Date: Wed, 09 Oct 2002 19:06:11 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: (Boybands) Needing You chapter 25

Thanks to Izzy, Kor, Summy, Libby, Rob and Dan, Writie, Metra, Peter, Ryan,
Libby, Myoshi, Julienne, Trish, Bethany, and all the other wonderful people
who have graced me with their kind and helpful comments. Hell, it's to
everybody who takes the time to read it! Enjoy...

Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true
sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned. Adult (m/m)
content, probably foul language, don't be illegal, stuff like that. Any
likeness to people personally known to me is either purely coincidental and
unintended, or devoid of malevolence.

NEEDING YOU
CHAPTER 25
by Neqs

Diane Bass put down the phone and let her smile change into a slight frown.
She set aside her inevitable satisfaction in the fact that her son was in
love and, even if it was in an unusual way, starting a family. She was
still pleased about it of course, but now she could also give free reign to
her doubts.

Eminem. Based on what little she had heard about the man - and it had been
as little as possible - he was a violent, drug-using, misogynistic,
gay-bashing gangster who said awful things about his mother and
ex-wife. Horrible things.

After allowing herself the luxury of a shiver of distaste, Diane sat back
and forced herself to be completely impartial and fair-minded. You could
never believe everything you heard and read these days. 'Come on now woman,
focus!'

Well. First of all, if the rapper was involved with a man and intended to
come out of the closet, he could hardly be anti-gay. Lance had said that
his lover had an image to protect, hence the rude and insulting
behavior. She had to grudgingly admire the fact that the man was willing to
risk his career in order to be with Lance. She didn't think her son had
thought of that yet.

One thing she knew for sure was that Lance had an excellent sense of
self-preservation and a healthy dose of common sense to complement his
intelligence. He would never stay in a serious relationship (and this
seemed to be quite serious) with someone he considered dangerous to himself
or to others. Diane trusted his judgment more than a hundred newspaper
articles - there had to be something good hidden behind the ugly façade,
a diamond in the rough as the saying went. And Diane intended to find out
exactly what it was and whether it made the man worthy of her son's love.

A firm believer in the adage "innocent until proven guilty," Diane decided
that she needed proof before she could make a decision one way or
another. It would have been best to meet the man face to face, but that
would have to wait until the boys' tours ended in a month or so. In the
meantime she could do some research.

Wanting to let the man speak for himself, but unable to meet him in person,
Diane settled for the next best thing; his latest album. She could give him
the benefit of doubt because of the whole image thing, but she also thought
that a song always captured a piece of the spirit of its creator.  While
she had never listened to rap music, she was confident that the same
principle should apply, maybe even more so - wasn't rap supposed to be a
type of social commentary?

* * *

The blue-haired record store salesman looked oddly at a middle-aged woman
buying an Eminem record. Diane smiled at him in a friendly manner even
though she was inwardly horrified by the pierced lip and nose ring. She
sent up a silent prayer of thanks that her son was normal, healthy, and
free of mutilations. Tattoos she could live with; at least as long as she
didn't see them, she could pretend that they didn't exist.

At home, Diane put the CD into the player, fetched herself a glass of
water, and settled into a comfortable chair. In spite of having braced
herself, she was unprepared for the conflicting thoughts and emotions the
songs evoked.

If you looked past the cussing and the obscenities, a very fascinating
picture emerged. Even though Diane was slightly revolted by the references
to anthrax and sanitary devices, and to Marshall's wife performing
fellatio, she could hear sentiments in the lyrics that touched her heart
and intrigued her intellect.

She had been right; rap was very much a form of social commentary. The song
"White America" was anti-racist, and "Square Dance" expressed some original
but valid political opinions. So many of the songs were against prejudice
and societal oppression, and Diane was struck by how acute and sincere some
of the arguments were. She was puzzled; surely people understood that some
of the alleged threats and insults were meant in an ironic and
self-deprecating sense? People could be so literal sometimes.

Diane shook her head disapprovingly at "Cleanin' Out My Closet." How could
parents do that to their children? She had new respect for a man with a
background like that fighting for the right to be there for his
daughter. She could hear the voice of a troubled, occasionally guilt-ridden
young man in "Sing For The Moment," especially in the part about music
teaching hate. And people thought this man was a remorseless gangster.

It was still there, the "gangster spirit" - it was very much present in the
hopeless, grim determination of "Soldier" and the disillusionment of
"Sayin' Goodbye To Hollywood." There was so much pain in these songs, pain
of betrayal and failure and loss and guilt. Even in "Hailie's Song," sung
for his little daughter, the rapper was unable to let go of his anger and
bitterness. Diane sort of liked the song, though. It was very touching to
hear this fierce man singing in a soft voice about his love for his
daughter and about his "real side" that people didn't see.

