This is part nine of my continuing story.
First of all, let me apologize for how long it's taken to get this chapter out. The hospital's been busy of late :)
I want to take just a moment to thank everyone who's written me. The feedback and support are deeply appreciated. My gratitude has to go out to some friends and fellow authors I've had the pleasure of hearing from since early on in this endeavor: Lauren, Tonny, Kevin, and Matthew, and my new friends Michael and Tom, just to name a few. If you haven't taken the time to read the works written by some of those I mentioned, I think you'll find some great stories. As always, my short attention span has gotten the better of me, so if I didn't take the time to thank all of you, allow me to do so now.
I want to thank the folks at nifty for the forum. I may be a wannabe author, but I'm first and foremost a reader. It's one of the highlights of my web-surfing when I stumble upon some of the great tales that have been spun for our enjoyment.
As for DLS, what can I say? Your story ("Brian and Me") inspires me, your feedback improves me, and your friendship means the world to me. Thanks for everything, as always. If you haven't read his story, you don't know what you're missing.
Now for the obligatory stuff:
WARNING: This story is sexually-explicit (or at least getting there), involving homosexuality. Do not continue if this will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws, please leave now. By continuing , you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to have access to sexually-explicit material. The content and opinions expressed in this story do not imply anything with regards to the sexual preferences of anyone mentioned herein. It is a work of fiction entirely (not that I would object to hearing from the guys of 'N SYNC). Having said that, enjoy the story.
Chapter 9
"Well, what is it, Scott?" I asked him.
The faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. "You're taking the day off from playing nursemaid--no offense--so go out and have some fun."
Now that my heart was beating again, I punched him in the jaw and knocked him to the ground. "You son-of-a-bitch, you scared the hell out of me."
Rubbing his jaw, he half-smiled again. "I see you haven't lost your sense of humor . . . or your right-cross."
I extended my hand and helped him to stand. Before releasing my grip, he sucker-punched me in the gut. As I hunched over, the wind knocked from my lungs and my feet knocked from beneath me. "Nursemaid, huh? I don't do windows."
He laughed, wiping the blood from his busted lip. He reached down and pulled me to my feet again. "Now, go get cleaned up. You've been cooped up in here for too long with too much on your mind."
My face sobered. "Have they set a date yet?"
"No," he answered grimly.
"It's okay," I assured him. Smiling halfheartedly, "Besides, I haven't taken a vacation in years, and I happen to like spending time with the guys."
"How cute," he pouted. "Maybe you and your little boyfriend can go out on a real date."
"Jeez, Scott, coming out of your mouth, that makes it sound like I need to go ask his mother if he can come out and play."
"No offense."
"I know, Rodney Dangerfield, but seriously, why are you here?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"I told you--I'm here to give you a break. John said that Justin is pretty well out of the woods, and after today, he's free to come and go as he pleases."
"And that's it? Nothing more?" I probed, certain there was something he was holding back.
"Will you just say 'thank you' and go?" he pressed, pushing me by the shoulders.
"Can I say 'kiss my ass' and go back to bed?" I teased.
"Nope. Now get in there," he urged, leading me into the bathroom.
Even as the water beat down against my forehead, I could hear the others giving JC a similar spiel in the bathroom adjacent to mine, and I had to laugh. I stuck my arm out from behind the shower curtain, jerking a towel off the rod and pulling it around my waist. Stepping out, I saw Chris sitting on the countertop with his head turned to the door.
"First of all," I began, suppressing a laugh, "turning towards the door really isn't helping my sense of modesty since there's a full-length mirror mounted on it, so just turn around and look at me--I'm about as decent as I'm gonna get at the moment."
Blushing, he gave in and turned towards me.
"Secondly," I continued, crossing my arms across my chest as I moved beside him, leaning against the sink, "do you people grasp the concept of knocking?"
He turned deeper shades of crimson, and I bit my lower lip, trying to quell his embarrassment and find out what was important enough for him to expose himself, pardon the pun, to my harassment.
"Sorry," he stammered, "I just need to talk to you about something."
"Good, I hoped this wasn't just a social call--my boyfriend might get jealous."
"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he told me.
"I assumed as much," I smiled, helping to put him at ease.
"Did JC tell you what it was like when he came out?"
"Yeah."
"Did he tell you how I reacted?"
"He gave me the general idea," I affirmed.
"Oh," he muttered, obviously mentally kicking himself.
