Date: Tue, 6 Apr 2004 15:18:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Bryan <mzbryan2003@yahoo.com>
Subject: JC and the Actor (Chapter 34)

JC and the Actor, Chapter 34, Copyright 2004
----------

The following story is entirely a work of fiction.  It is not meant to
imply anything about the sexuality or the personal lives of the members of
NSYNC, or any other celebrities mentioned.  If you are underage, or if it
is illegal to read sexually explicit gay material where you live, don't
read this.

Welcome to another exciting (I hope) chapter of "JC and the Actor."  Thanks
for dropping by.  Please continue to send your thoughts, comments and
criticisms to mzbryan2003@yahoo.com.  I love hearing from all of you.

----------

Chapter 34

	I didn't know what to say.  I really didn't want to lie to him
anymore, but what choice was there?  "Oh, that was Lance," I could say.
"He and I are trying to track down a sex tape that I made of him.  Do you
want to come?"

	"Nate, who was that?" JC repeated.

	"A friend," I said.  It wasn't a lie so far.  "Um, I need to go
help him with something."  Still not a lie.  I climbed out of the bed.

	"You have to go now?" JC said, sitting up.  "Nate, is something
wrong?"

	"Yes," I said, not sure how far I could go with this.  He looked
concerned and a bit confused.  "But, I, I just can't tell you what it's
about," I said, realizing that it pretty much was the truth.  This wasn't
just about me, it was about Lance, and I doubted he would want JC to know
anything about this.

	"You can't tell me?" he asked.

	"Josh, if it was just about me, believe me I would tell you."  I
could see the hurt in his eyes.  "But it's really my friend's problem.  I
can't tell you because of him."

	"Nate, this doesn't make any sense.  You don't even know that many
people in LA.  You're worrying me."

	"Josh, I'm fine, really."  I pulled on a pair of sneakers and a
sweatshirt.  "Just trust me, please.  I know that it's probably hard for
you to do that after everything I've done, but please, trust me."

	"Nate, it's not hard," he said, getting out of bed.  He looked like
such a little boy with his skinny legs hanging off the edge.  "But you're
not in some kind of danger, are you?"  He shook his head and stood up.  "I
can't believe I'm saying stuff like this," he said, mostly to himself.  I
couldn't imagine all the strange scenarios he must be envisioning.  I
myself hated it when people spoke cryptically, but it was my only way of
doing what I needed to do and still be able to look JC in the eye.

	"No, Josh.  No danger.  It's going to sound much more mysterious to
you, but it's really no big deal when it comes right down to it."  I smiled
at him reassuringly.

	"Nate," he said seriously.  "I am trusting you."

	"You can, Josh," I said just as seriously.  I told him that I would
be back soon, kissed him goodbye and hurried down the stairs.  I wondered
if JC was thinking that I was having an affair, but how could he think I
would be able to run over to some other guy after having the most
unbelievable sex with the man I love?  Still, I knew that I had planted
those seeds of doubt some time ago, and I would forever have to reap
whatever they sow.

	I sped toward the West Side, cursing myself for getting into this
predicament in the first place.  It seemed that as soon as one problem
ended, another problem would explode right in front of me.  I called Lance
back and he gave me specific directions of where to meet him.  Pulling up
behind his BMW, I hopped out of my car and into his.

	"So what's going on?" I asked, noting the intense look of
concentration on his face.

	"You see that row of apartments over there?" he asked, pointing me
in the right direction.

	"Yeah, what about them?"

	"The burglar lives in the third one from the right."  He turned to
look at me, raising his eyebrows.

	"What?  How can you know?"

	"I couldn't sleep, so I drove back to your friend's apartment.  I
was there for a really long time, when all of the sudden this unsavory
looking fellow pulled up in a beat up car and went into her building.  He
had really bad hair."

	"Lance, you're drifting already."

	"Right, anyway, I, well, I followed him in and well, he went back
into her apartment."

	"Oh my God," I cried.  "Did you call the police?"

