JC and the Actor, Chapter 30, Copyright 2004 ----------
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.
Wow, the 30th Anniversary of "JC and the Actor." Ok, so it's only been a little over six months. I hope that everyone is continuing to enjoy the story and thank you all for your continued support. Please continue to send your thoughts, comments and criticisms to mzbryan2003@yahoo.com
Chapter 30
"It's just not going to work out."
"I'm starting to realize that," I said sadly.
"So why don't we just be adults about it and call it a day?"
"This is how you want to end it?" My expression remained blank but tears filled my eyes.
"It's already over."
"Cut!" the director yelled. I breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the false tears from my face, hoping that he wasn't going to ask us to do the scene again. I learned very quickly that Martin Wiley was a perfectionist as a director, and that he was more than happy to spend several hours to a couple of days filming scenes that would translate to less than thirty seconds of screen time. "Excellent!" he called. "That's a wrap for today."
I smiled at my costar and hurried back to my trailer to change. I had promised JC that I would be back in time no matter what, but I was relieved that I didn't have to storm off the set in order to do so. I took off my makeup, showered and changed into a thin, black button-down shirt and a pair of well-worn, yet completely new pair of jeans. I fixed my hair and, taking one last glance into the mirror to ensure that I was as cute as I had been this morning, ran out of my trailer and hopped into the Porsche I had rented for the length of filming.
Speeding down the freeway, it dawned on me that I had no idea where I was going. "Where the fuck is the 'House of Blues'?" I asked myself out loud, fishing my cell phone out of my pocket. I called Joey who, as far as I knew, was the only NSYNC member coming to see JC's rather impromptu performance. He told me that I was going the wrong way, and so I had to cut across four lanes of traffic in order to turn around. I could barely hear him over the static and the wind rushing around me, but I think he said that he was on his way.
I called JC to tell him that I was on the way, so when I finally arrived a woman immediately met me by my car and led me toward the back of the club. I nodded at his bodyguard as I entered the dressing room to find JC pacing back and forth in a black sleeveless shirt. We had only been in LA for two weeks when JC negotiated to perform a small concert showcasing the songs from his solo album. I remember laughing when he told me, realizing that retirement was not something he was seriously considering.
"Josh, you look nervous," I said, kissing him hello. I had been with him this summer when he was on tour with the guys, but then going out on stage seemed like no big deal to him at all.
"I won't be as soon as I get on stage," he said. "It's just the waiting." I ran my hands up and down his arms, and told him that he would be fine, and that he had rehearsed for the past two weeks for a show he had already done a hundred times. I had never seen him perform as a soloist, but I was incredibly excited about it. "Uh, Josh," I began, noticing that his arms felt different. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you have hair on your arms this morning?" His arms were as smooth as my palms, making the veins in his arms appear more prominent.
"It looks better on stage, don't you think?" he said, looking down at them. "Everyone sits up close at these small places."
"Um, whatever floats your boat I guess," I said, secretly wondering if he had lost his mind. He asked me how filming went and I told him that it was going much more smoothly compared to how it had started.
At the end of the first week of filming, I had stormed into JC's house, throwing my keys onto the counter and standing with my arms folded, waiting for JC to put down his magazine and ask me what was wrong. "That son of a bitch said I don't act 'LA' enough," I practically yelled, referring to the director, Martin Wiley. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? That I don't seem like the sun has bleached out my brain cells?" It was perhaps the only time that I had been criticized as an actor, and my immediate thought was to quit and go back to Broadway where I knew I was appreciated.
"Well," JC began. I glared back at him.
"Well?" I repeated. He smirked and looked back down at his magazine.
"You are a little high-strung. You do have that whole New Yorker neurotic vibe going on." He looked back up at me, ready to hear me explode.
"You agree with him? You think I can't pull off SoCal casual?" My character was supposed to be born and raised in LA, but I was reminding myself that Cary Grant had played many characters from the Midwest, all while keeping his English accent.