"But that's not why you're here," I continued.
"Sort of. When JC came out to us, I felt the whole spectrum of emotions. I felt pity for him having to bear that kind of secret, I felt betrayed that he hadn't trusted us enough to tell us in the beginning, I felt confused about what my perceptions of him were, and I felt angry that he wasn't the normal guy I thought he was."
He stopped after that, daring to glance up at me, awaiting some terrible condemnation, but I said nothing. When he continued to stare, unsure of what to do, I nodded for him to continue.
"I guess I won't be winning any awards for being the politically correct member of the group," he chuckled. "Anyway, I had a hard time dealing with it."
"How do you think he felt?"
"I know. Now at least, but then? Lemme explain. I finally got past all that and started seeing JC for himself again, one of my very best friends in this world. When he found Craig, I was relentless on Craig for a time, but I eventually saw the simple truth that they were both in love."
I wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but I listened silently as he told his side of everything aloud, likely for the first time.
"JC was more alive than I'd ever seen him . . . until now. But with everything that happened with the engagement and the accident, I think he's a lot more fragile than he appears. After all he's been through, he's got a right to be devastated."
"I agree . . . ."
"All I'm saying," he cut me off, "is that he's very vulnerable, so if you have any reservations, say so now, because he deserves to be happy, and I would move Heaven and Hell to protect him from getting hurt--we all would."
"I think I know what you mean. He means the world to me," I confessed, touched by his genuine concern.
"Then promise you'll never hurt him."
"I'll try," I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.
"That's not good enough," he said flatly.
I smiled at his devotion to his friend. "Chris, I will never intentionally cause him any harm--physical, emotional; or otherwise."
"I guess that will have to do," he forced himself to smile.
Little did either of us know that a similar scene was unfolding in the adjacent bathroom. JC was stepping out of the shower when he saw Scott leaning against the door with his arms folded and his legs crossed. JC wasn't sure what was happening and was becoming more than a little anxious.
"Relax, kid. I assure you that you don't have anything I haven't seen before, and if you do, my military training dictates that I shoot it," Scott weakly attempted to reassure him.
JC grabbed the shower curtain and used it to cover himself, apparently oblivious that it was clear. That fact, however, was not lost on Scott, who stood there with a mischievous grin on his face. He finally relented and handed him something from the closet. JC looked at him questioningly.
"It's Matt's," Scott answered, "and I doubt very much that he would mind."
JC nodded and pulled the terry-cloth close against his skin, still moist with water droplets. "Okay," JC smiled.
"Okay what?"
"Well, you obviously have something to say, so 'okay,' I'm listening," he answered, almost defensively.
"Matt cares about you very much--probably more than even he realizes. I could tell from the moment he saw you. He historically distances himself from becoming too emotionally involved, but that obviously wasn't the case with you, and I'm more than a little concerned."
"About what?"
"Matt hasn't dated, much less been in love, very often. In fact, I'm reasonably sure he hasn't been out with anyone with romantic notions in years. He had to become an adult all too fast, but didn't have time to grow up in many ways. He's very innocent in that he cares, sometimes too much, and he's been hurt as a result. I don't want to see him suffer like that again."
"Like what, Scott?"
"Let's just say he's been burned, and leave it at that. The story's not mine to tell."
"Oh," JC acknowledged.
"Don't feel hurt. He rarely lets people inside the walls he's built for himself for the very reason that he doesn't want to be hurt that way again. He told me about Ashley and the girls just last year after he and I had worked together and been friends for almost three years, and I'm the only person he ever told--until you."
"Then why won't he tell me whatever it is that's always there on the back of his mind. I want to help."
"You are helping, and he'll tell you the rest in time. That's what I'm concerned about."
"I'm not following," JC admitted.
"In a very short time, you've become an important part of his life, and I just don't know how he'd handle it if you weren't there for him."
"What makes you think I won't be?"
"Hear me out, JC. You just lost someone very dear to you, and that's very painful. Then, Matt comes along and is willing to love you the way that Craig did, and that takes some of the pain away. What happens when it's gone? Will you still want Matt once you don't need him?"
"I am not on the rebound," JC almost yelled. "Why does everyone think I don't love him?"
"I'm not doubting your feelings. Only you can know what you feel for him. I just want to make sure that you do know, and now, before he has time to fall for you even harder."
"I do love him, Soctt. I'm surer of that than I've ever been of anything in my entire life."
