Date: Tue, 06 Aug 2002 10:43:43 -0700
From: D S <denis141@hotmail.com>
Subject: ALONE/TOGETHER- Chapter 35:  FAR, AND AWAY: Part 4: How You Act.

Here's the next chapter, with all due apologies to any Australians out there
for butchering Aussie slang. But, just as I promised, this chapter has been
delivered much faster than the last one - and it's a long one too, with lots
more plot, so I hope you appreciate it.  (By the way, I have been getting
like hardly any emails lately.  Is anyone still reading out there?)
Finally, for those of you like a little Justin-porn, this chapter has a nice
treat in store for you.  (No, I didn't turn him gay or bi, and no, I didn't
do het-slash.) Okay, that's it.  On with the story.  The email address is at
denis141@hotmail.com. WRITE ME!

DISCLAIMER:  I don't know NSYNC, and this story is purely a work of fiction.
  This story also contains male/male loving (and occasionally some smut).
Thus, if that's not your thing, or if you aren't old enough to read this,
you should stop reading now.  Sorry.

ALONE/TOGETHER

CHAPTER 35:  FAR, AND AWAY: Part four: How You Act.

	"They didn't act like people and they didn't act like actors. It's hard to
explain. They acted more like they knew they were celebrities and all. I
mean they were good, but they were too good."
			 		--J. D. Salinger

	"She bobbed her hair, put on her choicest pair of earrings and a great deal
of audacity and rouge and went into battle.  She flirted because it was fun
to flirt ...she covered her face with powder and paint because she didn't
need it and she refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn't boring.  She
was conscious that the things she did were the things she had always wanted
to do."
				 --Zelda Fitzgerald

	"We are always acting on what has just finished happening. It happened at
least 1/30th of a second ago. We think we're in the present, but we aren't.
The present we know is only a movie of the past."
			 	 --Thomas Wolfe

	The electricians had been down there three days when Justin and JC decided
that the wall had to go.  There was too much equipment and too little room.
They'd managed to squeeze in the Panasonic SV-3800 Professional Digital
Audio Tape Recorder, the Mackie DB 8-buss mixing console, the TASCAM MX
24-track hard disk recorder, the Fostex VF08 16-gig hard disk workstation,
and the Akai Z8 sampler - with room for two Aeron chairs.  But then when
electricians installed the SPDIFx7 distribution amplifiers, the Lucid 24-bit
A/D-D/A super/clock converter, the double-stacked sync generators, and the
two JBL monitors, there was no room left for the DigiTech DHP-55 digital
harmony processor, the Roland D-50 digital synthesizer, the Korg poly-six
analog synthesizer, or the MIDI controllers.  And as Justin also pointed
out, there was no room left for the vocal booth.  "Where in the hell are we
going to sing?" he'd said.

	That was when JC said, "The wall's got to go."

	It was pretty much down hill from there.  The carpenter arrived and said
tearing down the wall was a one-day job, at most, but that was before he
found the water pipes in the wall.  The plumber arrived the next day, a
short woman with leathery brown skin and traces of a mustache.  She wore
dirty orange overalls with the sleeves cut-off.  Her arms were muscular, and
she had a military-looking tattoo on her upper arm.  When she saw JC looking
at it, she said, "It's the Rising Sun Badge, and I wear it proudly."

	"Anyhow," she went on, her voice a grating cackle, like the noise a large
and angry bird might make. "The name's Willicent Dowd, but you can call me
Willie!"

	"Okay," JC said, taking a small step back. "So what about the pipes,
Willie?"

	"Right," she snorted.  "The pipes. Ya see, movin' 'em, that'd be a piece of
piss really. But gettin' the right permits, that bit be a bloody hard
yakka."

	"I have no idea what you just said," JC said, looking at the plumber like
she'd just grown a second head.

	"Is there some way we can get the permits a little quicker?" Justin asked,
knowing at least that she'd mentioned the permits.  "Like this week?"

	"Buckley's chance of that," she said, wiping her nose on the back of her
hand.

	"This is fucked," JC said, crossing his arms on his chest.

	"No need ta burr up, mate," the plumber said, tapping one of the pipes with
end of a wrench.  "It in't as daggy as all 'at.  Hit your kick and it's as
good as go."

	"Hit my what?" JC said, putting his hand on his hips.

	"Yer kick," the plumber said, pointing to JC's back pocket with her wrench.

	"I think she's saying that she'll do it if you pay her extra," Justin said,
whispering in JC's ear.  "Like a bribe."

	"Ahh," JC said, pulling his wallet out, opening it, and looking inside.
"So there's like an extra fee for doing it without the permit, is that
right."

	"Spot on!"

	"How much?" JC asked.

	"Ah dunno," the plumber said, scratching her chin with the end of a wrench.
  "Ah don't wanna sound like I got tickets on me-self, but I don't fig-guh
there's many blokes about that'll move those pipes lackin' a permit."

	"Here's five-hundred," JC said, handing her the money.  "It's all I have on
me."

	"Right-o then," Willie said, slipping the wrench under her left armpit and
then taking the money and counting it.

	"How long is this going to take?" Justin asked.

	"How long's a piece of string?" Willie said, laughing as she turned around
to look at the pipes again.

	"What?" JC said.

	"Anyhow," the plumber said, winking at Justin and then looking at the
pipes.  "To give you the good oil on it, I'm goin' ta need a bit more of a
look at it, and then I'll let you know, probably in the arvo."

	"Uh, okay," Justin said, grabbing hold of JC's arm like he thought JC might
try to hit her otherwise.  "Come on Jayce, let's go back upstairs."

	"Whatever," JC muttered, as Justin led him away.

*	*	*	*	*

	James and Aaron stood in front of Knox Grammar School waiting for JC to
pick them up.  It was hot standing there at the edge of the driveway without
any shade and no real breeze.   Looking at James out of the corner of his
eyes, Aaron wondered why he was so quiet.  Usually they talked all the time,
right after school.  But the last three days had been different. James
seemed more distant now, like he had other - or better - things to think
about.  When Aaron had asked him yesterday, for the second time, if
something was wrong, James had just smiled and said, "No, everything's
great."

	Aaron had noticed that James seemed somehow bigger now.  Not so much
taller, because he was not tall - maybe five feet, or five-one. But his
shoulders seemed broader, and more thrown-back, and his voice had deepened,
and become notably louder.  He had always been a good-looking boy, gawky and
thin-limbed; but now his brown hair had hints of red in it, like it had been
burnished bright by the sun. And what had been lightly- freckled pale skin
had become more golden and smooth, with the slightest traces of pink on the
tops of his cheeks and the end of his nose.  But what Aaron noticed most of
all was the way James smiled more now, and laughed out loud, even when there
were people other than him around, and how he seemed bolder, and less
afraid.

	None of this bothered Aaron, nor really mystified him either, except for
one thing, one thing he did not fully understand: James liked to be alone
more now. Like sometimes when Aaron would come into their room, James acted
almost angry, like he resented the intrusion, and wanted the room to
himself.  Or maybe sometimes he did, because at other times James acted
happy to see him, and he would lie awake and talk to him, like before - well
almost like before, because now they stayed in their own beds.  James had
said it was too hot for them both to be under the covers together, and that,
anyway, there were two beds, instead of just one, like back in San Diego, so
they should use them.  That what they were there for.  He hadn't said any of
this in a mean way, or in a way that had made Aaron worry that James was mad
at him.  But it was something he'd never said before, so it made Aaron
wonder what was different now, because he'd always liked the feeling of
having James lie next to him, and he kind of missed it.

	And then there was the bathroom thing.  James kept the door locked all the
time now, every time he was in there.  And he took his clothes in with him
too, and dressed in there, not in the bedroom anymore, not where Aaron might
see him without his clothes on, and that was something different than
before.

	Aaron had thought about asking him, asking him why he had seemed to change,
even though it had been James who'd been worried about Aaron being the one
that would change, and maybe not like him anymore.  But Aaron had decided
not to ask him, and to say nothing.   He sensed that there was something
about the question that seemed like it might embarrass James, or hurt his
feeling, and he didn't want to do that - not to his best friend.  Maybe he
would ask his dad instead.  That might be the thing to do, since they were
pretty good at figuring things out.  Yes, that's what he'd do.