"Nate, I've seen you act and you are amazing. But you yourself said that you have to study for all your roles. I haven't seen you studying."
"So what are you suggesting?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips, knowing what he was going to say.
"I think it's time you let me show you what living in LA is really like," he said, closing the magazine and standing up. I had been resisting meeting JC's circle of friends since we had arrived in LA, positive that there was nothing I would have in common with them, and sure that they would be highly uninteresting. It greatly annoyed me to think that there was something I could learn from them, even if what I was going to learn was how to be more superficial. I raised one of my eyebrows at JC, and he headed upstairs to change.
That weekend and almost every night since, we partied. We hung out in outdoor cafes during the day, and usually at least two different clubs every night. At first it didn't seem all that different from partying in New York, but after what I still can't believe was my third arduous conversation with Paris Hilton, I realized that I was in a new, albeit scary, world.
During the summer I had spent a week with JC in LA, but I hadn't met all his friends. Now I had Tara Reid's cell phone number and was invited by Simon Rex to learn how to surf. "But he made a porno," I whispered to JC after receiving the invitation.
"Shh," JC said. "We don't talk about that." He leaned closer. "But he was good wasn't he?" he laughed. For as much fun as I was having, I was indeed studying everyone, noting how they had embraced the warm temperatures and everything that came with it. Every time I climbed into my convertible, I reminded myself about the chaotic March weather in New York, and wondered why everyone didn't live here. At the same time, I was seeing yet another side to JC that I had read about but assumed was just gossip or some kind of cover. The JC I knew was pretty serious, the new version was anything but. Still, we were having fun and growing closer each day, free of secrets and free of questions. Soon after we had started going out at night, Martin Wiley took back what he had said about my performance.
Joey arrived backstage and we chatted while JC went into the bathroom to do a vocal warm up. "Jesus, it sounds like someone's being murdered in there," Joey laughed, listening to JC's scales.
"That's not nice," I said. JC hit a particularly high note and I wondered if the glasses in the room would break. "Well, you may have a point," I grinned. It was almost time for his performance, so I wished him good luck and headed out into the main room with Joey, who I quickly realized was nothing but delightful to be around. He certainly wasn't as full of himself like Justin was, nor was he as devious as Lance. The area closest to the stage was roped off from the rest of the room and a few tables were strewn throughout. Joey and I sat down at a table, realizing for the first time that I was nervous for JC. It was such a small place, and the fans who won tickets to sit in this VIP area would most surely be pressed right up against the stage when he came out.
"Hey guys," Tara Reid said, sitting down next to us, placing her beer on the table. "You've never seen his solo show, have you?" she asked me in her low, husky voice. I shook my head no, afraid to take my eyes off of the stage and risk missing his first appearance. "Oh you'll love it," she assured me. "It's really, really good." The place was now totally packed with young women and a few men who appeared confident with their admiration for JC. It was situations like this that always made me wonder what the public would think if they new the truth about JC and I. They were fine with the suggestion of it all, but I didn't know how they would react to facts.
The lights dimmed and I felt my heart start to race. Singing seemed so much more personal to me than acting. I never had stage fright in the theater, but this was an entirely different ball game in my opinion. The MC stepped onstage to get the crowd ready and before I knew it he was yelling, "Give it up...for JC...Chasez!!!" The music started up and JC appeared behind a throng of dancers, looking happy and confident. A jacket was over his sleeveless t-shirt, but that didn't last long as he went straight into his A.D.I.D.A.S. song. I nearly fell off my seat when he began a series of hip thrusts that I quickly realized would be a dominant feature of tonight's performance. The fans were going crazy, and you could tell that JC loved every minute of it. For the next 90 minutes, JC used the power of dance and song to discuss dreaming about sex, group sex, one-night stands and masturbation. I wasn't able to close my mouth the entire time, half in shock, half-hard watching him strut around, swinging his hips and touching himself over and over again.