"I'm glad," Scott smiled, "because Matt comes with a lot of baggage."
"That's what he said."
"He's right. I just had to know that someone he can count on will be there for him. Just promise me something."
"What's that?" JC wondered.
"That you'll love him."
"I already do."
I had finished showering before JC came out of the bathroom, so I sat down on the bed with my laptop and signed on to check my e-mail. A message from Kathy told me that the girls had made it off fine. Other messages from friends scattered to the four winds caught me up on the recent event in their lives. A message from Cathy said she was worried about me after everything that happened at the hospital and that I was in her prayers. I made a mental note to myself to call her. When I got to the last message, I just froze when I saw the name.
JC walked in about that time, still clad in my robe, and sat behind me with his legs to one side. He started to massage my shoulders, rubbing my tense muscles, kneading my flesh back and forth. I almost collapsed under his touch. Instead, as his hands traced my spine, I leaned back, dropping my head against his collarbone. I turned slightly to face him and smiled. He pressed his lips softly against my own, lightly brushing my skin with his breath.
"You have about six months to stop that," I smiled again.
"The massage or the kiss?" he chuckled.
"Either/or," I answered, pulling him closer, locking us together. "By the way, you look great in my robe."
He smiled and turned his torso from side to side as though he was modeling the latest fashions.
"But I bet you'd look better in nothing at all," I added.
"That can be arranged," he said with a mischievous grin.
"You're impossible," I scolded him.
"And you're easy," he laughed, catching another movie reference.
Pulling his arms around me, I savored the feel of his exposed chest caressing my back. He rested his forehead on my temple, and we sat there, gently rocking with one another, for what seemed like an eternity.
I finally pushed myself away, catching him off guard. I saw the confusion in his eyes, and I stroked his cheek with my forefingers. "If we don't get going soon, our date's only going to consist of sitting on the bed for hours."
"I'm not complaining," he smiled, tugging me back within inches of him.
"Oh, no you don't," I smiled back, twisting his nose. He stuck his tongue out at me. "Is that an invitation?"
"For you, anytime, anyplace," he answered as he kissed the tip of my own nose.
"Will you please go get dressed?" I asked stiffly, my face betraying my exasperation.
"Okay, okay," he gave in, hopping off the foot of the bed.
I stood up as well and went to the closet. He walked over and locked his hands around my waist, hugging me tightly while I picked out what I was going to wear. He rested the side of his face against my shoulder blade, both of us content to remain in that position indefinitely.
"Who's that?" he asked.
I turned towards his line of sight and saw my laptop, my e-mail still on the screen. I stretched my arm to the keyboard and his the delete key.
"Nobody," I said coldly.
I finished getting dressed and pushed JC to his suitcase. I left the bedroom to find Joey sitting on the couch, eating cereal and watching a cartoon about his favorite comic-book hero.
"Joey, can I ask you something?"
"Now?" he asked, with a lost puppy dog face.
I chuckled, "Nah, it can wait."
A Cheshire cat grin crossed his visage with a twinkle in his eyes. "Kidding. It's a rerun anyway. Fire at will."
"What do you think about the relationship JC and I have?"
"To be honest, Matt, I don't. He's fallen for you, and you seem to really care for him as well. As long as you treat him right and he's happy, that's enough."
"That's it?"
"And you were expecting maybe . . . ?"
"I don't know, to be truthful. I guess a bunch of unresolved issues about what it will do to public perception of you guys, your careers, that sort of thing."
"HELLO! My hair is red--not the orange people call red, I'm talking crayon red. Do you honestly think socially acceptable is that high up on my food chain of daily dilemmas?"
"I guess you're right. All this is kind of new for me."
"So take it slow, and do what comes natural. Just be sure to do it behind closed doors so you two don't scar me for life," he smiled.
"I think it's a little late for that," Lance shot back as he leaped over the back of the couch, startling both Joey and myself.
"Droll--very droll," Joey smirked, smacking Lance's nose with the back of his spoon.
"You guys are too much, or not enough. I haven't decided which," I joked.
"Ooh, we have a future unemployed comedian-slash-waiter in our midst," Lance laughed.
"So the perpetual teenagers are giving career advice?" I mocked.
"Hey," Lance cried, "my career aptitude tests showed that I would be a great guidance counselor."
"And who interpreted these results for you?" I asked.
"My guidance counselor, of course."
"Uh-huh. Sounds like someone looking for a sucker to fill his shoes," I explained.
