Date: Wed, 09 Apr 2003 21:24:31 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: Rebound 33

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

***

I watched JC walk over to wait his turn to talk and be photographed,
leaning on the pool table. Lance walked over and started talking to him,
running his hand over his hair and shaking a little of the stiffness out of
the spikes now that his turn was over. Chris was off to the side, talking
to Johnny, and I didn't see Joey anywhere, but didn't think much of it
since this place was huge. JC's face, a little down, brightened at whatever
Lance was saying, smiling and becoming more open. I looked over to see how
Justin was doing, and saw him staring wistfully at the two of them. He was
still talking to the reporter, and still taking direction from the
photographer, but I could see that behind his smile he was thinking again
about missing JC.

I wished that I could have done something for him, that I could have done
more to help him, but talking to JC and trying to build that bridge was the
best I could think of short of driving Justin over to his house and locking
them in a room together. I didn't know how well that would work, either, as
it didn't really seem like something any of us should try to
force. Everyone else's attempts at forcing Justin and JC to relate had
resulted in Justin's run to Boston, so I was hoping that a gentle nudge,
something that could just get them to at least talk to each other and maybe
think about being friends, something that could play off of the warm,
easygoing feeling they had displayed today might work.

"Justin, look at the camera please," the photographer commanded, and Justin
did. "Now keep the pose, but eyes away from the camera. Now eyes away the
other way.  Good, just like that. Smile a little more. Good, good,
Justin. Now smile, but no teeth.  That's great.  We're almost done with
you, ok? If we could just get a couple more."

I caught Justin's eye and winked at him, certain that no one was looking at
me, and hoping that he could see it. He smiled, letting me know that he
did. His grin lit up that whole corner of the yard, and the photographer
caught it, snapping away.  Apparently my presence really was helping, but
now I was suddenly worried that Justin would see me and get a hardon or
something, completely blowing his cover. It would probably be for the best
if I didn't catch his eye again.

Fortunately Brianna intervened, toddling over to me with the fruit filling
from her granola bar smeared all around her mouth. I looked at her sticky
face and scooped her up, balancing her on my hip like Joey tended to (when
he wasn't doing those airplane spins that freaked Kelly out) and looking
around. I flagged down the nearest staff person, some girl whose name I
hadn't caught because I hadn't been introduced to anyone other than Johnny,
and asked her where the closest bathroom was. Armed with her directions, I
carried Bri into the house.

"Come on, Bri," I said, smiling, bouncing when I walked as she giggled and
squealed.  "Let's go get you cleaned up."

The sound system outside carried through the house as well, and I wondered
if there was anywhere that you could go around in the complex without
listening to Top 40 pop.  There was a bathroom close to the door I had just
come in through, not the door Justin and I had used earlier, or the side
door that Justin had sent me out of afterward, and I realized that the
house really was enormous. I wondered how many acts Johnny managed besides
the guys, because his manager's cut from them couldn't possibly be enough
to pay for all of this. The bathroom alone must have cost thousands if my
experience with remodeling the loft was any indication, although I hadn't
done anything on this scale. I sat Bri on a counter with three sinks and
enough room to serve a buffet for twenty, and shook my head in amazement at
the thought that the bathrooms attached to the bedrooms were probably even
bigger.

"Sit still, ok?" I said, reaching for a washcloth. Bri was kicking her feet
back and forth on the edge of the counter, drumming them against the
cabinets.

"K," she said, smiling.

Bri usually answered me with one word, if she did at all. I couldn't figure
out how Joey, loud, booming, outgoing Joey, could have ended up with such a
quiet, shy child, but she was still adorable. She sat very still, turning
her head from side to side as I wiped away the fruit filling all around her
mouth, and then I picked her up and let her stand on the counter to look at
herself in the mirror. She clapped her hands as I rinsed the washcloth out
and hung it back on the rod I'd taken it off of, and then I lifted her off
of the counter and set her back on the floor. She stared up at me
expectantly, and I held out my hand for her to take it.