Halfway through the show, JC paused for a moment to drink some water and wipe off the sweat dripping down his body. As I looked around the room, all I could think about was that I was one who got to go home with him. "How's everyone doing?" he yelled out to the crowd, laughing at the screams he received in response. He made a few jokes that weren't that funny but the crowd didn't really seem to care. "Hey," he then began. "I've got some friends in the audience tonight," he laughed, looking over at my table. "You guys know Joey, right?" he joked. The crowd screamed again as Joey stood up and waived at them. Tara was waving at JC not to introduce her, but he did anyway, and she turned and nodded politely. I thought he was done but then I saw him looking at me with a devilish grin. Before I had the chance to telepathically tell him that I would kill him if he drew attention to me, he had introduced me as the "soon to be famous, but already infamous, Nathaniel Murray!" I turned completely red, and cupped my head in my hands. Realizing I couldn't stay this way, I looked up and smiled at the crowd waving at them as they all screamed and waved at me. I heard him tell the crowd to look for me in the upcoming issue of "Vanity Fair," and I looked back at him, biting my lip, shaking my head. It was nice of him to give me a little free publicity.
JC placed his water bottle down on a stool that had been placed next to him, and told the crowd that he was going to slow things down a bit for a new song he was currently working on. This was news to me, but my interest was certainly peaked. "This is something I have been working on with a very talented young songwriter by the name of Edward Ryan." My eyes shot up at him, but he wasn't facing me. He had been writing a song with Edward, my brother? "It's called, 'Unsure,' and I hope you like it." The crowd kept screaming but dulled to a light roar as the piano started playing and JC sat down on the stool. As if the title wasn't obvious enough, I braced myself to hear about JC's musical take on our relationship, wondering how I was going to take it.
It started very quietly, but soon progressed into a song that made full use of his vocal talents. I struggled to hear every word, needing to dissect each one as they came out. It wasn't harsh and it wasn't angry. It was really about being unsure. He sang about feeling one way, but acting in another. The song was about not being able to go, but wondering if you should stay. The melody and the lyrics were beautiful. I knew my reaction couldn't be too severe since I was in public, but if I wasn't, I most certainly would have shed a tear or two, knowing that I was the reason he had to think these things, realizing that this was an artist's way of expressing himself. When he finished, the crowd started screaming once again. He smiled and looked over at me, giving me a quick wink. It wasn't his "Cry Me a River," and so I would be able to live with it.
He finished up with a few more extremely dirty songs, then thanked the audience for coming and disappeared backstage. Tara, Joey and I were rushed backstage as well where we soon found ourselves outside of JC's dressing room, where it was stated that only I could go in at first. I closed the door behind me to see JC wiping his face with a towel. "What did you think?" he asked, looking so worked out and sweaty that I thought I might have to take him right there.
"I think that was probably the sluttiest show I have ever seen," I laughed. "Josh, I didn't know you had it in you. I thought you were going to dislocate your pelvis."
"Everyone has their creative side," he laughed, pulling his shirt off, revealing a sweaty and totally smooth chest.
"Josh?" I asked, my eyes opening wide as I stepped closer to him. "Is there any part of you that isn't waxed at the moment?"
"There's one part," he smiled, kissing me briefly. I pressed my hand against his chest and pulled him closer to kiss him more deeply.
"Can I see that part right now?" I asked.
"I'm all sweaty," he said.
"I know," I replied, taking my hand and slipping it down into his pants. He felt hot and moist. "I don' t mind."
"I do," he smiled, gently taking my hand out of his pants. "I really need to shower. I feel really gross." I backed away reluctantly and told him that I would let him tend to that. Before I headed out the door he called out: "About the song."
"I loved it," I said, turning around. "It was beautiful."
"It was just how I was feeling at the time. Not now."
"I know," I said, looking down at the ground.
"The music was all Edward's work. I just had some lyrics written but he really took flight with them."
"Josh, that's what artists do. I understand and I'm not mad at all. I just don't really want to talk about it that much."
"I understand," he said.