"You're just jealous," Lance replied.
"Of what?"
"My golden pipes, magnetic personality, and legions of adoring fans."
I rolled my eyes as JC rounded the corner. "Hey, why are you talking about pipes with my boyfriend?"
Lance blushed, while JC, Joey, and I lost our composure. Looking around, Chris and Justin were noticeably absent. I kissed JC on the cheek and told him I'd be back in a minute. Walking back to the back, I noticed Chris curled up on one of the beds asleep in front of the television. I turned out the lights and spread a blanket over him. As I walked through the house, Justin was nowhere to be found.
Stepping out onto the patio, I found Justin sitting sideways on the swing with the phone in his lap. When I walked over to him, he tried to drop his cast leg to the ground. Instead, I caught his foot, and pulled it into my lap as I sat down beside him.
"What's up, Curly?"
He smiled. "Not much. Just calling my girlfriend to say hi. Been kind of lonely lately."
"I'm sorry. I guess I have been monopolizing JC's time lately. I've been so caught up in having a boyfriend that I forgot about his best friend."
"It's okay," he reassured me. "It's not that, at least not entirely. He and I haven't really talked all that much since he and Craig decided to get married."
"I thought you two had worked things out."
"We did. I just miss how things used to be between us."
"Have you told him?"
"Nah. He has enough on his mind, Matt."
"I really don't think he'll ever be too busy for you, Jus."
"It's silly."
"No, it's not. Talk to him, OKAY?"
"OKAY!" he shouted back, his mood obviously improved. "Everything's been so crazy lately."
"Jus, you know I'm here if you want to talk." Realizing the words that just passed my mouth by bypassing my brain entirely, "God, that sounded lame."
He reached over and squeezed my shoulder. "Thanks, I know what you mean. So, were you just checking up on me, or did you need something?"
"Actually, I needed to pick your brain for a minute."
I walked back to bedroom to find JC buttoning up his shirt. I stopped in the doorway for a moment to watch him, before walking over to him and undoing what he had just done. He looked up at me a little confused, but he smiled and said nothing. As I slid the cloth from his back, he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed my neck. I slid out of his arms, and escaped to the closet.
"Slow down, Romeo. We're supposed to be going out, remember?" I reminded him, handing him one of my shirts. "It might be a little big, but it's better than what you were going to wear."
A sour look curled his mouth. "And what was wrong with what I was going to wear?"
"Nothing that a bottle of dye or an acetylene torch couldn't fix."
He tried desperately to stifle a laugh.
"What?" I asked.
"Let me think. The gay male nurse is offering fashion tips. We should be receiving a visit from the stereotype police at any moment."
I tackled him, pinning him down on the bed. "Consider yourself under arrest."
He smiled, "Guilty."
"You're no fun. You didn't even let me beat a confession out of you."
"Promises, promises. So when do we get to the handcuffs?" he asked evilly.
"Not until after the date," I answered, leaping off of him.
"Argh," he sighed. "You are such a tease."
"And you take entirely too long to get dressed. Keep this up, and I'll have to dress you myself."
"Again with the promises," he smiled.
"You are incorrigible. I'll meet you in the den," I smiled back as I left the room.
I picked up my wallet and keys from the dining room table, when a voice startled me, "Where are you guys going?" I turned to see Lance standing against the wall with a drink and a bag of chips in his hands.
"Okay, it's official. Hanging around with you guys is going to give me heart failure."
"Sorry, didn't realize I wasn't making enough noise. I'll try harder next time," he smiled, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth.
"You do that. Sing a song, do something," I laughed. "And in answer to your question, nothing special, just the kind of stuff people do when they start going out."
"So the handcuffs are part of the norm? Damn, you must make a hell of a first impression."
"Excuse me?" I asked, with a look of true shock on my face.
"Sorry, I was heading to the bathroom and overheard you guys. I couldn't resist."
"Yeah, I'm betting it was a hard-fought battle. Next time, try harder."
"Touchy are we?"
"No, Lance, just a little nervous, I guess," I confessed to him and to me.
"For God's sakes, why? It's not like a typical first date. He's already head over heels for you. That's no great mystery."
"That's nice of you to say, and nice to know, but since I haven't been on a date in several years, I've still got a whopping case of butterflies."
"Several years? No wonder you're on edge. You're probably about to explode from all that built-up sexual tension."
