I wanna go watch Gosford Park!! Ryan Phillippe rocks, as an actor, and as a man. I think I may be portraying him a bit superior in this, but that's kinda poetic license and fairly important to the story, so don't go thinking that's what I think of the man! Reese W is a lucky woman.
Thank you so much to all mo bitches and ho's who emailed me (heavy irony there). Sorry, but Ja Rule has somehow possessed me; Can't blame me really, can you? I mean; he can even make J Lo sound good...
Disclaimer: The personalities and sexualities of the characters mentioned are created solely for the mechanisms of this story and in no way are intended to reflect those of the actual celebrities themselves. I don't know any of the celebrities, no matter how much I would like to (would I? They may turn out to be awful people...).
Don't go reading this piece of self-obsessed, sappy nonsense if you don't like M/M relationships, sex, his and his bathrobes, girls with curly blonde hair, boys with curly blond (ish) hair or everyone's favourite leading man, Justin Timberlake.
Something Like Justin Chapter 8- Trials
My eyes broke slowly open, the lids heavy and dry with sleep and exhaustion. The world of my dreams faded quickly away as the brutal reality shocked through my system to the melody of Emily shaking my shoulder.
"Chris!" The words were hammers to my eardrums, "Chris! Wake up."
I mumbled a list of vague protestations, but she firmed her grip on my flesh.
"We were worried, Chris." I opened my eyes fully, allowing her form to resolve into some kind of coherent memory.
"Huh?" I groaned, stretching my aching neck and longing for the residing protection of my duvet and sheets.
"We were worried yesterday." She released my shoulder, realising that I was showing some kind of cooperation "Ryan came round with your theatre ticket."
"Oh, shit." I cursed, pressing a hand to my head, "I forgot."
"He just said that something had come up. He seemed really upset." Emily sighed, "I thought that you'd had a fight. I was worried that you may have done something stupid."
"What am I going to do?" I reflected.
"So what happened?" Emily shifted herself to a sitting position on my bed, crossing her legs and pushing her hair away from her face.
"Justin appeared, saw Ryan and I, got shocked, walked away, I went after him, and we went to the funfair."
"Justin saw you two? Together, you mean?"
"Holding hands. We looked 'together'."
"God. What did he say?" Emily wondered aloud, "He must be alright with it 'cause you're not kinda hurt or anything."
"It seemed to freak him out a little," I considered, "But he calmed down in the end."
"You went to the funfair?" Emily said as if she had only just remembered what a funfair was.
"Yep. Candyfloss and everything." I stretched my arms elaborately out to my sides, creasing my eyes and yawning.
"You weren't home before twelve!" Emily gasped.
"Well, we found a seat and talked some." I strained to remember, "And time sort of flew by."
"I wonder how he found you?" Emily mused aloud.
"I don't know; must have just been in the district. Anyway, you must know that he'd be around, 'cause Chris was coming to LA with him. Hasn't he called?"
"Oh, he called, but not from LA." Her voice was tight, like she was suppressing anger.
"Where from?" I probed.
"Orlando" Emily said moodily, "They finished some recording they needed to do and were visiting family. Justin got all melodramatic the other day and said he was going to see friends."
"He didn't tell them where he was going?"
"No." She furthered, "They even called Britney to see if he'd flown to the UK."
"Fuck." I expressed, "He seemed fine last night."
"Well, he's pissed a lot of people off with his trip." Emily complained, "I wish that cunt would consider thinking of other people sometimes."
"Emily!" I cried out, "He's my friend. Don't be so fucking mean, okay?"
"Look Chris, I know that you can't help seeing the good in him, whatever that is, but maybe you should try seeing him for what he is."
"I do."
"You don't." Emily stood abruptly, "You see Justin as being perfect. Admit it; you can't see his faults because you're so in love with his image."
"I think I've known him long enough to see beyond that." I argued.
"Just don't be surprised if he really disappoints you one day, 'cause it's bound to happen."
The conversation was ended bluntly with the staccato whine of the door hinges as it was opened and closed.