"All set?" I asked, and she shook her head. "Do you need something else,
Bri?"

She nodded solemnly, and then pointed at the toilet.

"Potty," she said, her blue eyes huge.

Potty? Oh, no way in hell. My few friends who had kids never asked me to
babysit, and this was why. I was great with kids in the abstract. As a
concept, I thought children were kind of wonderful and special and
everything else. I was good with kids if other people were around, because
the sad truth was that I wasn't good with the gross mechanics that came
with children. If a baby spit up, I was done, especially if it landed on my
clothes. If a diaper was full, I was the first to do the handoff, and
didn't even like to be in the room when the changing was done. I wasn't
comfortable with people changing their kids in the middle of the room, with
people talking about pregnancy, birth, or anything related to it, and I
really didn't like turning around and seeing someone breastfeeding nearby.

In short, I looked at babies in about the same way that I looked at the
television. I like it, and as long as it didn't need any kind of special
attention, everything was fine. The minute something went wrong, though, I
was completely helpless, and now Bri was standing at my feet, tugging on my
pant leg and pointing at the toilet.

"Chris," she hissed urgently. "Potty."

"Um, yeah, I hear you, hon," I answered, looking around urgently. "You have
to potty, right. We, um, we."

"Potty!" she said urgently, tugging at my pant leg a little harder. I heard
laughter, and looked up to see Lance in the bathroom doorway, chuckling.

"Thank God!" I said, holding my hands up toward the ceiling. Lance
continued chuckling.

"You're not good with kids, are you?" he asked, smiling. I hadn't really
noticed before, but his green eyes were extremely striking, not the dark
bottle green of mine but a light, light jade that seemed to shine flatly
under the lights.

"Not this part, no," I said, shaking my head. Bri grabbed his pant leg.

"Unclance," she said, running it all together into one word. "Potty!"

"OK, Bri, I got you," he said, bending down to walk her over to the toilet.
I hurried into the hallway, closing the bathroom door behind me.

"Thank you!" I called through the door.

"No problem," Lance answered. "Happens all the time."

I heard flushing and water running, and then Lance carried Bri back into
the hall, both of them smiling.

"Problem solved," Lance said, smiling at me.

"There you guys are," Joey said, walking down the hall. He was carrying a
bundle of clothes that I looked at curiously. "They said we can keep it,
but I'd rather wear my own stuff home."

"I'm ok with this stuff," Lance said, shrugging. "Remember when 'Teen
People' let us keep all those leather jackets? That was awesome, dude."

"No kidding," Joey said. "That one with the flag pattern they gave JC? I
would have killed for that thing."

"And he's probably wearing it with plaid pants," Lance said, and they both
laughed. I didn't really get the joke, and they both saw me looking
curiously at them.

"Sorry," Lance said. "I guess you don't know about JC's, you know, taste in
clothes."

"Or lack thereof," Joey said, snickering again.

"No, sorry," I said, shrugging. "I don't really know a lot about JC. Justin
doesn't talk about him much."

"I saw you talking to JC earlier," Joey said, and I noticed he and Lance
staring at me intently. "Everything ok?"

I wasn't sure if I should answer in front of Lance, but I trusted Joey, and
if Joey was going to ask in front of him, maybe it was ok.

"I don't know," I answered. "Justin says that he misses JC. Don't look at
me like that. He didn't mean it that way. Justin misses being friends with
JC, and I thought that, since they were hanging out all day, that maybe I
should mention that to him."

"You did what?" Chris practically screamed from the end of the hall. Oh
shit. I was getting really tired of playing this game with Chris over and
over, listening to him freak out and then backing down because I didn't
want to cause trouble for Justin.  Justin wasn't here right now, and I was
too frustrated to be diplomatic.

"I told JC that," I began, and Chris grabbed me by the front of my shirt
and smashed me into the wall. The air rushed out of my lungs, and Lance
pressed Bri's face into his chest and hurried away with her as Joey grabbed
Chris's shoulders.

"Get off of him!" Joey snapped, struggling. "Damn it, Chris!"

