Date: Thu, 09 Dec 1999 20:23:33 GMT
From: Scotty T <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Lance-In-Shining-Armour-26-28

Heyheyhey!  Yeah, I know.  I dropped off the face of the earth.  Exams and
other things kept me busy for a while, but I'm back!  It also gave me time
to refind my passion for the story -- so this installment should be better
than the last few. . . . .  I hope. :)

To everyone who kept emailing, and expressed concern over my absense, thank
you!  But I'm fine!  (Well, I have a nasty cough -- but otherwise I'm
fine!)

I'm also catching up on reading all of the stories on the archive -- I've
found a number of new ones that I like and since I'm done school until
January 3rd, 2000, I have time to read them!  Woo hoo!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this long overdue installment of LISA. :)

Email me with questions, comments, critiques, and cash at
thepoetboy@hotmail.com -- and for whoever out there keeps putting my email
address on mailing lists, you're about to get a big kharmic kick in the
butt. :) I don't read junk mail -- I don't run a credit card company -- I'm
not looking to lose 30 pounds in 30 days -- I don't even have a home to
refinance -- I've yet to develop a need for Viagra -- etc etc etc.  So
don't waste your time emailing me for any of that. :)

Enjoy!

***

Part 26

I've realized that this is a story about funerals -- and this part is no
different.  I try not to focus on death -- Derrick had taken me as close as
I wanted to go.  I'd noticed my thinking had been getting darker,
especially since James had left.

There was to be no more of that.  You can't live if you're always convinced
you're dying.

I'd decided it was all a way of expressing the separation from James.  I
didn't want to live with untold distance between us, so part of me was
progressing a theory that I wouldn't live at all.

That's all it was.  A theory.  Something that would keep me from the
constant awareness of time and space and geography.

But there's more dying to be done.  Be ready for it.

***

Luke drove me home, and I kissed him on the cheek, promising to call him
the next day.  I'd pressed speed dial before Luke had even left the
driveway.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm looking for a gorgeous blond boy with a deep voice, green eyes,
and the ability to turn me on with every move he makes?"

James laughed.  "You're in luck, we've got one in stock."

"Hi, baby," I purred.  "Can I talk to Josh?"

There was a pause.

"Pardon?"

"Josh.  Can I speak to him?"

Another pause.

"He's not here.  He's in Chris' room."

"I'll email him then."

He wasn't sounding happy.  "Fine."

"Okay, I didn't mean to make it sound like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I wanted to talk to Josh more than you.  I love you, James.  You.  I
would cut off my legs to get to see you one more time."

I could hear a smile in his voice.  "With any luck, that won't be a
requirement."  Oh, that deep voice.

"We're going to have to raise your voice an octave or two, my knees keep
going rubbery."

"And we'll have to get you a less adorable giggle, cause I zone out
whenever I think of it."  He sighed.  "How many days?"

"I'm aiming for Monday morning.  3 and a half days."

I'd managed to get into the house and to the computer.  I booted it up.

"Any idea how cute you are when you're sleeping?  How warm you are?  How
cold it is when you're not there?"

"Okay, Sunday morning.  I'll have David Two set up the tickets."

James laughed.  "What'll I get if I describe your scent?  The taste of your
tongue?  How good you look without your towel?"

"You'd get a very turned on and sexually frustrated Canadian boy."

"Ego stroking turns you on, Davey?"

"Any kind of stroking turns me on."  I laughed.

I clicked on my email button and typed in the necessary stuff, all the
stuff I should have scripted, but just never bothered learning how.

"I'll keep that in mind.  Sunday.  Looks like I'll be missing church again
this week."

"I'll make a happy atheist out of you yet."

"You'll make a horny Southern Baptist out of me."

This time it was my turn to be silent.  And more than a little shocked.
"Pardon me?"

"I think I'm ready, David."

I blinked a few times.  "But it's only been . . . . it's not even been a
month!"

Shock would be a mild way of phrasing things.  James laughed.