	"No, please, what would they care?  Anyway, so when I saw that he
was leaving again I ran back out to my car and I started following him.
That's how I ended up here."  He looked at me as though I was supposed to
congratulate him or something like that.

	"Lance, you're an idiot!" I yelled.  "You could have gotten
yourself killed."  I was wondering why a burglar would need to revisit a
crime scene.

	"I'm thinking he wanted to make sure he had gone through
everything."

	"Lance, I'm an actor, not a detective.  I'm calling the police."  I
took out my cell phone but Lance grabbed it away from me.  "Lance give it
back to me," I demanded.  He lowered his window and tossed it outside.  I
glared at him, thinking that I might strangle him.

	"We can't involve the police, Nathan.  If they come they'll take
all the stolen property and God knows if I'll ever get the tape back.
Sure, maybe I would get it back after they've watched it a few hundred
times in their recreation room."  His point was valid, but I couldn't help
but think that we were potentially in great danger.  We knew this wasn't a
simple burglary, so that meant we didn't know what we were getting
ourselves involved in.

	"So what are you proposing that we do?" I asked him, wondering if I
was in some way obligated to follow his lead since I technically caused the
problem in the first place.

	"We wait until he leaves, and then we break into his apartment."

	"Have you lost your mind?" I asked him.  "Lance Bass and Nathan
Murray are going to break into some guy's house in Venice Beach?  Why don't
we just call the Enquirer and let them

	"Listen, Nate.  This is all your fucking fault, so either you are
going to help me or I am going to tell Josh everything."

	"Easy, Lance," I cautioned him.  "I still have a few copies of the
tape myself."  I wasn't going to play games with him anymore.

	"Whoa, whoa!" he yelled, ignoring me and looking out the window.
"It's him!  He's leaving!"  I watched a tall man climb into an old black
car and drive away.  "Come on," Lance yelled, getting out of the car.  I
didn't move, but Lance opened up my door from the outside and practically
pulled me out of the car.  "Let's go, it will be daylight soon."

	He pulled me in the direction of the apartment building and before
I knew it I was running behind him, telling myself that maybe this problem
could end shortly.  The building was a row of about five single story
apartments.  The doors led right out to the street, and Lance ran up to the
man's jiggling the handle.  "It's locked," he said.

	"Imagine that," I said.

	"I'm going around back," he said, already headed in that direction.
I followed him through a flimsy metal gate and into an alley between the
building and a wooden fence.  The window was above eye level, but Lance
reached for the sill with his fingertips and pulled himself up.  "It's one
those sliding ones," he said.  "I think it might be unlocked."  I was busy
looking all around, trying to determine if anyone was watching us.  Lance
was clearly on a mission, and under different circumstances I would have
found it quite funny to see how frantic he had become.  "Uh, Nate," he
called.  "Are you going to help me?"

	"What do you need me to do?" I asked, walking closer to him,
realizing he was struggling to reach the window.  Realizing that the people
in the area were probably used to hearing far stranger sounds at this time
of night, I grabbed his ass, freeing him to work at the window with his
hands.

	"Enjoying yourself?" he chuckled.

	"Somebody's been doing butt-robics," I laughed, noting that JC
would never have the bubble-butt that Lance did.

	"Got it!" he yelled, and before I knew it he was sliding into the
apartment.  I would have thought that a thief would be more protective of
his own belongings, but I guess he figured that the chances of somebody
robbing a robber were pretty low.  I hoisted myself up and dropped into the
apartment, wondering if I should commemorate my first breaking-and-entering
in my journal later on.  Lance was rummaging through the apartment, tossing
things around quickly.

	"Calm down," I told him, putting the things he was moving back in
their place.  "We don't want him to know we were here."

	"We have to find it, Nate.  We have to."  The apartment wouldn't
have been a good setting for a movie.  It wasn't creepy and it didn't reek
of crime and danger.  Yes, it was poorly decorated, but that was its only
distinguishing characteristic.  I walked over to the small television
console, opening the doors underneath the TV.

