Date: Mon, 04 Oct 1999 21:18:29 GMT
From: Scotty T <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Lance-In-Shining-Armour-10-12

Standard stuff -- still no sexual content, but it is cutesy guy/guy stuff.
Prepare yourself for a pile of "sweet" that'll rot your teeth. :)  If you
don't wanna read this, then don't read it.

And this story isn't a realistic protrayal of the NSYNC guys!  I don't
know them nor do I claim to!  I just stare at their dreamy pictures and
whip up stories about them in lieu of actually going out and getting a
life of my own. :)

You can (and please do!) email me at thepoetboy@hotmail.com

Part 10

We split up around three, after hitting the CN Tower and wandering the
streets a bit.  Each of the guys was disguised in hats and sunglasses -- I
made a mental note to pay more attention to people wearing sunglasses
and hats because it seemed to be every celebrity's definition of
"disguise."

Chris went back to the hotel to make some calls, checking up on Busta
who he'd left with friends in New York.  Joey and Justin hit the Eatons
Centre, which just wasn't the same for me now that Eatons was going
under -- the mall just seemed a bit sad.  JC wandered off with no real
plan in mind.

James too me hat and sunglass shopping before I took him to the Royal
Ontario Museum so he could get his look at the weaponry that was on
display.

I stood back quietly as he explored -- I knew the museum like the back
of my hand these days.  Well, if the back of my hand had mummies and
the most confusing floor plan imaginable.

I kept thinking about Josh.  He was cute.  James was cute.  They went
everywhere together.  The equation in my head made more sense as
James + Josh than it did as James + David.

James was going on about the pistols in the display case, giving me their
histories.  He was having a great time.  I pulled his sunglasses off of him
so he'd get a better look.  No-one was around anyway.

I was trying to reconcile my vegetarianism with my feelings for a gun-loving
southerner.  Recent experience with guns made the situation even
less comfortable.  I wandered off towards the swords.

James found me staring at the armour a few minutes later.

"There you are -- why'd you wander off?"

"Just have more affection for older tools of death, I guess."  I turned to
him.  "Do you think JC is cute?"

James gave me a questioning look.  There was even a bit of jealousy in
his green eyes.  "I've known him for years -- he's like my brother!  I
never thought of him that way."

I grinned at him.  "Liar."

"Okay, yeah, he's really cute.  Especially in the morning when his hair's
all messed up.  Why are you asking?"

"No reason."

"Are you getting a crush on him?"  James had been watching Josh and I
all day.  All of he guys had.  To go from enemies to friends was an
unexpected change.  They probably hadn't expected me to emerge from
that bathroom alive.

I shook my head.  "Let head over to Egypt -- I love the mummies."

I walked away, feeling the pull of the rest of James' questions behind
me.  He stayed a few steps behind me, dragging his feet.

***

We got back to the hotel around six.  We entered the suite and saw a
complete stranger sitting on the couch in a two piece black suit.  He was
in his mid forties and was on the borderline between being able to call
himself balding and bald.  Fortunately there was no confusion about his
beer belly.

Chris walked out of the kitchen with a can of pop.  "Doug, that's Lance
and David."  He walked back up the hall towards his room.

Doug stood out and extended his hand to me.

"I'm from NSYNC's management.  I've been sent to help you work
through all of this press work."

"Thanks anyway, but there is no press work.  I've made all of the
statements I plan to make."

I looked at James but he just shrugged at me and flopped down into a
chair.  He was still watching me for any sign of Josh-lust.

"We've been getting calls from media sources all over North America
wanting to talk to you, David.  Since your name is connected with
NSYNC it's been decided that we should step in and help arrange
things."

"Thanks, but I've got no contract with you guys.  I can stay anti-social if
I want."

James spoke up again.  "Think about it, David.  It could get your name
some great exposure -- you could get a real distributer for your poetry
book."

He looked so huggable -- all sad and jealous.  But I could see Lance
creeping to the surface -- business talk was happening.

"I don't want my poems to sell just because I'm friends with NSYNC."

"It's not just because of us -- it's because you performed a selfless act
and saved someone's life."

"And now I'm supposed to capitalize on a selfless act?"

Doug jumped back in.  "Then think of it as promoting positivity -- you'll
be a positive element in the media, balancing some of the negative
elements."  He obviously didn't think anything he was saying contained
any more validity than milk contained vodka.