"You don't fucking talk to JC about Justin!" Chris yelled. "You have no
right to do that to him!"

He shoved me backward again and my head rocked painfully off of the wall.
That was it for me. I brought my knee up into Chris's stomach, hard, and
Joey managed to push us apart as Chris doubled over.

"Knock it off!" Joey said, shoving me away a little as he used his back to
push Chris.  "Both of you! The reporter's still here!"

I froze, suddenly aware of how loud we were, and how badly this could all
go down in another few seconds. I still wasn't letting Chris off, though.

"You don't ever touch me, ever again," I said icily. "I'm not a violent
person, but I will hurt you."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Chris demanded, backing away. "You'll
hurt me?  You? You're nobody! You're fucking shit! You can't fucking touch
me, bitch!  What the fuck are you going to do to someone like me?"

He was right. I was nobody. If I laid a hand on him, he'd have bodyguards
all over me in a heartbeat, and I would never see Justin again. Chris had
me, and I turned away so that he wouldn't see it in my face. Joey caught
it, though, and gripped my shoulder, tightly yet comfortingly.

"Leave, now," Joey said, turning back to Chris. "Just get the fuck out."

"You're going to take his side?" Chris asked, straightening his clothes.
"Joey, he's."

"He's not the problem here," Joey said sharply. "I can't believe you're
doing this. You didn't learn a damn thing from Kelly, did you? You don't
care at all about other people, or who you hurt. Just get away, Chris,
right now, before I hit you."

"Joey," Chris began again, his voice rising argumentatively.

"Go!" Joey barked in a dangerous, threatening tone I'd never heard him use
before. If I were Chris, I would have been pissing my pants right about
then. Of course, Chris wasn't quite as smart as I was, and couldn't help
mumbling all the way down the hall while Joey glared at him. Joey followed
me into the bathroom, walking in just in time to see me pound a fist on the
countertop. "Hey, Chris, that won't help anything."

"Shut up!" I snapped, and then the fight drained out of me. "Just shut up."

Joey sighed, but I spoke again before he could say anything else.

"I'm sorry, Joey," I said, leaning on the counter, my head down. "I know
you're just trying to help. I just, it's so damn frustrating. He bugs the
shit out of me!"

"Probably because you bug the shit out of him," Joey said, chuckling. "You
mind if I change?"

"No, I'll wait," I said, stepping into the hallway. Joey left the door open
a crack so that we could keep talking. "What do you mean I bug the shit out
of him? He's right. I'm nobody. I can't do a damn thing to him."

"Other than drive him completely insane just by being here," Joey said.

"Yeah, but it makes no sense," I said, leaning on the wall. I heard him
changing, belts and buckles and zippers making noise. "I mean, you
explained why he thinks I'm a threat, but everything seemed to go really
well today, except for him."

"True," Joey answered. "But as frustrated as you are with him, he is with
you. You think you're nobody, but really that's what bothers him. For all
intents and purposes, you're untouchable. He can't out you, because you're
already out, and if he draws attention to you, it draws attention to who
you're hanging around with. You own your store, so he can't really do
anything to ruin you professionally."

"He'd do that?" I asked. I don't know why it surprised me, in light of all
the other things he'd done already, but I really didn't think he would
stoop that low. Joey leaned out of the bathroom, holding his shoes in his
hands, changed back into the outfit he'd worn over here.

"How much do you know about us?" Joey asked, his eyebrows raised above his
chocolate brown eyes. "I mean, I know it's the basics, but do you know who
Wade Robson is?"

I thought about it for a second, chewing on my bottom lip, running through
the list of names I'd picked up from Justin and from magazine articles and
other sources. It took me a second to place him, but then I remembered.

"He's your choreographer, right?" I asked, letting Joey put a hand on my
shoulder. He leaned, storklike, to put his shoe on, and then switched hands
to do the other one. I thought dancers were balanced and graceful, or
something.