Slipping out from the elegant, dream-soiled covers and shivering briefly as my balmy flesh was raped of its heat by the morning chill; I prepared myself for the day. The icy embrace of the shower roused me completely from sleep complacency, triggering my nerves to take action. The baggy, tan skate pants and the comforting, long sleeved, charcoal tee seemed inoffensive and apologetic enough, and engulfing my stubborn, fluffy hair under the tight grasp of my Yankees cap I had purchased on first sighting in NY completed the placid, mildly regretful image.
I avoided Emily as best I could as I exited the house after calling for a cab, telling Joe where I was headed and refusing an offer of support. Thanks Joe. Stephanie shared the ride with me into the city, hoping to do a bit of window-shopping and pick up a few newspapers to search for news on our latest release. Steph was a bit of a news-hound. Taking a bus into the streets I had wandered yesterday with Justin, I prepared my 'make-up with Ryan' speech.
"Chris." There was a mild surprise in his voice. His beautiful voice, "Hey, I wasn't expecting you."
"Yeah, right." I smiled apologetically, "After yesterday? I'm sorry about the theatre..." I held out my small collection of Tony's café tableware and decorations, "But I thought we could start again where we left of?"
Taking a packet of sugar from me he smiled, eyes on the small square between his fingers.
"How did you...?"
"Oh, mild case of kleptomania." I shrugged.
"Chris? What if someone saw you?" Ryan scolded, moving to let me enter the house.
"If someone had seen me, I could be doing a 'Winona Ryder'." I grinned, "But thank god we went to that café and not Macdonald's; I doubt I could fit the huge, lighted menu board under my t shirt."
"You could of brought the food as well." He scowled childishly; taking me into his arms anyway, "I miss all that salt and additives."
"Maybe you'll just have to substitute..."
Then, I kissed him. Quick, soft, fleeting, you could say, but it was a kiss. And it was me who initiated it.
"Hmm..." He smirked, leaning back slightly and studying me intricately, "I think I'll stick with the substitute."
"I was hoping you'd say that." He dove in for another, impatient kiss. "Well," I continued, "I'm yours for the day!"
"Lucky me."
"I am sorry; about running off." I watched him cautiously; "I was just a bit split between going off and having a good time with you and letting Justin fester, or sorting out Justin and making it up to you."
"And you thought it would be easier making up with me?" He frowned, but smiled shortly, "Is that a good thing?"
"I hope so." I leaned towards him, resting our foreheads together, "It's certainly more enjoyable."
The trees hung over the ground, suspending their fluttering banners of green over the occupied thoughts and dreams of passers-by, leaves flushed green and new, waxy and thick-veined. The streets heaved with inhabitants, clicking their heels over the chessboards of paving stones, littering the sidewalk and their lives. The dusty eyes of the café viewed this ignorance and sufferance, minus two acrylic salt and pepper shakers, one miniature, china vase, two sets of industrial cutlery and a laminated, nicotine stained menu.
The nightlights strewn disparately on the broad, wooden surface of the porch, threw their diminutive, honey light in pockets about our kneeling, slouching and prostrate forms; the space between and around us littered sparsely with the greasy lipped cartons of Chinese takeout. The puckish, sesame seed flavours rose to our nostrils and stroked our tongues with their memory as the light faded fast.
"...And so he began to take off his cords," Emily paused, diving into the cardboard container with plastic chopsticks, "And I kinda lay there waiting, y'know, playing with my hair and urging him to get 'the fuck on with it'..."
"If he was that good-looking, I doubt I would have wanted to rush things..." Ashley mused, dipping a broken twig into some wax that had spilled out of the aluminium case.
"...And he took these cords off, and..." Cue break out of hysterics for a moment as we all sat patiently, "Y-fronts."
"No!" I gasped, looking at her agog.
"And he was our age?" Stephanie giggled shortly.
"What did you do?" I furthered.
"The sensible thing..." Emily grinned, "Got him out of them as soon as possible."
"Oh my God." I laughed.
"Well, the merchandise was great, it was just that particular piece of packaging." Emily laughed.
"I have no idea what I'd have done." I offered.
"Get on and do some practising should the occasion arise!" Emily urged, "Ryan's the perfect start."
"I guess he is." I blushed.
"Don't feel pressurized though." Stephanie reassured, shooting Emily a glare.