	"You're not going to believe this," I gasped, staring into the
cabinet.  Lance hurried over and I could practically hear his eyes widening
as he took in sight what may have been a hundred or more black
videocassettes.  The tape could have been any one of them.

	"We'll take them all," Lance said, dropping down to his knees.

	"Lance, we can't," I snapped, pulling him away.  "We're trying not
to alert him that we were here.  Remember, we don't know what he wanted
with Elaine."

	"Please," Lance said, pulling me off of him.  "He's probably some
ex-boyfriend of hers who wanted his stuff back.  He reached for the tapes
again, and again I pulled him away.

	"Lance, we have to think about this logically.  You think he would
find the tape, see what was on it, and then just add it to his collection?"

	"You're right," he said, standing back up.  "Nate?" he said, his
voice suddenly shaky.

	"What is it?" I asked.

	"He's back."  I jumped up and looked through the living room window
to see the man stepping out of his car.  Lance and I looked at each other,
and for a moment you could have heard a pin drop before we both started
rushing for the back window.  Lance practically dove out of it, making me
wonder why he had become so agile.  Maybe this wasn't his first time
getting out of a sticky situation.  It was a bit more difficult for me to
get my rather tall body out of the window, but I somehow forced myself and
we hugged the wall, moving quietly but quickly away from the apartment.  As
we came around the front corner, we peered around it in order to see if he
was now inside.

	"This is ridiculous," I breathed at Lance.  "How long are we going
to keep doing this?"  I was getting more nervous, now that it seemed over,
if only for now.  "I mean, I'm just a cute gay guy, I'm not supposed to be
doing things like this."

	"And I am?" Lance almost laughed back.  "At least some people in
this world don't know what you look like."

	"Yet," I corrected.

	"Hey, I just had a thought.  Do you know what we have here?"

	"What?"

	"Sex, lies and videotape."  He looked like he was truly astonished.

	"Great, Lance."  I took another look around the corner.  "Ok, I
think he is in, let's run for it."  We both hurried off to our cars and
sped off as quickly as possible.  A few minutes later, I saw Lance pull
into a gas station and I pulled up alongside him, lowering the passenger
side window.

	"It was a good try," Lance said.

	"You don't think we should call the police?" I asked him.  He shook
his head.

	"We'll have to think of something else," he said.  "But I know it's
in there.  I'll call you later."  He smiled at me and sped away.

	"I'll look forward to it," I said to myself, speeding back toward
Hollywood Hills.

----------

	The sun was rising as I approached JC's house.  I wasn't sure if I
was exhausted or wide-awake.  What had I just done?  Surely I hadn't just
broken into someone's house and looked through his things.  That certainly
wasn't something I would ever do.  I couldn't remember who had said it, but
someone once told me that people were basically capable of anything under
the right circumstances.  I didn't know if I now believed that, but life
had proven to me as of late that I was capable of doing a lot of things I
didn't expect to be able to.

	JC was in the kitchen unbuttoning his shirt, and tossing it into
the trash.  "Uh, what's going on?" I said, wondering why he was disrobing
in the kitchen.

	"I spilled juice on it," he said, turning to face me.  He still had
on a white tank-top, and his skinny but muscular arms and shoulders looked
quite enticing in the early morning light.

	"You're up kind of early," I said, sitting down at the kitchen
table and laying my head down on it.

	"Yeah, well, I couldn't exactly roll over and go sleep after the
way you left," he said, leaning back against the counter.

	"Sorry about that," I said.

	"Is your friend ok now?" he asked.  My eyes were closing but I
could see that he had crossed his arms below his chest.

	"Not exactly," I sighed.  "But soon, I think..."  I may have
finished the sentence, but sleep had enveloped me.

----------

	I woke up to find that a pillow had been placed under my head.  I
smiled to myself and sat up, looking around the kitchen, seeing if JC was
nearby.  Only an hour had passed, but there was a note on the table in JC's
handwriting, telling me that he had to go and meet one of his producers.  I
stood up and slowly made my way upstairs, in need of a shower and needing
to get to the set.

