JC and the Actor, Chapter 37, 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.
Only three more chapters to go! Please continue to send your comments to mzbryan2003@yahoo.com. Now, on with the show.
Chapter 37
Candles. Where the fuck are the candles? I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and started to rummage through the drawers in my newly remodeled kitchen. It was my first time trying to prepare dinner since my Manhattan apartment had been redecorated, and I unfortunately had no idea where anything was. I eventually found a white pair of candles, hurrying into the dining room to place them in the crystal candlesticks that stood in the center of the table. I laughed to myself, noticing once again that I had set the table rather formally with both plate settings at either end of the table. I was sure that most couples dining alone probably sat next to each other.
JC had been gone for longer than he had originally planned. A weekend visit with his sister turned into a week, and then another. He hadn't spent nearly as much time with his family lately as he would have liked, so I was happy that he took the time for himself. Of course I missed him, but I was content to be on my own and let all the recent changes to my life sink in. I also got to learn more about the revival of 'The Glass Menagerie' in London. Allen had worked his magic, and the part was pretty much mine if I wanted it. Rehearsals would be starting in late July, with the show opening in the West End in December. I would be paid a fortune relative to what most theater actors were paid, but would have to commit to staying with the production for at least a year. Were I to take the part, I would be committing myself to living in London until the end of 2006. It wouldn't preclude me from making films in London during that time, but it did pretty much mean there wouldn't be any big American blockbusters for me in the near future.
It was funny to be worrying about when I would have my next big hit. Even after a few weeks, 'The Edge' was still number one at the box office, even beating the opening of X-Men 3 (I sent Hugh a condolence card). People were simply flocking to the movie, and apparently seeing it more than once. It would have been humble of me to think it was because it was a good movie, but given that I was practically alone in it throughout most of the film, it was hard not to think it largely had to do with me.
The film I made in LA, my second, still didn't have a release date, but were I to do the play, it would probably be delayed so that I wouldn't disappear from the public eye for too long. For as much as I cared about my career, there were now production companies, distributors and studios whom perhaps cared even more. I started to feel like I was part of a machine, which made the idea of doing a play all the more enticing.
Tonight was the night that I pitched the idea to JC. His plane had landed a couple of hours ago, and I expected him to arrive shortly. I kept telling myself that I would leave the decision up to him, but I already knew that I would be heartbroken if I wasn't able to do it. In my mind, it was the best career decision I could make, though I also knew that part of me was excited because it would mean escaping the fans, the press and the publicity, if only for a while.
I ran back into the kitchen, checking the food in the oven and on the stove. It would probably be done exactly when JC got here. Everything was going perfectly. So far.
There was a knock at the door and the oven timer started to ring. Perfect. I took out the food, placing it on the counter before hurrying to the door, checking myself in one of the hallway mirrors on my way.
"Hey sexy," he smiled as I moved out of the way, allowing him to enter. He dropped his bags onto the ground and we hugged a bit awkwardly, not really sure how to act after the time apart. I tried to kiss him, and he tried to kiss me, which led to us giving each other chaste kisses on the cheek. We both started to laugh and I suggested that we go and eat, knowing that we would fall back into our routine chatter soon enough.
JC complimented me on the table setting while I hurried back and forth to the kitchen, bringing all the dishes into the dining room. We sat down and I asked him how his sister was. He started to tell me different stories and anecdotes about his trip when he suddenly stopped, looking at me from across the table. "What's up?" he said, his eyebrows knitting together.
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to act innocent.
"You're up to something, I can tell," he said.
"I'm not up to anything," I laughed, reaching for the bottle of wine. "Here," I said, motioning for his glass. "Have some of this. It costs more than the suit I wore to the Tonys."
"You didn't even pay for that suit," he laughed, pushing his glass across the table.
"I didn't buy this either," I laughed back, pouring the red wine. "Neil Howard sent it to me a couple of weeks ago."
We ate and drank, our conversation becoming more relaxed and comfortable despite my knowing that I had some important stuff to talk to him about. Maybe it could wait until later. With dinner over, I jumped out of my seat moving to gather up the dishes. I reached for JC's dish, feeling his hand grasp mine.
"Where you going?" JC smiled, pulling me onto his lap. He tilted his head up and kissed me.
"I, uh," I began, pulling my lips away from him and standing up. "I have dessert in the kitchen." My eyes were wandering all over his face, but not settling on his eyes. Why was I feeling so guilty about telling him that I wanted to do a play? I picked up the dishes and hurried into the kitchen, dropping them into the sink and pulling open the refrigerator, wishing I could climb into it. I took out the cake I had made earlier, got a couple of dessert plates, and went back out into the dining room. JC was staring up at the ceiling his mouth hanging open.
"I never noticed these beams that Nate put on the ceiling," he said, his head falling forward again. "Wow," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You haven't cooked in a long time."
"I know," I said. "I forgot how much I enjoyed it. And it's a way to keep busy since I can't really go outside anymore."
"It will get better," he said, taking a plate from me. "Then you'll wonder where everyone went."