"He was," Joey said, nodding. "He also helped Justin write a bunch of the
stuff for the album, filled in for me on the 'Pop' shoot, a bunch of stuff
like that. At one point it was like he was the sixth member of
Nsync. Wherever Justin and JC went, Wade was around, too."

"But he's in the past tense now," I noted, walking slowly with Joey down
the hall. "What happened?"

Joey stopped, looking around. Wow, this must be good.

"Well, Wade had this idea that he, um, might be a better boyfriend for
Justin than JC was," Joey said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial
whisper. "He flirted with Justin a little, and Justin kind of blew it off,
because they were friends. Then, when that didn't work, Wade asked Justin
straight out, and Justin shot him down. He explained very politely that he
loved JC, and then told JC about it. JC went after Wade, screaming and
drama and everything, really ugly scene, and we kind of thought that was
the end of it, but then Chris stepped in."

The way he said it sounded ominous enough, but I had to ask, expecting
something really horrible, like hearing that Wade was under the floorboards
out in the poolhouse or something.

"What did Chris do?" I asked, cringing a little in anticipation.

"Chris had Wade blacklisted all over town," Joey said simply. "He called
everybody, and those people called everybody else, and the word went out
everywhere. Wade wasn't to be invited anywhere, Wade wasn't to be hired
anywhere, Wade was, for all intents and purposes, done. He cancelled Wade's
clearance to be around us, and let Johnny and Jive know that Wade was not
to work with Nsync again. He's still Britney's tour manager, because she
wouldn't risk a lawsuit by breaking his contract, but that's it.  When
that's over he doesn't have anything lined up, and he won't. The poor kid
isn't even twenty one, and he's finished."

"Isn't that a little excessive?" I asked, stunned. Granted, I would do the
same thing if someone came between Justin and I, but I was his
boyfriend. Chris wasn't. If anyone was going to do that, it should have
been JC, not Chris.

"That's not all," Joey said, glancing up and down the hallway again. "Chris
told Wade he did it, and then told him to stay the hell away from Justin
and JC. He didn't come right out and say it, but he more or less let Wade
know that it would be really hard for him to choreograph anything with
broken knees."

Wow. There was addressing the problem, there was solving the problem, and
then there was burning the problem, razing it to the ground, burying it,
and salting the earth so that nothing would every grow there again. This
was overkill. This was beyond overkill. This was the Borgias. This was "The
Sopranos". This was Jimmy Hoffa under the goalpost at Giants stadium. This
was what Chris wanted to do with me?

"Wait, what about Justin?" I asked, crossing my arms. "If Wade was his
friend, why didn't he say anything?"

"Because he knew about it," Joey answered. "After JC found out what Wade
did, he didn't want him around Justin anymore, either, and Justin went
along with it because it was what made JC happy. I don't think Justin knew
that Chris was going to go all out like that, but he knew Chris was going
to say something, and he was ok with it, because it was easier to let Chris
handle it than it was to do it himself. And then, afterward, it was too
late to try to undo it. It would have raised too many questions."

Hearing Joey say that, another piece fell into place in my head. When I met
Chris, he tried to tell me that Justin wasn't the person that I thought he
was, that Justin was capable of some pretty manipulative things if he
needed to be. I had written it off, because Justin and I talked about it,
and because in the end I just trusted Justin more than I trusted Chris, but
this was probably what Chris had meant. I noticed, though, that the chat he
had given me about how evil Justin could be to get what he wanted left out
the fact that Chris himself had done all of the dirty work. Knowing that
definitely would have put a different spin on things.

"Why is Chris like that?" I asked, looking down the hall. We were still in
the clear, but I was starting to wonder where everyone was. "I mean, I know
what you said, but that's a little severe for someone who just wants to
protect their stake."

"He, well, Chris has a blind spot," Joey said, shrugging. "When it comes to
JC and Justin, he just has this huge chip. You don't mess with them, ever,
if Chris is around, and that's exactly what he sees you doing."

"Great," I said as we started walking back down the hall. "So Chris wants
to break both my legs, and the fact that I'm still walking is frustrating
the hell out of him."