I rolled my eyes, "You're killing me, Lance, you're killing me. All of the antics I've endured since I met you guys would be hysterical if it weren't for one thing."
"Really, what's that?"
"You're not funny," I jabbed, poking his stomach with my finger, causing him to exhale soda from his nose. I immediately burst into tears.
Lance coughed for a minute before the color drained from his face. "Very funny."
"I agree. It's the funniest you've been since I met you. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Right is waiting for me."
"Well, tell him to take a number, because you have a date with Mr. Chasez right now."
I held up my hand in that "talk to the hand" motion so popular with some of the women at the hospital, and I walked out of the room.
"Have fun, you two," Scott bid us farewell as we walked out the door, leaving him and the guys to their own devices. With a house full of food and several hundred channels on the television, I honestly wasn't all that concerned.
JC and I hopped into the little two-seater I drove around most of the time. As he turned to look behind us, he had a look of disappointment on his face.
"What's wrong, Josh?" I wondered aloud.
"I guess necking in the backseat after our date is out of the question," he smiled.
"Put on your seat belt before I strangle you with it."
We drove along, talking about everything and nothing, and loving every minute of it. He had on a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap, but he still turned away from other cars at red lights. At one, however, he stunned me by reaching over and kissing me. I started to laugh right in the middle of it, and he pulled back, alarmed.
"You look ridiculous," I told him. "I doubt very seriously that the CIA is worried about your incredible skills of urban camouflage."
He smiled, "Oh, yeah, you blend."
We both laughed and pressed on, until we finally arrived. He looked at our destination, then he turned to look at me. "The movies. How romantic."
I ignored his jests. "Well, I thought you might be interested in seeing the prequel you haven't had a chance to see all summer. It's been out long enough that we'll probably be the only ones in the theater, so we'll probably be all alone in the dark theater," I cooed in my most alluring voice.
"Ooh, I like your dirty mind."
"I thought it was my ass."
"Well, there is that . . . , but how did you know I've been dying to see this for months?"
"I have my ways. Now get in that seat so I can take advantage of you. Those abrasive seats, those sticky floors, spending a Ben Franklin for drinks that will have me in the bathroom before the previews are over and candy that's not worth a buck-oh-five--really, I'm only human. How can I resist?"
He laughed at me. "Pervert."
"You like that about me, too," I shot back.
"You bet your cute ass I do."
We bought our tickets, and because it was a matinee, the place was virtually empty. I got us some drinks and one of those buckets of popcorn that could feed a third-world nation, and we went through the doors to our seats. I laughed when JC sat beside me. I was thinking about some friends of mine who always sat a seat away from anyone else in the theater. One of them called it a "fag seat" before he knew I was gay, so whenever we went to the movies together after he did know, he purposely sat next to me as some sort of apology. In truth, I finally started getting up and putting a seat between us. I think it's some primitive testosterone-driven need to fight for the armrest, so guys generally don't sit next to one another in a theater unless there's just nowhere else to sit. I'd never been there with a guy on a date before, so this was something else entirely. I liked the closeness. JC intertwined our touching hands, and with the other, we both shared the popcorn in my lap and the soda in his.
We watched the movie in relative silence. In truth, he watched the movie. Since I had already seen it, I watched him. After a while, I rested my head on his shoulder, while he rested his head against my own. When the movie ended, I reluctantly capitulated and we returned to the car.
"What's next?" he asked hopefully.
I wouldn't answer him. Instead, we talked about the movie some, the special effects and the like, until we got where we were going.
"Oh, I get it," he smiled. "Now that you've had your fun, you're going to drop me off in the middle of nowhere and leave me for dead."
I shot him my best look of warning, and he crawled sheepishly out of the car. We hiked for about a mile before we came across the building. Outside there were two horses, tacked and ready to ride. I pressed the ball of my foot into the left stirrup, grabbed the horn, and pulled myself up. I took the reins in my hands and used my legs to urge the black Arabian into a canter. I looked over my shoulder to see him mounting the dun Tennessee Walking Horse. I stopped when I got to the river bank to wait for him.
He finally caught up. "You're a hell of a rider," he said, out of breath. "Where did you learn to ride like that."
"My mother broke horses for a living, so I've been riding since I've been walking, and I've always loved horses. That's why I was gunning for the Olympic equestrian team."
"What happened, Matt?"
"I made the team, but things got so complicated between my folks and the girls that I quit, a decision I regret from time to time, but not too much," I smiled. "Come on."