"I don't think I will wonder," I sighed, sitting back down.
"We can always try to sneak back down to Florida," he smiled.
"Yeah," I said, somewhat unenthusiastically.
"Nate," JC said, putting his fork down. "Come on now, just tell me what's bothering you."
"I got an offer," I began, deciding I might as well come clean.
"An offer to do what?" he asked.
"An offer to do a play. A play I've wanted to do since I started acting." I was keeping my voice as calm as possible, not wanting him to completely know my emotions about the subject.
"Well," he said, probably knowing this was going to take a strange turn. "That's great isn't it? I mean, who says you have to make another movie right now?"
"It's in London," I said.
"Oh," he said, looking like someone had knocked the wind out of his sails. For lack of anything better to do, I had another sip of wine. "Well, for how long would you have to go?" he asked. His expression was honestly making me think I would just forget about the whole thing.
"About a year and a half," I said, suddenly realizing what a stupid thing it was to do. How could I really ask him to just drop everything and move across the ocean with me? Before I could tell him that I wasn't going to do it, he had practically jumped out of his chair, quickly disappearing out of the room.
"Josh, where are you going?" I said, standing up and following after him. He walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I reached for the knob, quickly realizing that the door was locked.
"Josh, it was just an offer. I don't have to take it." There was no answer on the other side. I kept knocking and jiggling the handle, telling him that this was really silly. "Josh, will you please just talk to me?" Still no answer. I couldn't understand why he was reacting this way, but I eventually just slid down the wall and onto the floor next to the door, content to stay there for as long as I had to.
A half-hour had passed when I heard the lock to the bedroom door turn. The door slowly opened and JC stepped out into the hallway. I looked up at him, a look of bewilderment on my face. He smiled a little, probably not wanting to as he joined me on the floor.
"When were you going to tell me?" he asked.
"I just did," I said. "Was I supposed to call you the second I got the idea?"
"Yes," he said. "You were supposed to call up and be like, 'Hey, what do you think about this'?"
"You're not my agent," I said. "Will you be calling me the next time you get an idea for a song?"
"That's different," he said. "I can write anywhere."
"Hmm," I sighed. "Then what's wrong with writing in London?"
"Wouldn't that just be perfect," he said sarcastically.
"Seems like we would both be able to do what we want," I said.
"Well maybe I don't want to move to London for the next two years." He ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "God," he said, standing up. "I don't even want to have this conversation."
"Why not?" I asked, remaining seated.
"Because I know you are already going and it pisses me off. I know it's what you want, and I know you will always do what you want."
"Well, part of that is true," I said, drawing my knees up. "I will always do what I want, but in this case, the thing I want is to be with you."
"Bullshit," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Josh," I said, standing up, placing my hands on my hips. "If you want to keep having doubts about us, you're going to have to do it by yourself." I turned to walk away.
"Nate, wait," JC called after me.
"What the hell do you want from me?" I asked, turning back around. "You want me to put my hands over my ears every time Allen calls to tell me about a part? I'm going to get offers, Josh, but I wouldn't take one unless I could still be with you. I'm leaving it totally up to you."
"So I get decide what you do with your career?" he asked.
"Yes, that's fine," I said, folding my arms.
"Well, I don't want you to go," he said sternly.
"Fine," I said, turning around to leave. "Let's finish dessert."
"Nate, you know you have to go," he called after me again. I turned back again, throwing my hands up in the air.
"What the hell are you trying to do to me?"
"It's the part you want. You have to do it."
"Are trying to confuse the shit out of me?" I asked, walking closer to him.
"I just want you to be honest," he said. "You don't have to put me before everything, but you have to tell me what you are thinking."
"I thought I was."
"Nate, when did you get the offer?"
"Two weeks ago," I said, looking down at the ground.
"Exactly," he said. "Why did it take you two weeks and a gourmet dinner, just to tell me that you were interested in doing a play in London?"
"I don't know," I said, feeling a bit silly. I supposed that I did know why I did it. I knew I wanted to do the play, and knew that if I had talked about it in the early stages, it would have been easier to not take the opportunity. JC would have probably said it was silly to move away right now, and reluctantly I might have agreed.
"Josh," I began, realizing I really needed to say more. "I know that you aren't the kind of person that would stop me from doing something, but when I think that I shouldn't do something because you wouldn't want me to, I start to think that I shouldn't let anyone control me like that. It's like my independence gets challenged before I even give you the chance to challenge it."
"Nate," JC sighed. "I don't want to control anything about you. Don't you think that one of the reasons I love you is because you have this wildly determined attitude?"
"It can be kind of cute," I said, smiling and blinking my eyes a few times.
"It is," he laughed. "I don't know," he said, folding his arms. "Maybe we act like we have been together longer than we have. Maybe we still haven't figured out how to do all of this. I mean, I've been involved with you longer than I have with anyone else."
"You have?" I asked, a bit surprised. Was I possibly JC's first intense relationship?
"Nate, we just have to be honest with what we are feeling, no matter what those feelings are."
