All the Ways I Love You

All the Ways I love You

This story is about male/male relationships and contains graphic descriptions of sex.

You should not read this story if it is in any way illegal due to your age or residence.

This is a work of pure fiction. It mixes fictional characters and events with real people. However any real person mentioned in this work is purely an actor playing a part. This story in no way is meant to imply anything about the sexuality, personality, or behavior of the actual person.

This story is the sole property of its author and may not be copied in whole or in part or posted on any website without the permission of the author.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "JasonCalme@yahoo.com".

Chapter 1

"Who are you?" the voice, a little accusatory, startled me out of my reverie. I looked up to see a figure in jeans, green t-shirt, knitted cap, gray hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses, standing in the doorway. He looked like he might be here to clean the place.

"I'm meeting with Johnny...I'm the writer..." I stammered, surprised, and not sure what to say.

"Shit!" came the reply, and before I could add any more the figure turned and walked out.

Well great, I thought. This trip continues to suck.

I'd started to stand up, but now I dropped back into the chair and glanced around again. I was sitting at a table in a large conference room. Though the room was rather bare, it was obvious this company had money. The furniture was expensive and along the wall behind me were several large framed posters. The only other decorations were large white boards at the opposite ends of the room.

The wall across from me was glass, and looked out over part of LA. Not a very attractive part, in my opinion. But hey, I'm a New Yorker, and I'm hard pressed to think of any part of LA as attractive.

It was my agents' idea for me to come here. I did not like LA, and I had no interest in writing for movies. But I was a young unknown writer with the rent due, and my agent said those magic words: 'they'll pay for you to go out, even if they don't like you.' Put that way, how could I refuse?

I'd hoped this trip wouldn't turn out like the autobiography adventure. That one had come about because the CEO of a Fortune 500 company had wanted to hire a ghostwriter for his autobiography. I didn't want to do that either, but the rent keeps coming up and so I went out to meet the guy. Total jerk. He seemed to think I was going to be his little sycophant and he could boss me about and tell me what to do like the copy boy at his office.

Anything I suggested he rejected immediately, and then about half an hour later he'd suddenly come up with the same idea. After that had happened three or four times I decided I wasn't going to do the job even if he wanted me. The guy just droned on and on, while I spent much of the time thinking about how I was going to break the news to my agent.

You see I really like Rob - my agent - and feel he is trying to do right by me. So I only turn down things that I am absolutely, positively, 100% certain I can't do.

Which is how I keep getting into these messes. Maybe I'm too nice?

So here I am in LA to talk to some people about writing a movie for Justin Timberlake. Seems his people thought he should be in a movie, but they were having trouble coming up with a script he liked. They'd already rejected several scripts, and now they were looking for someone to write a new script for him. Did I tell you I'd never written a movie script before?

Well someone at his label had read my book and liked it, or they were getting desperate, I'm not sure which. They'd interviewed about twenty other writers my agent told me.

And here I was.

I had to wonder though; surely there were thousands of writers in LA that would jump at the chance? Why an unknown from New York?

The first part of the interview had gone okay. I'd met with a couple of people in the management team. After talking with them for about an hour they'd excused themselves and said Justin's manager - Johnny someone, I'm terrible with names - would be in shortly.

They'd left me sitting in the conference room, idly looking out the window and wondering whether they liked me. And whether I wanted them to like me.

Of course I did. I really wanted them to like me. Then I could turn them down. Turning down writing a script for Justin Timberlake would be a feather in my cap. Being passed over for it would just be a drag.

Writing it would be even worse! What did I know about him? How could I write a movie for pop culture?

But then there was the matter of the rent. Oh how we artists must suffer!

"Hey," said a voice.

I looked up and saw he was back again. This time the cap and glasses were gone and the hood was down, and I realized it was Justin Timberlake - not the janitor - who'd burst in before. This time he came into the room with a smile on his face and he walked up to me extending his hand. I jumped up and grabbed his hand, shaking it quickly.

"I'm Justin Timberlake," he said, stating the obvious.

"Ethan...Ethan Thompson" I replied trying to return his gaze without appearing nervous or star struck. I wasn't a fan but he was still someone famous.

"The writer..." Justin added with a grin.

"Yeah," I replied, adding "and you're the singer?"

A frown passed over his face, "No, I'm the staaar!" he said, accenting the word 'star' and rocking back and forth on his legs and holding his arms out. Then he grinned to let me know he was joking.