*	*	*	*	*

	The masters had arrived in a DHL overnight air-express carton three weeks
ago.  Neither Justin nor JC had bothered opening it because the masters were
on digital audio tape and there was no place to play it until the studio was
set up, which it wasn't.  The plumber, Willie, had taken ten days to move
and replace the pipes, stopping every two to three days to mention how hard
it was to get a permit for work like this, and getting $500 in return.  When
JC asked her why she couldn't just cut the pipes off and cap them, she'd
said, "I'm tipping having pissers that flush is a right bit of important for
you."  He was forced to agree, even though he was not exactly sure what
she'd just said.

	Willie finished her work on a Tuesday, and the electricians returned the
next day. It took them three more days to re-install the equipment.  Instead
of watching them, as JC and Justin had done the last time, they sat outside
by the pool, drinking beer and watching the sailboats in the harbour.  Mel
had flown with the twins to Melbourne to visit her mother, so JC and Justin
had the house to themselves during the day, except when the housecleaners
were there, which was every third day. JC had dozed off, and was asleep with
a magazine on his chest when the lead electrician wandered out by the pool.
Justin saw him walking across the courtyard and took his earphones off and
stood up.

	"You done?" Justin said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom
edge of his tank-top.

	"Everthing's hooked up, but we ain't tested nothing yet," the man said,
squinting into the sun as he spoke to Justin.  "I'll send someone around
later in the arvo to do it."

	"All right," Justin said, drowsy from the sun.  "Any idea when?"

	"Any tic of the clock, really," the man said.  "Shouldn't be long."

	"Okay," Justin said.  "Thanks."

	"Yeah, all right," the man said, turning around and walking back to the
house.

	Justin watched the electrician disappear inside.  He imagined that he'd
gather up the rest of his things and then leave.  The electrician's truck
was parked in front of the house so he'd hear him when he left.  Pulling his
tank-top over his head, Justin jumped into the pool, swimming across the
length of it and then clinging to the blue-tiled edge on the other side. It
was deep there and he pressed his toes against the pool's wall to keep his
head above the water.  He could still see the harbour from there, but the
view was mostly of the sky, which was clear and cloudless and bright.  The
water was cool and felt good.

	Moving along the far edge of the pool, hand over hand, Justin tilted his
head back and wet his hair.  It was buzz-cut short and the water sparkled in
it like tiny bits of glass. He stopped near the corner of the pool and felt
a jet-surge of water push from one of the four filter outlets in the pool.
The water-jet pushed against the front of his swimsuit and through its thin
fabric.  Closing his eyes he felt himself grow hard.  This was how he had
experienced his first orgasm, when he was not yet thirteen, and alone one
sunny hot afternoon in a pool much like this one.

	Justin closed his eyes and remembered the startling pleasure that he had
felt as his penis got hard and long and seemed to vibrate with a strange
surging intensity that would not let him pull away from the water pulsing
against it.  He remembered how he had looked around to make sure that no one
was there to see him, somehow knowing that what he was about to do was
something you did alone, and kept secret. That was when he slowly lowered
the front of his swimsuit, exposing his erection to the full-flowing force
of the water, not knowing why, or having ever done this before: he was
caught in the grip of a feeling so intense it told him what to do, and how
to do to it.  And he did it, eagerly, following this fierce fiendish feeling
where it led him, which was right there quickly to the brink of coming.

	 He remembered how'd gripped to the edge of the pool, like he was doing
now, fearful he might let go, overwhelmed by the growing excitement he felt,
an excitement so intense it was as if he could still feel it pulsing forward
from the past, to where he was right there. And he did feel it,  felt it as
he thrust his hips forward, pressing himself against the water jet, feeling
the nearly-hot water rushing pushing pulsing against the root of it, and
against his balls, until then the final near-the-end moment of it was upon
him, and he no longer felt the shooting water, but only his own orgasm, the
word he only later learned for what he'd felt then, and suddenly felt again
right now - the sun shining on his shoulders, the water sloshing on skin
that felt electrified, his knees and toes scraping the rough concrete sides
of the pool  as he struggled to hold on.

	Justin eyes flashed opened as he started to convulse; he was coming. He
gripped harder to the edge of the pool and pressed his mouth against the
cool wet tile, tasting the chlorine in water splashed there as he whimpered
quietly and was shuddered-jolted by the
shoot-gush-burst-drip-spurt-gush-shoot that was coming.

	And as the final slower-jolting shudders worked their way through him,
Justin looked down; he could see semen leaking through the fabric of his
swimsuit, like smoke seeping through a curtain.

	A final shudder traveled up his spine and he tried hard to catch his
breath.  It was then that he remembered JC was at the pool too, and he
looked back over his shoulder to see if he had seen.  JC was still asleep.

	Justin smiled and reached into his swimsuit and pulled his now-softening
penis out and wagged it back and forth in the water, rinsing it, slowly,
because he liked the feeling of this too, and the sight of it there in his
hand, as he dunked under the water and let go of the side of the pool, and
pulled the front of his swimsuit back up.

	As he slowly re-surfaced, he laughed and thought, I'm going to do that
again.

*	*	*	*	*

	The second to last day of rehearsals was nearly over. Aaron was lying on
the floor of the small dressing room trailer he'd been assigned.   His legs
were crossed at the ankle and his feet were up, resting on the edge of the
couch.  His knees were badly scraped and bruised from the flying-wire stunts
he'd learned for his part.  It had been a lot of fun at first, but after
slamming into the wall repeatedly, and hitting the floor hard a dozen times,
the learning process had stopped being fun and turned into something to just
endure.

	When he came back to his trailer, Aaron intended to study.  Instead, he
fell asleep, his social studies book open on his chest, and the chapter he'd
been assigned unread. It had already been a long day for him. Up at six, he
and James dressed, ate breakfast, and    left for school by seven. Lance
drove them to school in the morning, and JC picked them up at three o'clock
- or eleven, if it was Wednesday - and brought them home.  On the days that
Aaron was scheduled to be at the studio - Monday, Wednesday, and Friday - a
driver would pick him and James up at the house after they'd eaten something
and done at least half their homework.  They couldn't leave until JC had
checked their work, which always made Aaron smile as he stood there at the
door waiting for JC to give his okay.

	Aaron was roused from sleep by a loud arrhythmic thumping sound against the
side of his trailer.  Pulling his feet down from where they were resting up
on the couch, Aaron stood slowly, rubbing his eyes and trying to get his
bearings as the trailer started suddenly to rock back and forth, like in an
earthquake.  Beginning to panic, Aaron lunged toward the door and yanked it
open, forgetting that he was naked except for boxer shorts.  About to jump,
he saw that Colin had hold of the bottom of the trailer and was rocking it.
Eric and James and Mark Ruffalo were standing a few feet away laughing.
After three more upward tugs, Colin let go of the trailer and stepped back.

	"Nice drawers mate," Colin said, pointing at Aaron, who looked down,
blushed, and then jumped back inside the trailer.

	"No fair!" Aaron yelled from inside his trailer as he quickly pulled on a
pair of cargo pants and a short-sleeved shirt.

	 "Come on mate," Colin said, sticking his head inside Aaron's trailer.
"Don't be mad.  Just foolin' you."

	"I know," Aaron said, sitting on the couch as he slid his feet into a pair
of bright yellow flip-flops.  "It's okay."

	"So come on.  We're playing a bit of poker."

	"I don't know how to play that," Aaron said, standing up.  "And I need to
do my homework."

	"Homework! It's Friday night" Colin said, scrunching his face, widening his
eyes, and recoiling in mock horror. "No one does there eccers on Friday
night."

	"I do," Aaron said.  "I like to get it done."

	"Still in the running for the perfect lad of the year, I see," Colin said,
pointing his finger at him good-naturedly.  "That's what you're up to.  Me,
I hated school. Was on the hop half the time."

	  "You're funny," Aaron said, grinning at Colin as he shoved his hands into
his front pockets.  "Funny looking."

	"Ah, gives as good as he gets. I fear you're a bit a match for me, eh?"

	"I try."