"I agree," I said, finding it funny that I was learning more about being in a good relationship from someone who hadn't had that many.
"You have to trust that we can work anything out."
"I know."
"And you have to stop acting like a little shit all the time."
"I will," I said, looking up at his smiling face. "Wait. Did you just call me a little shit?" He started to laugh, and I joined him, walking up to him, pushing the top of my head into his chest. I felt his hands on either side of my face, raising my head up so that I was looking into his eyes.
"So," he said, suddenly looking romantic, if romantic could be a look.
"So," I repeated.
"I guess we are moving across the pond," he said.
"Are you sure you want to?" I asked. "I mean, I know I want to do the play, but I really don't want to make you do something you don't want to do."
"It's ok, Nate," he said, his eyes twinkling. "It's your time to be going after your dreams. I've already lived mine, at least professionally."
"It's not like we can't travel whenever we want," I said, needing him to know that I cared about his feelings. "We can be in LA or New York or Florida or wherever every weekend if you want."
"Oh we will be," he said with a laugh. "I'm not changing my citizenship anytime soon."
"It will be an adventure. A totally new thing that we can do together." I was still making the case for why it was a good idea.
"Nate, we're going, you don't have to convince me of anything. "Besides, I love England. They actually liked my album over there." He shrugged his shoulders, looking very boyish.
"And they'll really love the next one," I said, embracing him. "Josh, I'm so happy," I said sincerely, squeezing him tightly, my head on his shoulder.
"Me too," JC said, his hand touching the back of my head. "Me too."
"Just those," I said, pointing toward a small group of boxes. "The others are being shipped down to Miami." The moving man cast me an annoyed look as he picked up the boxes he was supposed to take. I guess he didn't care about where the boxes he wasn't taking were going. Having a lot of money, and being with someone who had even more, made moving a kind of silly process. There was no need to pack up apartments or houses. There was no need to sell apartment in New York. We could just buy another one and fill it up with more stuff. Still, I wanted to have some familiar things around me, and so I gathered up my collection of theater books, novels and cookbooks, thinking they would find a nice space in the new place in London.
When I refer to the new place in London, what I should really say is new to me. The townhouse that had been found for us had to be hundreds of years old, on what I was told was one of the best streets in London. It had been rented by numerous celebrities and royal families throughout the years, and now it would be the temporary home to a young actor, and his boy-band boyfriend.
The phone rang and I had to dive into the pile of clothes on the bed to find it. "What up?" I said into the receiver.
"Dude, I think you should leave the slang to me," JC said on the other line.
"So what is it like?" I asked him, thinking it would be a lot easier to just buy all new clothes when I got there rather than contemplate folding and packing all the items on my bed.
"It's, well, big," he said. There was almost an echo to his voice and I wondered if that was due to the size of the room he was in.
"Is it gorgeous?" I asked him. JC was standing in our London townhouse. He had left for London before me, suddenly very anxious to begin our new adventure. I had to stay behind, still obligated to make a few radio and talk show appearances. Knowing that I was about to leave celebrity in America behind made me enjoy the time a little more. It wasn't like I expected to be unrecognized in England, but in some way I felt it would be different.
"It's a little spooky," he said.
"Aw," I laughed. "Do you wish I was there to protect you?"
"You'll see," he said warningly. "The caretaker just told me that the place was haunted."
"And you believe that?" I asked. JC was quiet for a moment, and then let out a loud scream. "Josh," I said, suddenly worried. "Are you ok?" There was silence and then a lot of laughter on the other line, followed by JC informing me that he had "got me."
"Wow, that's great, Josh," I sighed into the phone. "Do you have any other grammar school games planned for me when I get there?"
"No," he said. "But there's a few adult games that I'm really looking forward to playing when you get here."
"I hope the ghosts aren't too conservative," I laughed. JC told me that he had to get going. I think that he said he was having dinner with Britney and Madonna, but I was distracted by a knocking at the front door. I closed the phone, looking at my bed, resolved not only to not bother packing my clothes, but also to just go and sleep in the guest room tonight.
I figured the mover had accidentally gotten locked out, so I just walked into the foyer and pulled open the door.
Big mistake.
A young woman in a long coat stood in the doorway. Before I could even realize what was going on, she took her coat off, revealing her naked frame, and proceeded to jump on top of me. I fell to the ground, confused as hell, trying to figure out why some woman was sexually assaulting me.
"What the fuck?" I shouted, trying to get her off of me and not hurt her at the same time.
"I love you," she kept saying. "I love you, I love you." Her lips were all over my face, as were her hands. In her determination I could feel her nails scratching at my face.
"Lady, could you get off me?" I asked, finding my own politeness a bit funny. I shoved against her, knocking her to the side, allowing me to scramble off of the ground. I didn't know quite what to do. Run out of the apartment? Down the stairwell? Luckily, I didn't have to make any more decisions. The elevator to my floor opened and Jerry and Jimmy, my two bodyguards, came rushing out of it, quickly grabbing the woman before she had the chance to get to me again. She was screaming and kicking, but they managed to get her back into her coat and restrict her movement.