"Are you coming home with me?" I asked, not sure how he had gotten here.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be right out." I left him to shower and get dressed while I chatted some more with Joey and Tara.
"So you know where we are all going tomorrow, right?" Tara asked me.
"Yeah, well, no actually, but Josh does."
"Cool," she said. "Well, I have to run, but tell Josh he was great and I'll see him tomorrow."
"Ok," I said. She double-kissed Joey and me goodbye and took off. JC came out shortly after and hugged Joey who kidded him about something I didn't get. We talked a bit before having JC's bodyguards escort us to my car. It had become cooler, so I put the roof up before heading back toward Hollywood Hills.
"That was so much fun," I said, glancing at him smiling to himself in the passenger seat. I asked him what he was smiling about.
"Once you're up there it's just so much fun," he said. "I just don't think anything is that much fun."
"Anything?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.
"So you liked my moves?" He said, leaning over to put his head on my shoulder.
I raised my right arm and placed my hand on his head. "Josh, if I knew you had that kind of thrusting power, I would have had to rethink the roles in our relationship."
"I like our roles," he whispered, reaching over more and biting my ear. It occurred to me that we should probably be going out to party after his show, and not wanting to act like an old man, I asked JC if he wanted to go somewhere.
"No," he said, his hand sliding to my thigh. "Tonight I just want to go home." He moved his hand to my crotch, which was already expanding. "And I want to suck on this." He started rubbing me and I started to feel my erection press uncomfortably in my pants.
"Josh, we're almost there," I said, placing my hand over his. He continued rubbing and I had to lift myself off the seat in an attempt to find a more comfortable position for my cock. Sensing my predicament, JC unbuttoned my jeans and undid my zipper, reaching in to grasp my cock through my underwear. I didn't know how far this was going to go, but I knew that I didn't want it to end in the emergency room. I reminded him that only a few minutes ago he was the one telling me that I had to wait. "Josh, just a few more minutes," I said.
"I don't think I can wait," he smiled, continuing to rub me. Concentrating on an image of my grandmother, I was able to make it back to JC's house without crashing the car. As soon as the garage door closed behind us, he pulled my boxer-briefs down and lowered his face to my crotch. I pressed myself back into the seat as I felt my cock slide into his warm wet mouth. He seemed very hungry as he started to slide his mouth up and down on my dick, tonguing the area just under the head. Apparently, his performance even turned him on. I ran my fingers through his soft curls, not applying any pressure, wanting to let him do whatever it was he wanted to do. He had tucked my underwear beneath my balls, and used his hand to play with and pull at them.
He was now kneeling on the passenger seat, fumbling with his own jeans while continuing to suck me. His cock appeared, and he started to stroke it. The sight of JC touching himself was such a turn on that I thrust my hips forward, causing him to gag slightly. Before I could even apologize or suggest that we move inside, he had reached for the button to lower the hood of the car, and swung himself on top of me. It never would have worked in the cramped space of the Porsche if he wasn't so thin. He started to unbutton my shirt, exposing my chest and bending down to attack my nipples with his lips. My hand cupped his small firm ass, and started to push his jeans off of it. He stopped for a moment, sat up on his knees, and pushed my jeans and underwear down to my knees, then did the same with his own so that the denim pressed against my stomach. When he sat back down I could feel his ass against my cock, and thought to myself that this was a pretty "LA" thing to do. Sure we were in a closed garage with no chance of being caught, but it still felt pretty wild and naughty. JC gave me his "I'm adorable" smile and started to kiss me. My hands slid up from his ass to his back under his shirt, at which point I realized I was missing out on JC's new feature. I frantically started to unbutton his shirt and he helped me, pulling it off of him and tossing it onto the passenger seat. His newly smooth chest made his muscles look more pronounced and I ran my fingers all over them, soon replacing them with my lips. He felt so different, almost like another person, which in a way created an excitement all of its own. I kissed his smooth nipples and bit them softly, listening to him squeal with delight. He was slowly grinding his ass against my cock, but I could tell he was quickening his pace as my cock brushed against his hole.