But to me, it made sense.  I guess you've noticed that I'm a strongly
moral person (and I'm an atheist -- something I was thankful James
knew -- it saved us some conflict down the road . . . as long as I didn't
blow up the bridge with my JC plan.)

I sat down beside Doug.  "What do you propose?"

"A few television interviews, meet with some newspapers, and another
press conference.  We'd plot out everything before you did it."

"Ah, so you saw my last one?"

He smiled in a condescending, middle aged way.  "It wasn't that bad."

He was lying, of course.  Anyone who saw that conference had probably
wished my shooter had shown better aim.

"Alright.  I'll do it."

"I'll make some calls and see what I can set up."

He left the suite without another word.  James went to his room and
closed the door.

Things weren't looking up.

***

I went into my room, hoping to escape from everything for a while --
maybe give that bathtub a test drive.  I was sneezing even before I got
the door fully open.

The room was filled with flowers and teddy bears and potted plants.  All
of the stuff from the hospital was here.

Attacking my allergies.

And taking no prisoners.

Josh was watering some of the flowers and staring at me in horror.

"I guess no-one mentioned my allergies to you," I laughed, between
sneezes.

"So THAT's why they were in the bathroom."  Yet another NSYNCer
got a good laugh out of my allergies.

I beaned him with a teddy bear.

***

I was up to my neck in the bathtub, with one hand on my cling wrapped
stomach.  It had held up to showers, so I didn't expect a bath to be much
worse.

Granted, Murphy and his laws had been walking all over my face that
day.  The plus was that the hotel had bubble bath stuff.  There was at
least 8 inches of bubbles and the jets were on low, keeping the water
moving.

I could get used to living in here.  Gills would help though.

There was a knock at James' door.

"I'm taking a bath."

"Then cover up."

James opened the door and walked in.  I slid deeper into my bubbled
palace.  He avoided looking directly at me -- whether it was for my
privacy or because of Josh, I didn't know.

"You've got to know some stuff before you do all those interviews."

"Yeah yeah, I know.  We're just friends.  Everyone in NSYNC is horny
for girls."

"No, not . . . well, yeah, that.  But there's more."  He hopped up onto the
counter and stared at the wall.  "Have you remembered any of the
attack?"

"I've had some dreams -- but I don't know how trustworthy they are."  I
was overly conscious of my slowly dissolving fortress.  I tried not to
stare in horror as each bubble popped.

"What were the dreams?"

"One was more of an aftermath -- I was trying to save the girl but I was
too scared.  I couldn't do it."  I felt like a coward.  A naked coward.  A
naked coward who was getting more and more naked because bubbles
weren't any more immortal that he was.  "The other one had me standing
in darkness, knowing that he was out there and that his daughter was too.
I couldn't find her to save her.  I was bleeding and I had a gun."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's all."

"That one's real, David.  From what the police told me, you were shot
and then managed to get the gun away from Derrick" -- his name was
Derrick, I'd forgotten it -- "but he kept attacking, trying to get the gun.
You had to do it, David.  You had no choice."

The bathwater turned to ice.  "I had to do what, James?"

He knelt beside the tub so that he was on eye level with me.

"You shot him.  Twice."

No joke came to me.  Nothing came to me at all.

"David?"

He was too far away.  His voice was too quiet.

"David?"

I held onto that voice -- that deep voice.  It was my life jacket and I held
firm.

"Say something, David."

I couldn't.  There was nothing to say, nothing to think.  Nothing but
James' voice.  And his hand on my shoulder.  And his forehead leaning
against my temple.  And the crack in his voice as he started to cry.

"Please say something."

Finally I managed to get control of one of my arms, and I wrapped it
around James' neck, holding him as close as I could.  He was still crying.

"It's okay, James."  It was a lie, but I wouldn't let him cry.  "I can handle
this."  Second lie.  Strike two.  "It'll be alright."  Strike three -- someone
was warming up an electric chair in Texas.

He stopped crying, and I wiped the tears away.  It actually made his face
wetter, but I didn't notice much.

"This isn't a peep show, James.  Get out of here.  I'll come see you in a
few minutes."

He smiled at me and a forced a smile in return.  He moved a towel so
that it was in my reach and then slipped back into his room to wait.

I slid down under my crumbling palace.

***

Last I'd heard, Derrick was unconscious on the 6th floor of the hospital.
Because of me.