"I know.  I just wanted you to know that I was ready -- I don't want to
push things, David.  I'll wait as long as you want."

There were three new emails.  Chris and JC and some random mail.

"I'm not ready yet, James.  I love you, more than I've ever loved anyone,
and I don't want to risk that."

"I can understand that.  But it won't come between us.  I promise."

I clicked on Chris' message.

***

Subject: Busta peed your name on the rug!  Date: Thursday, 16:03:45 From:
Cheryl Markus <removed for Chris' privacy> To: David Sheer
<thepoetboy@hotmail.com>

Well, he didn't really.

Wazzup, Davey?!

We head up to Vancouver in the morning (then to Calgary the next morning)
-- looking forward to seein' ya.  You'll finally see Busta!  Got too much
fan mail to go through -- Ma sent a shitload (don't tell Lance I said that,
he'd kill me) up for us to handle ourselves.  There's some funny stuff.

Like this one: "fucking losers, I'm going to kill you all, assholes" and it
goes on like that!  Joey fell over laughing when he read it.

We get crap like that all the time -- when you get really famous, you'll
get some to.  Just people wasting time.

Anyway, meet us in Calgary as soon as ya can.  Lance is like a waste of
space now, cause he's always thinking of his Canadian boy.  We're planning
on kidnapping you for the rest of the tour, just to get our Scoop back to
full power for the rest of the concerts.

Chris

P.S. Bring cheesecake!

***

"Emails from Chris and JC, James.  Nothing from you.  You ain't living up
to the email bargain."

"I haven't been . . . . up to writing since our last call, David."  His
voice was quiet and shaky.

"No, not this time, James.  We're not going to break down every time we
talk to each other.  It can't happen.  We'll never get to do anything if we
do that.  Think of Sunday as that soon?' instead of that late?'  Anticipate
what we can do together rather than why we're apart."

"I tried that, David, but I still . . ."

"Stop right there.  We said we'd never say that, James."  I knew I sounded
a bit angry, but it was keeping me from crying.

When we weren't talking, when we were just apart, I could be happy and
excited.  I was going to have the chance to see him again, we'd be together
again.  But James' way of seeing things sucked me in.  It drew attention to
the now, the separation, rather than the soon to be, the celebration.

I couldn't see it his way -- it would cripple me.  And I was being crippled
enough just dealing with life.  Someone else's life -- the someone who had
money, a huge house, a celebrity boyfriend, and an email from Josh of
NSYNC.

***

Subject: Re: Greetings!  Date: Thursday, 17:54:12 From: Alex Summers
<removed for Josh's privacy> To: David Sheer <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>

Sorry James couldn't say good-bye.  He's doing better now.  It's gotta be
great to have someone love you that much, Davey.

Love, Josh

***

"We're sharing the room at the hotel, right, David?"

"You bet, gorgeous.  It's hell sleeping alone.  It's hell to only have two
legs and two arms."

I hit the reply button.

***

Josh!

I'm on the phone with James right now -- but I need to ask you something.
Can you get me an extra key to James' room?  I'm going to fly up Saturday
on one of those reeeeeally early flights, and hopefully be in his room
before you guys get there.  Think you can set that up?

My friend Luke says hi -- he thinks you're dreamy. *giggle*

Keep my James warm for me! . . . .  but not too warm. ;)

Love, David

***

"I'm never going to let you go, David.  I'm installing bars on my bunk in
the bus, and you'll go wherever we go, whether you want it or not."

"I'll try to remember to bring a nail file."

"What do you still have to do in Toronto?"

"I've got some deliveries coming in tomorrow.  Then I have to make some
calls to drop my classes -- I can pretty well do that over the voice
enrollment system."  I clicked the send button.  "What's this about death
threats?"

"What?"

"Chris emailed me a bit of your fan mail -- threats against your lives."

He laughed.  "Chris gets his mother to send up the good and the bad.  He
likes to keep Justin's ego balanced."

"You get a lot of those threats?"