"Please tell me you have lube with you," he said, a look of fear on his face that I might say no. I had tried to keep a few packets with me so that I was prepared for wherever the day took us, but I still reached for my wallet nervously, not sure if I had restocked.
"Ahah," I said, pulling out a small packet. JC looked more serious now and he opened the packet, pouring the lube into his hands before reaching behind him to stroke my pole with the liquid. I moaned in reaction to his tight grip, and once he seemed satisfied that I was well lubricated, he raised himself up, positioned my cock, and started to lower himself onto it.
"Ooohhhh," he moaned, closing his eyes as he took me down to the base. He paused for a moment and then opened his eyes, leaning over to kiss me as he started to ride me. One of my hands roamed all over his body while the other one wrapped around his cock, incredibly long and taut against his stomach, the head weeping with precum. I marveled at his tight, smooth body as he bounced up and down on me, making both of us groan with pleasure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Fuck me, fuck me." I was doing my best but it was really up to him to do the work, my body basically being pinned between the seat and the steering wheel. His hands moved to my shoulders as he really started to bare down on my cock, wanting both of us to cum soon.
"Oh God, Josh," I sighed.
"Oh yeah," he answered. "Cum baby, I want to feel you cum." He started slamming himself against me and soon after I started to unload inside him, grabbing his back and pulling him toward me as I came hard, yelling out unexpectedly. He was practically whining as I grasped his cock and jerked him hard, producing three large cumshots that splashed against my abs. He slowed down his rhythm, eventually coming to a stop as we tried to catch our breath. He leaned his head down on my shoulder and panted, occasionally kissing my smooth skin.
"I guess I knew we weren't going to make it inside," I sighed, looking at his beautiful eyes.
"Oh we can make it inside," he winked. "You'll just have to give me a few minutes." I smiled again at him, crushing my lips against his.
"Josh, did you realize that people write stories about you on the Internet?" I asked from the computer as he walked back and forth in his room getting dressed. Once in a while I liked to type in his or my name, and see what popped up.
"You mean that fan fiction stuff?" he said. "Yeah I've seen some of it." He pulled on a white t-shirt and started going through his watch collection.
"Do you read any of this slash fiction?" I asked, clicking through some of the stories.
"No way," he said adamantly. "I don't want to read about me and the guys getting all sliced up by psychos." I turned to look at him, my eyebrows cast downward. "What?" he asked innocently.
"Are you serious?" I asked him, thinking he suddenly seemed like he was twelve.
"I've heard the reference," he said, knowing that he had gotten something wrong. "Isn't that what they are about?" I smiled at him and explained that the "slash" simply referred to the breaks in a story that has several parts. "Oh," he grinned, buckling a large white watch to his wrist. "Oops."
"Oh my," I said, looking back at the screen. I had just come across a website that was apparently relegated to gay erotic fiction about boy-band members. "This is too funny," I said, telling JC what I had found.
"I guess we have a lot of gay fans," he said.
"Josh, you should take a look at this," I said, pointing to the screen. JC walked over and sat in the chair next to mine by the computer. I tapped the screen to show him a story entitled "JC and Nate." "Looks like some people have already decided we are a couple," I said, in partial disbelief that I was famous enough that somebody would want to write a fictional account of my life. I opened the link to find several chapters most likely describing a love affair between JC and I. I opened the first chapter and started reading.
"Are you really going to read this?" JC asked, standing back up.
"Why not? Aren't you curious?"
"I guess I should just be happy that I'm not fucking Justin in this one," he smiled. "I'm going to get some breakfast."
"Damn," I said, reaching a rather explicit portion of the chapter. "I'm really giving it to you hard in this scene."
"Well," JC began, sitting back down and pulling the chair closer to the computer. "I guess breakfast can wait for a little bit."
"I don't think I can ever look at vegetable oil in the same way again," JC said in between spoonfuls of cereal.
"Maybe we should write to thank him for all the new ideas," I laughed.