	The shower felt so warm and the pressure was so firm that I started
to realize how tense my muscles were.  It had been a pretty tense few days,
and the pressure had only been lifted ever-so-slightly by JC's negative
paternity test.  I rubbed my aching shoulders, knowing that I should be
hurrying, but not wanting to leave the warmth and comfort of the shower.  I
noticed a small bruise on my right side, just above my hipbone.  I must
have banged it scrambling out of the window.  I had a flashback to the last
time I had injured myself.  It was in Africa, making my first film.

	Filmmaking certainly didn't turn out to be what I thought it was.
I found it extremely difficult to work on both of my films, given my rather
chaotic personal life throughout the past year.  When my last play opened,
and the offers started to pour in, all I could think about was how much I
wanted to be a star.  To be known internationally for my work.  Now, it was
all about to happen.  Despite what might happen with Lance, despite
whatever may happen with JC, I was going to be a star, and I was somewhat
dismayed to realize that the idea no longer thrilled me.

	Since JC and I got back together, I had become consumed with him,
going against my normal behavior, but truly being happy doing so.  I didn't
stay in touch with my friends like I used to.  I didn't make one friend on
the set of this last film project.  As an actor, I was disappointed in
myself, knowing that my performance would have been improved had I better
connected with my cast.  As a person however, I could really have cared
less.  I didn't want to meet knew people.  I didn't want to take on new
sets of other people's problems.  For the most part, I just wanted to be
left alone.  Alone with JC.

	I suppose that I was starting to realize that I was going to be
going in the direction of actors like Johnny Depp instead of actors like
Ben Affleck.  The way things were going, it wasn't going to take much more
to turn me into a total recluse.  I turned off the shower, wondering if I
was simply going through a phase.  Perhaps the anticipation of having to
promote "The Edge" was making me nervous.  I wrapped a towel around my
waist and walked over to the sink to brush my teeth and shave.  I wiped the
fog off of the mirror with my hand and stared at my reflection.  I was
almost twenty-seven and still there were no lines, no wrinkles, no
suggestion of what my life had been about.  I knew that people would always
look at me and think that I had never had a problem in my life.

	Just when I had finished shaving, I turned off the faucet to hear
some movement in the bedroom.  My initial reaction was to be a little
frightened until I remembered that I wasn't in some stranger's house.  I
stepped out of the bathroom to find JC standing at the foot of the bed,
struggling to get out of the new shirt he had put on.  He must have tried
to take it off without unbuttoning it, because it seemed to be stuck on his
head, trapping his forearms.

	"Um, Josh?" I laughed, stepping closer to him.  "You really seem to
be having a problem keeping your shirt on, today."

	"Could you help me?" he asked, his voice muffled and defeated.  I
brought my hands up to assist him, telling him that I thought he had gone
to meet someone.

	"I changed my mind," he said.  "I'm not really in a musical mood at
the moment."  I pulled his shirt up some more, but then got another idea.
I reached down and grabbed the bottom of his tank-top, pulling it up as
well, further entangling him.

	"Nate, what are you doing?"

	"Taking advantage of you," I said, leaning down and kissing his
chest.  There was really no time for this, but who could resist such a
situation?  "Maybe you are in the mood for this," I said, bringing my lips
to his right nipple.  His body froze for a moment, and I could hear him
take a deep breath through his shirt.

	"Don't you need to get to the set?" he sighed.

	"It's the last day of filming, Josh.  What are they going to do,
fire me?"  I brought my hand to the waistband of his jeans and was somewhat
surprised to notice that he was already hard as a rock.  "Josh," I almost
laughed, feeling my own cock begin to respond to this realization.  "Does
this turn you on?"