"Be thankful for those threats -- it was a bomb threat that got that
concert cancelled so we could stay in Toronto a few extra days. You ever
seen the number of I-Hate-NSYNC sites on the net?  They're all over the
place!  There's even a funny site that's trying to prove that me and JC are
a couple."

"See?  Even the general public thinks it should happen!"

He giggled.  "Shut up."

"It's inevitable, James -- the world has decided."

"Keep talking like that and I'll change my mind and say that I'll never be
ready, Canuck!"

"You Americans and your ultimatums."

"Look, David, I have to go.  I've got to pack and then we've got to meet
with management for a few minutes.  I'll email you later, okay?"

"Email from you would be a dream come true."

"Wanna know a dream come true?  Wrapping my arms around you, and going to
sleep, knowing that when I wake up, you'll be there."

"Some morning, I will be there, James."

"Every morning I think you'll be there. But waking up ruins it."

"Hey, I thought I was the bad poet in this relationship."

He laughed.  "Sunday then?"

"Sunday."

I turned off the computer and slipped the phone into the charger.

***

The pool table arrived at 10 am the next day, when I was on the phone with
David II.  He had a secretary arranging the plane tickets as we spoke, and
he even offered to take care of getting me separated from my university.

"We'll pick up your keys today and have everything all set by Monday.  Is
there anything left in your room?"

"A bit," I answered, leading the four pool table guys to the basement.
They took some measurements of the stairs while I slipped into the Nintendo
room to finish the call.

"We'll box it and leave it in the front hall of the cottage, alright?"

"Deal."

"Anything else, David?"

"Call me Davey."

"I hate it when people call me Davey."

I laughed.  "You ain't me, lawyer boy.  I need someone to take care of my
fish while I'm gone."

"I can pick them up today, when I come for your keys.  They can keep me
company in the office."

"Perfect.  You're a saint.  I'll show you how to feed Sweetheart -- he's a
picky eater."

"You named your fish Sweetheart?"

"His live-in lover is Cupcake -- his last boyfriend, Honey, died a while
back."

David II laughed, but somehow sounded respectful when he gave me his
condolences.  "And Davey," he said when he calmed down, "we have to discuss
a will.  You've got a lot of stuff to. . ."  There was a beeping sound.
"I'll be right back."  There was a click and Muzak filled my ear.

A workman was standing in the hallway, watching me.

"Yes?"

"Shouldn't be any trouble getting things down there.  Maybe two hours for
assembly and balancing.  Do you want green or red?"

"Green, thanks.  And there's pop and stuff in the fridge -- help
yourselves."

He smiled and nodded and left the room.  There was another click and David
II was back.

"I'm sending a car for you, Davey, and someone else to watch over your
deliveries."

"Pardon?  Why?"

"It's Joy."

The world stopped.

***

The nurse was watching me.  "It's your call, Mr. Sheer."

I didn't want that call -- I never wanted that call.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, with Joy's hand in mine.  David II
was on the other side, with her other hand. He'd known her longer than I
had.  I just met her.  It should have been his call.

She was already dead -- you could tell by looking at her.  After too long a
pause, she would take a small ragged breath, and let it out, and then there
would be another pause.  Her eyes were sunken, her skin was cold.  She
hadn't moved at all, except for those occasional breaths, since we got
there.

"Give us a minute, please."  The nurse nodded and left the room.  David II
stood to follow, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bed.

"You've known her longer.  She wouldn't want to be put on life support,
would she?"

"It's not my choice -- she chose you."

"You are part of this decision, dammit."  My voice was raised more than I
wanted it.  "You've known her longer, she loved you."

"She loved you too, Davey."

I made the dark realisation that we were both referring to her in the past
tense.  I made the mental switch to present.

"Would she want to be put on a machine?"  He knew, he had to know.  He was
the closest thing she had to family -- he was like the older brother, and
she was a mother.  I was the young one -- the one who never heard about
serious matters, the one who was left to innocence.