The last song had her alternately coughing at the VERY explicit lyrics,
smiling at little Hailie's chirpy voice, and frowning thoughtfully at the
ideas slowly seeping through the, ah, imagery. When the song ended she sat
for a moment in contemplative silence.

It seemed that the man her son was in love with was unusual, talented,
intelligent, and an emotional mess. Love could work wonders, though, and
Lance had so much love to give.  Marshall Mathers would certainly benefit
from some unconditional love and affection.

* * *

Marshall stared at the phone. Then he pinched himself to see if he was
dreaming. Then he stared at the phone some more, muttered a stunned curse,
and hit the speed dial.

"Mm, yes?"

"Your mother just called me."

"Umm, what? I was asleep, I'm probably still dreaming, call me again when I
wake up, hon..."

"You're awake! And your mother just called me!"

"Um, what? We're not talking about my mother here, are we?"

"No, we're talking about your other mother! Of course we're talking about
your mother, Diane Bass, who just called me and told me how much she liked
my latest album!"

"Uh, that sounds, wow, just like my mother, except for the
listening-to-Eminem part. Are you sure it wasn't just some nut?"

"Yeah, unless the nuts know about our relationship! She introduced herself,
told me I was a talented boy with a very expressive voice, ordered me to
treat her son properly and to make an honest man out of him, and invited me
over for a visit as soon as the tour ends. So, yeah, I kinda think it was
your mother."

"Damn." The stunned silence bordered on awed. "I wonder how many other
surprises my mother has up her sleeve?"

"I hope not many more, my heart can't take it. I almost died of shock when
I answered the phone and it was her."

"Maybe next week I'll find out that she's a closet Marilyn Manson fan."

"Are you comparing me to Marilyn Manson?"

"Um, no? Besides, hon, I think one closet case in the family is enough."

"Yeah, but babe, you won't be in that cozy little closet much longer."

"I won't...I can hardly wait."

"Me neither, babe."

* * *

Lance felt energized, simultaneously blind to his surroundings and
over-sensitized to them. He took another gulp from his latte before
pressing a few more keys on his laptop.

The plan was slowly unfolding, and Lance felt the satisfaction of having a
carefully constructed plan near its completion. Marshall had approved of
the details, but it had been Lance who had sketched them and honed them to
perfection. Not that Lance had anything against that, on the contrary; he
loved to plan, and this was probably the most important project of their
lives. So much depended on its success.

Lance felt the pressure of responsibility on his shoulders, but that was
nothing new to him. He was used to being the "responsible one," and even
though it sometimes bothered him to be the one in charge, this time things
were different in the most wonderful way imaginable.

Whatever happened, he would always have Marshall - that was a fact he'd
trust long after the sun rose from the west and hell froze over. Trite, but
true.

Lance hummed as he checked the list of celebrities who wanted to take
advantage of the their out- coming and to come along for the ride...and out
of the closet. That had been a surprise, but Lance had been quick to make
it a part of his plan. It made sense when you thought about it; the more of
America's most loved joined the club, the more positive the public reaction
would be. There would be enough heterosexual superstars left for little
girls to dream about, and besides, why couldn't they dream about the gay
ones? Lance knew for a fact that the net was full of girls writing stories
about male celebrities falling in love with each other, and while Lance was
taken aback by the number of stories featuring him, he thought that it
could only mean more support for Marshall and his relationship.

Now, the list...Ricky Martin was no surprise, but Lance hadn't had a clue
that he was engaged to Ben Affleck. Well, he'd been invited to the wedding
so he'd meet the pair there. Next, Tom was a little on the old side, but
Lance wasn't turning anyone away from the "out-coming party;" that was good
for his health, because he really didn't want to face Nicole's wrath
either.

Speaking of not turning anyone away...Lance had known Ashley Angel would
squeal at the chance to come out in a group of other celebrities He had
received proof when his phone rang at 5 a.m. and he was scolded for not
warning the blond singer in time for him to have the perfect coming-out
outfit planned and purchased. Lance had calmed him down by assuring him
that he had plenty of time for that.

He'd known that he could count in BSB's married couple Kevin and AJ, but
Howie's reluctance had left him mystified. It had taken a considerable
amount of cajoling to get the truth out of him, but when he succeeded,
Lance couldn't help but sit and laugh. Then he had to reassure the
irritable pop star that no, Lance wasn't laughing at his
insecurities. Well, he might have been doing just that, but only because
they were so unrealistic.

"Howie, sweetheart, I'm sorry I laughed, but I just couldn't believe what
you just said, it was so absurd! You are beautiful and funny and sexy, and
who cares if you're not the stereotypical gay man! I'm sure there are tons
of guys out there dreaming about your warm eyes and sweet smile.  Besides,
I think we can work your height to your advantage...you're listening,
good. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to hunt among the main populace, did
you consider that? Uh huh, I thought so. No, it's okay, you just weren't
thinking clearly. Yeah, I'll add you to the mailing list. Welcome to the
party and try not to break too many hearts!"