	"Well, anyhow -if you don't fart around a bit, life gets pretty feckin'
boring.  That's me pa always said.   So waddya say, A-bomb?  Have a couple
hands of poker with us, and then you can get back to the books like a good
lad."

	Aaron looked at the books on the floor of his trailer and then back at
Colin, who was grinning at him like a mad man.  It was hard to resist the
offer, because he didn't get a chance to hang out with Colin much, except at
rehearsal, and that was work.

	"All right," Aaron said.  "But only for a little while."

	"I swear on me mother," Colin said, putting his hand on his heart and then
laughing so loudly the trailer nearly shook.  "For just a little while it'll
be."

*	*	*	*	*

	It was seven-thirty when the rehearsal was finally over and he could head
back to his trailer.  It had been a brutal two hours for Lance. Not just
because this was the first scene he'd rehearsed with Brendan, something he'd
been dreading, but because Brendan had shown up without knowing any of his
lines.  This shouldn't have been a surprise; but it was.  Lance had somehow
convinced himself that Ang would quickly block the scene, listen to some
line-readings, make a few suggestions, walk them through it once or twice,
and then let them go.  That was what he'd always done before, even with Josh
Hartnett, who was nearly as big a fuck-up as Brendan.  But that was not how
it turned out, and it had taken forever, so all Lance wanted now was to get
back to his trailer, grab his bag, and then take James and Aaron home so he
could meet Justin and JC for drinks.

	As he rounded the corner, Lance walked by the door to the Green Room,
rubbing his eyes and not noticing who was in there and what was going on.
He heard it though: loud laughing, whistles, cat-calls, and hands clapping.
Stopping short, Lance turned and walked into the room.  There were a dozen
or so people standing around a table and six people sitting there.  He saw
Colin and Stephane, and then Eric, Alex and Mark.  They were all playing
cards.  Poker it looked like, because there was money on the table.

	"Hey James," Lance said, giving him a gentle slap in the middle of the
back.

	James was standing behind Stephane, leaning lightly against his chair.  He
turned around when he heard Lance, and then felt his hand on him.  His eyes
widened slightly, as if in surprise, and he stammered as he started to
speak.

	"Uh...hey, uh, Lance," James said.  "What's going on?"

	"I was going to ask you the same -"

	Lance stopped speaking before finishing sentence.  His smile disappeared
and his eyes narrowed in anger.  Aaron was the sixth player at the table.
He had not seen him at first because Gene, the focus-puller, had been
blocking his view as he stood watching the game.  There was a good-sized
pile of money in front of Aaron and an unlit cigar in his mouth.  Lance
stepped around Gene and was behind Aaron's chair in what seemed like less
than a second.  He snatched the cigar from Aaron's mouth, threw it on the
floor, and then grabbed hold of Aaron's arm, lifting him roughly up from his
chair.

	"Owww-dad, you're hurting me," Aaron said, trying to pull away.

	"Come on," Lance said, pushing the chair out of the way with his foot once
Aaron was on his feet.  "This party's over."

	"Dad, we were just playing cards," Aaron said, his face flushed red.

	"I can see what you were doing.  And I said, let's go."

	"Hey, mate," Colin said, standing up and putting his hand on Lance's
shoulder. "Don't be angry with 'im - 'twas all me fault.  We were having a
bit of a hooley, and we wanted A-bomb to be a part o' it."

	Lance stared at Colin, listening to him, but saying nothing.  When Colin
was done speaking, Lance looked at Aaron and said, "Let's go."

	"Can I get my money at least?" Aaron asked, pleading.

	Lance once more said nothing.  He just looked at Aaron, his eyes squinted
and his forehead deeply creased.  The room was silent. Nobody spoke.  Some
people stared while others looked away.  After what seemed like an hour, but
was less than a minute, Lance let go of Aaron's arm and walked away.  Aaron
watched him for a few seconds and then followed, leaving his money on the
table.  Colin stared after them, and then at the  empty door.

	"I got to be taking a slash anyhow," Colin said, finally breaking the
silence. "So I'll be seeing y'all later."

	Colin left the room, and once he was out the door he ran to catch up with
Lance. He found him outside Aaron's trailer, waiting.  Lance had his arms
crossed and a black leather duffel was sitting at his feet.  The door to
Aaron's trailer was open.  Colin could hear Aaron inside, probably gathering
his school books.

	"Lance," Colin said, calling to him and signaling for him to step away from
the trailer and come over to where he was now standing.  "Come here a quick
second."

	"What?" Lance said, walking over to him.

	"I just wanted to let you know again it really was me fault.  Aaron told me
he was s'posed to study, but I twisted his arm a bit, you know?  So I'm
sorry 'bout that."

	"He doesn't need you to defend him, or try to justify what he did."

	"Yeah, but..."

	"No-there is no but," Lance said, cutting him off.  "There'll be lots of
people in his life that'll try to talk him into doing something he knows he
shouldn't do.  And if he doesn't learn how to say no now, then there's no
way he's going to learn it later."

	"Well, I ain't his ol' man," Colin said, speaking quietly so that Aaron
would not hear.  "And it probably ain't me place to talk. But he's a damn
fine lad, and a funny fella too.  Me, I'm a bit of a header so - for what
it's worth, which ain't shite for sure, I wouldn't give the bit with the
cards and cigar too much of a worry.  Y'know, not fer the A-Bomb's sake."

	"His name is Aaron," Lance said, his voice flat and dry.  "But thanks for
the advice, for what it's worth."

	"Yeah-all right then," Colin said, turning to walk away, but then stopping.

	Aaron had appeared in the door to his trailer.  He had his book bag slung
over his shoulder and it was notably heavy.  When Colin saw him he smiled
broadly and winked.

	"Hey mate," Colin said, speaking past Lance and waving at Aaron. "I'll see
you on Monday, aw-right?  For our first big scene together."

	"Okay," Aaron said, his face momentarily perking up.  "See you."

	"And don't be worrying 'bout your winnings.  I'll keep 'em for you, in case
your ol' man changes his mind about you keeping 'em."

	"Fuck," Lance said, whispering it under his breath

	Aaron said nothing as he watched Colin smile and then walk away.  Closing
the door to his trailer, Aaron climbed down the two, small metal steps to
the ground and then over to where Lance stood waiting for him.  Lance's arms
were still crossed on his chest, and he looked plainly angry.  His face was
flushed red and he kept taking deep breaths, as if trying to calm down.

	Aaron wanted to explain, or apologize, or just say something that would
make his dad not be mad.  But he didn't know what to say, what he could say,
so he said nothing, and just followed him silently through the studio.  They
found James still in the Green Room, talking to Stephane, and then went out
to the car.  Aaron sat silently next to his dad on the drive home, saying
nothing, nothing until after they got home, and James said he was going to
watch some TV, and Aaron said that he was going to bed, and Lance nodded and
went upstairs to sit in the chair on the balcony, looking out at the
harbour, and the dark and starless night.

	Sitting there, Lance thought of all the roles he'd played, all the movie
characters he had pretended to be.  It was as if now they were now all
standing before him, dimly reflected in dark glass, like ghosts, or suspects
in a police line-up, all looking like they'd done something wrong.  Was
being a father just a role he played?  That was what he was wondering as he
sat there, staring out into the dark and starless night.

*	*	*	*	*

	Justin and JC had been at the bar in the Four Seasons hotel for just under
an hour. Lance was supposed to meet them there, when rehearsals were over,
but he hadn't yet arrived.  Leaning back in his chair, Justin surveyed the
room.  It was filled with business people, and a couple wealthy tourists,
and a few people from the movie.  This was where everyone who had not rented
a house, or made other arrangements, was staying.

	"This feels like the good old days," Justin said, setting the front legs of
his chair back down, and putting both hands down flat in front of him on the
table.

	"What do you mean?"

	"You know, you got to stop doing that," Justin said, pointing at JC's
scrunched-up forehead. "You're starting to look like Lance."

	"Shut up," JC said.

	"Anyhow - I just meant being in a hotel bar, in some city I've never been
before, sort of single for the night, you know, it's just like when we were
a younger, and on the road all the time.  That's all."