He shook his head.

"Then we let her go."

He gripped my hand on top of Joy's.

***

A nurse brought in some cardboard boxes.  David II was asleep in the chair,
and I was still perched on the side of the bed.  My back was cramping and
Joy's breathing was almost gone.

I was reading to her.  Faulkner's "As I Lay Dying."  It had been open
beside her bed.

The nurse looked surprised to find us there.  The boxes were for the books.
I knew it by the shame in her eyes.  She was sent to pack up the room,
while the last breaths were still coming.

"Get out."  I said it through a clenched jaw.  I said it with an anger I
could never even bring forward for Derrick.  I said it with a fury that
woke the other David -- the other one of Joy's bookends.

He looked around, dazed, until he focused on the pale nurse, the nurse that
was balancing her orders with her morality.  Under two sets of eyes she
turned and fled the room.

David II had sharp eyes.  His voice was hard.  "I'll be back in a few
minutes."  He exited the room like a . . .  Well, I wouldn't have wanted to
be on the receiving end of what he had to say.

I'd gotten to Addie's chapter, where she says "I could just remember how my
father used to say that the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead
a long time" when I noticed that the room had gone silent.

My father had never even mentioned death.  What I knew, I picked up through
my own readings.  Or through school.

Joy was staring at me from the bed, like I was Death himself.  Her
breathing was gone.  I put the book on my knee and tried to close her eyes,
like they did in the movies.  It took convincing for my hand to perform the
task.

I went back to the book, holding Joy's hand until David II returned.  He'd
blown himself out -- released what needed to be released.  He stood in the
doorway, pregnant with words, the story of what he had just experienced.

But in the pauses of my reading, he heard the silence.  He became aware.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, and quietly cried into my
shoulder.  I kept reading aloud.

He was her true son.  I still didn't know how I was pulled into the family
-- she'd known him for years.  She told me she had no-one to leave her
money to, no-one close, but she did.  She had the original David.

And he didn't want anything she had to offer.

I kept reading until I couldn't see through my tears, until I was shaking
too hard to hold the book steady.  My voice had long since given up, and I
was only mouthing the words.

***

Part 27

David spent the night at the house with me, each of us busy with our own
tasks.  My plane left around five.  David got me to sign a few things and
he came with me to the airport.  He insisted on carrying my bags since I
still didn't have fully functional stomach muscles.

I had a feeling he was going to be an overprotective older brother.  And it
was odd to have the same name as a sibling.

"You're sure you don't need any help down here, David?  I can put off the
trip."

"Yeah, as if I wanted to start a blood feud with NSYNC.  I'll be fine.  She
didn't want a funeral anyway.  A simple cremation, and then she gets put in
the wall beside her wife.  I'll take you to the cemetery when you get back.
It's a beautiful place."

"Call me if you need me.  For anything.  And you can take the money out of
my trust fund."

"I can cover it."

"But you don't have to.  As far as I'm concerned you have as much right to
the trust fund as I do."

"I told you I don't want it."

"You've got no choice, Bro.  I'm forcing it on you."

He yawned and smiled.  His eyes were bloodshot, and not just from lack of
sleep.  "It's too bad you didn't get to know her better, Davey.  She was an
amazing woman."

"I knew enough to know that."

***

I slept through the entire flight.  I wasn't recognized, thankfully.  I
took it as a sign that my 15 minutes of fame were long past.  David II had
arranged for a first class ticket -- attempting to make my first flight as
smooth as possible.

I wasn't even awake for the takeoff.

I was met at the airport by someone who said he was hired by David.  So he
lead me to a limo and then went back in to claim my luggage.  I slept all
the way to the hotel.

Getting the key to James' room was easy -- Josh had even left a note for
me.

***

     David,

     The setup was no problem.  We should get there by noon.  We'll try to
     leave you two alone for as long as possible, but all of us are kinda
     excited to see you.  Lance is the only one not in on the joke.