Yeah, he tried to kill his daughter for some insane reason, but I shot him.
Twice.  And while he was lying in a hospital bed, I spent my afternoon
wandering around a museum with a celebrity.

Hell, *I* was a celebrity.  All because I shot Derrick O'Hara.

I shot another human being.

Hero was the last word I'd use.

***

I sneezed.

My room was flowerless when I went in wearing my towel, in search of
clothing.  All of the stuffed animals were still there, and the air was still
think with fragrance.  There was a note on the bed.

          I moved them into the extra room.
                         Josh

James wouldn't be impressed when he found out.  I had to explain Josh
somehow.  I couldn't let James be jealous of Josh.  It would just get in
the way of the plan.

I grabbed some clothes and stripped away my cling wrap cover.  I started
to do a bandage change and got the old one off.

This damage -- I gave someone else two of these.  It would never fully
heal.  I could have killed him.

I got lost in the mirror, looking at myself as I stood there with the towel
around my waist.  More at my injury than at me -- as if it were some
separate entity.

I didn't notice James walk up behind me until he'd put his chin on my
shoulder.  I immediately pulled a hand up to cover my wound, so that he
wouldn't see it, but he caught my hand and pulled it down.

"You're beautiful, David."

All I could see were the stitches in my Frankenstein skin.  I turned away
from the mirror and towards James.

"Let's face it, you're the pretty one, James."

He blushed a little, but he read my words as more of a stab at myself
than a compliment.

"Not in my eyes," he said.  His eyes were still bloodshot from his tears in
the bathroom.  It really set off the green.

It probably wasn't the best time to bring this up, but I did anyway.  "I've
never met someone with such a freakishly large Adam's apple."

That got the smile.  He lit up.

Then he hit me, but at least he lit up.  I laughed.  "I'm kidding!"

"Do it again and I'll take your towel and toss you in Chris' room."  His
nose wrinkled.  "Why does it smell like roses?"

"Josh picked up my gifts from the hospital.  A peace offering."  I pointed
to the pile of stuffed animals on the bed.

"There's hardly enough room for us," he complained.  I could see the
jealousy in his eyes.  He was kicking himself for not thinking of it
himself.

I put the new patch over my wound and reached for the tape.  James beat
me to it and started cutting it to the proper lengths.  He taped me
together gently.

"A little harder, James, or it won't stick right."  He did as I asked.  "And
anyway, with all of my new stuffed friends, who needs to sleep with
you?"

Green eyes glared up at me from where he was kneeling.

"Bet you'd make room for JC."  He didn't say it, but it was there.  He
didn't trust me.

And he was right not to, not with the plan I was forming in my head.
The equation just wasn't as good when I was in it.  He'd be happier with
Josh -- the could go everywhere together.  No strange trips to Toronto,
no phone calls every night until one night someone wasn't home and the
whole system collapsed.

But the plan as wrong.  I couldn't look at those eyes, that spiky hair,
those beautiful eyebrows and think that he'd be better off with Josh.  I
didn't know how much Josh loved him, but I knew how I felt.  I knew
that I'd do anything for James.

But that was my heart.  My head refused to let the plan go entirely.  And
my head ruled my world.

"JC and I are friends, James.  Nothing else.  I would never choose him.
Ever."  At least, not for me, I thought.

His eyes relaxed and he put the last piece of tape firmly in place.  He
hadn't cringed, hadn't even squinted his eyes at it.

"I love you, James Lance Bass."

He stood up so that we were eye to eye.

"I love you too, Towel-boy."

He slowly started to lean forward.  I closed my eyes and waited for it,
forgetting the plan entirely.  I felt his hand close on my waist.

Then he started to giggle.  My eyes flashed open.  He had a grip on the
towel and he pulled.  He ran for the door to the hall with the towel in
hand.  He threw open the door and escaped into the hall as I stood there
with my mouth hanging open.

He was looking back more than forward, and he and Chris had an
unfortunate meeting of the ways in the hall.  There was a crunch and a
few screams.  They both landed heavily on the floor of the hall, with
James out of my view and Chris on his stomach.  Chris' eyes forced their
way open and he moaned in pain.

Then he saw me -- sans towel -- and he let out another little scream and
clamped his eyes shut.

I slammed the door.

***

Part 11

I held the ice bag over Chris' eye.  The swelling wasn't that bad, but it
was going to bruise.  It was the only really notable injury from the two of
them, as long as Chris' brain recovered from the peep show he'd
received.