	"Yeah, but you said 'like the good old days' - like the 'good old days' all
over, and now we're just being boring and old - what's that about?"

	"Jayce - it's just an expression."

	"Yeah, just like the expression 'old ball and chain'."

	"Now you're just being difficult."

	"Whatever," JC said, shifting in his chair and crossing his legs.

	"You want another glass of wine?" Justin asked.  "Because I'm getting
another."

	"Okay," JC said.  "But get me a glass of Semillon or something. It's too
warm to drink red wine."

	"Wait - is that your phone?" Justin asked, pointing.

	"No - oh, wait, yeah it is."

	Justin walked up to the bar while JC took the call.  There was only one
waitress on and he didn't feel like waiting for her. As he gave the
bartender his order, he looked in the mirror behind the bar. The room, which
was long and narrow, was reflected there, in reverse.  At one end of the
reflection he could see JC talking into his cell-phone, and at the other end
he could see the entrance to the bar.  Toni Collette had just appeared
there, along with Ryan Gosling, Brendan Fehr, and Stephane Rideau.  They
were together, and laughing. Picking up their drinks, Justin walked back to
his and JC's table and sat down.

	"It was Lance," JC said, setting the cell-phone on the table.  "He's not
coming."

	"How's that?"

	"He said he was tired and in a bad mood and that he was just going to stay
home."

	"What a kill-joy."

	"No - coming here in a bad mood would be being a kill-joy."

	"Cool then," Justin said, smiling.  "So let's stay a while?"

	"I don't know," JC said.  "I probably should go."

	"That's stupid.  I mean, if he's is in a bad mood, he probably wants to be
alone."

	"One never knows with Lance."

	"All the more reason to stay," Justin said.

	"Fine. But just for like one more."

	"Right on - oh, hey, I almost forgot.  You'll never uess who walked in a
couple minutes ago?"

	"Who?"

	"Ryan."

	"Oh, great. Just my luck."

	"He was with Toni and Brendan and that French dude."

	"Stephane."

	"Yeah, him," Justin said.

	"Brendan and Ryan - that's kind of weird."

	"Weird how?"

	"I don't know.  It's just weird. I can't explain it."

	"I'd say you're the one being weird," Justin said.  "I mean, what's the
frigging deal with you and Ryan?  It's like every time his name pops up you
get all, I don't know, mysterious or vague or something."

	"No I don't."

	"You most certainly do.  Like right now for example."

	"Justin - I really don't want to talk about it."

	"Obviously."

	"Look let's just go then," JC said, sliding his chair back from the table.

	"What's wrong?" Justin said, more sarcastically than concerned.  "I hit a
nerve?"

	"Okay, now you're being a jerk."

  	"All right - sorry.  But, come on Jayce, tell me what's up. I'm
interested. I'll listen.  I care.  And if it's something that's weighing you
down, fucking off-load it man, because that's what I'm here for and I'm all
ears."

	"We had a thing once," JC said, blurting the words out and then taking a
quick sip of wine.

	"Who did?"

	"Me and Ryan."

	"No way."

	"It's true," JC said, sliding his chair back to the table and leaning
forward so that Justin could hear him as he spoke more softly.  "Right at
the end of the season on MMC."

	"What was he, like thirteen?"

	"Fourteen, I think."

	"That's still kind of young."

	"I guess," JC said. "But I was only like seventeen, so it wasn't like I was
pulling a Lou or anything."

	"Now that guy was a pervert."

	"He so deserved it when that O-Town guy shot him," JC said, shaking his
head in disgust.

	"What was his name?"

	"I don't remember now.  Ashley something, I think."

	"Anyway, did you like Ryan, you know, like a boyfriend or something."

	"He was more an 'or something' kind of thing," JC said, sighing.

	"What kind of an 'or something' thing?"

	"I don't know, it's hard to describe," JC said. "To be honest, it wasn't
really about Ryan. Not at first.  It was mostly about Tony."

	"Lucca?"

	"Yeah."

	"Well now I so don't get this."

	"Tony -uh, he was my first," JC said, moving his wine away, not wanting to
drink it.  "The first guy I ever had sex with."

	"How old were you?"

	"The first time?  Like fourteen.  I'd had a huge crush on him for awhile,
and was always tagging after him.  He liked the attention though.  I could
tell."

	"How'd it happen," Justin asked.  "I mean, if you want to tell me."

	"There's not much to tell.  One day he invited me into his dressing room,
locked the door, dropped his pants, and I sucked him off."

	"Geez - how romantic is that?"

	"It was for me," JC said.  "Or so it seemed.  I remember I was so excited I
shot in my pants in like ten seconds."

	"Ooh, Jayce - way too much information," Justin said, cringing.

	"Sorry."

	"No it's okay. I'm the one that asked."

	"It was pretty much like that from then, me doing that, or him fucking me."

	"See, that's where I'm confused," Justin said.  "Because I was pretty sure
that he was fucking Tiffini, and that she was his girlfriend. She always
said she was."

	"No, she was," JC said.  "And he reminded me all the time, saying he could
never have feelings for a guy, except to want to fuck one, and I shouldn't
think that he was my boyfriend, or tell anyone about what we were doing."

	"That's twisted."

	"And cruel."

	"Tony was always kind of a jerk."

	"Tell me," JC said.

	"Well, it's good you dumped him then."

	"Dumped him?" JC said, laughing.  "How could I dump him? He wasn't even my
boyfriend.  All he did was fuck me. He called me 'bend-over boy' - which was
exactly what I was.  I was just another way for him to jerk off.  It was
pathetic."

	"Dude - it's more than pathetic.  It's wrong."

	"I know.  Or at least, now I know."

	"So what happened with Ryan then?"

	"I did it to make Tony jealous," JC said, lowering his gaze and staring at
the table.  "I thought if I was with another guy Tony would fight to get me
back."

	"That doesn't make any sense," Justin said, shaking his head. "Not if he
was like how you said, just in it for the fuck, because guys like that don't
care where they get it."

	"Thanks for the advice," JC said, with a short and bitter laugh. "It's only
like about twenty years late."

	"Yeah, all right," Justin said, conceding a point that was not worth
arguing about.

	"But it's not like I remember giving my little plan much thought.  I'd seen
Ryan watching me, probably like Tony had seen me watching him, so I went for
it, thinking if Tony was going to play me, I'd play him back."

	"In other words, you hit replay, doing to Ryan what Tony had done to you."

	"Bingo."

	"Did you even like him?"

	"It didn't matter," JC said.

	"I bet it mattered to him."

	"Yeah," JC said, closing his eyes for a moment, and then looking at Justin.
"It had to have.  I was his first. And you're first always matters, for good
or bad."

	"I know how that works," Justin said, wincing.

	"Looking back at it," JC said.  "You know, from here, I just...I don't
know.  I just wish it had never happened."

	"Except for Lance."

	"Yeah," JC said, nodding once.  "And see, that's just it. Tony wasn't a
first in any way that matters. Lance was.  Everything I did with him was
like a first for me - the first kiss, the first time I saw him without
clothes, the first time we showered together, the first time I had an orgasm
with him - it was all new to me.  And in some ways, it still is."

	Justin smiled and JC, listening to him without any need to comment or
interrupt or doing anything but listen to what he said, and understand it.

	"I remember wanting so badly for him to be in me," JC said, smiling and
closing his eyes, as if not looking at anything allowed him to draw closer
to the memory. "But we waited.  It felt like forever, but it's not like we
didn't do everything but that.  Plus we were touring and, well, you know,
how that goes.  But then when it finally happened, it was nothing like I'd
ever experienced before.  Not just the feel of it, but how it made me feel -
about myself.  It was - I don't know to describe it except to say that it
was the most incredible feeling of being set free, or saved, like everything
bad that I'd ever felt about myself, my life, how I'd acted - it all went
away, replaced by something new and hopeful and beautiful, like in baptism,
where they say you go into the water one person, and God cleans away all
your sins and rise up out of the water new again: a fresh soul."

	"I know exactly what you mean," Justin said, softly, almost whispering it.
"It was like that for me too, with Mel.  She restored my faith in love."

	"Exactly," JC said.  "But, you know - seeing Ryan at the party, it reminded
me that the past doesn't go away.  How could it?"

