Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've enjoyed hearing from all of you.
OK, back to the sideshow in progress.
Saying this is going to make me sound really stupid, but I didn't recognize Basil Morgan right away, even though I had seen his picture in his byline countless times, because I was used to seeing his head in black and white. He sat before us in florid jowled color, and I wondered how old the picture in the papers was, since he was about forty pounds lighter in it.
"Well, well, isn't this an interesting little grouping of people," Basil said, as the four of us stared at him.
Joey's face was impassive, the same neutral almost scowl he always wore unless he deliberately made an effort to smile. Chris stared at Basil through narrowed eyes, a sneer of disdain creeping across his features. I tried to keep my own face neutral as well, but didn't know how good a job I was doing, since I strongly disliked Basil Morgan. Peyton grinned at him beatifically, or at least as beatifically as a human skeleton could. I should have known that Peyton would come all the way to Los Angeles and manage to make friends with the one person I had never wanted to meet.
The waitress walked over.
"Hon, you can't keep your chair in the aisle," she began. Basil handed her a hundred dollar bill, not even being subtle about it.
"Wander off," he said, waving her away.
She took the money and left, without even refilling my coffee.
"As I was saying," Basil continued, picking up right where he left off. "We have Jack Springer, gay librarian and rumored boyfriend of JC Chasez. Jack is joined by not one, but two members of the band, Chris Kirkpatrick and Joey Fatone, two of Nsync's three backup singers. And what are the three of them doing? Threatening and intimidating a terminally ill cancer patient. Very nice."
His words were all designed to wound, but I was determined not to let them find a target. He had nothing on me and Josh, or he would have printed it by now. I felt Joey bristle next to me at being referred to as a "backup singer", and hoped he and Chris wouldn't lose their tempers. No matter how many times the media put Justin in the middle of every picture, the guys considered themselves equal members of the group.
"Nobody has threatened anyone," I said.
"Yet," Joey added menacingly.
Chris shot him a look.
"We have nothing to say to you, Mr. Morgan," Chris said carefully.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "What exactly is Mr. Springer's relationship to the group, Chris?"
"We're not answering questions of a personal nature," Chris said evenly. "And we're not speaking to the press today. Your questions can be directed to our publicity staff, whose number I'm sure you already have."
Basil smiled at him, revealing a mouth full of yellowish teeth.
"Why don't we drop the official line, huh?" Basil asked. "I have you guys. I know all about Jack, and I have my new friend Peyton here to give me all sorts of background."
"You have nothing," I said, before Chris could speak. "Nobody's going to read anything you have to say about me. I'm nobody. Even if they wanted to, good luck trying to avoid a lawsuit with his version of the facts. If you had anything else, you would have already run it in that shitty little column of yours."
"Even if I don't know for sure which one of these guys you're with," Basil began, leaning toward me. "I can still run enough stories about the band's new friend to generate a lot of talk. If you sue, it's just going to add more fuel to the fire, and attract even more attention."
"You're bluffing," I said, wanting to lean forward as well, but afraid of his breath.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I'm sure," Chris answered. "What exactly is it that you and Peyton want?"
"What do you think?" Basil asked. "I want the story. I want an exclusive interview with Jack and JC, and Peyton wants the story broken."
"Why?" I asked, turning to Peyton. "What do you get out of that?"
"When this story breaks, it'll ruin JC, and the rest of the band," Peyton said, smiling. "And it'll all be because he met you, and he'll blame you. You'll destroy Nsync, Jack. You'll be Yoko Ono for twelve year olds."
I stared at him, wondering if the cancer had spread to his brain. He couldn't possibly really believe that Josh coming out would destroy the band. Some of the fans would be pissed, yes, but the gay rights groups would flock to him. It would destroy the fantasies of the millions of girls who wanted to be Mrs. Joshua Scott Chasez, but they'd still have the other four guys to dream about. Well, maybe three, depending on how things worked out for Lance, but that was beside the point. As fast as I realized that Peyton really did believe this, lost as he was in his bitterness, I also realized that Basil was just using him. Basil didn't want to break some gossipy "Days of Our Lives" parade of all the boys some no name librarian had ever dated. He wanted to be the reporter who outed a member of Nsync. He was a gossip columnist now, but that story, especially if it was an exclusive with Josh and I, would propel him into the spotlight. It would make his career, regardless of whether it suited Peyton's goals.