"Sorry about that, Chris," I mumbled.  I was kind of embarrassed.  I
didn't shake my moneymaker for just anybody.

Hell, I didn't shake it for anyone.

"Don't worry about it," he mumbled back.  "When you're on the road
like this, you get the occasional eyeful."

James was in the kitchen making himself an icepack for his shoulder.

"Really?  What's James like in the buff?"

"Hey, I said I got the occasional view, I didn't say I wanted to have
flashbacks."  He laughed and took the icepack from me.  Then he gave
me a curious look.  "You haven't seen for yourself?"

"Nope.  We aren't even officially dating."

He looked surprised.

"Lance," he yelled, "get your albino ass in here."

James came in, holding his icepack to his shoulder.

"What?" he asked in his deep, sexy voice.

"You like David, right?"

"Yeah."

"David, you like Lance, right?"

I nodded.

"Good," Chris said.  "I know pronounce you a couple.  Now kiss and get
me a damn Tylenol."

James smiled at me and then slipped back into the kitchen.

Justin walked in from the direction of the bedrooms, yawning.  "What's
all the noise?  People were trying to nap."

"Hero-boy flashed me and Lance got jealous.  He's got a hell of a left
hook."

Justin flopped into a chair.  "Fine, don't tell me."  He looked like he'd
be asleep again in a minute.

James came back with the Tylenol and a glass of water and handed it to
Chris before he handed me the icepack from his other hand.  He sat at
my feet and I put the pack on his shoulder.  I used my other hand to rub
his shoulder.  He grabbed the icepack and tossed it on the ground.

"Use both hands and do a proper job of it."

He was moaning in seconds -- high-school drama had included a week
on massages, and I'd been a great student.  Well, after I learned about
pressure points.  I'd knocked a girl out when I hit a wrong pressure point
on her hand.  I'd panicked for five minutes before she finally woke up.

I'd never felt more like Mr. Spock.

Chris covered his ears in protest against public displays of moaning.

"Saturday's coming way too fast," James groaned.

"You're not leaving until Tuesday -- Josh told me earlier."

"Tuesday?  What happened?"

"Ask him.  I didn't catch the details."

Speak of the devil(ishly cute NSYNC member), Josh came in the room.
I stopped the massage and leaned back on the couch.

"Hey, you're not done yet."  James complained.

"Yeah, I am.  Thumb cramps.  I'm out of practice.  Global warming.  By
order of the President.  There's plenty of time before you leave."

"I'll hold you to that."

Josh gave James a sad glance.  I smiled apologetically and Josh laughed.

"Damn, David -- that's a lot of stuff you raked in."

"A lot of stuff I don't need.  Or want.  Or can even stand to share a room
with."  I reminded myself to take an antihistamine before bed.  The room
was full of pollen, even if the flowers were gone.

"Thought that counts, dude."  JC plopped onto the couch between me
and Chris.

"What happened to him?" he whispered to me.

Chris glares at me.  "Davey was dancing around naked, and I got poked
in the eye."

JC laughed.  "Fine, don't tell me."

He laughed even harder when he saw me blushing.

"It's true?" he crowed.

"Only in the most technical sense."

James turned around to be part of the conversation, putting himself
between my knees and resting his arm on my lap.  I tried to pull myself
as far away as I could without being rude.

"It's okay," Josh said quietly.

James flashed another confused glare at me.  I'd have to think of an
explanation for my sudden friendship with Josh.

I relaxed and let James get comfortable.  He lay his head down in my lap
and I let my fingers travel through the spikes.

Wow.  His hair really is thick.  Mine used to be, before I discovered
those special barber scissors that thinned things out.  Then nature took
over and did some thinning of its own.

(That year, Nature came off my Christmas card list.  Even coal was too
good for something that threatened my hairline.  Nature admitted defeat
soon after.)

I listened to the silence of the room.  5 people, and the only noise was
Justin's semi-snores.  (He was young still -- he'd grow into the truly
window shaking snores in a few years, I guessed.)  That's when I really
felt like one of them.  Silence that wasn't awkward was the sign of
acceptance.  It was . . . well, it was boring.

"Where's Joey?"

Chris spoke up from behind his ice-mask.  "He met someone.  They
went for some food and to a movie."

At the mention of food -- any food -- my stomach rumbled.

JC laughed at me and said "I second that."