"You're mine!" she wailed. "You will always be mine!"
"She somehow got in through the service entrance," Jerry said. "We didn't know until we saw her on the security camera in your hall." Jerry and Jimmy had been stationed in the lobby, but I guess no security could ever be foolproof.
"Jesus," I said, running my fingers through my hair, wincing a little once I realized my face was stinging.
Jimmy took the woman down in the elevator, while Jerry waited for me to clean myself up. She had scratched my face a number of times, but they were pretty superficial scratches, making me doubt there would be any scarring. Still I washed my face and applied antiseptic before going down to the lobby with Jerry in order to file the police report. The police were already there, and I looked out in the street to see that the woman was already in the back of their car. She seemed calmer now, and I started to wonder just how long she had been stalking me. This was the dark side of celebrity, I thought to myself. When I was just in small stage productions, I certainly didn't have to worry about naked women attacking me at my front door.
I calmly and quickly explained to the police what had happened, but almost lost it when I saw a news truck pull up in front of the building. "Are we done here?" I asked them, really wanting to get out of here. They told me I was, and I told Jimmy and Jerry that there was no way I was talking to the press now. They nodded and I hurried back up to my apartment, hoping that they would at least have the skill to keep the press from showing up at my front door.
Back in the "security" of my apartment, I started to pace around the entire place. "What the fuck just happened?" I was wondering to myself. I felt surprisingly calm, but I could also hear that I was nervously laughing once in a while. I had certainly had my share of outer body experiences and this certainly was another to add to the list. How long had it lasted? What would make someone want to do that? I thought that maybe I should go out, or have some friends over, something to take my mind off of it. Then, I noticed the porch, stemming out from my study and started walking toward it. I pulled open the doors and walked out onto to it, staring out at the cityscape.
"What the fuck is wrong with everybody?" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I started to laugh hysterically, sliding down onto the ground. It was New York. No one was impressed.
Tucked into the guest bed, I was in the midst of a three-way call with JC and Edward. It was easier to tell them both what had happened, as I knew Edward would be able to relate the story to my parents. Edward had gone home for the summer, saying that he needed to be with his grandmother. I understood his desire, but also thought that he should have done something this summer to help with his music career. I had some ideas, but he seemed pretty resistant to them.
"Are you sure you're ok?" JC said. "Man, I can't believe the stuff that happens to you."
"Surely you've experienced stuff like this, right?" I asked.
"Well, yeah, but no one has ever attacked me."
"You said you were wondering what to talk about with Regis and Kelly, now I guess you know," Edward said.
"I already saw it on the late news," I said. "People are going to start thinking that I go around looking for trouble."
"It will make you sound butch," JC laughed.
"Uh, was that something I needed to work on?" I asked him.
"Not for me," JC said. "I think you are very manly. In fact, if you were here right now I would ask you to..."
"Uh, hello, I'm still here," Edward said.
"Sorry, Eddie," JC laughed. "So how's New Hampshire?"
"He really wants to know how the cows are doing," I told Edward. "Josh misses them."
"Um, I think the cows are fine. I'll have to ask Dad though." Edward got another call and had to hang up, leaving me alone on the phone with JC.
"So, are you there all alone?" I asked, rolling onto my side.
"It's six in the morning," JC said. "Who else do you think would be here?"
"What are you wearing?" I asked, feeling a bit flirtatious.
"Nothing, actually," he said. "It's hot as hell here, but it just feels wrong to use the air conditioning in a place like this."
"Do you really think I am going to live some sort of Victorian existence when I get there?" I asked.
"Hmm, I guess not," he said. "I really wish you were here though."
"Me too."
"I'm so horny."
"Josh," I laughed.
"I'm serious," he said. "I don't know what has come over me. Something about this place, I guess, but all I can think about lately is how much I want you to fuck me."
"Understandable," I said sarcastically. "But it really hasn't been that long."
"I almost thought about buying a dildo yesterday," he confessed.
"Well, that wouldn't have been the same," I said. "Besides, why didn't you just bring that one you had behind the drawer in your nightstand in LA."
"What?" he said with a start. I would have bet money he was beet red. "How did you...I mean..."
"I know everything, Josh," I laughed, pulling the sheet up around me. "The sooner you realize that the better."
"You should get some sleep," JC said. "You're going to have a busy next few days."
"Only a few," I said. "Then I'm all yours." I told him I loved him and switched off the phone. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to overtake me. Thinking over the days events, or rather, trying not to, I had come to one conclusion. I really needed to start keeping a journal.
The keys were enormous, and I wondered how I was really supposed to carry them around for the next year. I turned the lock and entered the English townhouse, immediately struck by its beauty. A giant, two-story foyer stood before me, with a large wooden and marble staircase leading up to the second floor. The heavy velvet drapes were drawn shut, but just enough light came through to show the beautiful way the house was appointed. I looked at my watch and counted to six. It was after ten p.m. and yet there was no sign of JC. I smiled slightly, amusing myself with the idea that maybe he had gotten himself lost somewhere in the house, or that he was perhaps upstairs, entertaining the ghosts.