I grinned back and he turned serious for a moment, "Hey, sorry about before, I just..."

"It's okay," I interrupted him. He was a big star and I had expected that he treated all the minions in an off-handed manner. I almost expected it.

"No," he persisted, "they kind of sand-bagged me. I didn't know we were going to be doing this today and I didn't even know you were in here until I came in..."

"I didn't know I was going to meet you either..." I said, feeling a little embarrassed. Trying to stop him from apologizing. I'd been pissed before when he'd burst in, but had brushed it off now I'd realized it was him. I figured he'd been sent in to say 'Hi,' and then I'd meet his manager. If he wasn't in the mood to say 'Hi,' I could understand that.

But now he was trying to apologize to me. What was I supposed to say? What did I do?

"Yeah, well anyway, sorry," he said and smiled again and I said, "No problem" and for a moment I stared at his blue eyes and had this 'God he's beautiful' moment.

'Shit!' I thought to myself and snapped out of it, looking away and trying to act casual.

"So sit! Sit!" he said in a cartoonish voice, the second 'sit' sounding like Donald Duck, and he waved at the chair. I sat back and he pulled out the chair next to me and dropped into it.

I looked at him nervously, not sure what was supposed to happen now. Waiting for him to lead the way.

He sat in his chair swinging it back and forth while looking out the window for a moment, then he turned to me and his eyes ran up and down me appraisingly before coming to rest on mine. A thoughtful expression played over his face, and he scrunched up his nose for a second as though it was itchy or something. He seemed lost in the moment and then he suddenly became aware I was staring at him and nothing was being said and he blushed a little.

"So...ah...why don't you tell me a bit about yourself," he said somewhat hastily.

"Sure...," I replied, "ah, what do you know about me already?" I asked.

"Not much," he waved his hand in an off-handed manner and I felt a little let down. Surely they'd have told him something about me?

"Well, let's see, I live in New York City, though I was born and grew up in up-state New York. I always wanted to be a writer. Ever since I was ten and I published a newspaper. Only did one issue though."

Justin laughed.

"After getting out of school I worked for a weekly entertainment paper in New York. They barely paid me but it was interesting. I saw a lot of New York I probably never would have done on my own. Wrote about bands and stuff in New York and a bit about the music scene, though now I think I just write about odd moments in life, if that makes any sense?

Justin nodded so I went on, "I've had a novel and collection of short stories published, along with articles in several magazines."

"Cool," Justin nodded.

"But you should know that I've never written a movie script before," Justin nodded and looked off absentmindedly as I added, "Though I've seen several."

Justin looked back at me with a puzzled expression.

"You've seen some movie scripts?" he asked.

"No, but I've seen several movies...probably in the hundreds," I added trying to keep a straight face.

Justin smirked, then smiled and started to laugh as I grinned back at him.

And then silence. I felt so awkward I just opened my mouth, not even thinking. I just had to fill the silence somehow.

"What about you?" I prompted.

"What about me what? I've seen some movies too" he parried.

"Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself" I replied.

"Sure," he grinned, "so what do you know about me?" he asked expectantly.

"Not much," I said shaking my head sadly.

"Okay," he laughed, and gave me a quick history of his career in about two minutes flat.

We started chatting back and forth, asking each other questions about ourselves. He wanted to know how old I was and what music I was interested in. I told him I wasn't that into pop music, preferring Dave Matthews Band and Pearl Jam. He was more into R&B and hip hop, but luckily we had a few common likes such as Marvin Gaye and the Beatles, so I think I might have just got past the music test. I did tell him I liked some of the songs on his album and he seemed happy to hear that.

I got the impression Justin knew a little bit more about me than he'd let on, and I obviously knew a lot about him too. Yet it was interesting to hear it from him, even if he was probably sick of repeating the same stuff over and over again. Some of his stories had the air of something being repeated mindlessly rather than being told off the cuff.

"So you're going to write the script then?" Justin said at one point, bringing us back to the reason we were there.

"Well that's why I'm here to talk to your people," I said.

"You have any ideas for it?" he asked casually. He looked at me and the appraising expression was back on his face, and he kind of squinted a little.

"You mean storylines?"

"Yeah," he replied.

His whole manner had changed. The smile was gone and he was sitting rather stiffly. I had the premonition that this was the moment. I either passed or failed the interview now.