	"I'm sure he's moved on though," Justin said.  "Everyone does.  You did."

	"But that's it," JC said.  "What if he never did?  What if he never found
someone to move on with, because it's not something you do on your own.  You
know that."

	"Yes I do."

	 "So that's what makes me so sad," JC said, looking momentarily at the wall
to his right, and then back at Justin.  "What Tony took from me I got back.
But what if..."

	"Maybe you should ask him."

	"I couldn't."

	"Why not."

	"Because there's nothing I can do about it now. And I think that knowing
would be worse than not knowing."

	"Maybe," Justin said.  "But it might help to at least tell him how you
feel.  And maybe apologize - if that's what you think you should do."

	"I tried to do that once," JC said.

	"When?"

	"After I finally caught a clue about Tony, I hung out with Ryan for awhile.
It was only a couple months, because taping for the season was almost over,
and so - you know - it was something to do, being with him.  At the time, I
never thought it was serious. But apparently he did."

	"Did he tell you?"

	"No, not really. When the season ended I told him I'd stay in touch.  And I
did. At first.  But then we ended up in Europe, which happened kind of fast
so I didn't get a chance to tell him until like we were already over there."

	"So he wasn't too high on your priority list."

	"No.  And by then I was hooking up with other people every now and again.
Nothing too serious. Just one-time here-and-there thing."

	"The Joey-special."

	"Yeah."

	"But you told him eventually, like where you were."

	"I think I like called him, or sent him a postcard.  I think it was a
postcard because I remember that Lance walked me to the post-office to mail
it."

	"Were you two..."

	"No, not yet.  Not really.  I think I knew I liked him.  And that I was
attracted to him.  But I wasn't like pursuing him or anything.  I was just
trying to stay focused on the music and the band and stuff."

	"Those were kind of crazy times."

	"That's why I didn't mind at first that Ryan started sending me like two or
letters a week. Super-serious love-type letters, filled with all this stuff
about how thought about me all the time, that he wanted to move-in together
some day - blah, blah, blah."

	"Yikes."

	"I know.  But it was kind of nice too, getting the strokes, and the
attention. So I wrote him too. Not as much as him, of course, but - you
know, I didn't ignore him either.  I sent him postcards. And I think we
talked on the phone a few times.  But then..."

	"Lance."

	"Yeah - Lance. I didn't know what to do at first, about the whole Ryan
thing.  So, to be honest, I mostly decided to ignore it.  I was really happy
about Lance and me and so I just kind of let it go, and stopped writing
back."

	"No 'Dear John' letter or anything?"

	"I tried once," JC said.  "Like in my journal, trying to decide what to
say.  But I just couldn't.  I mean, what could I say?  Dear Ryan, I thought
I sort of liked you but I really didn't. Sorry.  In the end I guess it just
seemed like it was nicer to say nothing."

	"Or easier."

	"Or easier."

	"But he kept writing, didn't he?"

	"For over a year."

	"Poor guy."

	"I felt awful."

	"Well-"

	"I know," JC said, lowering his head.  "I deserved to feel awful. And I
did."

	"I wouldn't worry about it now," Justin said, concerned for a moment that
he'd been too harsh.  "It's over."

	"I wish it was," JC said, his eyes suddenly wet with tears.

	"Jayce, come on," Justin said, leaning forward and putting his hand on JC's
left arm. "Don't cry. Shit happens, man. Some things work and some things
don't, and love fucks you over sometimes.  Ryan's got to know that by now."

	"Probably."

	"And fuck," Justin said. "And what was he, like sixteen by then, I'm sure
he had long-since saddled up someone new."

	"That's where you're wrong."

	"What do you mean?"

	"Like two years later," JC said, taking a deep breath first. "I don't know,
maybe it was three. I can't remember.  But it was right after No Strings
Attached came out, and we were getting ready to tour.  Ryan called me from
out of nowhere.  I hadn't spoken to him in what seemed like ages.  Fuck, I
hadn't thought about him in ages.  Anyway, he said he was in town and wanted
to see me, you know, to talk.  My first instinct was to say no, or to make
up some excuse.  But hearing from him again made me feel bad about how I'd
acted, so I figured I owed him and agreed to meet him."

	JC lapsed into a long silence, staring at the table top.  Justin waited for
him to go on; he knew he would, and that he just needed time to compose
himself.  As he waited, the silence felt heavy, and uncomfortable.  Part of
him did not want to hear what JC was trying to tell him, and he was almost
sorry he had asked.  JC finally looked back at Justin.  Tears had wetted his
cheeks and his lower lip was shaking.

	"I slept with him," JC said, his voice barely audible.  "We had dinner and
talked for a long time.  He was staying at a hotel - the Wyndham, I think.
We ate at the hotel, in dining room there.  Mostly because it was easier.
Anyway, at the end, like when I was standing up to go, he told me that he
was still in love with, that he'd been hoping forever that I'd come back to
him, and he'd do anything to get me back - anything."

	"Oh man," Justin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

	"Oh my god, it was awful," JC said. "I didn't know what to say.  I'd
already told him about Lance - well, not a lot, but enough for him to get
the picture that I was seeing someone.  But he just didn't seem to get it.
And even when I flat out said, you know, 'Ryan, I do not love you,' he
wouldn't listen."

	"He sounds psycho."

	"I wouldn't go that far, but he was really upset.  He was crying, and then
sobbing so loud people started to stare, because we were in the lobby by
then, and he was getting hysterical. He kept trying to hold my hand and hug
me and hold on to me.  It was scary."

	"Sounds like it."

	"So then, after like the fiftieth time I'd told him that I was sorry, and
that I truly was in love with Lance, that was when he asked me to spend the
night with him.  He said that if I would sleep with him one last time, he
would never call or bother me again.  He said he'd be cursed otherwise, that
he would never be able to move on unless...."

	"Jayce - you didn't."

	"I did."

	"Oh fuck."

	"I just felt so bad for him," JC said, his hanging so low Justin thought
that it was about to touch the table.  "And about how badly I'd acted
before.  Lance was in Laurel, so I knew he'd never know.  So I just did it,
like I was paying off an old debt."

	"Did you spend the night?"

	"Not really," JC said, lifting his head but then looking away.  "He wanted
me to, but I couldn't do it.  I just couldn't do it."

	"I can see that."

	"It would have felt too much more like cheating."

	"Yeah."

	"And it was bad enough already, especially afterwards, because I think he
thought I might change my mind about how I how I felt about him, that I
might see him again, and that was real reason he'd wanted to do it again -
to try and win me back."

	"That is insane."

	"He just wanted another chance," JC said, closing his eyes.  "Which is the
one thing I couldn't give him.  Wouldn't give him.  I could give him my body
for one night. And I did. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, give him my heart,
or my true feelings.  That I'd promised to Lance, and I had no intention of
breaking that promise. And so it all ended up exactly like before.  Just
sex. And that was all it could be.  Just two people getting off, using each
other - again. I didn't care, because like I said, I felt like I was paying
a debt, or a fine.  I don't know.  Except the act itself, what he was doing,
and I was doing, it didn't matter to me at all.  And when it was over, I got
out of bed, dressed, and left, and I never thought about it again."

	"You never felt guilty about cheating on Lance?"

	"I didn't cheat on him."

	"But..."

	"I didn't cheat on him," JC said again. "What I did with Ryan had nothing
to do with Lance. Nothing. So no, I did not cheat on him."

	"Okay," Justin said. "But saying something doesn't make it true."

	"I don't need to make it true," JC said, wiping tears from his eyes.
Because it is true. Lance is the only man that ever had my heart, and he is
the only man whoever will."

	"All right," Justin said. "But it just seems to me that if Lance had known
about Ryan, if you had told him, that maybe he wouldn't have been so fucking
freaked-out when the whole Brendan thing went down?"

	"I don't know," JC said, standing up.  "I just know that make dozens of
decisions every day, and you can't know how all of them will turn out.
You'd drive yourself crazy trying.  I made a decision to sleep with Ryan,
and a decision not to tell Lance.  I'm ready to live with the consequences
of my decisions.  But I'm not going to let my decisions stop me from doing
what I have to do, or from loving my husband. Now let's go."