     Josh

***

I woke up when I heard voices in the hallway.  I could hear Joey
complaining -- apparently management had put him in a room with Chris.
Justin and JC were sharing too, but their complaints weren't as vocal.

There was a key in the door and I pulled the blankets over my head.  The
voices in the hall fell silent.  I could just imagine the grins on their
faces.

The door swung open and there was a pause.

"Sorry, wrong room."  James stepped back in the hall and closed the door.

I tried not to giggle when I heard JC in the hall.  "Can't be the wrong
room, Lance, the key wouldn't work."

"Maybe he just didn't check out at 11 like he was supposed to," Joey
volunteered.

"I'm gonna go down to the front Desk."  James didn't sound impressed.

Somehow something had gone wrong.  But from all the giggles in the hallway,
you'd think it was all going as planned.

I grabbed my cell phone, puling it under the blankets with me, and hit the
speed dial.  There was a ringing in the hallway.

"Hullo?"  James sounded a bit tense in the hallway.

"James, you and your friends had better shut up -- I'm trying to sleep."

I heard the door swing open.  NSYNC giggles filled the room.  I could hear
James walking over to the bed.

The blankets were jerked back and I smiled up at him.  He was still holding
the cell phone to his ear.  James stared in open mouthed shock as the guys
started laughing even harder.  I cracked a smile and held open my arms for
my boy.  He practically leapt into the hug.

Someone -- probably Josh -- closed the door and we were left alone in the
room on the bed.  And James just kept holding me.  (I sure as hell wasn't
going to be the first one to let go.)

"You aren't supposed to be here until tomorrow," he whispered with his deep
voice and his southern accent.

"I see you've spent your alone time honing your ability to state the
obvious."  I laughed -- as much as I could since my ribs were already being
crushed.  "Couldn't let my little Baptist miss any more church, could I?"

I'd missed that smell -- the scent that is distinctly James.  The heat.
The spiky hair.  The smoothness of his neck.  I could go on listing forever
-- but I think you get the point.

I missed him.  And now he was there and I couldn't think of the list -- it
was just an immersion in James -- everything exists together and when
you're in the middle of it, you can't break it down and categorize it.

"How long have you been here, David?"

"I got an early flight.  I was too exhausted to bother checking the time."

He pulled back and looked me in the eye.  Oh, his green eyes.  "What's the
matter?  Why haven't you slept?"

"I've been separated from a certain Adonis . . ."

"And?"

"And Joy died last night."

His eyes widened again and he pulled me into his arms, hugging me.  But
this time it was very gentle.  "I'm sorry, David."

"It was inevitable, James.  And she seemed to go peacefully.  David II and
I were there with her, I was reading to her.  I guess it was a good way to
go."

"There's no such thing as a good way to go."

"I think there is.  Like now -- here, with you.  This would be a good way
to go."

"I don't want to talk about that.  You aren't going anywhere."

I smiled and nuzzled into his neck.  "No.  No, I'm not."

I let the silence go for a while and we rocked side to side.  Then I kissed
his neck and pulled back.

"How was your trip, James?"

"Busta peed all over the carpet, and the bus smelled like urine for most of
the trip."

Snickering, I pushed him over onto his stomach.  I straddled his butt and
started giving him a back massage, finding the tense muscles and following
the bumps of his spine.  He growled into his pillow.

"The trip would have been a lot better if I had this to look forward to,
Davey."

"You wouldn't have been able to relax the entire way.  The guys would have
shot you before you hit the border."

"They would not."

"Hey, it's the American way."

"Okay, add that to the list of reasons why I have to beat you up."

"That list is getting mighty long."

I pushed on his lower back with both hands and a series of pops resulted.
James moaned deeply.

"Oh, yeah," he growled.  "That just got the list chopped in half."

"Then no beating?"

"Still beating -- but now it's two smaller beatings instead of one big
one."

"I think if I can take a bullet, I can handle myself in a fight with a gay
little southern boy."

"Bi little southern boy."