"How the hell did you two meet, anyway?" I asked, turning back to Basil. I wanted to deal with the sane half of the pair. "Did you have anything to do with his notes? Because that's harassment."
"Mr. Rush contacted me," Basil said. "He read the column where I asked who you were, and called to offer his information. That's quite a story he tells."
"His side of it, yes," I said.
"Jack's right about the notes," Joey said.
"Basil didn't have anything to do with those," Peyton said proudly. "That was all me. What are you going to do? Arrest me? Go nuts. Rock stars throwing an end-stage patient in the slammer will be a great story, and my friend here will make sure it ends up on the front page."
Basil chuckled, but I wasn't sure if he was chuckling with Peyton or chuckling at him.
"So, what's it going to be, guys?" Basil asked. "Do I drag Jack here through the mud, or do I get to talk to him and JC?"
"What makes you think he's even dating JC?" Joey asked.
"Or dating any of us?" Chris added.
"He could be dating all of us," Joey said.
"Yeah, maybe we just pass him around," Chris said.
I cut them off before they could fall back into their Hekyl and Jekyl routine. God knows we didn't want that quoted in the paper.
"Mr. Morgan, whether or not there is any truth to the rumors you're trying to pass off as a story, we can't answer right now, either way," I said. "A decision like this involves the entire band, and isn't to be made lightly in some diner over coffee. Could we have some time to think about it?"
He chewed this over for a minute.
"I'll give you until the awards next week," he said.
"That's acceptable," I said, pushing Joey to slide out of the booth.
"Let's shake on it," Basil said, holding out his hand.
I stared at it distastefully.
"I'd rather not," I said. "It's kind of slimy here, and not very healthy, either. I think my friends and I are going to leave now. I feel like a shower."
His face turned about three shades of red, but he didn't move to stop us as the three of us stood. I threw some money on the table, and we walked out of the restaurant, Chris and Joey on either side of me. Once we got outside, Joey pointed out his car, and we all waited to speak until we were inside, with the doors closed and the windows up.
"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Chris asked from the back seat.
"Leaving? I think it was a great idea," Joey said. "And there isn't enough soap in the world to make me shake his hand."
"Jack?" Chris prompted.
"It bought us some time and got us out of the diner," I said, leaning against the side of the car.
"That was kind of intense," Joey said. "We heard all of it, Jack. Are you ok?"
"I think so," I said. "I got over Peyton a long time ago, but I can't believe he still hates me this much."
"Maybe it's because he's so sick," Joey suggested.
"Not to be rude, but what the hell are you guys doing here?" I asked. "How did you know where to find me?"
Joey glanced at Chris in the rearview mirror.
"We have a confession to make," Chris began. "We've been keeping a couple secrets, too."
"When you stayed with me the other night, you had that card with you," Joey said. "While you were sleeping, I read it, and after that Chris and I went to do some checking."
"Checking?" I asked.
"I can't believe you didn't know," Joey said. "It was right in front of you on my to-do list. You left a note right next to it. Talk to Bruce and Stacy? Take Chris to Wilshire? None of this registered with you?"
"Actually, no," I said, feeling stupid. "But how did you know what was going on? I didn't really tell Bruce and Stacy anything."
"When you were gone the other night we snuck into your apartment and found the rest of the cards in your suitcase," Chris said.
"You what?" I asked. "You went through my stuff? How did you even get in?"
"We still had the spare key we borrowed from Jackie to deliver the Kinky Lovin' Kit," Joey said.
I didn't know what to think, but I was mostly starting to feel pissed. Chris had lectured me about keeping secrets, and then had broken into my apartment and gone through my stuff?
"Jack, I know what you're thinking," Chris began. "I know we argued about trust, but Joey and I were worried about you. We talked it over, and we decided it was worth the risk."