	"Jayce - wait."

	"No. Let's go."

	"Fine," Justin said, taking one last sip of beer before standing up and
following JC across the bar.

	JC was half way toward the door when he was intercepted by Brendan Fehr,
who grabbed JC's arm in a good-natured way and stopped him.  JC spun around
and glared at first, but then forced himself to smile as Justin caught up
with him.  Brendan was wearing a short-sleeve shirt that looked like
something a gas station attendant would wear.  The name "Mack" was
embroidered over the right pocket. Brendan's jeans were scuffed and hung low
on his hips exposing a crescent of skin in the back where the bottom of his
shirt didn't quite cover.

	"So hey man - what's going on? You guys leaving?"

	"Yeah, I got to get home," JC said, his words clipped and tense.

	"Nah, let us buy you a drink first," Brendan said, tugging on JC's arm.
"You too Justin.  Come on over."

	"Actually, it's me that needs to get going," Justin said, lying. "I got
kids at home and my wife will kill me if I'm any later than I already am."

	"Okay, that's cool," Brendan said, letting go of JC's arm.  "We'll owe you
one then."

	"And us too," JC said, wiping his hand across the back of his neck and then
on his pants.  "We'll have you over again or something."

	"That'd be cool," Brendan said, grinning at JC and then slapping him on the
back.

	"Alright then," Justin said, extending his hand to Brendan.  "It was good
to see you again, and thanks for the drink offer."

	"Yeah - thanks," JC said.

	"Don't mention it."

	JC waved and nodded in the direction of the booth where the three others
were sitting.  Stephane and Toni did not notice; they were sitting close,
side-by-side, and deep in conversation. Ryan noticed though; he was staring
intently in JC's direction and he smiled when JC saw him.  JC considered
going over to say hello, but decided against it.  He wanted to be out of
there, and on his way back to the house.  And soon he was, sitting silently
in Justin's leased Mercedes sedan.  As they turned off Neerim Road, and made
their way up the long private drive, JC finally spoke, turning to Justin and
then saying, "Thanks for lying for me."

	"What are friends for," Justin said, laughing, but half-serious too.  "But
I'm going to say it once more, and I promise not to say it again. You should
tell Lance about Ryan."

*	*	*	*	*
	James did it in the shower because that was where he could best be alone.
It was also where he didn't have to worry about cleaning up after.  The only
problem was that Aaron was starting to tease him about being in there for so
long, and for taking showers -  even longer showers - at night.  He
explained it away by saying that he it was hotter here in Australia, hotter
than in San Diego, and that he didn't like to be sweaty. He knew that Aaron
didn't this explanation, not completely.  But there was nothing else he
could think to say, except for the truth, and that was out of the question.

	He couldn't help wanting to do it all the time.  Once he'd found out how it
felt, he couldn't help but do it. And what was worse, or better - because he
wasn't really sure which - was being at the studio.  That was when he could
see him in person, and talk to him, and be near him.  And that was when he
just had to do it - like in the men's room, locked in the stall furthest
from the door, or in Aaron's trailer when he was away, or when he thought he
was away, like the one time that Aaron had walked in on him almost, the time
he'd been foolish enough or brave enough or both - and done it stretched out
naked on the couch there.  Luckily he'd heard Aaron laughing loud at one of
Colin's stupid jokes and he'd had time enough to grab his clothes and get
into the trailer's tiny bathroom.  It had been hard to get dressed in there,
but he'd managed.

	The best time yet was when he'd waited for Stephane to be on the set, and
he'd snuck into his trailer and found a shirt he'd been wearing, and some
jeans, and his briefs and socks. He'd  put them into a pile on the floor and
laid down, pressing his face into the pile, inhaling deeply as he slowly
rubbed himself up and down on the carpet, through his pants, not naked.
That time didn't take long at all, maybe a minute at most. But when it
happened, and it was over, he could hardly breathe and was left gasping -
like when you've been punched hard in the stomach.  But it wasn't pain he
felt. Not right then. Not that time.  No, it was definitely not pain.

*	*	*	*	*

	"You ready?" Justin said, holding the DAT cassette in the air and waving it
back and forth.

	"Man, I was ready like three weeks ago," JC said, irritably.

	"All right, hold on a tick," Justin said, sliding the cassette into the DAT
player.

	"Don't even start talking like that again," JC said, shaking his head.
"Because I will so kill you."

	"Sorry," Justin said, laughing.

	"Just put it on," JC said, pushing his hair behind his ears and leaning
against the wall. "I know I'm going to hate it so I want to get the first
listen over with."

	"We need to get a couch for in here," Justin said, looking around.

	"I swear you must have ADHD," JC said, rolling his eyes. "How about putting
the music in and then we can chat about your redecoration plans later."

	"Yeah, yeah, don't get you're jocks in a knot."

	"Justin!"

	"All right, just give me a tick."

	"God damn it Justin!"

	"Don't get Berko, Jayce," Justin said, laughing almost too hard to speak.
"I'm just giving you a bit of curry."

	"You are so going to die now," JC said, his face flushed as he jumped
forward, his finger pointed at Justin.

	"Okay, okay," Justin said, holding his hands in the air.  "Take it easy, I
was just mucking around.  You'd think the kangaroos were loose in your ...."

	"Not ...an-other...word," JC said, gritting his teeth as he punctuated each
syllable with a half-hard finger-jab on the end of Justin's nose.

	"Geez," Justin said, shaking his head as he continued to laugh.

	"I mean it," JC said, pressing his finger-tip against the end of Justin's
nose one last time before stepping back and glaring at him.

	"You know, you need to mellow out a bit," Justin said.  "I think this thing
with Ryan has got you a little messed up."

	"Oh fuck you," JC said. "It's not that at all.  Like I just said, I'm
freaked about the album, about maybe not liking it, and thinking that it was
maybe a bad idea.  I mean, it's not like we can back out and not release it
now.  But I don't want it to suck either."

	"Yeah, okay. We'll just pretend that's what's bothering you.  Fine with
me."

	"Whatever," JC said, walking back to where he'd stood before.  "Just play
it."

	"Okie-dokie," Justin said, looking at the DAT player and then pushing a
button.

	"Thank you," JC said, taking a deep breath and leaning back against the
wall.

	"I don't hear anything."

	"Is it on?"

	"It's got power," Justin said. "The lights on."

	"You know what?" JC said, his voice edging higher.  "This is going to drive
me fucking insane."

	"That's pretty damn clear."

	"Try turning it on and off."

	"Okay."

	"Nothing?"

	"Nope."

	"Let me see," JC said, pushing Justin out of the way with his left hand and
then pushing the play-button on and off several times.

	"Nothing."

	"Fuck!"

	"Oh, wait," Justin said.  "I think it might be the speakers.  Are they
plugged in?"

	 "What?"

	"Jayce - over there," Justin said, pointing.  "Behind you. Are they plugged
in?"

	"It looks like it," JC said, crouched down and squinting.  "But I can't
really see, because of the way they're attached to the wall."

	"Let me see."

	"No, I can do it," JC said, sliding his hand behind one of the speakers.

	"You get it?"

	"I can feel the plug, but...ouch, mother fucker!"

	"What happened?"

	"I fucking got shocked."

	"Come on," Justin said, going over to where JC stood. "Let's take it down."

	"All right," JC said, gripping one edge of the speaker and pushing up.

	"No - this way," Justin said, grabbing the other edge and pulling on it.

	"No - up," JC said.  "It's a U-bracket. You have to push up."

	"No it's not," Justin said.  "It's a slide-bracket.  I watched him install
it. You slide it to the side, then push up."

	"No one ever uses slide-brackets on speakers," JC said, still pushing up.
"Every one knows you get vibration feedback with slide-brackets."

	"You are so totally making that up," Justin said.

	"Fuck you."

	"Yeah, you wish," Justin said.

	"Liked I'd want your scrawny legs on my shoulders," JC said, pushing harder
on the speaker.

	"Oh, I'm scrawny.  Right.  Like you're..."

	"Will you just fucking push up on this thing for a moment," JC said,
cutting Justin off.  "Humor me."