"Spooky, isn't it?" I heard, whipping around to see a figure approaching, holding a candle.
"Josh, what's with the darkness? You aren't worried about the electric bill, are you?"
"There was a really bad storm earlier. A transformer got hit. The whole block is out."
"Oh," I said, walking over to him. "Well, I'm here."
"I can see that," he said, leaning over to kiss me. "Well, barely." He walked over to the large round table in the center of the room and put the candle on top of it. "Are Jimmy and Jerry coming in?" he asked.
"I sent them to a hotel," I said. "I was kind of hoping to be alone with you tonight."
"My thoughts exactly," he said, walking back toward me and putting his arms around me. I didn't realize I was still holding my bag, but I quickly dropped it, embracing him as well. "I missed you so much," he said, his kisses growing in intensity. "I need you so much." Before I knew it he was pulling at my clothes, pulling my shirt off of me and dropping down onto his knees as he undid my pants. He lifted my cock out of my underwear and quickly brought it into his mouth, working quickly to get me hard. I felt him pushing my boxers and jeans lower, and I lifted my legs one at a time so that he could pull them and my shoes off, leaving me in my nakedness. He continued sucking me, taking me down to the base, moaning ever so slightly.
I urged him off the ground and he jumped up, pulling off his own shirt, revealing his taught, lightly furred chest. He smiled at me, crushing his lips against mine as I slid my hand inside his pants, feeling his throbbing member. He reached down, undoing his pants and somehow getting out of them. We pressed our naked bodies together. Had it been so long, I wondered to myself, or was this a way of starting the next chapter of our lives? Either way, I knew I wanted and needed him as much as he needed me. We had a funny relationship, JC and I. It wasn't that we spent so much time talking. We didn't even spend that much time having sex. For some reason, we just seemed to love hanging around each other, and I don't know if I will ever be able to explain why. I always felt calmer when I was around him, and I think I provided the same service to him. Calmer and content.
"Nate," JC sighed, as I kissed his shoulders. "Foreplay is great and all, but, uh, if you don't mind, could you just fuck me now?" I looked up at him, myself almost blushing while JC stood there with a determined look on his face. "I want you inside me," he said matter-of-factly. He bent down, standing back up with a small bottle of lube he had pulled out of his jeans. I guess he had planned on doing this immediately upon my arrival. He walked over to the giant staircase, sitting down and leaning back on it, bathed in darkness except for the sparse lines of moonlight peering in through the openings in the curtains. I hurried over, taking the bottle from him and squeezing the warm liquid onto my hand. He spread his legs and I brought my hand to his hole, enticed by its heat, sliding my finger inside.
"Oh, that's good," he sighed, his head rolling back. The walls of his anus gripped my finger and, realizing that I shouldn't keep him waiting any longer, I used some of the lube on my cock, and leaned over him, feeling him draw his legs up even further so that my cock pushed up against his hole. Using my hand as a guide, I pushed myself inside him, hearing JC groan underneath me. His hands reached up, grabbing my ass, quickly pushing me all the way inside.
"Oh, fuck," JC cried, his eyes closing. "That's it, that's what I've been missing." He obviously needed this badly, and I was happy to be able to help. I started rocking my hips, supporting my weight with my hands and arms on the stairs.
"God, I love you," I said, thrusting inside him.
"I love you too," he smiled. "Fuck me harder." I moved faster, feeling my balls tightening and drawing closer to my body. I was determined to last for as long as he needed me to, and it seemed as though JC was ready to go all night. I loved watching his face when he was being fucked. I loved watching his body move, always in rhythm, always a bit like a dance. I loved watching the sweat move down his body, his nipples hardening.
JC let out a loud groan and I could see the precum dribbling out of his long, hard cock. "Let me turn around," he said, lightly pushing me away from him. My cock slid out of him and he flipped over, lifting his ass up in the air, his knees resting a few steps below his elbows. I placed my hands on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart, exposing his hidden treasure, open and moist. My cock popped back inside him and I laid my chest on top of his back, my arms on either side of him. JC began meeting my thrusts with his own, quickly working himself into a frenzy of passion. "Oohh, feels so good," he panted. "Fuck me, Nate. Fill me with your cock."
We moved faster and faster, knowing that our climaxes were just around the corner. I asked JC if he wanted me to jerk him off, but with the pace he was going, he was pretty sure he was going to be able to cum on his own. "Oh, God," he moaned a few minutes later. "I can feel it coming. I'm gonna cum." His ass tightened around my cock as his cock began to spill cum onto the marble steps. I let go as well, releasing my load inside him. JC was much louder than usual, and I had to remind myself that old construction luckily had very thick walls.
Minutes later, we were both still panting heavily, our bodies soaked with sweat, my chest pressed against his back. "Uh, Josh?" I laughed. "How the hell did we get here?" He looked behind him and started to laugh as well. We had started at the bottom of the stairs but now we were more than halfway up them.
"It's just as well," JC laughed. "We're that much closer to the bedroom."