We called for room service.

***

Not many people realize the plight of a vegetarian in a food ordering
situation.  Most places assume that a vegetarian meal can be made by
just piling more peas and carrots onto a plate, with some broccoli for
height.

More often than not, salads were the only option.  Caesar salads were off
the list from the get-go (you don't want to know what's in the dressing).
Garden salads always had those bacon bits (even though most of the time
they weren't made of anything like meat -- the risk was still enough to
get me to avoid it.)

So I ended up with a plate of peas and carrots with broccoli for height.

It didn't seem very satisfying in comparison to the plates of chicken
wings (which is a delightful thing to watch -- seeing someone eat
chicken wings always strengthens my inner vegan), thick steaks
(practically still bleeding to death on the plate) and a variety of other
stomach warmers.

I remember I used to love steak.  With saut‚ed onions.

But that was years ago and the urges were only half-hearted at best these
days.  When Chris started into the wings, I was back to full veggie-strength.

James came back from his room and filled his plate up from the cart.  I
watched him like a morality coach in a prison shower.  The guilt must've
gotten to him because he took the least repulsive options.

Which was good -- I was itching to kiss that boy, and that wouldn't be
easy to do if I was stuck on the image of him gnawing on bones.

I was near the breaking point on the JC plan.  I didn't want to give James
up, even if it was for the best.

But I'd have to.  Tuesday would come and James would return to his
work and I'd go back to school.  Those two worlds had about as much
chance of overlapping as Earth had of suddenly ramming into Pluto.

But I had to admit I was holding out for a cataclysmic collision.

I finished quickly and excused myself.  I went to my room and popped a
pill I'd gotten from the hospital with the bandages -- it was supposed to
reduce the risk of infections.

Then I noticed the giftwrapped box on the bed, surrounded in the teddy
bears from the hospital.  It was a bright green pattern, tuns of little frogs
on a blue background.  A few of them looked vaguely like Kermit.

I climbed onto the bed and ripped the paper off.  There was a cellular
phone with all of the attachments.  A card fell out of the wrapping paper.

     You'll always be within reach.  It's yours, but I'm going
     to be a bit greedy and keep all of the bills for myself.
                              Love, James.

And there he was, leaning against the frame of the door with a huge
smile on his face.

"Mr. Bass, get your gorgeous ass over here."

I met him at the edge of the bed with the longest kiss in the history of . . .
well, maybe in the history of first kisses, but I bet someone managed a
longer one.

He had soft lips and I was filled with the distinct smell of James.  When
he came up for air I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him
back down.  He seemed almost happy to be drowning.

We were both panting for air.

"Thank-you, James."

"My pleasure.  I even made sure the case wasn't real leather."

"Not just for that.  For saving me."

He looked puzzled.

"I haven't saved you from anything."

"Any idea what my life would've been like if you hadn't been here this
week?"

"You'd have been fine, David."

I shook my head and reached out for him again.

He stepped out of my reach.  "Just open the box so we can set the damn
thing up," he laughed.

I pulled open the end of the box and smiled.  "Cool, it comes with
CD's."  I upended the box and a half dozen Dolly Parton CD's tumbled
out.

"I'll get you for that," I growled.  He ran out of the room laughing, and I
gave chase.

***

Part 12

I was catching up to him as we ran into the main room, but the chase
was abandoned when Doug let himself back into the suite.

"Hey, Doug," Chris said from the couch.  "Ya gotta knock to gain
entry."

"Hi," was all Doug said in response.  He walked right over to me.  "Press
conference is at 8 am.  You're due at Much Music by 11 and there's an
interview for City Pulse at 2.  You're meeting with someone from the
Star somewhere in between."

He walked into the kitchen, saying over his shoulder: "Come on, we've
got to go over what you're going to say."

The guys and I just looked at each other, stunned.

"Who the hell was that?" JC asked.

"He's from your management.  They sent him to help me with my media
blitz."

"He's not going to last long with the company." JC say angrily.

I walked into the kitchen with James right behind me.  Doug had spread
out some papers on the counter.

"I'll have a car here by 7:30 tomorrow.  Be in the lobby.  The press
conference should only be about a half hour long -- we can fill in any
blanks at the other meetings later in the day.  I need you to sign these,
they're basic agreements that say you won't say anything that would be
damaging to NSYNC's image."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Anything that the fans wouldn't want to here.  It's detailed in the
documents."  He handed me a pen and leaned against the fridge with his
arms crossed and resting on his belly.