	If I could have seen his face, I'm sure it was turning bright red.
He lifted his hips again, grazing my hand with the top of his cock.  I
moved my hand to his ass and lowered him slowly down onto the bed.  I
pulled open my towel, freeing my own growing cock, and removed JC's shoes
and pants.  He was rock hard, his cock stretching up to his naval.  I
climbed over him, telling him to close his eyes.  I pulled his shirt and
t-shirt off of him, freeing his arms and taking in his beautiful face.  He
sighed, feeling my balls slide up his chest as I reached for a pillow.  I
pulled off the pillowcase and folded it into a thin strip.  "Do you trust
me, Josh?" I asked, my voice low.

	"Yes," he said.  I covered his eyes with the white fabric and tied
it lightly in back of his head.  I looked down to see a drop of precum
emerge from his mushroom head.  Not being able to see was apparently
driving him crazy.  Feeling extremely naughty, I began to kiss his lips,
feeling his tongue wrap around mine.  His hands grasped my smooth
shoulders, and pulled me closer to him.  Eventually I pulled away from him,
placing his arms by his sides.

	I began to place kisses all over his body, and I could tell that he
loved not knowing where or when they would come.  I kissed his neck, then
his nipples.  Then his stomach, then the tops of his legs.  I was moving
all over, kissing his feet, then quickly moving to kiss his biceps and
shoulders.  His cock stayed rock hard the entire time, and he continually
gasped and moaned, occasionally reaching out to see if he could tell what
part of me he was feeling.

	I tucked my knees under his arms and lowered my body ever so
slightly, until my balls lightly touched his lips.  His mouth immediately
opened, and he sucked in one of them, groaning, rolling his tongue in every
possible direction.  I shifted and brought him the other one, bringing
forth a sigh of my own.  I withdrew once again, leaning over him, letting
my cock brush up against his face.  He turned his head violently, trying to
find the head, trying to bring it into his mouth.  I gave him what he
wanted and he sucked hungrily at my cock, his tongue working its familiar
magic.  "Mmm, mmm," he moaned.

	Once I started realizing that I could cum at any second, I pulled
my cock out of his mouth, and moved down the bed until I was greeted by his
own hard member.  I kissed his cock all over, nuzzling my face in between
his legs before finally starting to go down on him.  "Oh yeah," he sighed,
thrusting his hips forward.  With each stroke I tried to move lower,
eventually deep-throating him a few times.  "If you keep that up I'm going
to cum," he sighed, his hand finding the back of my head.  Realizing that I
was really running late, and that I wanted his cum, I continued sucking,
taking him down to the base, feeling his fuzz brush against my lips.
"Ungh, ungh!" he cried, releasing his load in my mouth.  He tasted
incredibly sweet and he came a lot, forcing me to work hard to swallow it
all.  He was panting and whimpering.  After taking all he had to offer, I
crawled back up him, crushing my lips against his, letting him get a small
taste of himself.  He kissed me hungrily, and he reached down to grab my
cock, sticking it in between his chest and hand.  I began to hump myself
against his stomach, quickly crying out and cumming all over him, my cum
sealing us together.  I lowered myself onto him completely, resting my head
in the crook of his neck

	"Now I have to wash up, again," I laughed, reaching behind JC's
head and pulling the blindfold off of him.

	"Maybe I could help you do it faster," JC smiled, opening his eyes.
"That was really hot, Nate."  I climbed off of him and we hurried into the
bathroom for another quick shower.  "Nate," JC said suddenly.  "What
happened to your hip?"  I immediately realized the benefit to having him
blindfolded earlier.  I tried to make light of it and told him that I must
have slammed up against something.

	"You're involved in something dangerous, aren't you?" he asked, his
face blank.

	"Josh, I..."

	"Nate, I can help you.  I can get people to help you."

	"Josh, thank you, but it's not like that.  Honestly.  It's really
something I have to do on my own."

	"Nate, you're being to cryptic.  This doesn't sound realistic."

	"Josh, do you think I am sneaking off to have rough sex with
somebody?"  I was honestly interested to know if that was what he thought.

