hard to get to given that Broadway had been filled with screaming teenage girls. I made my way to the business entrance and told the front desk that I was here to see JC Chasez. At first the woman gave me a "yeah right" expression, but after some explaining she agreed to call upstairs. A few moments later a door opened and a guy emerged wearing a hooded sweatshirt and large black sunglasses. It took me a moment to realize it was JC. He waved me in and I proceeded to follow him for quite some time until we eventually came out the side entrance where a large Escalade awaited us. A few girls were around, but security kept them at bay. We jumped in the car and it took off. JC pulled off the hood and glasses and smiled at me. I was happy to see his bright blue eyes and thought about kissing him, but decided against it. "You'll be doing this yourself pretty soon," he said.
"I don't know about that," I returned. I wondered if I should confine myself to theater. "So what did you want to do? I only have like 3 hours before the next show."
"That's fine, do you wanna go to a museum?" I fought back a smile. The guy really wanted to go to a museum. Maybe he just wanted me to be his cultural liaison.
"Uh, which one?"
"I don't know, doesn't matter, I haven't been to any of them."
"What? Are you serious? Aren't you in New York like all the time?"
"Yeah, but not exactly for cultural events. Whenever I'm here I usually go from MTV to a hotel to a club." He thought for a moment. "I guess that's maybe why I don't like it here that much."
"Wait a minute, you don't like New York?" He shrugged. "Tell the driver to go to the Met." I figured that was the best museum to begin with, both for the building itself, and the huge variety of collections it contained. On the way over I asked him if the bodyguard sitting up front would be coming with us. He said that he didn't use bodyguards as much as he used to, but with the album coming out, he was in slightly more danger of being mobbed.
"He won't walk with us, but he'll be watching us." He raised his eyebrows in such a way to suggest we wouldn't be doing anything inappropriate at the museum. I immediately blushed and looked away. He was finding this situation funny in some way.
We arrived at the Met and hopped out of the car. JC seemed quite taken with its grandeur. I told him about the different collections they had and he asked if we could start with the Asian weapons and armor section. It wasn't my favorite area, but I had been coming hear on a monthly basis since I came to New York at eighteen. Walking around with him, I offered up whatever knowledge I could. He listened to me like a student listens to his teacher. It made me a bit uncomfortable to see how willing he was to admit his lack of knowledge. I mean, if I had been offered the opportunities he was as a teenager, I wouldn't have passed on them to go to college, and I wouldn't feel bad about it either.
I took him to my favorite spot in the museum. It was a reconstruction of the courtyard to an Italian palace. The room was empty and quiet. Completely serene. I assumed the bodyguard was around somewhere, but I couldn't see him. I explained to him that these were the actual stones from the palace and he quickly replied, "I know, I recognized them when we walked in. They must be from the palace I saw in Venice."
"Have you been to Italy?" Now I felt like an idiot. Of course he had been to Italy. He had probably been everywhere.
"Oh yeah," he replied with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. He went on to explain the palace in great detail, and he was explaining it very well. Images of him in interviews popped up in my head and I tried to reconcile his different personas. Almost absentmindedly, while he continued to describe Venice, he walked up behind me and put his arms around my waist. I didn't know how to react. It felt wonderful, and for a moment I felt completely relaxed. This was quickly replaced by nervousness though, and I stepped forward, breaking the embrace. He stopped talking for a second but quickly resumed, not wanting me to know that he was hurt. Of course, maybe he wasn't.
The time flew by and soon I had to head back. We headed toward the front of the museum and I had once again resolved myself to simply say goodbye and go on with my life. JC offered to drive me back, but I turned down the offer, suddenly craving the anonymity of the subway. I awkwardly shook his hand, thanked him for the company and started to run down the steps
"Hey, what are you doing after the show?" he called out suddenly. I came to a halt. This guy wasn't playing by the rules at all. I walked back up to him.
"I didn't have anything planned."
"Do you want to go for a late dinner?" I didn't quite understand why a musician releasing an album had all of this free time, and I didn't know what I should answer. Friends of mine that had "fuck buddies" didn't wander around museums together, and didn't have late night romantic dinners together. I wanted to tell him no, that I was just going to go home. Then he would know the score. But then once again I found myself looking into his eyes and I knew that I had the power to destroy someone like JC with a simple harsh word. I guess neither of us was really good at this.