"I think we are doing ok on our own." JC placed his cereal bowl in the sink. He turned back to face me. "You know, Carlos is supposed to be flying in tomorrow," he began, waiting for some reaction.
"Yeah?"
"Well, he usually crashes here when he comes."
"He can crash somewhere else," I said. I was in no mood for another one of JC's houseguests.
"But he kind of, like, lives here."
"Well, he should kind of, like, live somewhere else." I answered. I had only met his assistant that one time in the supermarket in Florida. I knew nothing about him or the extent of his relationship with JC, but for some reason, I also didn't want to.
"That's kind of mean, Nate," JC said.
"Josh, you want to live here with me and be tripping over Carlos every day?" I had raised my voice in hopes that he would realize what an unnecessary strain that would be on our relationship.
"I guess he can stay with his girlfriend," he said to himself, reaching for his cell phone.
"Good idea," I said. I didn't understand the lives of the non-celebrities who knew celebrities. Did the guy have a job aside from running errands for JC? Didn't he have a place to call his own or did he think he would be permanently "crashing" at JC's. Again, I was being confronted by the "casual" side of JC, the guy who probably didn't mind having someone else live off of him for years in the house that he had bought. I worried about seeming like the bad-guy in all of this, but I just found the whole situation to be strange.
I had to get to the set, so I kissed him goodbye and asked him about the plans for tonight.
"We can leave from here," he said. "Just come back when you're finished."
We finished two more scenes that day. The shooting schedule for this was film was far less grueling than my last one, and so far had produced no near-death experiences. This film had an old Hollywood feel to it, and that resulted in filming on lots of soundstages and certain locations throughout LA. I was greatly looking forward to the day that they were planning on closing down a portion of Sunset Blvd. so that I could speed down it in the antique Corvette my character drove.
I arrived back at JC's house around seven in the evening. JC's car was in the garage and I found myself wondering what a pop star did during a regular day with no work to do. I quickly found out when I walked past JC's home office area to find that half of the room was now painted a deep blue. The rollers were still on the drop cloth and some of the furniture was pushed into the center of the room.
"Uh, Josh?" I called out. "Are you very bored?"
"Do you like the color?" he called from the living room. "I can't decide now."
I found him sitting on one of the couches, staring at some papers he was holding.
"What are those?" I asked.
"Oh, sorry," he said, looking up at me. "I probably shouldn't have opened them but I just couldn't resist." He handed over the papers and I realized that they were the proofs of the photography shoot I did for "Vanity Fair." Between the studio, Allen and my publicist, I was about to get plenty of exposure, and I was more than happy to have the cover of "Vanity Fair" as my first stop on the publicity train. Annie Liebowitz had taken the photographs of me at the Roosevelt Hotel a couple of weeks ago, followed by an interview with one of the magazine's journalists. "They're absolutely amazing," JC said, walking over to look at them again over my shoulder. I wanted to agree with him, but thought that would seem vain. The cover shot was most likely going to be a photograph of me sitting on one of the hotel bar's stools, looking like it had been a very late night. I was dressed in a gorgeous Armani black suit, with the white shirt open, exposing just enough of my chest that I knew even old ladies would want to buy the magazine. The other photographs were even more provocative, which I not only got a kick out of, but also thought capitalized well on my role on Broadway, where it was well known that I had appeared nude nightly.
I was pretty candid in the interview, where I discussed my evolution as an actor and even broached the subject of my sexuality by saying that I felt it was an important as an actor to not be identified in one way or the other. I was asked about JC and my relationship with NSYNC, particularly with Justin because of the rumors of our fight. I remained quiet about that. "Come on," the interviewer laughed. "A lot of people would probably like to know that you punched Justin Timberlake." All I said was that we had some disagreements about things, but that we were adults and had worked them out. As for JC, I simply said that he was a great person, and that I was very honored to have a person like him in my life. It was the truth, minus a few details, and it explained why he was with me in Africa when I had gotten sick.