	"Fine then," Justin said, bending his knees and putting both hands on the
bottom of the speaker, which he knew weighed at least a hundred and fifty
pounds.

	"Good," JC said, barely able to get the word out before the monitor slid
suddenly up the wall.

	"Oh fuck," Justin shouted as he and JC struggled to hold on to it.

	The speaker was held, or barely held, just over their heads.  JC was more
under it than Justin, who was holding it from the side with only minor
success.  He didn't have a good hold on it, and his position was made more
awkward by the fact that JC was now standing on his foot.  Pulling his foot
free, Justin made JC's foot slide forward, knocking him off balance.  The
weight of the speaker was pulling him back now, and couldn't hold onto it
any longer.

	"Get it! Get it!" JC shouted.

	"I can't!"

	"You have to!"

	It was at that point that the speaker slipped from their grasp and crashed
with a loud thud in the middle of the mixing console, breaking it nearly in
half.  It then bounced-rolled across the now broken mixing console and
landed hard on top of the DAT player, crushing the front of it and trapping
the DAT tape inside it.

	"Oh my god," Justin said, looking at the broken and crushed equipment in
front of him.  "I can't believe that just happened."

	JC stood open-mouthed and staring, saying nothing as he shook his head
slowly back and forth.  He could hardly breathe. It may as well have been
his chest that had been caved in by the falling speaker.  That was how it
felt.  And when he could finally speak, all JC could think to say was, "I'm
beginning to think this album is cursed."

*	*	*	*	*

	Aaron stood at the edge of the set, at the edge of the light, in the
shadows, behind the rigging and two key grips.  It was the third take and
the scene had just begun.  He had never seen his father act before, never
seen him with another actor, in character, with the camera rolling and the
director watching and the light shining in his face.  His hands were wet
with sweat and balled into two fists.  Peter Pau, the cinematographer, was
behind the camera, which was set up low and shooting up at an angle.  Aaron
could see the monitor from where he stood but he preferred to watch the
scene unfold live before him. This was the first scene shot, on the first
day of shooting, and the first one that he had ever seen.

	Ang pointed at Diane Wiesst, the actress who played Mara Skywalker, the
wife of Luke and the mother of Jhon.  She bowed her head for a moment and
then walked onto the set, into nearly blinding light.  Lance stood with his
back to her, his hand pressed high and flat on the wall, his shoulders
slumped forward, his head hanging low - so low it was nearly out of view.
She walked up to him and nearly touched his shoulder, as if to reassure him,
but she pulled her hand away and placed it over her heart instead. Waiting,
she sighed noisily and with faint disapproval.

	"He will be all right Jhon," she said, her voice firm and loud. "Luke will
find him, and return him safely to you."

	"I already lost his mother to these mad wars," Jhon said, turning slowly
around to face her, his eyes glowering, his voice deepening into a
disrespectful hiss.  "Lost her to wars that never seem to be won, or close
to ever over, wars that my father seems to love to fight, loves more than
his own family - certainly more than me."

	 "You are being foolish now.  Letting your heart speak for your mind."

	"I only sound foolish to you because my heart speaks of things that your
mind does not want to understand," he said, dismissively.

	"I understand what I need," she said.  "And do what I must. That is all."

	"That is all - to you.  But not to me.  To me, what matters now is that my
son has become a pawn in a game that I cannot control, except in one way."

	"I understand your anger. And your fear."

	"I don't think you do," he said, lunging his face forward into hers,
staring at her now with eyes that seemed on fire. "You and father have been
hardened to these things, hardened by so many losses that you don't see how
one more might matter, even if it is Lucas, my son."

	"Jhon..."

	"No - no!  Listen to me.  Lucas - if, ...if I lose him....."

	His voice trailed off, leaving much obviously unsaid about how he felt.
Then the sound of a single sob filled the set as Lance clutched his throat
and began to squeeze it, his facing turning red.  He was choking himself.
His eyes widened and his mouth fell open.  Dianne reached for his hand, as
if to pry it away or off his throat, but he shook her off and pulled away,
still staring at her, as his eyes bulged and filled with tears. Then, after
several more seconds, he finally released his choke-hold on himself, gasping
loudly as air rushed back into his lungs, like water through a breached dam.

	"That is what it feels like," he hissed and turned away, spitting on the
floor.

	Aaron stood transfixed.  Lance had not done it this way before.  In the
first two takes he had seemed distant and depressed, resigned to the
possible fate of losing his son, like he was the victim of circumstances not
in his control.  But this time, it was as if he was about to kill himself
and Dianne too. He was full of rage, furious at the world, and at his mother
for being a part of it. The look of horror on her face had said it all; it
seemed so genuine that Aaron was horrified to see it, and so near tears he
had not heard Ang shouting "Cut" and he did not notice Lance hurrying from
the set.  Aaron also didn't see Ang walk up to him until he had his arm
around his shoulders and nudged him slightly with his hip to get his
attention.

	"Your father, Jhon, he feels very close to defeat now," Ang said.  " He
wants to give up, but he can't.  He doesn't trust his father to save you,
nor suspect that you may be strong enough yourself to find your way back.
He is looking over the edge and into the darkness of his own soul, wanting
to jump into it. He fears the worst for you, and is angry at himself for not
being stronger.  And so it may fall to you, as if by destiny, to determine
your father's fate - not he yours, but you his.  And you understand this.
You don't know how, but you do.  It is your ability to see things clearly,
with your heart and your mind, that lets you do this.  This  is your gift,
and your affliction."

	Aaron listened to what Ang had said but he did not fully comprehend it. He
let the words flow over him like water, trying not to be afraid, trying not
to think of failing, of falling.  His scene was next, his first time before
the camera. He could still see the image of Lance choking himself. It
wouldn't leave his mind and it disturbed and frightened him. He took a deep
breath and looked up at Ang, smiling weakly.

	"I'm afraid," he said.

	"Good," Ang said. "You should be."

*	*	*	*	*

	It took another half hour to get the shot set up.  Aaron had waited
patiently, not saying anything until he was called to the set, where now he
stood, still made up to look like he had a purple-green bruise under one eye
and a badly bloodied lip.  The harness he wore under his costume pinched
painfully against the sides of his chest. Two guide-wires were hooked to the
harness through small grommet-holes in his tunic so that, when the scene
began, he could be lifted into the air. In the finished film it would appear
that he was suspended in a trapping beam and held aloft of a bubbling pit of
lava.

	The set was a rocky volcanic cavern on the planet Sluivan.  It was here
that Darth Vader once had had his lair and where his climactic battle with
Obi Wan Kenobi had taken place.  Spiden, the leader of the Dark Jedi, had
rebuilt the lair and now used it as a base from which to direct his battle
against the New Republic.  At Spiden's direction, Sepp Wolff has kidnapped
Lucas Anakin Skywalker and brought him here as a way to lure the Master
Jedi, Luke Skywalker, and to coerce his acquiescence in Spiden's plan to
merge the Dark Jedi with the other Jedi into a single fighting force.

	Aaron nervously went over his lines in his head as he waited for the shot
to be set up.  With the lights everywhere, he could not see beyond the set's
edge.  There was only darkness beyond it.  He could not see JC standing
behind one of the three cameras set up to film the scene.  And he could not
see Ang speaking quietly with Colin Farrell who was about to join him on the
set.  Nor could he see Lance walk away from Brendan Fehr and join JC, taking
his hand, as they waited for Aaron's first scene to begin, one of the more
important in the film.	But then someone yelled ALL QUIET ON THE SET, and
then it was quiet, and Aaron knew that it was about to begin.

	"All right Aaron, we're going to raise you know."

	It was the voice of stunt-coordinator, and it came from out of nowhere, or
that was how it seemed.  Aaron concentrated now on what he had to do,
visualizing what he had a dozen times before at rehearsal. Bracing his legs,
he felt the guide-wires tighten and lift him three feet into the air.  When
he was in position, Aaron threw his shoulders back and placed his hands, one
on top of the other on his chest.  Aaron then heard the assistant director
yell, ARE WE READY, and when there was nothing said in response, he heard
Ang loudly say, OKAY, LET'S GO THEN! ACTION!