Clicking to a trot, we made our way across an old covered bridge to the other side of the river. We left the horses to rest, and I led JC by the hand to a meadow overlooking the lake.
"Wow, this place is incredible," he awed.
"I know. I used to come to this place a lot before. It's a good place for being yourself." I smiled and ducked behind a tree, emerging with a picnic basket. "Open it," I told him.
He did as I told him, and glancing up at me, he asked, "How did you know?"
I grinned from ear-to-ear as he pulled out the containers of Chinese food. "I told you. I have my ways."
"Would any of them have to do with a certain curly-headed blond kid?"
"Maybe," I admitted, spreading the blanket on the ground. Taking a pair of chopsticks out of the basket, I started into the food.
"How did you do all of this?"
"A little help from my friends. I called Cathy, from the hospital, and she was nice enough to pick up the food and drop it off here for us."
We talked a little while, and JC put his food aside and laid his head in my lap. I continued feeding him from the cardboard container, alternating bringing the chopsticks to mouth, then to his. We snapped the fortune cookies in two, but he refused to tell his fortune to me, saying only that it was a good thing and that he would show me later.
Hours flew by. I stroked JC's hair while we watched the sunset. I packed up our trash, then we mounted up and rode back to the car.
When we got back to the house, I pushed the key into the lock, and turning the knob, I tumbled into the floor. JC helped me to my feet, and both of us stared blankly at the suitcases which had caused my spill. Caught off guard, JC almost fell to the ground when something came flying towards his face.
"So, can I get rid of that atrocity now that your boyfriend hates it?" Lance gleamed.
I laughed when I realized it was the same shirt I had taken off of JC earlier. "You know, Lance, I'm really gonna have to get this place soundproofed."
"Not really an issue now," Chris interjected as he walked in with a garment bag.
"What's going on?" I posed to whoever would answer. JC shrugged his shoulders.
"We're leaving," Joey answered, appearing from the kitchen with a bag of cheese puffs in his hand and an orange powder on his teeth.
Okay, now I was confused, and apparently, JC was as lost as I was.
Lance popped up behind me and locked his arm around my neck. "Nothing bad, you knuckle heads. We just decided that since the tour's on hold, it would be a good time to head home for a little bit and see our families before our schedule gets to the point that we won't be able to. Besides, we've been here a while, and the smell of fish is beginning to set in."
"That's not true, guys," I told them emphatically. "You're more than welcome to stay indefinitely."
Chris placed his hand on my shoulder. "We appreciate that, and we'll hold you to the invitation. But right now, we think you and JC need some alone time."
Noticing he had been quiet through all of this, JC asked Justin, "What about you? You don't need to be gallivanting across country right now."
"I'm not going to. Since it's not that bad of a drive, I'm going to go stay with my grandparents. I don't get to visit them that often, so now I've got an excuse," he answered, embracing JC in a hug. "Plus, I won't be all that far, so I'm here if you need me."
"I'll always need you, Curly," JC smiled. "Call me."
"I will," Justin replied, hobbling out the door on his crutches.
I leaned over to pick up the keys from where they had landed on the carpet, when another hand snatched them out of my reach. I looked up to see Scott. "I'm the driver of this getaway car," he joked.
The guys each bid JC and I farewell, leaving us standing just inside the house not really sure of how to proceed. Without the other guys around, he and I both felt like we were in some kind of uncharted territory, the group dynamic having been reduced to only the two of us. This definitely had potential, but it honestly felt a little strange. Even though he and I were seeing each other, as long as everyone else was around, it was like JC was living with me, but I was dating Josh. Now, Josh and I were living together, and it kind of scared me. I could see it was having the same effect on him, as he was shifting nervously.
Finally, this awkwardness got the best of me. I took JC by the hand and led him to the living room. Closed off by double doors, he'd never been in here, and I glowed with the awe on his face when he saw what was hiding behind them. He released my hand and walked over to it, sliding his fingers gingerly over the dark, polished wood before letting them rest on the ivory.
He turned to gawk at me, "Where did you get a baby grand piano?"
I smiled as I walked to his side, pulling both of us down to the bench. "It was my grandmother's. There's an interesting story behind it. She sang in speakeasies in her hometown of Chicago during the late 20s and 30s. The tale tells that she caught the eye of some bigwig, and he asked her out. She said no, since she had already met my grandfather, and the two of them were engaged. So he asked her if they could just go for a walk and a cup of coffee, and they did. He kept his word--he was a perfect gentleman."