I took it in stride.  I'd noticed his eyes wandered when a really
attractive girl walked by -- but I also noticed that those eyes always
ended up coming back to focus on me, so I didn't care.

"You don't look like you've had much sleep either, blondie."

"It's not easy going from sleeping with you to sleeping alone on a bus
bunk."

"Well, you're not going to have to worry about that for a while."

"Now I'll have to worry about fitting two people on that bunk.  It's going
to be a tight squeeze."

"You won't hear any complaints from me."

He sighed.  He was falling asleep, I knew.  I needed a few more hours,
myself, so I let him go and curled up beside him.

***

When I woke up he was watching me.  He was supporting himself on one elbow
and had his other hand on its customary spot on my chest.  He smiled and
that was all it took for a matching goofy look to spread across my face.

"You should have given me advance warning, Davey.  I'd have arranged for
more time off today."

"Where do you have to be?"

"Setting levels for the concert, sound checks and all that stuff.  Wanna
come?"

"You don't need the distraction.  I'll find something to do."

He pouted.  "I want you to be there with me."

I slipped my fingers around his on my chest.  "I'll be here when you get
back.  I have some stuff to do."

"I'll call you during my breaks."

I grinned up at those green eyes.  "I'd be mad if you didn't."

There was a knock at the door.

"Guys?"  Josh called.  "We really have to go soon."

"He'll be out in a minute," I called back.  I turned back to James.  "Now
get your celebrity ass in gear before I have to kick it."

He smiled but made no move to get up, so I gave him a little shove and
listened to the rewarding thud as he hit the ground.

"You just earned another big beat up," he moaned from the floor.

I laughed.

***

I was in the emergency room of a hospital, chatting with the head nurse.
There weren't many people waiting, and she'd recognised my name on the
form, so she was in a chatty mood.

"Here for the NSYNC concert?" she asked.

"You a fan?"

"My youngest is.  I can't remember the colour of her walls cause of all the
posters."

I laughed.  "Yeah.  Tomorrow'll be my first time seeing them in concert."

"I went last time they came around here."  The laugh lines around her eyes
deepened.  "Must say I didn't mind the view."

"How about the music?"

"There was music?"  She laughed, a deep laugh that spread across the
waiting room.  It cast a soothing blanket over the place.  This was one
hospital I could be comfortable in.  "Couldn't hear a note of it over all
the screaming."

"Yeah, the kiddies can be loud."

Her eyes darted around a bit.  "I didn't get my voice back for a week."

I laughed and she pointed me towards an examining room.  She followed me
and dropped the needed sheets in the door.  "Nice meeting you, David."  She
closed the door.

The doctor arrived a few minutes later.  He looked like he was fresh out of
medical school.  Nice, young, and cute.  Short, light brown hair.  A small
gold hoop in one of his ears, and lively blue eyes.

"I'm Doctor Carter."  He smiled, showing a line of perfect, white teeth.
"You're my first celebrity, Mr. Sheer."

"David.  And the world's supposed to have forgotten about me by now."

He laughed.  "I got a reminder at the front desk.  You made quite an
impression.  What can I do for you?"

I pulled up my shirt.  "I just need you to take a look.  I haven't had the
chance to see a doctor in a while and I think it's getting infected."

"Alright, lie down and we'll take a look."

I could feel his rough fingers sliding around the wound.  I'd stopped
wearing the bandages a few days back, hoping that my mother's insistence
that cuts should always be left to the air was a wise one.

"Do they have you on any antibiotics, David?"

"They ran out a few days ago."

"I'll set you up with something new -- something a bit stronger than what
they probably gave you.  There does seem to be a bit of infection.  And
some tearing in the stitches."

"Which means?"

"Which means I'd like to do a bit of new stitching, and we'll clean it up a
bit.  It should be back on track in a few days.  I'll want to see you again
in a few days just to make sure."

I decided that James'd kill me.  Infected and damaged stitching.

"Just give me a few minutes to set up the anaesthetic and everything."