"Oh, you decided?" I said. "But when I decided that, it wasn't good enough for you."
"Jack, can we call a truce on that?" Chris asked.
"Why?" I asked. "Why is it suddenly ok?"
"Because of some other talks that Chris had today," Joey said, as Chris squirmed uncomfortably in the back seat. "I had a long talk with him about why you might be keeping secrets, and how they really might not be yours to tell."
"We also talked to Lance this morning," Chris said quietly.
"What?" I asked.
"We talked to Lance," Chris repeated. "He called us both this morning."
"What did he tell you?" I asked.
"Not everything," Joey said.
"But he did say he'd be away for a while, and that you were helping him with it," Chris said. "Jack, why didn't you come to us if Lance needed help?"
"Because Lance didn't want me to," I said. It was almost true. Lance didn't want me to tell anyone after he found out I knew, so I could assume he didn't want me to all along. "It wasn't my secret to tell."
"Jack, I'm sorry I pushed you on that," Chris said quietly.
We rode in silence for a minute.
"Apology accepted," I said quietly.
"So, what do we do now?" Joey asked. "I mean, other than go home, get dinner, get drunk, and have some strippers over."
I smiled.
"I need to pack, guys," I said. "I'm going to fly out and see Josh tomorrow, and I need to pack, and get ready to meet his family."
"They invited you out?" Chris asked.
"That's great," Joey added, smiling.
"I'm scared shitless," I confessed. "I've never gone home to meet a guy's family before. I'm terrified that I'm going to say the wrong thing, or embarrass him, or something."
"You'll be fine," Chris said. "You're clean, you're friendly, and you dress well."
"Yeah, as long as you don't introduce yourself as the boy who sodomizes their son, they should love you," Joey said seriously. I punched him in the arm as Chris fought not to giggle.
"Jerk," I said, grinning.
We pulled in back at the apartment building, and I left them to make dinner plans. I promised to go with them, wherever they decided, because I did want to see them again before I left, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon packing. I called Carla to let her know that I had successfully met up with my stalker, and I poured out the whole sordid story for her.
"I didn't even know Peyton knew where you lived!" she said.
"I know," I agreed. "It was creepy."
I realized that, more than anything, I was sad for Peyton, not only sad that he was dying but also sad that he was devoting so much of his energy to hating me. Carla, ever the optimist, pointed out that maybe his hate was keeping him alive. While I was talking about Peyton, though, I realized that I was also thinking about Justin, and how I felt about him. I was still angry, hurt, and disappointed by the things he had done, but I was torn, because I also still felt like his friend. I was torn between forgiving him and writing him off, and I decided that I needed to talk to him, to try to settle things, before I left. Finishing up my packing, I answered the door buzzer, and went down to sign for my plane ticket to Chicago.
On my way back up the stairs, I walked past my door, and knocked on Justin's. He opened the door and stared down at me, being a little taller. He looked very young in his ripped jeans and plain white undershirt, and he looked very alone. His eyebrows went up when he saw me, but he didn't speak.
"Justin?" I began. "Can I talk to you?"
He continued to stare at me, as if weighing his answer.
"Please?" I asked. "I'm not going to beg, Justin, but I'd like to talk to you."
"Fine," he said coldly, stepping aside. "Come on in."
He walked away from me, not staying to press into my space, or even to make eye contact with me. Justin walked across the living room and sat in one of the chairs, folding his legs up under him. I'd never seen him sit like that, ever, in a way that didn't stretch any of his clothing across him or emphasize any part of his body. I wondered if the absence of game playing constituted yet another form of manipulation, and then wondered if I was giving Justin too much credit. I suddenly realized that change in him I'd noticed at the door. For once, he didn't seem to be radiating that sense of self- confidence and self-importance. It was like he didn't know how to relate to me at all.
I sat across from him on the couch.
"Justin, I didn't want to leave without trying to talk to you again," I began, watching him. He wasn't sneering, but he wasn't smiling. "What I said to you last night, for the most part, was pointless, mean-spirited, and kind of rude. I was pretty frustrated over some other stuff that's going on, and I'm still upset about the way you treated Lance. It's not the way I want things to settle between us."