JC stopped fiddling with the keys, curious to hear the end of the story.
"The next day, a letter arrived to my grandfather. It said 'Take good care of her.' The same afternoon, this was delivered to my grandmother with a big bow on it. There was a card attached that said 'Thanks for a wonderful evening. Ever yours, Alphonse.'"
His eyes grew wide with wonder. "Al Capone?"
"Yeah. My mother had the notes authenticated after my grandmother died."
"Wow. Then let me get away from it before I screw something up," he said, trying to stand.
I grabbed his arm, and pulled him back beside me. "My grandmother played it every day of her life until her arthritis got to the point that she couldn't. Then my mother played for her. My grandmother died exactly how she lived, surrounded by music. She went to sleep while my mother sang, and she never woke up."
"I'm sorry, Matt."
"Don't be. She lived a long life, and I can't imagine her wanting to go any other way."
"Do you play?"
"A little, but right now I want to hear you play."
"You want me to play--on this piano?" he asked, obviously concerned.
"That was the point of the story. This piano has been played daily from the day my grandmother received it. The last time it was played was when my mother died. After we got home from her funeral, I sat on this bench for hours playing the songs I had heard since I was a kid. I think both she and my grandmother would like for someone else to enjoy it as much as they did. Especially someone I happen to be in love with," I smiled.
He blushed, almost tearing, but he choked it back. "What did they like to play?"
"My mother played the songs my grandmother taught her, so a lot of stuff from the jazz and big band eras."
"I'll see what I can do," he smiled, kissing me. He began to play, as fluidly and as naturally as my grandmother had. His eyes mesmerized me, and he never once tore his attention from me, instinctively striking the keys from memory. I was so hypnotized by the whole effect that I barely recognized what he was playing.
The last note resonated in his throat, and the minute his lips touched, I kissed him. His eyes closed, and I continued to kiss him. "How did you know 'Someone to Watch Over Me' was my mother's favorite song?" I asked, pulling back with a warm expression on my face.
"I didn't," he confessed. "You mentioned jazz, and Gershwin was from the right era. It seemed natural."
"It seemed a little inspired," I corrected. He began serenading me again, and I pulled my legs from the floor, wrapping them around his waist. I chewed on his earlobe and kissed his neck while I ran my hands under his shirt, rubbing his chest and back. He tried in earnest not to be distracted by me, and for the most part, he succeeded. He finally gave in and brought his fingers from the keys to my neck, embracing me in another kiss.
We moved to the sofa, and he straddled me with his knees on either side of me. He unbuttoned my shirt and kissed my Adam's apple. He was moving down my torso when the doorbell rang. I had to laugh, and he hung his head in defeat against my pecs.
"I give up," he cried.
I laughed even harder, and pushing him off of me, I got up. He grabbed my waist and pouted as he followed me to the door.
When I opened the door, Kathy stood there, trying unconvincingly to seem as though she hadn't been crying, wiping the tears from her cheek. I looked at JC, "Can you go put on a pot of coffee?"
"Where are the others?" she asked me.
"They've gone home for a while before the tour kicks back up. They'll be back in a few weeks," I explained.
"Oh, Matt, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you and JC."
"Don't be ridiculous. Now what's wrong?" I urged, pulling her onto the couch in the den with me.
"Nothing. I'm just overly emotional today." She answered as a tear dripped from her nose.
"I don't need to be any good at reading people to know you're lying," I told her, trying to bring a smile to her face.
She half-laughed, half-cried. "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Talking to Kevin."
"Why, Kathy?"
"There's something I need to tell him."
"That being?" I prodded, fairly sure I knew where this was going.
"I think I'm pregnant," she answered, hanging her head low and looking down where I couldn't see into her eyes.
"Why do you think that?" I asked her, trying to rationalize what she was feeling.
"My period's late . . . real late."
"Have you had a test to be certain?"
"No," she whispered.
"Hey, girl, look at me." She did as I instructed, and the tears were freshly streaming. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? If you'd told me when I still had a job, I could have drawn the blood at the hospital for free," I joked.
She laughed at my levity to my own situation. "I don't know. I guess I was embarrassed. I mean, my God, I'm too young to be a mother, and Heaven knows I don't want everyone thinking I'm a tramp because I had unprotected sex."