"Well, I don't have much," I began. "I was hoping to hear a bit of what you'd been thinking of doing..."

"Oh..." he replied.

"...You know, I don't really know you," I pressed on nervously, "though I looked at the tape of the movie you'd been in..."

Justin rolled his eyes and I saw I'd said the wrong thing.

"I don't want to do anything like that," he replied and I felt like I was in a big hole with no way to dig myself out.

"Well..." I said thinking for a moment. I wasn't sure what to do. Was it worth pressing on? I decided to press on. After all, I had nothing to lose.

"Honestly," I began, "I spent most of the flight out trying to figure out what to do with you..." Justin looked at me with a quizzical expression, "well your persona. You know, what people think you are and what they'll accept you as, if they see you in something."

He nodded, so I continued.

"I mean the easiest thing is what you are. Make a movie about you or a character very similar to you. I think you'd have to start or end with that. Either you're this big music star and...let's see...well I'm just throwing out the possibilities here..."

Justin nodded and said "Go on."

"Well let's start with the obvious. You could do a concert movie, or a pseudo concert movie or documentary. Or you could do something like a fantasy kind of like the Beatles 'Help' movie if you've ever seen that?"

He nodded, though I wasn't sure if that meant he knew what I was talking about or he just wanted me to continue.

"Or you could do an action movie or drama where something happens to you."

"Something happens to me?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah...all kinds of things could happen to you...you're in an accident or disaster like situation, or stalked by a crazed fan, or get pulled into some kind of action adventure."

Justin had frowned when I said crazed fan, but his eyes lit up when I said action adventure, so I went with it.

"You could be on tour and get dragged into something...maybe you meet some beautiful woman who turns out to be a spy and you end up helping her out somehow."

"How beautiful?" he asked, though I couldn't be sure if he was being serious. He quickly added "she'd have to be really hot!" and I could tell by his grin he was joking.

"Yeah, well I'll let you figure out the casting," I joked. "The other thing you can do is the struggling artist story...you know, you play some guy who works in a factory or something, but has always wanted to be a star...though I'm not sure that it would work with you."

Justin frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well..." I began, trying to figure out how to say this without saying the wrong thing, "I'm not sure that the audience would buy you as that. It might be the hardest acting job to pull off because...well you're image is not the same as Eminem's," and I trailed off. I didn't want to say 'because you're cute and sexy and so confident the audience would never believe you had a tough life so you're fighting that perception to begin with,' but Justin came to my rescue.

"Yeah, I get it," he said, and then he sat there obviously thinking about what I'd just said, and I sat there trying to think if there was more I could - or should - say, but just came up blank. A moment or two passed.

"Well," said Justin, suddenly jumping up and I realized that the audience was drawing to a close.

I stood up too and held out my hand. "It was nice meeting you," I said.

Justin looked down at my offered hand as though it was some foreign object, then up at me. "I was going to suggest lunch," he said slowly.

"Lunch?" I replied blankly.

"Yeah, you know, food?"

"I have had lunch before," I joked.

"Really? Or is it something you saw in one of those movies you've been to?" he replied raising one eyebrow.

"I've watched, eaten, and written about lunch. I'm really quite experienced."

"Great. I like to work with experience," Justin smirked. "So you hungry? Want to get something?"

"Uh," I thought for a moment. "Yeah I'm hungry."

"Okay. Come on," he said, gesturing with his hand and I fell in behind him as we went out the door and down the hallway. He stopped at a doorway and leaned in.

"I'm taking the writer to lunch" he said to someone, and then turned to me and said "Come on," and started off down the hall again. I fell in again, a couple of paces behind him, but we'd only gone a little way when Justin stopped and turned to me. I stopped too and stared at him.

"You don't have to walk behind me," he said quietly.

"I wasn't," I replied embarrassedly. Was I acting like a star struck fool? I hadn't meant to, I just had followed him because, well, I don't know why, it just happened.

"You weren't?" he said somewhat skeptically.

"No! You walk so damn fast I was having difficulty keeping up with you."

"Duhhh!" he said slapping his forehead as though he was stupid. "You should have told me you were so out of shape. You want me to go get you a wheel chair?" and he grabbed my shoulder and squeezed lightly while staring at me with what looked like a concerned expression, though his twinkling eyes betrayed the joke.

"I'm not out of shape," I playfully snapped back, "I've just got short legs!"