After a long and relaxing shower, I sat on the bathroom counter while JC brushed his teeth. The electricity had turned back on only a few minutes ago. "Am I paying for this place?" I asked him, no longer sure where my money went.
"I think the production company rented it, but is leasing it to you for less than it's worth," JC said.
"Well, whatever," I smiled. "I guess we'll stay here until I'm told to leave." We both heard a door slam, and I nearly fell off of the counter. "Josh, what was that?" I whispered, my eyes full of fear.
"I told you," he said, his voice way too relaxed in my opinion. "Haunted." He raised his eyebrows and smiled.
"Josh, are you serious? Why aren't you scared?"
"Nate, they've been here for over 200 years. I'm guessing they aren't too much of a problem."
"I'm never going to be able to sleep, thinking about this," I said.
"Well, I'll have to do my best to thoroughly exhaust you, then," JC smiled, turning off the faucet. "Come on honey, I'll protect you." I hopped off the counter. Despite JC's reassurances, I was pretty sure I would be having a sleepless night.
A week passed, and it seemed as though the ghosts and I had reached some sort of understanding. They stayed out of my way, and I stayed out of theirs. After some careful observation, it seemed pretty clear to me that most of the noises we heard came from the third floor, so I was more than happy to never go up there. JC would go, insisting that they were friendly, but each time he would return with some story about a cold breeze or a strange whisper.
I had met the rest of the cast that I would be working with, and so far it seemed like we would all be getting along. The other three actors were all British, making it kind of funny that I was the only one who wouldn't have to speak with a different accent. It was also strange to be the headliner for the first time in a stage production. I basically had the lead part in my last play, but Liz's name was at the top of the marquis given her status on the Broadway stage. When 'The Glass Menagerie' opened in December, it would be my name hanging above the title, and it was my name that the producers hoped would fill the seats.
London certainly had its share of paparazzi, but it would still be a couple of weeks before 'The Edge' premiered here, giving me slightly more anonymity for the time being. I still used my bodyguards to travel around town, but I decided to have them stay in a nearby hotel, rather than move them into the townhouse.
It was Friday, and JC and I had planned a weekend trip to the South of France. Sure we probably should have spent the time learning about the city we were living in, but, well, whatever. It was late July, hot as hell, and we wanted to go to the beach.
I entered the townhouse, calling out JC's name. "In here," he called from one of the rooms in the back.
"Apparently suntan lotion is not a product that can be found in England," I laughed, walking into the room. "Don't they know it isn't always gray out?" I was still smiling, but quickly realized that JC wasn't. He looked up at me, feigning a light smile. "Josh, what's wrong?" I asked, sitting down at the table next to him, placing my hand over his. His other hand was holding the phone.
"I don't think we can go this weekend," he said quietly.
"Ok," I said. "What happened?" I was getting the sense that something really bad had happened, but was forcing myself to stay calm. "Is everything ok, Josh?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said somewhat reassuringly. "Edward just called though, and he's pretty upset."
"Why?"
"It's his grandmother. She, uh, she died."
"Oh my God," I said, bringing my hand over my mouth.
"She had a heart attack at home this morning," JC said. "Edward had left early in the morning to go sailing with his friends." A tear started running down JC's cheek and I met it with my hand. "I just know he's going to blame himself," JC said, more tears coming down. I stood up and walked behind him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my chin on his shoulder.
"It will be ok," I said. "We'll do whatever we have to do to get him through this."
JC reached his hand up and clasped my arm. "This kid just hasn't had a very good life," he said, his voice full of emotion. "It just makes me really sad."
"I have to call him," I said, reaching for the phone.
"He's at your parent's house," JC said, standing up. He walked toward the back door, which led out to a small garden.
"Josh, are you ok?" I asked, really moved by his own upset.
"I'm fine," he said, stepping outside. "I just need a few minutes." I watched him walk out into the garden, my heart aching. He sat down on one of the white, iron chairs. He cupped his face in his hands, and I could tell that he was crying. Death has a funny way of bringing your feelings about a whole bunch of different issues to the surface. I knew that JC was thinking about Edward and Edward's grandmother. I guessed he was probably thinking about a lot of other things as well.
"Well, this is it," I said, walking back into the townhouse.
"Wow," Edward said, slipping his backpack off and dropping it onto the ground.
"There's a few bedrooms on each floor, so take your pick," JC said.
"I'd stay on the second floor," I said, casting a wary eye at JC.
"What's wrong with the third?" Edward asked.
"Nothing," I said before JC had the chance to say anything. "It will just be easier if you stay on the second."
"Ok," Edward said, starting up the stairs.
"Are you hungry?" I asked him as he neared the top.
"Maybe in a bit," he said, smiling politely before disappearing down the hall.
"I feel like we just adopted a kid," JC smiled, sliding his hand down my arm before heading to the kitchen.
"Oh God," I laughed, following after him. "He'll be a drug addict before the week is through."