"Oh, I forget; Chris is saving himself for Justin, isn't he?" Emily deadpanned.
"Um...Where did Joe say he was going?" Ash suddenly jumped in; eager to dispel any murky signs leading towards an argument.
"Some club with an actress." I shrugged, "He was being a bit secretive."
"Don't forget smug too." Steph giggled, "I reckon he's bagged a movie star!"
"What Joe?" Emily laughed, "I'm not sure he's capable..."
"Hey! Don't put down the little man!" I frowned, grinning throughout, "He's like Brad Pitt or something!"
I received unanimous looks of disbelief.
"I got a movie star." I shrugged, "He could."
"Yeah," Ash laughed, "Thinking about it, if Chris got one; we all could."
"I'm aiming for Johnny Depp." Emily sighed, then stuttered quickly, "If, of course, Chris and I don't work out; I meant."
"Almost slipped up there." Stephanie laughed.
"I know; but it's hard." Emily whined theatrically, plunging her fingers into her hair and throwing her head forward.
The laughter petered out as we fished for scraps in our takeout. After a few minutes, Ash straightened up importantly and cleared her throat noisily,
"Uh..." She coughed, "I've got something to say...?" She looked cautiously at us three.
"Don't tell me you're gay too." I sighed heavily to alleviate the oddly formal atmosphere that had rapidly descended on us.
"No..." Ash laughed lightly, "I'm not."
"So, what is it?" Stephanie frowned.
"I...I've been thinking about..." She breathed deeply, "...about leaving the band."
"Huh?" I dropped the carton and chopsticks.
"Leaving?" Emily choked lightly, "Why?"
"Um...I don't want you to get the wrong idea..." Ash paused, "I mean, I love working with you all, I mean; you're my friends and stuff."
"What is it then?" Emily narrowed her eyes at her, "You're not thinking about going solo, are you?"
"No!" Ash said quickly, "No, well...I've thought about it; I mean, we all have at some stage...right?"
We all nodded in agreement, although Emily stared coldly at her.
"It's...this sounds really stupid, but I just can't take it." She closed her eyes, "I can't take the fact that everyone knows my name and that I'm in magazines and they all want something from me and I just hate feeling like a product."
"Whoa." I said quietly.
"I'm sorry; I mean, you invited me in the band and everything, when you didn't have to..." She sniffed a bit, "But it's not me; this isn't me."
"But you're so good, Ash." I sighed.
"Like I said, it's not because I don't enjoy the work, or because I'm worried about how good we are -we are all good at this- but I just can't live like this."
"You knew it would be like this though, didn't you?" Steph probed gently, "When you agreed to do this; you knew what could happen."
"I thought I'd be able to cope." Ash added quietly, "It started off as a bit of fun, you know; for us."
"It still is, isn't it?" I questioned.
"No, it isn't." She gulped, "Chris, we are professional musicians...performers; whatever. This is our life, okay? This is our job." She shrugged, "I can't do this all the time."
"So, what are you going to do?" Steph asked in a low voice.
"I was thinking about going back to England and doing my degree."
I considered what she was saying. It seemed to make sense; she didn't ask to be in our band, and she had already foreseen herself going to university and doing English- hell, the university had asked her to go, she was that good. I couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't said before.
"Nobody will know me as part of the band there." Ash furthered, "So I won't get any hassle."
"You've got this all planned out then?" Emily inquired in a monotone.
"Not completely; I wanted to tell you all when I was sure that this was what I wanted to do before I started finalising things."
"There's nothing we can say to make you stay?" I pleaded.
"No. I've tried this, and I just don't like it. I'm sorry."
"It's okay..." I smiled briefly, "At least you told us. And if you aren't happy, then you shouldn't stay."
"We're going to have to get a replacement." Emily said sharply, "I mean; people are going to notice this...and Ashley will have to make a statement about why she is leaving the band." She sighed, "And just after our single release. People are going to think this is some kind of publicity stunt."
"We could keep it quiet for a while." Steph mused aloud, "We could look around for a replacement in the meantime."
"That's not very honest though, is it?" I complained.
"No...But Em's got a point." Steph intoned, "It does seem like a publicity stunt."