Joey and Chris had been whining about not being allowed to join the party
until Lance relented and named them "honorary fags," and they were
delighted to be part of the action. As for the rest of the band...Justin
and JC were having some disagreements and weren't on speaking terms - or
actually, they'd agreed that they could talk during sex, but only in
holophrastic sentences like "harder," or "faster." Lance just snorted at
their antics. If they really wanted to wear matching outfits for their
out-coming, they should be able to agree on the color.

* * *

"Are you sure it won't seem like a conspiracy?" Marshall rolled his eyes at
the much repeated question.

"For the last time, no! There's just lots of us, and power in numbers. If
people can't deal with that, screw them."

"Marshall, it's just, damn, I never knew so many famous people were gay! Of
course all of those pop pans- um, people being a little bent makes sense,
but there are some real people on the list too."

"Peter, you have five seconds to define 'real people' in an inoffensive
manner before I'll kick your ass for bad-mouthing my man."

"Oops, sorry Em, I just meant people with less 'pure' images, no offence."

"Those people have images that cage them too. Just because they can cuss in
public doesn't mean that they're less trapped by expectations."

"Sure. I'm not claiming to get what you're saying, but I've got your back."

"Thanks bro."

"No prob man."

* * *

"Hailie, do you understand what daddy's trying to tell you?"

"Yea! You're gonna tell people that you kiss Lance!"

"Um, yeah, that's about it sweetie. How do you feel about that?"

"Are you gonna stop kissing me?"

"God no, baby! You're still my number one lady, always will be!"

"Okay then. I guess it's cool."

"Some mean people might try to come and ask you questions about me or
Lance.  Do you know what to say to them?"

"Screw you!"

"Uh, no, not that one, sweetie. How about 'none of your business?'"

"Daddy, that one's too long and no fun!"

"Okay, let's try 'no comment,' how do you like that?"

"Hmm, yeah! I heard that one on TV, it's when the police arrest people and
they come out of the court house and don't want to say anything!"

"Yeah, that's what they say."

"I'll say 'no comment' if they ask me stuff, but only 'cause you say so. I
think Lance is nice and you're different when you're around him too."

"Different, how?"

"Not in a bad way daddy, just happier and stuff. I think it's cool."

"Well, I'm glad baby."

* * *

"I can't remember what my life was like before I started planning about
coming out," Lance said, moaning as he stretched out on the bed.

"I get what you mean, babe. It's such a huge project, I had no idea. You've
been doing most of the work too, sorry about that."

"It's no big deal hon, I love it. It's just a little overwhelming
sometimes.  We got the ball rolling but this whole thing has grown so
huge. I take comfort in the fact that it'll pay off once we're out and
about."

"Do you believe there being so many of us will change people's reactions?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. Not right away, but once the shock wears off, people
will learn to see things differently. There's nothing bad or sick about
being gay. Very few people actually think that, but not enough of them
actively unthink it either. Am I making any sense?"

"Some, babe, some, although I don't think 'unthink' is a word. But yeah,
it's easy to go with the flow and accept the popular negative view about
gays. It doesn't require independent thought to fear and hate the unknown
and to see it as evil. God knows I've been there, done that."

"But hon, people change. You changed. We just need to shake people a little
to wake them up, and then set them straight on a few things. Well, maybe
not straight, but-"

"That pun is so fucking old, babe!"

"Well so is Tom Cruise but he's still coming out in a few weeks!"

"I stand corrected. Now tell me again how all these people heard about our
little plan?"

"Well, as you know, I called a few people to test their reactions, and they
got a little excited and called a few other people, and here we are!"

"James, I want to come out, but I'm not ready to be some poster boy for gay
ex-thugs or something like that. I don't know what these people expect from
me."

"Oh, hon. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"I know, and I want to do this, just not...not as a symbol. I'm not someone
anyone should look up to."

"That's crap! You're a wonderful, smart, loving man, and lots of people
look up to you. Hailie does, and so do I. And once people get to know the
real you, they'll admire you even more. That's what you want, to stop
pretending, right?"

"Yeah...you're right as always, babe. Except when you're wrong!"

"A lightning-quick transformation from a depressed ass to smart-ass, I see.
Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you..."

"It might have something to do with the fact that you're madly in love with
me, babycakes."

"Oh, that. I guess that's true. Man, I wish you were here."

"Just a few more weeks, babe. Then we'll be together forever and all that
jazz."

"I can't wait."

TBC...

Comments are greatly appreciated.  Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com if
you have time. Even a short note lightens up my day and encourages to
write. I take requests if I find them interesting, and I often do. Thanks
for the wonderful feedback I've received so far!