After the funeral for Edward's grandmother, I decided to argue passionately for him to come back to London with us for the rest of the summer. I felt that it would be good for him to get involved in a new situation. I certainly didn't think he should spend the rest of the summer shuffling around his grandmother's house by himself. He was reluctant to leave at first, but eventually agreed.
Edward was surprisingly quiet all through the funeral and the days afterward. Just when I thought I had brought him out of his shell, this had to happen, sending him back to acting like a nervous little boy. A little boy who was probably thinking he was all alone in the world.
He had lost his mother at a very young age, and his grandmother had pretty much raised him by herself, aside from the financial support of my father. So now he had basically lost two mothers, and I couldn't even begin to think about how that must feel. All through the funeral I kept looking at my own mother, praying that she would always be as energetic and healthy as she was now.
In the past couple of days, JC talked nonstop to Edward. In fact, I had never seen him talk so much at once since I met him. I knew that he wanted to occupy Edward's mind, but I also got the sense that he was talking to avoid his own thoughts as well. I tried to think about JC's reaction when Liz died. He had been an enormous comfort to me, but didn't seem too upset, himself. Of course, Edward's grandmother was a different issue. JC had gotten close to me and to Edward, and he understood the relationship that Edward had with her. I wondered if his reaction to the situation had something to do with his birth mother. I knew that he still talked to her, and I knew that he loved his adopted mom, but maybe this death reminded him of a certain sense of loss in his own life that he surely must have felt from time to time. Whatever it was, I didn't want to ask too many questions. I just wanted to be supportive. If there ever came a time when he wanted to talk to me, I would be there.
Around noon the next day I knocked on Edward's door. Receiving permission to enter, I stepped inside, finding Edward sitting on the floor, scribbling notes into a pad. "How's it going I asked him?"
"Groovy," he said, flatly, not looking up. I needed to talk to him about his grandmother's estate. My dad had told me that Edward's grandmother had left everything to him, including her house.
"Sell it," Edward said, still writing.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I don't give a shit," he said dismissively. "I'll never go back there." He laughed morosely to himself. "I've seen enough people die in that house."
"Edward, you don't really need to decide now, I'm sure that dad can..."
"Sell it," he interrupted. "Give the money to a charity or something." I wasn't quite sure if he meant everything he was saying or if he was just particularly engrossed in what he was writing. I ended up, just saying "ok," and stepping back out of the room. Still scratching my head, I wandered into the kitchen where it looked like JC was trying to make a sandwich. Sensing his predicament, I politely escorted him to the table and then completed the task myself.
"Am I selfish?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, practically before I had finished asking.
"Do you think Edward doesn't believe that I care what he is going through?"
"You've been great with Edward," JC said, taking the plate I handed to him. "He's probably the one person that you aren't selfish with." I looked at him, my eyes wide, and he gave me a sly little wink. "It's ok," he said. "I'm a big boy. I can stand on my own."
"Maybe he should have stayed with my parents," I said, sitting down next to him. "Maybe he should be going for therapy or something."
"You think he needs therapy?" JC asked.
"I don't know, the kid defied his father, came out and had his grandmother die all within the same year. Some might say that's a lot."
"Yeah, except for you maybe," JC said. "Nate," he began, leaning closer. "You are the strongest person I have ever met. Don't be afraid to let Edward see that."
"What do you mean?" I asked, a little puzzled.
"I mean, be yourself around him. Be tough on him. Show him that life is going to go on and be good no matter what he says or does. Don't take no for an answer." His eyes were so wide, blue and beautiful as he spoke that it was almost difficult to take him seriously. "What?" he said, smiling slightly and blushing a little.
"Your right," I said. "You're absolutely right." I looked up at him. "You're just so cute," I said, laughing a little. He rolled his eyes, handing me the other half of his sandwich.
The next morning I knocked on Edward's door, then decided the hell with it and just walked in. "Rise and shine, dumpling," I said, pulling open the drapes.
"Come on, Nate, what is it?" Edward groaned, leaning over to look at the clock on the nightstand. "It's seven in the morning."
"Actually, it's six." I said. "That clock must be wrong. Come on, get dressed, we have to leave in a half-hour."
"Leave for where?" he asked, sounding very annoyed. "I don't want to go anywhere." My friend Tim, the cameraman from my first film, was doing principal photography for a film being made outside of the city. I had been wanting to visit him, and thought that it would be a fun thing to take Edward to.
"Thanks," Edward said. "But I'd rather stay here."
"I know, but you're coming anyway," I smiled. "I'm sick of just talking to Jerry and Jimmy all day."
"Can't Josh go with you?" he asked.
"We're wasting time," I said, tapping at my watch and heading back out of the room.
Twenty minutes later, Edward was sitting in the back of a limousine, his baseball cap covering his face, his hair, the color of straw, sticking out in various places. I decided to take JC's approach. I started talking, and I wouldn't stop. I went on and on about how exciting it was to be on a film set, and how it was such a shame that he hadn't been able to visit me while I was making one of my films. "Tim's great," I said. "He's a really easy going family guy. I think you will like him a lot."
"Groovy," Edward said.