	He was quiet for a moment, the sound of the shower intensifying.
"No," he said.  "But I'm not really comfortable with us keeping secrets
from each other."  I wondered if I should just tell him everything.  Maybe
he would understand.  He had forgiven me for having an affair, why would he
care that I watched Lance have sex only one week into our relationship?  I
almost opened my mouth to confess, but the idea of losing JC was just too
much to bear.  I didn't want to hurt him, and in reality this current
problem had more to do with Lance than me.

	"I don't know what else I can say, Josh," I said, turning off the
water.  A friend of mine is in a lot of trouble, and he begged me not to
tell anyone.  Wouldn't you do the same for your friends?"

	"I guess so," he said.  "I guess I'm just worried about you.
You're getting calls in the middle of the night, and you're coming home
with bruises."  He was quiet again for a moment.  "But I trust you are
doing the right thing," he said.  I grabbed his shoulder and rubbed it,
thanking him.  I told him that I had to get going, and before I knew it I
was back on the set, having my makeup applied for today's final scene.  It
was simply going to be a scene of me and my co-star walking down a street,
yet it was amazing how many hours it was going to take.

----------

	The director announced that the film had wrapped around three in
the afternoon, and everyone broke out in applause.  While the other actors
spent the next hour or so thanking the crew for all of their hard work, I
immediately ran back to my trailer, eager to get my makeup off and get back
to my real life.  Wondering if I was the first person in history to make
filmmaking a secondary part of my life, I hurried back into my clothes and
darted out for my car.  There were no messages on my cell phone from Lance,
making me wonder if he had given up.  I didn't know what to do next, but I
soon found myself driving around Venice, circling the man's apartment,
afraid to go near it.

	As I drove, I started to think.  I had to end all of this as
quickly as possible.  I couldn't keep risking my relationship.  I had to
once and for all put this behind me and get on with my life as an actor and
as the boyfriend of an international pop star.  I began to think that Lance
was too much of a live wire to deal with this situation appropriately.
Maybe if I was alone, I could calmly find the tape, and that would be that.
I still couldn't believe that these were the thoughts running through my
head, but well, they were.

	I drove back to the man's apartment, parking a good distance away.
His car was gone, which gave me hope that he would be gone too.  I was just
opening my door when my cell phone rang, making me jump and hit my head on
the low ceiling of the car.  "Hello?" I said into the phone, rubbing my
head.

	"Hey, Nate," JC said cheerfully.  "You all done?"

	"Yep," I said, my eyes fixed on the apartment down the street.

	"So, do you want to meet Britney tonight?" he asked.

	"Tonight?" I asked back.  I realized that while JC said he trusted
me, he was going to try his best not to leave me any free time to do
anything he suspected of being dangerous.

	"Yeah," he said.  "She's finally back from London.  I thought we
could go to White Lotus.  I really want her to meet you."

	"Josh, you know she's going to love me," I laughed.  "I mean,
everybody does."

	"Ha," he said.  "So can we go?"  I didn't know how to say no.  I
didn't really have any excuse.  I just assumed that something crazy would
happen before then.

	"Ok, Josh, um, when?"

	"I don't know.  Around ten, I guess.  But you'll be home before
then, right?" he asked.  He wasn't making this easy.  Not at all.

	"Yes," I said.  "I'll see you soon."  I closed the phone, wondering
what on Earth I would talk to Britney Spears about.  People probably
wondered the same about JC and I.

	Looking around to see if I could spot any paparazzi, I moved toward
the apartment, feeling like some unknown force was propelling me.  I
decided to do something quite unusual.  I rang the doorbell.  Waiting for
the man to answer, or perhaps for my life to come to a quick end, I stood
quietly until I understood that no one was coming to the door.  I then
hurried to the back of the apartment, hoping I would find the window as it
was yesterday.

	Being much taller than Lance, I was able to reach the window
without having to hang over it.  I could feel it move slightly, and then I
slid it completely open, taking one last look around before climbing
inside.  "What the fuck are you doing?" I asked myself, refamiliarizing
myself with my surroundings.  Nothing looked very different, but for a
change I headed into the bedroom, thinking that he would probably want to
hide the stolen things as much away as possible.  Feeling very creepy,
wondering what kind of jail sentence I could get if I was caught, I started
rummaging through his bedroom closet, looking for Elaine's papers, looking
for some sign of the tape.  Why wasn't it here?