"You look so fuckin' hot," JC said from behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"Do you really think so?" I asked absentmindedly, looking at the pictures.
"I'm glad Carlos isn't here," JC said, kissing my neck, tightening his grip around me. I turned around and kissed him, warning him that we really didn't have time to fool around.
"Besides," I said. "I'm starving." We both went upstairs to change. JC put on a light blue tracksuit, which begged the question: why? I didn't understand why celebrities sometimes liked to look like hell, and was pretty sure I would never feel the compulsion to join them. We went to a restaurant in West Hollywood, just below JC's house, and then it was on to the most popular club of the week. I didn't drink much at these places, nor did I dance, which made me wonder what it was that I did do at them. For the most part I was introduced to a handful of familiar faces from music or television, and would then spend a better part of the night yelling things and pretending that I could hear what was yelled back.
Tonight I realized that I might be reaching my limit for LA nightlife. Before I knew it, I was without JC, locked into a conversation with Lance. Observing his sinister grin, I found myself wishing Paris Hilton was here.
"You don't get that I like you, do you?" he said to me. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.
"You like me?" I repeated.
"Yeah, not like you think, but I respect you."
"Respect me?"
"What are you an echo or something? Not many people go after what they want and are willing to do whatever it takes to keep it." He took a sip of his drink. "Not many people fucked up as badly as you did either," he laughed, rolling his eyes.
"Lance, I think things got really out of hand this summer. I think we both overreacted to the situation." In the past few weeks I have started to feel really guilty that I had incriminating tapes of Lance. It was a weird feeling to know that you had something on someone. I wasn't comfortable with it.
"Look, what's done is done," Lance said. "But if it's at all possible I think we should try to be friends again. I think we owe it to Josh. You may not believe me, but I really do think of him as a brother." The idea of not having to have tension with Lance was tempting. Now if I could just get myself to like Justin again, there would be little social drama in my life. I extended my hand to Lance and he shook it firmly. I didn't know if I had made a positive step, or a deal with the devil.
"Say, where is Josh?" I asked Lance, realizing I hadn't seen him in quite some time.
"Oh," Lance laughed. "He was hanging out with Nelly and his crew before. He's probably in the back room," he said, pointing me in its direction.
"The back room?" I asked.
"Yeah," he laughed, bringing his thumb and forefinger together and moving them quickly in front of his lips. My eyes shot open as I looked at Lance in disbelief.
"You're kidding me," I said.
"Well, you can go check for yourself, but I'm pretty sure that's where you will find him." I had had enough of JC's surprise personality traits for the month. I hopped off my stool and went to go find him.
"Whoa!" the large bouncer said as I approached the room, feeling myself grow more and more aggravated. "You can't just walk in here unless you know one of the guests," he said.
"I do," I said, ignoring him and trying to get past him.
"And how do you know them?" he asked. I looked up at him realizing that there was no way I could get past him.
"I suck JC Chasez' cock," I said dryly, thinking that would leave an impression on him.
"Oh," he said. "I guess that qualifies." He stepped aside and I shook my head as I entered the door and walked through a pair of thick velvet curtains. Smoke filled my lungs and as I adjusted my eyes to the darkness, I saw JC in the middle of a large crowd, laughing and smoking something that wasn't a cigarette. He noticed me almost immediately and stood and came over to me.
"Hey," he said. His eyes looked glazed over.
"Uh, Josh, what the fuck is going on?" I said.
"What does it look like," he laughed. "You want some?"
"Do I look like I want some?" I said, waving his hand away.
"God, you're so uptight," he laughed. I could tell he wasn't in his right mind. He was high as a kite.
"Josh, what's the point of earning millions of dollars if all you want to do is act like a kid in high school?"
"Don't tell me how I act," he said, sounding annoyed but looking like he wasn't quite aware that he was. "You don't know what my life was like before you."
"Tell me, what was it like?" I asked, pretending to have great interest in his response. It was odd that he had just said what I had been thinking. I didn't know what JC's life was like before me. He never really talked about it.