I wondered how much carnage I could accomplish by repeated stabbing
motions with a cheap plastic pen.  James started reading through the
pages, one by one.  He took the pen and crossed a few things out.

Doug grabbed the pen.

"The contracts stand as is.  No changes."

"Then David doesn't agree," Lance said.  His Mr. Hyde had emerged and
was suddenly arguing my contracts.  I stepped back and let him work.
"David will not accept giving the company slices of any money he
makes on this.  And the closet clause is not acceptable."

"Closet clause?" I asked.

"In a round about way it would limit your freedom of speech.  They want
you to sign away your right to out yourself."

This blond boy really did know me.

"It could hurt the image of the group if it was known that you all came
up to support some gay kid."

James' eyes declared war.  I could practically hear the trumpets.

"He would not cause damage.  So we're friends with a gay guy?  Who
cares?  It says nothing about us."

He looked down at the contracts and crossed out several more things and
then handed the pen to Doug.

"Initial these changes and then David will consider signing."

Doug was practically shaking.  He was being shown up by a twenty year
old Adonis (who just happened to have a full head of hair.)  But he
looked over the changes.

"Two weeks is unacceptable.  The contract has to be valid for at least six
months."

"I'll give you the six months in exchange for a lump sum of five
thousand."

Money?  I was going to get paid to do this press work?

"Like he needs the money.  Have you seen the size of his trust fund?"

James looked as confused as I did.  This was the second time the trust
fund had been mentioned.

"What trust fund?" I asked.

"Set up in your name after you were shot.  Someone is trying to pull
together a reward for you.  It's in the six digit range."

James and I met eyes in complete shock.

"Any decimal places?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"None."  Doug turned back to James.  "Two thousand.  Final offer."

James nodded and Doug penned in the change.  The pen was passed to
me.  I signed without reading.

"Looks like you can handle the cell phone bills yourself," James
whispered in my ear, smiling.

"Who the hell would send a few hundred grand my way?"

"Dunno.  But it's there."

We spent the rest of the time going over things with Doug.  He'd
assembled a small pile of newspaper articles that had come out since the
attack so that we could figure out a plan for tomorrow.

James pencilled in a doctor's appointment that he'd arranged in a 4
o'clock slot.

"And there's a police officer coming over tonight to ask some
questions," Doug added when he was putting all of the papers back into
his briefcase.

"I have nothing to tell them and it's late."

"Formality.  Your shots were obviously done in self defence.  There
were several witnesses to that.  I can arrange for a lawyer to be here with
you.  It'll only take fifteen minutes at the most."

James looked at me.  I saw no reason for a lawyer.  I did nothing legally
wrong.  I saved someone.

Morally, I was ready for the gallows.

But I saved someone.

"No lawyer.  It'll be fine."

"If anything goes wrong, you can call it off and tell the police your
lawyer will be in touch."

I nodded and Doug walked out of the kitchen and out of the suite,
without acknowledging any of the guys.

"Does this mean we're co-workers, Jimmy?"

"Yep," he said, putting his arms around my waist.  "We've got six
months to have one hell of an office romance.  So if you're looking for a
raise, let's get started."

He leaned forward and barely brushed his lips against mine.  I didn't
react.

"What's wrong, David?"

"I'm scared to death of police officers."

That's when the officer walked into the kitchen.  James and I jerked
apart.  He looked like Santa Claus with a badge.

James looked at me, holding back a laugh.  "I can see why -- I'm shaking
in my boots."

I ground my heal down on his foot.

"We've got to get a doorbell for this place."

***

When Sergeant Santa left about an hour later, the guys were just getting
ready to head out on the town.  The plan was to find the tattoo place
they'd used and try and get JC to go under the needle.  Then they'd hit
the clubs.

(Justin was excited because Canadian bars don't card as often as the
American ones.  I didn't necessarily believe it, but I stayed quiet.)

I was worn out so I grabbed a notebook from my room and set up shop
on the couch, planning on writing some of the crappiest poems of all
time.  I never wrote well when I was in love -- not that I'd been in love
before.  But when I was in like with someone, my writing dripped
enough cheese to make the Skydome into a huge chip-dip.

With James in the picture, I was half expecting Hallmark to worship me
as its new God.