"Skip the anesthetic -- I don't mind a little pain."

"You're sure?  You're going to have to not mind a lot of pain."

"Sure I'm sure."

He laughed and I pulled my shirt back down.  "I read something about that
in the papers.  About that and some hospital escape.  I thought you were
about to become some kind of Canadian folk hero."

He was going through draws and collecting supplies.

"Last thing I need is lasting fame, Doc."

He smiled and I pulled the shirt completely off.  I lay back down.  The
first waves of pain were hitting when my phone rang.  I just let it ring.

***

I called James back on my way to the hotel.  I'd been given a new batch of
bandages and a small pill bottle.

"I called you earlier, David.  Where were you?"

"I was in the shower."

There was a silence.  I crossed my fingers on my lap.

"Oh.  Well, that's forgivable."

"How's work?"

"Slow.  The lighting guy was a half hour late, they're having trouble
getting the sound system up, and Joey is following a female stage hand
around like a horny puppy dog."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"She's an eight."

"What about Joey?"

"About a seven.  Above average."

"Josh?"

"Would you quit it with that?"

"Just tell me!"

"Nine point seven.  Happy?"

"Me?"

"If you want to be put on the scale, you'll mess up the whole bell curve.
You're off the charts."

I grinned.  "I've made a decision."

"About what?"

"You are too cute for words, James."

"Uh.  Thanks, I guess."

"So when'll you be home?"

"By seven.  Eight at the absolute latest."

"I'll see you then."

The cab was pulling up at the hotel.

"I can talk for a while still."

"I can't.  I've got some stuff to do."

"Oh."  He was audibly sulking.  "Alright then.  Bye, Davey."

"Bye, James."

"Love you."

I looked at the back of the cabbie's head.  "Ditto."

I paid the cabbie and gingerly climbed out of the car.  I was back to
square one with stomach pain -- it wasn't quite as bad as the original set
of stitches, but it was painful enough.  It was starting to get dark, but I
noticed a computer store accross the street.

***

"I want a laptop."

"What sort of features are you looking for?"  The clerk was about five
years younger than I was -- not even old enough to make adult minimum wage.
What he lacked in money and social skills, he made up for in acne.

"Whatever you have in stock.  I want a laptop immediately."

His eyes widened.  "We don't do sales like that.  You order the system, we
set it up and get it to you in a week."

"I won't be here in a week.  I want it in an hour.  Or less."

I liked having money to throw around.  I was leaning on the counter and
staring down the geeky young man.

"We don't keep completed systems in stock.  We're a small store."

"I'm betting you have something."

I didn't blink -- I just kept staring at him hoping he'd crack first.  It
was an experiment.  I was used to being the meek one in these situations.

He cracked.

"I've got two systems that were ordered.  But they belong to other people.
I have to call them and tell them their systems are in, but I can delay
that."

He sketched out the features of the two systems and thirty five hundred
(Canadian!) dollars later I left with my new computer under my arm.

***

Part 28

I was still going through the system's setup and the programs (like any kid
with a new toy) when James got back.  I met him halfway with one hell of a
kiss.

"Hello, beautiful," I whispered.

He grinned with his hands on my hips.  "New toy?"

"Fully loaded."

"Can I tear you away from it for dinner with the guys?"

"It'll still be there after dinner."

"You could have just used my laptop, Davey."

"And where would that be?"

"In my suitcase."

I raised an eyebrow at him and his eyes widened.  He looked around the
room.  "Where's my luggage?"

I shrugged.  "One of the other rooms?"

He nodded, but he was biting his lip.

"Don't worry, James, it's not like you even need clothes when I'm around."

He grinned and squeezed me tightly.  "We'd better get over to JC's room,
before he comes after us."

***

I was tackled in the hall.  I went down to the floor with a skinny blond
boy on my back.  James was laughing until he saw the look on my face.

He pulled Justin harshly away and knelt down beside me.  I was on my knees
with on hand over my fresh bandage.  My teeth were clamped together against
the pain.