"I am really sorry." Ash sighed.
"Chris said it; it's okay, Ash." Steph smiled, "It's not like we'll never see you again, is it?"
"Guess not." Ash grinned.
"We're going to have to do auditions discreetly..." Emily voiced.
"Auditions don't seem the best thing." I frowned, "When we formed the band, we didn't audition each other."
"You found me." Steph grinned.
"We could find someone else." Emily rolled the concept around on her tongue, "Joe's got some contacts..."
"See?" I said brightly to Ash, "We're gonna be fine!"
"I am sorry."
"Let's get this cleared up before Joe gets back..." Emily urged quickly, "We don't want his girlfriend thinking we're complete slobs."
The shuffling of cardboard and frequent, mournful sniffs painted the small area as we gathered together the rubbish and relocated ourselves inside.
The girls went to bed as I elected myself to be the one to stay up and wait for Joe to get home. After a far too long session of watching poorly funded medical dramas, Joe finally stumbled giddily into the hall. I didn't get to see his date as she just waved from the expensive convertible and rolled away into the darkness. Joe was okay about it; reckoned that he had noticed her getting more and more dissatisfied with the promotional work we were doing, and the focus that many magazines put on her. We sat up late, lazily glancing at the heinous offerings of the blinking TV, and talking sporadically about the changes we could expect.
Morning brought the joy of sleeping in, as Emily, Stephanie and Joe were going to do the promotional engagements that day, so I pressed lovingly to the crumpling caress of my sheets and dreamed for England. That is until a corrosive buzzing wrecked my thoughts of grey skies, pebbly beaches, pork pies and Eastenders. Reluctantly, I dragged my stubborn body to the front door in the jogging bottoms and way too big t- shirt that I had pulled from my closet.
"Hey!" Justin grinned, then faltered, "Oh...Sorry."
"No, no it's fine." I waved my arms in the air, "Just ruin my day off why don't you?"
His eyes seemed to dissolve somewhat and the lower eyelids became heavy, his bottom lip falling slightly. I forced a smile, then coughed,
"I was joking."
"Oh!" He laughed, "Can I come in?"
"Yes, of course." I spluttered, standing back to let him shake off his jacket and kick off his shoes, "You have the day off too?"
"Um...yeah." He shifted his eyes.
"I heard that you took a bit of an unplanned vacation." I announced with heavy intonation.
"Err...you heard, then?" He scratched the back of his neck.
"Yeah." I plodded back towards my room, up the stairs, "Just one thing; why?"
He was standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking awkwardly around himself.
"Are you gonna come on up?" I laughed.
"Where's everyone else?" He shot back.
"Oh, promotional stuff, and Ash has gone into town."
"Um...Err...Can I go get something to eat? Man, I'm starved." He said unconvincingly.
"Sure; help yourself. I'll go get changed and then we can resume our talk."
As I stood under the onslaught of the shower, I thought over Justin's apparent unease about coming upstairs with me. Maybe he didn't want to talk about why he had left Orlando so suddenly. Then again, he couldn't get out of that by going into the kitchen. He must still have had some issues with finding out that I was gay, and found being alone with me difficult. He had asked where everyone else was before answering me. Shrugging the subject off as I dressed, I returned to find him sitting on a stool with a piece of toast held delicately between his fingers.
"Starved?" I raised my eyebrows, "If you satisfy starvation with toast don't go offering to work for the UN or anything." I laughed.
"I can't cook." He rolled his eyes at me adding quickly, "And don't offer to, because I didn't come here to eat."
"Fine." I sniffled slightly, sorting out some cereal for myself.
Once I had prepared my breakfast, I sat down next to him, even though he insisted on jabbing me in the ribs every so often as a 'joke'. At least he was being normal. Normal in his world at any rate...
"Are you going to tell me why you just took off?" I said exasperated after the latest round of jabbing.
"Aw! Do I?" He giggled, stealing a fruit loop from the bowl.
"Yes, you do." I sighed, "Justin, you can't just take off like that; you've got responsibilities..."
"Whoa! Where did you come from?" He cocked an eyebrow at me, "I thought I was talking to Chris, not my mother."