"It was fun," he laughed. "It was a lot of fuckin' fun."
"Great," I smiled sarcastically. "Well, I'll tell you what. You go and enjoy your trip down memory lane, and I'll leave." I turned to walk away.
"Wait," he said. "I'll go with you."
"And miss out on all this fun?" I asked, gesturing toward the throng of people laughing for no particular reason. "Enjoy. And find your own fucking ride home." I turned away again and stormed out of the room.
Back in my car and speeding down the freeway, I wondered why I was so aggravated. It wasn't just the fact that he was using drugs, though I didn't like it. It was this idea that I didn't know that he did stuff like this. The JC that I knew was nothing but sweet and thoughtful. He was introspective and dedicated to having something real and positive in his life. It was this view that I had of him that made me feel so terrible about the things I had done.
The JC that was emerging in LA was this partying kind of guy, content to have simplistic discussions and hang around with people that couldn't possibly really care about him. And tonight he had simply let himself get out of control without any warning, and I had no idea why.
I went into the house and into the half-painted office where I got back on the computer. Instead of looking for fan-fiction, I started looking for past interviews with JC. I knew from personal experiences that you could say a lot of bullshit in interviews, but I was curious to see the things he had said over the years. To my surprise, most of his quotes were about living life to the fullest and doing whatever you want so long as nobody gets hurt. He talked about taking ten years of your life to go crazy and be young. He talked with such slang that I had difficulty understanding what the hell he was talking about. As I read more and more, I thought to myself: "This is the guy who couldn't get over me getting a blow job from somebody?"
It was after three in the morning when I heard the door from the garage opening. My eyes were dry from staring at the computer for so long, and I rubbed at them as I went to meet him in the kitchen.
"Munchies?" I said, folding my arms and leaning back against the wall as I watched him search through the refrigerator.
"I can't believe you left me there like that." he said, closing the door and turning to look at me. He was holding a carton of ice cream and went to get a spoon. "You embarrassed me."
"Please," I said. "Your worried how it looked to Nelly that your gay lover didn't take you home?"
"Nate, what do you want from me? I'm sorry, ok? Do you want to give me a lecture on the brain cells that I'm killing?"
"Josh, do we really just not know each other? You don't act like the person I've been with these past months."
JC looked at me and for a moment and I thought he was going to start yelling. Then his face turned into a slight grin and he shook his head at me. "You don't get why that is, do you?" he said, smiling, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough.
"Obviously I don't." I said firmly, but sensing that the mood was lightening.
"Nate, I'm different around you because you're the first person who has made me want to be different. The more I got to know you, the more serious and mature I wanted to become."
"Are you telling me that I make you want to be a better man?" I asked, quoting "As Good as it Gets."
"If you want to put it that way," he laughed. "I like how I am with you, Nate. You're so different from everyone else I have ever met. You're better."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it's true. There's something more to you and I like feeling like I have to work to meet the standards you expect of people."
"So then what was tonight about? What has this whole month been about?"
"I don't know," he said. "I guess it was sort of a goodbye to my childhood."
"What about your ten years of living crazy?" I asked, quoting the interview I had read. He laughed and shook his head.
"I said that two years ago, Nate. I'm twenty-eight now. I think I'm ready for my ten years to be over." In a matter of minutes he had managed to make me feel like I was just as much in love with him now as I was the first day that I had told him so.
"I'm sorry if over-reacted," I said. I wanted to tell him how flattered I was by everything he had just said, but words suddenly seemed unnecessary. Listening to him and watching him eat his ice cream, I realized for the first time that he was older than me, and that he had probably packed more living into his time as a celebrity than I ever would. I also realized that I was going to have to ask the questions that ran through my head, instead of waiting for them to erupt at an inopportune time.
"I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you before," JC said. "I, uh, wasn't in my right mind." I smiled at him, taking out another spoon from the drawer.
And with that, we started to spend more evenings ordering take-out.
To be continued