This story is purely fictional and it's not suggesting anything about the sexuality of either N'Sync or Backstreet Boys. I'm not trying to imply that either one of the band members is homosexual or bisexual. I also do not suggest this story to anyone who is offended by erotic homosexual stories, or who is under the age of eighteen.
At the airport, I was approached by a tall, dark man with a slight Spanish accent. Without introducing himself, he told me that my bags are in the car and that he was going to drive me to my next stop. He didn't tell me where that is, and I didn't bother to ask. The ride was long and silent. At first, I stared through the window, noticing that the rain has stopped and that sun was drying off the wet streets. Then the car drove into the highway, and I closed my eyes feeling more tired than I could ever remember. I kept my mind on simple things, like the feel of my wet clothes sticking to my body, or the taste of salt on my lips. After a while, I dozed off, hoping that I left my nightmares behind me, just like I did everything else. It seemed like I slept for less than five seconds, when someone's grip on my shoulder made me snap out and jump away quickly. The driver was holding my door open while my bags were already unloaded. "We're here." Without waiting for me to get out of the car, he grabbed my bags and started walking. Stepping out of the car, I was for a brief second blinded by sun light that hit me in the face. Rubbing my eyes, I looked in direction he was walking, and was faced by a long, rock stairway that led to a house on the hill. Everything was surrounded by a sea of trees and bushes, making the house look like Sleeping Beauty's castle. Following him up the stairs, I tried to picture my employer, but every time I ended up seeing face of an 50-year-old man who lives all alone, and is more depressed than I'll ever be. I really hoped that I'm wrong; I didn't even want to think what would he hire me to do. Although I did just about every kind of job there is, the sick feeling in my stomach grew with every minute. The dark guy dropped my bags in front of the door and then he quickly disappeared somewhere behind the house. Not sure if I should knock before coming in or not, I just stood there hesitating. It felt natural to simply step in, considering that the whole place looked like a hotel. I decided to knock first though, and inhaled deeply expecting the worst. There was no response. I looked around the huge front yard, which was basically made up of trees and then more trees. Everything smelled fresh, washed clear by the rain, while the color of leaves and grass seemed so bright that it could blind you if you stare at it too long. Knocking for the second time, I considered the possibility of simply leaving and forgetting I ever accepted the offer, but I also knew more than well that there was no place I could have gone from there. I picked up my hand to knock again, when the door opened slowly and pair of green eyes, bright as the leaves, pierced me in an instant. "Can I help you?" "Um...I hope so. My name is Kevin and...I guess I'm working here." The same second I told him my name, he opened the door completely while look of relief flashed on his face. "So you're Kevin?" "Yeah." "We...I mean, I didn't expect you this early. But I guess that doesn't matter now. Come in." He moved aside and I stepped in. Right away I realized that in my whole life, I've never actually been inside of the real house. Jumping from dirty, smelly, downtown apartments to some of the richest hotels around, I never had a chance to live in the house. The huge hallway looked cold and unfriendly though, completely different than anything I was used to. Everything smelled different, and although it was far from unpleasant, I didn't like it. It seemed like the walls are screaming at me to leave and never come back. His voice made me snap out of it and remember where I was: "My name is James, but everyone calls me Lance." "Huh, oh, weird name." "James?" "No, Lance." "Oh." I felt uncomfortable under his eyes. It reminded me of sitting in shrink's office and being examined to smallest details. Although it bothered me, I didn't complain, thanking God that he isn't some 50-year-old guy. Trying to break the uncomfortable silence, I asked looking at him: "Should I carry my bags in?" "No, don't bother. That's Steve's job." Then there was that uncomfortable silence again. I could see that he didn't trust me at all, and I that point, I didn't trust him either. Still, there was some kind of relief in the air; I guess because we both expected something much worse. Just as I was about to ask him what's the deal with the job, he motioned me to stay quiet. There was something that sounded like couple of voices arguing on the floor above us, and signaling me to follow him, he walked into the room under the stairway. Closing the door behind us he told me to sit down. The room was small and comfy, barely able to hold the miniature couch, ancient table with few chairs, and book