"I'm sorry...no I'm not." I said firmly, "I don't understand why you'd do that."
"I don't know." He shrugged, "they were all being so...so..." He tasted the air for suggestions, "So..."
"What?" I encouraged.
"I think they all hate me."
"Oh, god, J..." I put a hand hesitantly onto his shoulder, "I'm sure they don't."
"They do...they will anyways." He grumbled.
"Why?" I pressed.
"Because...because, I don't know why. They just do."
"What have they said?"
"Nothing. They don't talk to me." He whined.
"They don't. That's why you think they don't like you?"
"Yup." His bottom lip pushed out more, emphasizing its bountiful curve and revealing a tiny scrap of the moist, fragile tissues of his mouth.
"But..." I swallowed, forcing myself to look elsewhere. I started counting the hairs on his sideburns, "But they must have talked to you; you've been doing those recordings and shit."
"Yeah. I mean they talk to me, but they don't want to listen to me. Get me?"
"I think so...but what's bothering you?" I shrugged, "I know that I haven't known you for very long, but if there's something on your mind, I am willing to listen."
"No." He said quickly, and then stammered, "No...no, thanks. It's not really anything," He laughed loudly, "Just stuff. You know. Not anything in particular."
"Have you initiated anything?" I ventured, "Like, have you said that you need to talk?"
"Um...no." He confessed reluctantly.
"Maybe you should." I wetted my lips, "You know, people can't always tell when something's wrong, and if you want to get it sorted..."
"You have to say what's wrong. I know." He said glumly.
Early spring. The daffodils had only just begun to break open their dusty buds to flash yellow collars and sunset trumpets at the roadsides. The morning was bright, even though it was still relatively early as the condensation dribbled down the planes of the windows and the dustcarts coughed their weekly procession through the narrow streets. I sat in my worn bathrobe at the kitchen table, my head bent, my eyes screwed tightly closed, hovering over the neglected coffee mug as my tears, held prisoners for so long, were soaking into my sleeves, as my father stood ominously before, repeating over and over again,
"We can't help you until you tell us what is wrong."
Nothing was wrong, except me, but they didn't understand that.
"Chris?" The American accent, the soft word and the sculptured pitch reached into my dream and fished me out.
Justin inspected my face with his absorbing, blue eyes. His light pink lips, with that swagger of shine on the lower one, were contorting slightly to one side in confusion and his brow furrowed mildly. Don't be beautiful.
"You okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine." I exhaled loudly, "Just day-dreaming."
"Bad dream." He stressed, putting a hand to my face and brushing at the wetness collected around my tear ducts.
Beautiful.
"Ryan didn't mind." I said sharply, clearing my throat of the awkward phlegm.
"What?" Justin's mouth opened a fraction as he chewed on my words. Taking his hand from me, he said tiresomely, "Oh...right."
"He was a bit pissed off though."
"Yeah..." Justin yawned lightly, "Do you wanna go out someplace?"
"Err...yeah, sure. Where did you want to go?"
"I don't know..." He swivelled his eyes up to the ceiling as he debated silently, "Wanna try and beat me at basketball?"
"What do you mean? Try?" I scoffed with mock arrogance.
"Oh yeah buddy? You think you can beat me?" He punched me excitedly on the bicep.
"Think?" I slid off the stool, "I know it, Stinky."
"Oh, don't go calling me that."
"Why does she call you that? Is it 'cause you stink at basketball or is it...?" I leaned towards him and primly sniffed at the air, before racing off, "Oh, now I know."
"Hey!" He set off after me out of the house, "You take that back!" He caught up with me as I leant back against his car, "You take that back! You're the one who stinks; I bet you sweat like a pig!"
He rounded the car to open his door.
"I bet you could make me." I curtly moistened my bottom lip and let my gaze travel down his torso before I swung into the vehicle.
He halted and coughed out a laugh, before settling himself robotically into the driver's seat and turning to stare at me.
"Come on!" I grinned, "Let's get going!"
"Yes sir-ee!" He whistled and pulled away from the house.
End of Chapter...err...eight? Yep, I was right.
Okay, good, bad or ugly. You decide.
(Email me and tell me or I'll make Justin a eunuch! LOL)
Kris