"Would you rather just slap me again?" he asked quietly. "Nobody's ever done that to me before."
"Nobody's ever slapped you?" I asked. I found that hard to believe.
"Not in anger," he said, shrugging. "Not someone I thought was my friend."
We both stared at the floor for a minute.
"Justin, I don't know how I feel about you," I said carefully. "I don't understand the things you do, or the way you treat people. I don't know what happened to you, or what made you like you are. I feel very confused about it, and that's kind of why I've been so hot and cold toward you the past couple days."
Justin continued staring at me. I didn't know if my words were having any effect or not, but it felt good to get them out.
"I'm confused because that's not always the way you are, and I don't know if it's the way you have to be," I continued. "Justin, I've seen you be a friend to me, and a friend to Josh. I've seen you listen to us, and be there for us, and I can't reconcile that with the person I saw the other day in Lance's room. I'm stuck, because I don't know if I was wrong about you, or if you're wrong about yourself."
I stood.
"I guess that's really all I wanted to say, Justin," I said, staring down at him. "I don't know if we're still friends. I don't know if I want to be your friend, or if I trust you enough to open up to you again, or if you even know what a friend is or should be."
He still didn't say anything, and I started to walk away.
"Jack?" Justin asked quietly, voice neutral. "When do you fly out?"
"Joey and Chris are going to take me to the airport tomorrow morning," I answered.
"Are you still going to tell Josh?" Justin asked, face blank. He didn't look imploring, or conniving, or any of the things I would have expected. "Tell him everything?"
"Yes," I said simply. "I have to, Justin. Once you tell the first lie, the next one is that much easier, and that's not the kind of relationship I want to build with Josh. What we have is too important to me to play games with. I love Josh for who he is, and I want him to feel the same way about me. Goodbye, Justin."
"Goodbye, Jack," he said, looking away. He hadn't moved from his chair.
I stopped at the door.
"Justin, they say that the truth sets people free," I said. "Maybe you should think about it."
I closed the door, and then put in a call to Dr. Centano to check on the clinic's visitation policy. I wanted to stop and see Lance before I left, too, and I was surprised to discover that I was the only person on his approved visitor list.
"That was Lance's choice," Dr. Centano explained. "He told me a little bit about your past history, and I thought you should know that he has a great deal of respect for you. Not to overinflate your ego, but I think right now if we asked Lance he'd say that you were his hero."
"Me?" I asked, grabbing the car keys and walking down to the parking lot. "But I didn't do anything."
"Quite the contrary, Jack," Dr. Centano continued. "The way that Lance tells it, you tried to help him. You sought him out, and tried to protect him, while he tried to push you away, and you did it all after he was profoundly hurtful to you and to your lover."
"Boyfriend," I corrected absently.
"Sorry," he said. "Lance's word. What I'm trying to say, Jack, is that you helped Lance, and I think you're the first person in a long time who has."
"Well, he needed help," I said. "Anyone would have done it. I couldn't just leave him."
"I don't think anyone would have stood up to a friend to protect someone they admittedly didn't even like, but I'm not going to argue this point with you," Dr. Centano said, and I could hear him smiling through the phone. "I think that a visit from you, especially if you're going away for a few days, would do Lance a lot of good."
"I'm on my way out right now," I said, pulling into traffic. I put the phone on speaker, since driving out here was enough to give me a breakdown. On the plus side, I was on my way to a psychiatric facility, so there couldn't be a better time for one. "I know that you're not allowed to discuss the specifics of his case with me or anything, but how is Lance? How is he doing? Is he going to be ok?"
"Actually, Lance has authorized me to share any information with you that you may request," he answered. "He said you wouldn't ask if you didn't need to know. Without going into too much detail, I think Lance is going to need a lot of help, for a long time. The immediate crisis has more or less passed, but he has a lot of identity and trust issues that he has been struggling with for many years. He's going to need a lot of support, as well, but I think he's well on his way, overall."
"Thank you, Doctor," I said, sighing. "I'll be out there shortly."