	The main camera was set up below him and Aaron opened his eyes and stared
into it.  He imagined that he was looking at his father, seeing his pain,
and feeling it.  His bottom lip quivered, but only slightly, and his eyes
widened further as what he imagined grew more disturbing.  Taking a long
slow deep breath, Aaron shut his eyes and his lips pressed together into a
stiff uneasy smile.  Colin Farrell entered the cavern-set from the back,
slowly descending a long rock-strewn path.  Aaron's eyes remain shut but his
body stiffens.  He knows that he was no longer alone.

	LUCAS:		And so the Wolff returns to his lair.

	SEPP(startled):	To find his prey.  Or should I say bait.

	LUCAS:		I am not afraid of you.

	SEPP (laughing):	Saying you are not afraid proves that you are.  You should
remember that, or persons stronger than you will know you are not merely
afraid, but also foolish and weak - like your father.
	LUCAS:	You don't know my father.
	SEPP:		I know him well enough.  Believe me that.
	LUCAS:	You only think you do.
	SEPP:		Ah, the wise young man wants to teach me something now. Fine.  It is
of little consequence to me.  Like you, he is but a means to an end.
	LUCAS:		Your end.
	Sepp has until now not looked at Lucas, focused instead on a screen that is
tracking the arrival of ship about to move out of hyper-space as it
approaches the planet. Spinning around, Sepp thrust his hands palm out
toward where Lucas hangs suspended in air.  The thrust-force flings Lucas
out of the column of light that had held him aloft and he hit hard against
an adjacent rock wall.  Sepp leaps across the lava pool and is instantly
upon Lucas, holding him down by the neck and viciously choking him.
	SEPP:	  	You should learn to show some respect you insolent brat.
	Lucas stares at Sepp with calm, fearless eyes.  He smiles at him and does
not struggle.  Sepp stares back, but a look of increasing uncertainty
appears on his face. He knows he cannot kill Lucas and that, if he does,
Spiden will kill him without giving it a second thought, kill his own son
for ruining his plan.  Lucas' eyes suddenly close and he goes limp.
Frightened, Sepp jumps back.  He fears he has killed him accidentally and
does not know what to do.  Several seconds pass. Sepp takes a half step back
and then leans forward, extending two fingers toward Lucas neck as if to
check for a pulse.  Just as Sepp is about to touch his neck, Lucas rolls to
one side and jumps past Sepp and then over the lava pool in a leaping arc
that causes Sepp's mouth to fall open as he tumbles backwards, off-balance.
	SEPP(yelling): Bastard!
	LUCAS:	You are the only bastard here.  My father was married to my mother
when I was born.  Unlike yours.
	The two are on opposite sides of the lava pit over which Lucas had been
held suspended.  They circle it warily, each eyeing the other.  Sepp
consider using the force again, but he fears injuring Lucas further.
	SEPP:		This is a fool's game Lucas.  The only danger here is that you are
creating.  Accept your part in this and all will be well.
	LUCAS:	Except for those others who must sacrifice their principles as the
price they pay for their survival and your father's rise to power.
	SEPP:		You mean like your father will sacrifice his principles to have you
returned to him safely?
	LUCAS:	He will not.
	SEPP:		Ahhh -  but that sudden sad  look on your face tells me that you
know it is true.  He will quickly agree to cede the majority leadership to
Blake Antilles, and then we will be but a single assassination away from him
becoming Chancellor.  All because of a boy.
	Aaron pauses for a moment, imagining his father hanging over the lava pit,
and Sepp about to lower him into it, killing him.  He can see the look of
horrified pain on his father's face, and it is Lance's face, dying for him,
dying for his son.  Seeing this image, unable to make it go away, it fills
him with rage, a rage he can hardly control and then cannot, and he gives up
trying to. Screaming as loudly as he could, a scream that began deep within
his chest and then exploded from within him.

	"NO!"

	Leaping hard, Aaron soars over the lava-pit, the wires pulling painfully
under his arms.  His lungs burn from the intensity of his scream.  Spinning
in mid-air, he flies feet-first and kicks Colin with full-force in the
chest, holding nothing back.  Colin is hurtled back against the wall, his
arms flailing to steady himself.  Before he can, Aaron is upon him, pounding
him in the chest with both fists, still screaming, overcome with rage,
filled with the vision of his father sinking into the lava, being tortured
and dying.

	"Okay - that's it" Ang yelled, looking pleased as the lights on the set
dimmed and the lights surrounding it came back up.
	Aaron, who had ended up on top of Colin, stands slowly up, unwrapping a
guide-wire that had wrapped around his arm.  Once he's standing, Colin jumps
up next to him, slapping Aaron on the back and smiling.  Aaron looks
confused and uneasy at first, blinked repeatedly as his eyes adjusted to the
change in lighting.  It is as if he doesn't know where he is, and only
slowly figures it out.

	"The bastard hit me full-on," Colin said, laughing as he rubbed his chest
where Aaron had kicked him at the end of the scene. "Which sure as shite not
how we practiced it, now is it, A-Bomb?"

	"Sorry," Aaron said, sheepishly.  "I guess I kind of got into it."

	"Don't worry 'bout it," Colin said, throwing his arm around him. "I got
plenty of time for pay-back in the next scene."

*	*	*	*	*

	Lance sat alone in the middle of the front lawn.  It was late and the sky
was dark except for what little light was offered by a waning crescent moon.
  He had crawled from bed a half-hour ago, careful not to disturb JC, who
was still asleep.  He'd carried his jeans out into the hall, and pulled them
on after quietly closing the bedroom door.  He'd stood at the door for
several minutes, unsure what next to do. Finally, he'd wandered outside, to
where he sat now, just thinking and staring out at the inky blackness that
was the middle harbour at night.

	The air felt thick and difficult to breathe. Sweat formed on his upper lip
and his forehead and the back of his neck.  There was no noise that he
noticed, except for his breathing, and the sound his throat made when he
swallowed.  He sat there, not thinking, or trying not to think too much.
Lance did not know that Aaron was awake now too, and standing at the window
in his own room, looking out.  He was watching Lance, watching him sit
there; and as he watched him, he wondered what it was his dad was thinking.

	Was he worried? Afraid? Angry? Sad?  Aaron did not know, and could not
bring himself to try to imagine. He had realized in these last few days the
competing pressures that his dad felt, and his unremitting sense of
obligation. It was something that Aaron had taken for granted before, like
there being food in the house, and when he flipped the light switch in his
room, it would work, and the room would fill with light. But all these
things happened for a reason, and that reason was Lance, and it was JC.  Two
people who loved him, who would always love him, not because they had to,
but because they chose to, and wanted to - even when it was difficult, and
their own lives were hard, like now.

	To Aaron, before, his parents had always been these two perfect people,
without flaws or fears, infinitely strong, all-knowing, and with an endless
supply of energy and passion. Aaron remembered how Lance had each year
dressed up in an elaborate costume for the Halloween party they always had
at their house. And there were his birthdays, and taking him to school, and
buying his clothes, and breakfast every morning and dinner at night.  JC
made his lunch every day, and Lance helped him with his homework. Thinking
about all of this now, Aaron realized that, just like watching a movie, and
not knowing what it took to make it, his happy life was the byproduct of
hard work, dedication, and a kind of fierce love.  But his life was real, as
was his happiness, and his love for his dad.

	  Aaron watched as Lance stood slowly up and brushed the grass from the
back of his jeans.  There was a small piece of paper in his right hand.
Aaron could see the paper, but only as something white and small waving
slightly in the breeze as Lance held it.  But if Aaron had been able to see
it, see it like Lance saw it right then, he'd have seen that the paper was
creased from having been folded in fours, and the creases were close to
being tears. It was a piece of paper that Lance always carried with him,
ever since Joey had first given it to him that morning on the first day of
shooting his first film.  It was something that Joey had jotted on a notepad
from their hotel.  It said:

	It doesn't matter how good you act.
	What matters is who good you are.
	And you are good.
	Don't ever forget that.
			~ JOEY.

	Carefully folding this piece of paper, Lance put it back into his wallet
and turned toward the house.  He didn't see Aaron watching him from the
window, and didn't think to look.  He assumed that he was asleep and safe
and warm.