"Something like that," Joey said, chuckling. I did, too. It was actually
kind of funny, in a really weird way. "You know, Chris is wrong about
something, though. You're not a nobody. You're somebody to Justin, and that
pisses Chris off."

"He's wrong about two things, then," I said firmly. "I can fucking touch
him, and I think I need to, before this gets any more out of hand."

"Chris," Joey said, looking concerned.

"I'm not going to be his punching bag, Joey," I said, shaking my
head. "I've had about enough shit from him on this. It's about time I put
my foot down, and if he isn't going to listen to Justin, then maybe it's
time he listened to me."

Joey started to say something, and then just sighed.

"You're going to go say something to him regardless, aren't you?" he asked,
opening the back door for me.

"Yeah," I answered, scanning the yard. "Don't worry, I promise not to cause
any major trouble."

Justin was hurrying across the yard as I walked out of the house. Joey
stood behind me, shaking his head, as he held the door open, giving up on
talking me out of anything.  When I set my mind to something, like going
and telling Chris off, that was the end of it, and anyone would be able to
read it in my face. Over on the grass, Lance and Johnny stood, both of
their heads snapping toward me as Bri played with that naked Barbie doll in
between Lance's ankles. Justin's face was a mix of concern and anger, and
he grabbed my arm as I scanned the yard, searching for Chris.

"Are you ok?" Justin asked, tugging at my sleeve. I turned and looked at
him, and he was staring at me with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging a
little open. He was looking at me, but he was also looking me over,
smoothing my hair down, turning my head a little with his hands so he could
check my face and neck. "Chris?"

"Reporter?" I asked, still looking around. Boy, Lance must give a full and
comprehensive report for everyone to be staring at me like this. It wasn't
just concern, though, not for the others. Justin wanted to make sure I was
ok, but the rest of them were waiting to see what I would do, to see if I
would make waves or if I would just let this go quietly.

"She's gone," Justin answered, looking anxious. He'd seen that I wasn't
hurt, but he just fidgeted, waiting to see what I would do. "Photographer,
too."

"Good," I said, grabbing him. I crushed Justin against me, hugging him
tightly. He was a little surprised, but then I felt his arms closing over
my back, and I rested my head on his shoulder as we both sighed. "I'm ok,
baby. Where's Chris?"

Justin pulled back, frowning at me.

"Him and JC went over to theirs cars," Justin said, swallowing. "They
haven't left yet."

"Good," I said, kissing Justin on the forehead.

Justin trailed an arm down mine as I walked away, and when I pulled back he
squeezed my hand, not letting go. When I looked back, he looked worried,
his eyes large. Behind him, I saw Johnny and Lance watching, starting to
walk over, as Joey picked up Bri. I gently disengaged my hand from
Justin's, kissing his knuckles as I let it go. I looked at his face and saw
the fear there, and realized what he thought was wrong.

"No, baby," I said, caressing the side of his face. "I'm not leaving you,
ok? I'm not leaving you, and I'm not going to do anything stupid, but I'm
not going to let Chris touch me, ok? And I've had about enough of the way
he talks to us. Now wait right here, and I'll be right back."

"Come on," Lance said, touching Justin's other shoulder. "Why don't you
show me that new club?"

Justin allowed himself to be led away, looking around for his bag of golf
clubs, and I gave Lance a smile and a little nod. No matter what he thought
about me, or the way Justin lived his life, he really wasn't a bad guy. I
turned and started walking back toward the cars, and realized that Joey and
Johnny were following at a discreet distance. I threw them a look, and they
both smirked. Whatever.

Chris and JC were standing over by their cars, talking about something, and
Chris had his back to me. JC saw me, his eyebrows raising in curiosity, but
I didn't let him slow me down. Stalking over to Chris, I spun him by the
shoulders and grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him against his
Jeep. The bodyguards, milling around the front of the house, sprang toward
us, but Johnny gave a little gesture with his hand, a kind of Marlon Brando
"Godfather" type of motion, and they paused as JC jumped back in surprise.
Chris's eyes were wide in front of me, darting around like some kind of
little rodent, and I realized for the first time since I'd met him that he
honestly, finally though he wasn't in charge of the situation.