I called Chris next, to tell them I'd be out for a little while, but that I'd be back in time for dinner. Chris wanted to go out for Italian, but Joey wanted to stay in and order Thai, and the two of them were demanding that I cast the deciding vote. I opted for Italian, listening to Joey squeal and groan in the background.
"Somewhere quiet!" I stipulated. "I don't want to see another reporter as long as I live, ok?"
"Ditto," Chris said. "I'll call and get us some reservations."
When I got to the clinic, Lance was waiting at the door, sitting outside on the step in the sunshine. He looked better, not a lot, but a little. He at least looked like he'd slept. He smiled when he saw me pull up in his car.
"I didn't think you'd mind if I was using it to come visit you," I said, getting out.
"I don't," he said, hugging me quickly. It was an awkward hug, as he didn't seem really sure of what he should do, or really comfortable with it, but he initiated it, so I tried to respond in kind, not wanting him to feel rejected.
"So, how are you doing?" I asked, following him as we began to walk down a little pathway around the side of the house.
"Better," he answered, smiling again. They were just tiny smiles, his lips barely curling, no teeth out, but I hadn't seen Lance smile at all on my trip out here, except for the cameras. "It's nice here. It's quiet, and I've met some nice people. Mostly all I've done since yesterday is just talk."
"To Dr. Centano?" I asked.
"Not just him," Lance said. "I went to group this morning. I didn't really talk to anyone, I mostly just listened, but they all seem like nice people."
"Are you going to stay here for a while?" I asked.
"I'm not sure yet," he answered. "I feel safe here. I don't want to go home yet."
"I'm not telling you to," I said. "Do whatever you're most comfortable with."
We talked for a while, mostly about nothing. Lance thanked me about ten times for bringing him here, until I asked him to please, please stop doing it. As the staff began walking around to quietly inform people that dinner was about to be served, I gave Lance a quick hug goodbye, and told him to call if he needed anything. I also told him that I was planning to tell Josh everything, and asked if he would mind.
"Why are you going to tell him?" Lance asked.
"I don't want there to be secrets between Josh and I," I answered. "I won't tell him if you don't want me to, but I think he should know about what Justin's done."
Lance mulled it over for a minute.
"OK," he said. "I understand that. When you get back, is Josh coming with you?"
"Yes," I said. "We're flying back together."
"Do you think he might want to see me?" Lance asked quietly. "I want to talk to him, if he does."
"Of course he will, Lance," I said. "I know he will."
We said goodbye after that, and I headed back to the apartment building. Chris and Joey were waiting for me, Joey making a last minute plea for Thai, but his please fell on deaf ears. The three of us had a quiet, relaxing dinner together, at a little tiny restaurant pretty far off any of the beaten paths I'd learned in the city. I asked if they had invited Justin, but Chris said Justin had opted out, wanting to spend some time alone. I hoped that was a positive sign that he was at least thinking about what I said.
In the morning, Chris and I went on our run, together again. I felt as good about the company as I did from the exercise. Afterward we took quick showers, and then Joey insisted that he and Chris both take me to the airport. At the airport I hugged them both, and thanked them for everything, and for being my friends, and then I got on the plane. I read through most of the flight, and tried to sleep a little. It wasn't a long flight, for which I was thankful, and I was tingling with anticipation as we landed and taxied in.
As the announcement came for us to leave the plane, a flight attendant appeared at my chair. Josh, of course, had put me in first class, so I had no idea if she was supposed to be there or not.
"Mr. Springer? I'm to escort you to a separate part of the airport to meet your party," she said.
I nodded, and followed her. We left through the same door as the other passengers, but veered off almost immediately into a maze of hallways. Following her down one after another of them, she finally showed me into a large, private lounge, where Josh was waiting. He turned toward me, rising up out of his seat, and smiled, his eyes sparkling as I ran over to him and wrapped my arms around him.
"Hey," he whispered in my ear, holding me tightly.
"Hi," I answered.
Everything was going to be ok.
I'm back from my vacation! I'll probably be a couple of days getting back to everyone who wrote, though.
More to come soon.