"Ok."
"Cool," he said. "I'll come by the theater when you're done."
"I'll have to sign autographs for a while afterward."
"Ok, I know the drill." I spun around on my heel and ran down the long steps. I headed back to theater, once again completely confused about what I was doing.
After the performance, I ran back to my dressing room. I washed off my make-up and changed into a black long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. I came out of the backstage entrance where people were lined up for autographs. I began signing them, smiling and thanking people for their compliments, all the while looking around to see if JC was there. I light rain had begun to fall, but through it I noticed a black Escalade parked on the other side of the street. I was soon joined by Maggie and Paul, who began signing autographs as well. I had been out there for maybe ten minutes before the rain really started to annoy me. "Where's Liza?" I asked Maggie.
"Last time I saw her she was at her dressing table, removing her wig and stuff." Maggie responded. "She was great tonight huh? Even better than this afternoon." I agreed.
"But she was acting a little strange all day wasn't she?"
"Come on Natty, she's always been a little strange no?"
"I guess." I had just about signed everyone's programs when someone from inside the theater came out and announced that Liza was not feeling well and would not be signing programs tonight. Sounds of disappointment were heard and I wondered if her mood was just a sign of being under the weather. I was going to go back in and check on her when I saw the back window of the Escalade come down, and the head of JC pop out of it. It looked as though he was trying to find me, but was having difficulty through the rain, which had increased significantly. The thought had returned when the rain suddenly turned into an absolute downpour. Everyone scattered, thus bringing an end to the autograph signing. Maggie and Paul headed for the cars that waited for them every night and I ran toward JC's car. He opened the door and I jumped in, feeling like a drowned rat. He reached into the back of the SUV and handed me a sweatshirt to dry myself off with. "Where are we headed?" I asked.
"Do you like dim sum?"
"Love it."
"Cool, the guys and I have gone to this great place on the Upper West Side a few times."
"Sounds good to me." The SUV took off up Broadway, but about five minutes into the drive, it came to a stop. JC asked the driver what was going on. The driver said that it looked like there may be an accident a few cars up, as the police had stopped all traffic. "Jesus Christ!" I yelled out. "Can't anybody fucking drive when it's raining?" JC gave me a questioning look. "Sorry," I said, turning my face toward the window. Something was making me nervous. The driver said he would turn off the avenue as soon as possible, but he didn't sound very hopeful for the near future.
"So, what was it you had wanted to show me in the museum?" JC asked, trying to lighten the mood. I turned back to him, trying to think.
"Oh, the Magritte exhibit they have at the moment."
"You're a big fan of his work?"
"Yeah, he's one of the few modern painters that I actually get. My favorite is this one of a house cast in darkness even though a bright blue sky looms above it."
"It's about depression," JC offered. I looked at him and smiled.
"Yeah, you know, about how something so large can go completely unnoticed. See, when he was still very young, Magritte's mother committed suici---" My voice dropped and panic shot through my body as I had a terrible thought. "I have to go."
"What? Where?" JC's voice rang out behind me as I opened the door to the car, made my way to the sidewalk, and started running down Broadway. The rain was coming down in sheets. I could hardly see and had to keep dodging people. I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest, but I kept pushing myself to run faster. I got back to the theater to find it already dark. I ran to the front entrance but no one was there to be seen. I ran to the backstage entrance and fumbled to find my keys. My hands were shaking as I got my key into the lock, turned it and ran inside. I went to Liza's dressing room. It was empty. I was halfway back out the door when I noticed a piece of paper on her dressing table. I walked over to it, and upon seeing that it was a hand written note, I ran out of her room and up onto the stage. It was dark and I had to look around to find one of the light switches. When I finally got one on, I quickly looked around, then up. Up on the catwalk was Liza. A rope was tied around her neck and fastened to the iron railing.
"Liza NO!" She turned slowly and looked down at me. She smiled.
"It will be my greatest dramatic accomplishment." She pulled herself over the railing and then there was silence.
To be continued