case that covered the entire wall. Everything was covered in a hundred-year-old dust, which made the air heavy and hard to breathe in. I sat on the couch while he started walking up and down in front of me. At that point I didn't understand anything besides the fact that I wasn't supposed to be there. Not looking at me, like I blended into the walls, he asked: "How much did Paul tell you?" "About what?" "About the job." "Not much. From what he told me I know that I'm supposed to work for some kind of celebrity or something who...ugh, I guess doesn't like the publicity." "Is that it? He didn't tell you who your employer is, or the nature of the job?" "No." He stopped walking and looked at me. "And you still accepted the job?" "Yeah." I thought he was going to ask me why I accepted it, but he just looked away, and continued acting like he couldn't see me. I couldn't help being fascinated by his eyes. They looked like two cold pieces of ice that don't intend to let anyone through. It's like they created this unbreakable wall around him that hid him from the world. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture him smiling. I guess the hint of sadness in his eyes was stronger than I thought it could be. His voice broke the silence and I tried really hard to concentrate on what he was saying: "You're probably already aware that I'm the person who hired you. I'm not going to have you do anything for me though. I want you to bodyguard for my friend." I was speechless. That was the last type of job I ever thought of doing. That was also the type of job I never tried doing, and it was for one very simple reason too: I wasn't about to give my life for someone I don't even know. He kept on talking without waiting for my response: "It sounds kind of simple, but it's really not. Justin has had some... problems lately, and he is mentally...unstable at this point. Which means that I don't need just you to protect him from others; I need you to protect him from himself too." "Why me?" He turned around and looked at me, still hiding behind his ice wall: "You're the only one he will trust right now. He read your story and he wants to meet you. Considering the...condition he's in, I wasn't about to deny him anything..." I interrupted him trying really hard not to laugh: "Trust me? Why the hell would he trust me? If he read what he did, the last thing he should feel towards me is trust." I guess he knew I was right because he gave his best to justify what he said, and it still sounded weak: "The fact that you, at one point in your life, might have...killed someone, it doesn't have to mean that you're classified as a murderer. It all depends on circumstances...that doesn't even have to mean that you're a bad person..." "You don't even know me, and neither does he!" "Exactly; you don't know us either." I got quiet for a minute realizing that he's completely right. They could be even worse than me. Noticing that I got quiet, he continued talking: "Which all brings me to one problem in all this. The rest of the guys have no idea that you're coming, and I don't know what they'll do when they find out." "The rest of the guys?" "Yeah, the rest of the band." How the confused look wasn't coming of my face, he smiled. The smile didn't touch his eyes at all, leaving them as cold as they can be. "You really don't know who I am, do you?" "Um...a blonde guy with weird name?" His smile shrank while he looked somewhere through me: "Yeah, you're right, but I'm also a singer in a band. Have you ever heard of N'Sync?" "No, sorry." "Oh, well, it doesn't matter. We moved here to help Justin get better so that we can continue recording. He's only gotten worse though, and everyone is so protective of him. I think they're going to have a huge problem with you staying here." "Well, that's simple. Why don't I just leave?" "No, you can't! Justin already knows you're coming. I can't tell him different now, who knows what he'll do. You have to stay." "Listen; I don't think I can play...babysitter even if I tried. Besides, I'm not trained to deal with mentally unstable person. Shouldn't this be handled by a professional?" "I know all that, OK? I don't want you to play goddamned babysitter. I just want you to think about this; this job pays good. Whatever Paul offered you, I'll double it. It's a good money, especially considering the fact that with your past, not many people will hire you to do anything." He was right again. I never even bothered to think about the fact that I was lucky to be walking free: "I guess you're right." "So, you're staying?" "Yeah. I'm staying." I had no intention of leaving anyway, but I wasn't about to tell him that. He moved away from window and walked to the door: "C'mon. I'm going to introduce you to others." Following him, I felt my stomach hurting again. I hated this; those guys, whoever they are, obviously didn't want me there. Lance didn't want me there either, he just wanted Justin to be happy. I knew the right thing to do was to leave without looking back, but like many