"Are you okay, David?"  The southern drawl was thick with worry.

"I'm fine.  He just caught me off guard."

Justin came down to his knees on the other side.  "I'm so sorry, Davey!  I
was just excited to see you."

"I'm fine, Just.  Don't worry."  I blinked back some tears and gingerly
climbed to my feet.  James was looking up at me doubtfully.  I forced a
smile, but he saw through it.

We entered Josh's room and the blond boys acted like my personal guard.
They held everyone back, keeping my well deserved hugs away.  James lead me
to the couch and sat me down.

I looked around at all of the concerned looks.  I forced a laugh.  "I'm
fine!  Just a bit sore today.  You can't expect me to heal instantly, can
you?"

That was good enough for Chris and Joey, but the looks of concern weren't
so easily dismissed for the others.  James sat down beside me.

"You're telling me everything later, understand?" he whispered, gripping my
hand like a vice.  I nodded, deciding to work my way out of that promise
later.

"What's for dinner?" I asked cheerfully.  I slid my hand under my shirt and
onto the bandage, praying I hadn't messed everything up again.

"Chinese," Chris volunteered in the sudden clamour of opinions.

"Japanese," was Joey's addition.

"French toast-ese."

I grabbed James' chin and turn him to face me.  "I don't want to hear any
more out of a certain cute boy."

Everyone fell silent.

"Ha.  Ha.  Very funny."  I smiled and shook my head.

Josh walked over to the door and pulled it open.  "I've arranged for a
special meal for a special occasion."

James and I quickly moved so that there was some platonic space between us
as two carts were wheeled in by hotel workers.  Josh tipped the boys and
closed the door behind them.  He wheeled one of the carts directly in front
of me and lifted the cover off of one of the plates, revealing a large pile
of steaming pancakes under a thick blueberry sauce.

"Care of the Golden Griddle," he added, laughing at the look of pure bliss
that was spreading across my face.

***

After dinner the conversation flew fast and furious.  I was told about
everything that had happened over the past few days, and Chris went to get
Busta, who spent most of his time under JC's bed sleeping.  He was an
adorable dog, from the little I saw of him.

Then I went over the story of what I'd been doing in Toronto, and Derrick's
funeral.  I mentioned Joy's death, but I kept the details sparse.

"Do you have to go back for her funeral?" Chris asked, trying to lure the
dog out from under the bed.

"There won't be a funeral.  She didn't want one.  She said all of her
friends were gone -- the other David and I were all she had left."

The room was silent.  Everyone was awkwardly lost in their own thoughts.

"Besides, one funeral a week is more than enough for me."

"We saw some coverage of the O'Hara funeral," Justin said quietly.  "A lot
of people showed up."

"The protesters?  Yeah.  Surprised me too."  I ran a finger up and down
James' forearm.  He had his head resting on my shoulder and his eyes were
closed -- but he was listening.

It was dark outside.  The window was covered in a thin sheen of
condensation, blurring all of the lights from the street and the
neighbouring buildings.

"I just want a small funeral," Justin added, "nothing big.  A band playing
in the corner.  A buffet against the back wall.  But something cheery."

"I want something outside.  On the beach," JC said, settling in on the
couch on the other side of James.  I could see he was watching James out of
the corner of his eye.  I smiled.

"Know what I want?" James asked.  "A change of subject."

I giggled.  There were long silences in the conversation.  Relaxed
silences.  Everyone was lounging, unwinding.  I was amazed at how
comfortable those guys were with each other -- after spending half a week
on a us with 4 other people, I probably would have killed at least two.
And I wouldn't be on speaking terms with the survivors.

The yawning started with Josh but quickly spread to everyone else.

"I'm kicking y'all out," Just said, standing and stretching.  "You might as
well leave Busta here for the night -- he doesn't seem to be interested in
leaving."

We slowly made our ways back to our rooms, too our beds, and to sleep.

***

End of part 28

Email me!  thepoetboy@hotmail.com