"What the fuck are," he began, and I slammed my knee up into his groin.
Yeah, it was mean, and it was dirty, but those were apparently the only
things Chris would understand.  I was probably making a dangerous enemy,
but I didn't care. He already hated me, so all I could really do was make
it worse.

"You do not touch me," I said, repeating what I'd told him earlier. I
leaned right up into his face, my eyes across from his as he winced in
pain. "You do not put your hands on me, and just in case you're getting any
ideas, you do not put your hands on Justin, either.  You don't like me, and
I don't care. I do care about Justin, though. If I hear another word from
you that hurts him, if you yell at him again, or call him another name, or
make him cry again, I will hurt you just as badly, and all the gates and
security and bodyguards in the world won't be enough to keep you safe from
me. Do you understand?"

"Chris," JC said, putting his hand on my arm. His voice was soft, but firm.
Too bad I wasn't done.

"Do you understand me?" I barked, slamming Chris back against the car to
punctuate each word.

"Chris, stop, please," JC said, his hand gripping me tightly. "I know
you're mad, but."

"Do you know why?" I asked, letting Chris go. He slumped down the side of
the car, wheezing, bending over to stand with his hands on his knees. Over
by the house, Joey and Johnny were staring, their mouths hanging open. I
don't know what they expected, but I bet it wasn't that I would assault
him. "Do you know why I'm mad?"

"No," JC said, shaking his head. He still had a hold of my arm, his fingers
firm, but not painful, and he guided me a few steps away from Chris. I made
sure I didn't turn my back, though, because I wouldn't put it past Chris to
come at me from behind. "Did he say something?"

Were we really going to stand in the driveway and have a rational
discussion like Chris wasn't cradling his groin behind us?

"Yeah, he did," I answered, tugging at the bottom of my shirt,
straightening myself. "He threw me up against a wall in the house and
screamed at me."

"Why?" JC asked, glancing at me. I didn't answer, and he turned to Chris.
"Chris K?  Either of you?"

If Chris wasn't going to answer, then I would.

"He did it because I talked to you," I said, watching Chris's shoulders
slump even further.  JC's thin eyebrows knit together in confusion, a line
appearing between them. "Because I talked to you about Justin. He said I
had no right to."

JC sighed, and a look of disappointment fluttered across his face. He let
go of my arm, patting my shoulder for a second, and I found myself staring
into his eyes.  I wanted to look away, but they were too intense,
piercing. It was almost like he had some kind of superpower or something.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and soft. I caught that hint of an
accent again. "But I have to ask the same thing of you that you just did of
him. Please don't hurt my friends.  Physical violence isn't really the way
to solve any problem, and screaming at each other will only make it
worse. Please, even if he doesn't respect you, don't hurt Chris or anyone
else I love, ok?"

"OK," I said, finally looking down, actually feeling bad about what I'd
done. JC stepped away from me and walked over to Chris, who was finally
standing, glaring at me like he wanted to lunge at me again.

"You don't speak for me," JC said quietly, and Chris's mouth opened, as if
he was about to protest. JC cut him off. "You don't have the right, and
when you interfere with Justin's life you're overstepping your bounds. I
won't have it, and we won't have this discussion again. Goodbye, Chris,
Chris."

Without another word, JC got into his car and closed the door. Chris and I
stared at each other over the roof of it as JC pulled out and drove
away. Sure, he'd only meant the goodbye in the regular way, but couple with
the tone of voice he'd used, and the look on his face, it seemed to carry
more weight, to be something more final.  Chris's eyes narrowed as he
glared at me and fumbled out his car keys.

"This isn't over!" he said sharply, jerking his car door open.

"Bring it on," I said, hands on my hips.

He slammed the door closed, started the car, and peeled out of the
driveway, his tires screaming. I watched him go.

***

To be continued.