Predictably, James decided to stay in too.  He tried to get the cell phone
all set up, and I tried to look like I was paying attention.  Eventually he
abandoned it on the coffee table and crawled up on the couch, lying on
top of me with his head on my chest.

This made it nearly impossible to write, but it didn't stop me.  Soon he
was snoring lightly.

After the third rainbow crept into my poem, I discarded the notebook
and occupied myself with stroking James' hair.  He still hadn't
recovered all of his lost sleep from the hospital.

He was such a sweet guy.  Like a blond, human bunny rabbit on Valium.
One that stewed over imaginary jealousies behind his eyes.  I could see it
though.  His eyes darkened every time Josh was in the room.

But it was obvious how much he cared for Josh -- like he said, they were
like brothers.  That added an unfortunate incest twist to the plan that was
still lingering in my head.  But as long as there were no toothless, banjo
playing offspring, I wasn't worried.

James would be so lonely without me.  JC was the solution.

But that was presumptuous.  Maybe James would be happy with phone
calls.  Maybe he really thought it could work.

I'd tried long distance relationships, and I always ended up being the one
listening to the dial tone.  (Hope that inspired some incredibly tragic
image for you -- all I ended up picturing was me in a black and white
movie, with pearls and a puffy dress, staring into the camera with my
eyes comically wide.  Maybe add in some crappy organ music and put a
martini in my hand.  And lightning through a multi-paned window.  And
any other clich‚ you could think of.)

He'd bought me a phone and offered to pay all of the bills.  That was
commitment.  He practically put a promise ring on my finger.

But Josh would be there.  In the flesh.  In the bed.  In the nude.  With
James.

(Now that was an image I didn't mind having wandering around my
skull.  I wouldn't mind a few Polaroids of that.)

I didn't know if I could call myself selfish for even keeping the plan.  I
just wanted James to be happy.  And warm.  And I never wanted him to
be alone.

Ever.

Was that selfish?  It felt like it.

And the trust fund -- now I had enough money to retire a few years
earlier than planned (at age 22 instead of 65).  I wouldn't keep it -- I
knew that without thinking.  It would all go to charity.

It would just remind me that I shot a man.  Twice.  And that if I was in
that situation again, I wouldn't be able to pull the trigger.

That was where my other fear was hidden.  Maybe next time the trigger
would be easier to pull.  A life would be easier to take.

It was all too much to think about, so I did the obvious and fell asleep
with my man snoring on my chest and drooling through my shirt.

***

I briefly woke up during the night, just long enough to notice Josh
standing over us, pulling a blanket up over James and I.  I smiled and
said something nonsensical and he smiled back.

***

It was still dark when I woke up.  The snoring was gone and the room
was silent.  But James was still there, still a warm heavy weight on my
chest.

"You awake?" I whispered.

"Yeah."

"What time is it?"

He reached out for my cell phone and checked the display.

"Just after six."

"I've got to get ready. The car comes at 7:30."

James held me tighter so that I couldn't move.

"I'm coming with you."

"You are on vacation, Mr. James Lance Bass.  If you don't start
vacationing, I'll have your hide."

"It's already yours," he giggled.  I swatted the back of his head and sat
up.  He gave up trying to hold me back.

"And keep your hands off my towels," I muttered.  I kissed him on the
forehead and shuffled towards my room and the bathroom.

"Don't wear one and we won't have a problem," he called after me.

I shaved first, and Joey was right, it is a lot easier to make the goatee
look right after someone else had balanced it for you.  I did all of my
other bathroom duties and James met me in my room to change my
bandage.  I popped another one of my pills.

Then James went for his shower and I got myself dressed.  My stuff
wasn't wrinkled.  James must've discovered the secret to packing.
Everything stayed nice and crisp.  He should teach courses on it.

Then I quietly let myself in the bathroom and sat on the counter while he
showered.  I didn't think he knew I was there.

When the water stopped, I flung the curtain open and threw a towel at
him.  He yelped and tried to cover up as much as he could.

I was a good boy.  I didn't look.

. . . too much.

Then I wandered back into my room.  Today the plan had to be put into
action.  Now or never.  That made me more nervous than a public
shower full of homophobic Chippendale dancers.

***

End of part 12!  I hope you enjoyed this installment!  The feedback has
been great so far -- I love to get all the emails, keep it up!  We'll make it
an informal contract, you guys email me so that I'll write for you. :)
thepoetboy@hotmail.com         Thanks for reading!