	There was little evidence to suggest the identity of the man who
lived here.  There was not really anything of any substance.  Was he just a
random thief, or was he interested specifically in Elaine?  I started to
walk out of the bedroom when something caught my eye near the small desk by
the bed.  In the wastebasket was a torn open, padded envelope.  I picked it
up and immediately recognized it as the envelope I had sent the tape in.
"Oh my God," I thought.  He had opened it and watched it.  I ran out into
the living room, and switched on the television.  The VCR was already on,
so I pressed play and was soon watching Lance get it on with his trick of
the night.  My eyes nearly popped out of my head, and I quickly turned it
off and ejected the tape, grabbing it and making my way back toward the
window.  I was contemplating how to get out of the window without hurting
myself when I started to think about all of those other tapes that the man
had in the entertainment center.  There was something strange about that,
and when I considered that I had been thinking that the man was connected
to Elaine, I decided that I should check it out.

	I walked back over to the TV and put one of the tapes into the VCR.
The screen was black for a while, but then I could see a building.  The
video had a hand-held quality to it, and I could see a woman emerge from
the building, carrying something.  As the camera zoomed closer, I could see
that it was Elaine's building, and that the woman was Elaine, and that she
was carrying Madeline.  My heart started to pound as I began to realize
that this man had been following Elaine for quite some time.  I took out
the tape and then put in another, and another after that.  All of them were
of Elaine in different parts of the city with Madeline.  At the grocery
store, getting gas, coming out of the doctor's office.  Elaine had a
stalker, and I had to tell her.

	I had just switched off the TV when I heard the sound of keys
jingling.  Sweat burst across my forehead as I realized that the man was at
the front door.  Shit.  I had been examining the tapes so intensely that I
had forgotten to keep an eye out for him.  What now?  I frantically looked
about the room, wondering what I should do.  The back window was too far
away to reach before he entered.  There was a small closet perpendicular to
the front door, and I decided that it was my only chance of refuge.
Hearing the key go into the lock, I grabbed Lance's tape and flew into the
closet, gently closing myself inside.  Maybe he would head straight into
the bedroom and I could just slip right out.  Maybe I would run straight to
a mental institution to have my head examined for continually doing such
stupid things.

	I could hear someone enter the apartment.  Keys were tossed onto a
table and I could hear some type of bag being placed down.  I was using all
of my willpower to slow down my breathing, but was finding it to be quite a
challenge.  How was I going to explain all of this to JC?

	"Hey, Jimmy, what's the news?" I heard a voice say.  "No, I haven't
got it yet," he said.  "I will!" he yelled.  "I can't find her!"  My eyes
widened, and I worried that Elaine and Madeline were in terrible danger.  I
heard the phone slam closed.  There was some pacing, which came to an
abrupt stop when the man must have noticed the disarray around his
television.  There was silence, allowing me to actually hear my heart
thumping in my chest.  I couldn't believe I was actually wishing that Lance
were here.  Anybody would have been nice.  Anybody that could have gotten
me out of this.

	There was a strange noise, and then the next thing I knew the
closet door flew open, and I was roughly pulled out of it.  The man slammed
me up against the wall and I could feel something cold and hard pressing
against my neck.  I struggled a bit, but then realized that there was a
knife at my throat, and decided that thrashing about probably wasn't a good
idea.

	"Why are you following me?" the man snarled.  "You tell your boss I
need more time!"

	"I'm not following you," I shot back, panicking, feeling him press
the knife harder against me.  "I don't work for anybody."

	"Bullshit," he snapped.  The man was a couple of inches taller than
me.  He had a few days growth of beard, and his green eyes suggested that
this wasn't always what his life was like.  "Tell me why I shouldn't kill
you now?"