I started to chuckle, and she shot me an angry look. "Think about what you just said and who you said it to."
Her stern expression faded as she brought her hand over her mouth to choke back what was about to escape. "Point taken."
"So, is it Kevin's?"
Again, the daggers flew from her eyes.
"I had to ask to be sure. So have you told him your suspicions?"
"No," she admitted, ashamed that she hadn't.
"Why not?" I demanded.
"If we can't make a relationship work, how can we make a family work. I don't want him to feel compelled to do anything. He's Mr. Responsible, and he would do it willingly just because he thought it was the right thing to do."
I nodded, truly understanding, which she knew I did. "I don't think you're being fair to Kevin. Why don't you talk to him? Feel him out, so to speak. You don't even know for sure that you're pregnant, but you do know that you still have feelings for him."
"I can't talk to him right now."
"You need to," I told her honestly. The light bulb went up over my head, and I got up. She was clueless as to what I was doing. JC brought us all a cup of coffee while I came back with the phone.
"I won't, not yet, and you're not going to change my mind," she declared adamantly.
"Who said I was going to try?" I smirked, pressing the buttons. The recognition in her face betrayed what I already knew. No one had used this phone since she had called him, so all I did was hit redial. "Kevin?" I asked, sticking my finger in my ear to hear better. When she tried to take the phone from me, JC grabbed her arm, and held her fast.
"Matt . . . ," she threatened.
"Hi, Kevin, this is Matt Hunter. I'm a good friend of Kathy's. She wants to talk to you. Hang on."
She yanked the phone from me and gave me a lethal look. She walked back to a quieter spot in the house. JC and I contentedly drank our coffee. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't force the issue. He simply followed my lead and said nothing.
Kathy walked back to the den. "He wants to talk to you."
JC raised an eyebrow, "Who?"
"Both of you. I'll put him on speakerphone." Placing the receiver back on its charger, "Okay, Kev, they're both here."
"Can you guys hear me?" The disembodied voice asked.
"Yeah," JC and I said in unison.
"Matt, thanks for making Kathy call me. She said she wouldn't have if you hadn't made her."
"Actually, I said you were a devious little bastard who tricked me into it," Kathy interrupted.
"Something like that," Kevin laughed. "Anyway, JC, I wanted to say sorry I won't get to see you guys. Some stuff has come up and the rest of our tour's being delayed, so we'll probably miss the chance."
JC frowned, "Hate to hear that. We were looking forward to it."
"Us, too. Actually, now I don't know what we're going to do. We're all getting a little stir crazy around here with no relief in sight."
"Well, you're welcome to head down to our neck of the woods any time?" I interjected.
"Seriously?" he asked.
"Absolutely. I doubt seriously that Kathy would mind, and JC would get a chance to catch up with you guys."
"Is he serious?" Kevin asked.
"He never says anything he doesn't mean," Kathy smiled at me.
"It's a thought. Let me check on some hotels, and . . . ."
"Nonsense," I butted in. "I invited you, and you're welcome to stay here. I know you all see more of hotels than homes."
"Where are you gonna put everybody? I think the ten of us under the same roof would test the patience of Job."
"Actually, Kevin, the others went home for a bit. It's just me at the moment," JC explained.
"You let me worry about where to put you up," I said forcefully.
"It's a generous offer, and I hate to impose on your hospitality," he hesitated, "but would you have room for one more if we do come?"
"Nate?" Kathy asked.
"Yeah," Kevin confirmed.
"Absolutely," I assured him. Smiling, I added, "Just tell him I want an autographed copy of his book."
Kevin laughed, "I'll tell him. Let me talk to the others and get back to you."
"Fair enough," I offered.
Kathy picked up the phone and walked out onto the patio to tell him goodbye in private. When she came back in, she was almost happy.
"Did you tell him?"
"No," she answered, "but I did tell him that I still had feelings for him and that I thought we should get together to talk about it. I know he's starting over with Carrie, but there's some things he should know before he moves on. I'm not going to tell him the rest until I'm certain."
"Sounds like a start," I smiled.
Kathy leaned over to give me a hug. "Thanks. I'll let you two get back to whatever it is you do when you're alone," she grinned devilishly.
"Not much thus far," JC sighed.
I laughed and walked Kathy to her car. When I came in, JC was washing the dishes in the sink.
"All this and domestic, too?" I teased, spinning him around to face me. "Now where were we?"
TO BE CONTINUED . . . . . . .
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