The car rolled to a stop about an hour north of London. I hopped out the car and walked toward the vans and tents that had been set up around the film set. They were filming some epic, period film and a gigantic castle loomed not far in the distance. A production assistant came to meet us, and I explained who I was and who I was there to see. "Oh, I know you," the girl blushed. She was American. "I loved your film."
"Thank you," I said. "So, is Tim around?"
"Yes," she said, looking around, perhaps not really sure. "Um, he's either at breakfast or setting up for the first shot of the day, let me go check." She hurried away and I pulled my sunglasses off, allowing my eyes to adjust to the sun.
"This is fun, isn't it?" I smiled, raising my eyebrows.
"Just great," Edward said, shifting around uncomfortably.
"Hey," I heard a familiar voice calling to me. "Look what the cat dragged in." I looked over to see Tim walking toward me. "Hey, Mr. Movie Star," he laughed, hugging me tightly. "It's been quite a year, hasn't it?" he laughed again.
"Indeed," I said. It was really nice to see him again. It may have been less than a year since I began making "The Edge," but understandably it felt like it had been much longer. I introduced Tim to Edward, who shook his hand politely if not whole-heartedly.
"So what brings you to England?" Tim asked Edward, trying to make conversation. "Come to watch your brother take over the London stage?"
"My grandmother died," Edward said flatly. "And I can't be trusted to be on my own." I shot a glaring look at Edward, wondering why he had decided to act like an asshole.
"Oh," Tim said, not really sure how to respond to that. "I'm very sorry to hear that." Edward shrugged his shoulders and looked around the premises.
"Do they have food here?" he asked. Again, I looked at him, wondering if he was having some sort of psychotic break.
"Sure," Tim said. "You see that second tent to the right?" he asked, pointing in the distance. "They pretty much have anything you could possibly want over there." Tim was obviously a father. He was able maintain his composure regardless of the situation.
"Groovy," Edward said. He looked at me for some type of confirmation that it was ok for him to go, and not knowing what else to do, I nodded and watched him saunter off. Turning back to Tim, I told him how Edward had obviously been acting strangely since his grandmother's death.
"That's understandable," Tim said. "He'll come out of it. I'm sure he's a great kid." I told him that he really was, and we proceeded to engage in a bit of small talk until I realized that Tim seemed a bit distracted.
"Did you need to get back to the set?" I asked him. "Don't let me keep you."
"No, it's not that," Tim said. Now his eyes were wandering all around the area. "It's just that, well..." he stopped and looked at me, almost as though I was supposed to be able to guess what he was about to say. I looked at him, letting him know that I didn't.
"Ok," he continued. "Look, uh, I don't know if it matters at all, but, well, I just thought you should know that Bobby is one of the production assistants here. He's around here somewhere right now."
"Why should that bother me?" I asked, my throat going dry, trying to seem like I could care less when in reality hearing that name uttered for the first time in months was sending me into a tailspin. Tim gave me a wary look, but didn't say anything more. I realized that this was bound to happen from time to time if Bobby and I both stayed in the movie business, but I wasn't sure how I was supposed to deal with it.
"Just wanted you to know," he said, forcing his mouth into a smile. I bit my lip and looked toward the tent Edward had gone to.
"Maybe I should go get Edward," I said, wanting very much to leave, but not wanting anyone to know that. "You've got a lot of work to do, I'm sure."
"Hey," Tim said, "You're free to hang around as long as you like. You want to meet Jude Law?"
"Maybe later," I laughed. "I have to get back for rehearsals this afternoon. You definitely have to come into town for dinner with JC and I," I said. "You can see our haunted house." Tim agreed and walked with me toward the tent.
I stepped inside, quickly looking around for Edward, hoping to just maybe be able to get off of the set without running into Bobby. Over in the furthest corner, Edward sat on the corner edge of a picnic tabletop, picking occasionally at the plate he was holding. I waved at him, but he was looking down, so I started to walk over to him. As I got closer, I could see that his lips were moving, and realized that he must be talking to someone seated below him. Getting closer, I realized that he was laughing, something I rarely saw him do, especially in the past few days. "What's so funny?" I asked, nearly reaching him, hoping to cash in on his momentary happiness.
"Oh hey," he said. Wait a minute. Edward hadn't said anything. I looked down to see Bobby sitting on the bench of the picnic table, looking up at me. I was a bit surprised to see that he looked exactly as he did in Africa, his clothes a bit disorganized, his blond hair a mess. I don't know why I thought he would have looked any different, but maybe part of me figured that he would be forever despondent after being rejected by me.
"Hi," I said, the small word straining to escape through my lungs. I couldn't believe I was talking to him. Here he was, having breakfast with my brother, and apparently not only having a good time, but also making Edward have one as well. Bobby turned back to Edward, whom I guessed just assumed that we had known each other professionally. He obviously didn't remember seeing Bobby that one time in my old apartment.
Bobby nodded his head, looking at Edward. "I thought you looked familiar," he said with a bit of a smirk. He turned back to look at me, his eyes wide and blue. "Now I know why."
To be continued