times before, I ended up ignoring the voice of my conscience. We walked up the stairs to the second floor. The hallway we walked into seemed even more unfriendly than the first one. It was completely empty and cold, covered in light dust; the kind you can't get rid of no matter how hard you tried. Lance stopped in front of the first door on the left, and then oppened them slowly, like he had no idea what was on the other side. Taking a deep breath, I stepped in and was right away faced with three pairs of curious eyes. Lance stood beside me, obviously feeling as uncomfortable as I did. I didn't have to strech my imagination to understand how he felt at that moment. My first thought was that Justin probably means a lot to him. He was putting himself on the spot and hiring a killer just to make him happy; I personally didn't understand it at all, but then again, I wasn't even sure I knew what it means to care about someone. The air in the room was heavy but in completely different way. We obviously intrrupted some kind of fight, because all three guys looked irritated and even a little bit angry. Lance tried his best to keep calm, and started introducing them to me: "OK Kevin, these are 'the rest of the guys': J.C., Chris, and Joey. Guys, this is Kevin; he'll be working here for a while." One of them, in short the best described as the gorgeous one, seemed the most affected by Lance's introduction. I hated to admit it, but I had a hard time trying not to stare at him. While other two guys had something boyish and even childish in their faces, he looked like someone who had more life experience than all of them together. He looked at me, then at Lance, then his eyes returned to me, while I felt more uncomfortable with every second. His voice was deep and soft, although it was more than clear that he was fighting back the anger: "I don't remeber hiring anyone new. What did you say your last name was?" "Winslet." I could see his face turn white within seconds: "Lance, could I see you outside for few minutes? Right now." Lance just nodded and not looking at me or anyone else, walked out while the guy followed him. I felt sorry for him but only for a moment; the door closed behind them and I was left with two curious, and somewhat unfriendly faces.
The door closed and J.C.'s voice echoed in empty hallway: "What the fuck did you do?!! Is that guy who I think he is?! Are you even aware of the possible outcome of all this?!" Lance was standing there and staring at his feet. Although he didn't show any emotions, he barely managed to keep back the river of angry tears. He hated when J.C. yelled; not to talk about the fact that he hated J.C. yelling at him. He knew that his plan wasn't the best one, but he hoped at least he would understand. At that point, he knew that J.C. won't even try, which made Lance the guilty one; again. It seemed pointless to even try explaining, J.C. was too angry to listen: "Well, are you going to answer me or what?! I just want to know what the hell were you thinking, can you explain me that? Do you think at all?! Or do you just do the first thing that comes to your mind!" Lance was still quiet. Every time he wanted to say something he'd stop himself afraid that nothing will come out; or even worse, that he'll start crying out loud. He hated being yelled at and humiliated, in fact, he was sick of it too. While J.C. was yelling, Lance wasn't only hearing his voice, but all the others he hated: "James, how can you mess up so many times?!" "No, no, no, how many times I have to tell you?! Do you ever listen?!" "Forget it, I know you're too stupid for this!" "What is your problem Lance?! You have two left feet or what?!" The voices echoed in his mind and he was barely hearing J.C. The voices changed to fists, hitting him across the face, hard and quick without giving him any time to defend himself. Bitting his lips, he pushed everything in the back of his mind. That wasn't the time to let himself loose with everything he felt. This wasn't about him. This was about Justin. He knew that he messed up again, and that his mistake could hurt Justin even more. There wasn't much to think about. J.C. was right and he was wrong, like it always was, and it always will be. J.C.'s voice got quieter: "Listen Lance, I don't know what the hell were you thinking, and you obviously won't answer me. Whatever is done, is done, but he's not staying. You're sending him back on the first plane; by tonight I want him sent back where he came from, and I don't want to hear another word from you about it. After he leaves, you'll tell me what the fuck were you thinking. Is that clear?" Lance managed on small: "Yeah." while still looking at the ground. Inside him there was nothing besides an deep abyss of emptiness and voice that echoed it: 'J.C. is right. J.C. is always right.' J.C. stood there like he was somewhat regretting the things he said, but it only lasted a minute. He calmly walked up the stairs to check on Justin, leaving Lance still staring at the ground.
End of chapter 5