	"I, I..." I really didn't know what to say.  I was just stealing
something back that you stole from my friend?  That wouldn't go well.
Should I tell him that I know Elaine?  His eyes shifted downward and he
noticed the tape in my hand.  He pulled it away from me.

	"What have we hear?" he asked.  "Are you stealing from me?"

	"It's mine," I said.  "You stole it from my friend."  His eyes
readjusted themselves, but he continued to stare at me intently, breathing
almost as hard as I was.

	"You mean, you..." his voice was interrupted by the front door,
which came crashing open, slamming into the back of my captor.  It knocked
him off balance and he fell to the ground.  I looked over to see Lance
standing in the doorway, looking as though he couldn't believe what he had
just done.

	"Nate, let's go," he yelled.  I reached down and grabbed the tape
that had fallen onto the ground.  The man reached for my ankles, but I
sidestepped him and was out of the apartment in a flash.  The two of us ran
down the street toward Lance's car.  I jumped in the passenger seat, and we
were off.

	"What the fuck was all that?" Lance asked, speeding down the
freeway.

	"Lance, how did you know I was there?" I asked.

	"I was going to go by myself, but I saw your car on the other block
and figured you were inside.  I hurried over when I saw him coming home."

	"I think you saved my life," I gasped, rubbing my neck.  There was
a bit of blood on my hand and I realized that the knife must have cut me a
little.

	"Exciting stuff, huh?" Lance said, raising his eyebrows.

	"Lance, we have to get to the Beverly Hills Hotel.  Elaine is in
danger."

	"She is?" he asked.

	"I heard him talking.  He is trying to find her."

	"Oh, man," Lance said.  "This is big.  This goes all the way to the
White House."

	"At least I got the tape," I said, ignoring him, resting my head
back against the headrest.  As expected, with every problem solved, another
one appeared.

	I had been half-expecting Lance to leave me to deal with the next
part of this saga since he now had his tape back, but surprisingly he was
running right beside me as I went to Elaine's hotel room.  I banged on the
door, and she quickly opened it, immediately seeing the concern in my face.

	"The guy who robbed you is stalking you," I said.  Her large eyes
grew even wider.  "He's been videotaping you all over town, and I heard him
tell someone on the phone that he was looking for you."

	"Oh my God," she said.  She looked up and for the first time
noticed that Lance Bass was standing next to me.

	"Oh, hi," he said, extending his hand to her.  "It's a pleasure to
meet you."  She looked back at me and I just rolled my eyes.

	"I think we should move you and Madeline someplace else," I said.
I was working on pure adrenaline, and took a moment to consider that this
might be the most cinematic experience of my life.  "And maybe we should go
the police."

	"I think you're right," she said, looking toward Madeline who was
lying on the large bed.  "And I do think it's time we go to the police."
She noticed the scratch on my neck. "Oh God, Nate.  What happened?  He hurt
you?"  I told her that it was fine.

	"I can't believe you did this all for me," she said.  "And after
everything between me and..."  I looked up at her, signaling for her to
stop talking in front of Lance.

	"He did it for me, too," Lance said, winking at me.  I smiled at
him and turned back to Elaine.

	"Oh," she said, probably realizing that the package had something
to do with Lance.  We started to throw Elaine's things into a suitcase.  In
her haste, she tossed a bag onto the bed and it spilled open, a number of
papers falling out.  Lance was sitting on the small couch, bouncing
Madeline on his knee while I went over to help Elaine put the stuff back in
order.  "I got it," she said.  "It's just some papers."  I moved one aside
and noticed that a few photographs were clumped together.  I looked a bit
closer, picking one of them up to examine it better.

	"Uh," I stammered.

	"What is it?" Elaine asked.  Lance looked over as well.

	"Who is this?" I said, turning the picture toward her.

	"That's Kevin," she said, her voice immediately sounding
aggravated.  "Madeline's father."

	I cocked an eyebrow and bit my lower lip.  "Elaine," I began.
"This is the guy who just tried to kill me."


To be continued