Justin grinned. I was at least as tall as he was, maybe an inch taller.

"Well I'll go slower then," he offered, "wouldn't want to lose you before we even get out of the building."

"That's all I ask," I replied, trying to appear grateful, and I set off down the hall at a brisk walk with Justin close behind me.

"Hey!" he half laughed, half shouted, as he charged after me and we barged our way down the hall, almost breaking into a run by the time we got to the elevator. I skidded to a stop and pressed the down button. The doors opened immediately and we both leapt inside, knocking shoulders as we went through.

"Watch it!" Justin said, shoving me playfully.

"Oh, so you don't want me walking beside you after all," I shot back at him and then shoved him lightly.

"Hey!" he yelped, laughing, "lucky for you there's no security around, or they'd have your ass!"

I smirked at him as he tried to look upset and pretended to dust himself off. We went down to the basement parking lot and walked to a large SUV that I guessed was Justin's.

"Doing your part for the environment?" I observed a little cynically as I climbed into the passenger seat. For a second I wondered why I felt so free to play with him. It was a good sign I guess, but I had to be careful not to get overly friendly and overstep any boundaries.

Justin poked blindly at the ignition with the key as he turned towards me.

"If it'll make you feel any better we can pick up hitchhikers along the way," He said. I raised my eyebrows, "or," he continued, "you can just run behind if you don't want to be seen in it."

"I don't mind being seen in this," I replied slapping the side of the door as he backed out, "I'm just not sure I want to be seen with you."

Justin wagged his eyebrows at me, "You kidding me! You need someone like me to get you some attention!"

"Really?" I replied skeptically.

"Yeah, particularly with the way you dress."

"What's the matter with the way I dress? I look better than you do!" I said waving at his jeans and T-Shirt.

"I have an inner coolness that goes beyond anything I wear."

"Well that's good to know," I replied

"But don't worry," he continued talking in this exaggeratedly sexy voice. "You stick with me and soon the hot looking babes will be looking at you and sayin', 'Who's that hot looking guy?'"

"Really?"

"Yeah, and then you can just tell them, 'don't you recognize Justin Timberlake!'" and he punched me playfully.

"Asshole," I shot back.

We ended up going to an upscale place that I guessed all the rich people go to. The kind of place where the guy that parked the car was tipped more than I paid for most meals. I wondered if I was dressed appropriately. Justin didn't seem to give a second thought to the fact he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

A very beautiful young woman smiled sweetly at us as we walked in and told us to follow her. She didn't appear fazed by either Justin or his appearance, and I idly wondered if she was an aspiring actress. If so, she was very good. She played the part of a waitress very well.

The center of the restaurant was dominated by a glass atrium and a waterfall, and the room was filled with hundreds of plants and small trees. It was like we'd been dropped into some jungle paradise. A paradise with ornate Roman columns, and groups of people sitting at tables.

I felt a little self-conscious as we were led to our table. I wondered if there were other celebrities there, and glanced around casually, trying not to be too obvious about it. I didn't recognize anyone, but for all I knew I could have been surrounded by celebrities and just not recognized them. When we got to the table Justin smirked at me and I wondered if he'd noticed what I'd been doing.

I felt lightheaded. I'd started the day eating a muffin in the restaurant of a budget hotel and now here I was about to have lunch at some trendy place with Justin Timberlake, international pop star. The day was becoming just a bit surreal.

After we'd been seated I glanced over the prices and did a mental calculation of what I had left in my wallet. The salad looked like a good choice. As long as I just had it with water.

Justin looked up from his menu, "This is on me," he said.

"No, it's okay," I said, though truthfully I was kind of relieved.

"It's a business expense," he replied mischievously "I'll get the record company to pay."

"Yeah...but it all comes out of your pocket in the end, right?"

"Ahh..." he looked thoughtful.

"Well thanks," I added hastily, trying to change the subject before he decided not to pay after all.

"Sure," he nodded, looking back at the menu.

I looked over the menu trying to figure out what to have. I finally settled on a chicken sandwich thing with a salad. The waitress came back and took our orders and then she left and we sat there in silence. I was looking around taking in the surroundings and Justin just seemed lost in his own thoughts. I was waiting for him to start the conversation again, but he didn't seem inclined to do so.

"So Justin," I said finally deciding to take the initiative "what's the...what are you hoping to get from this?"

He held my stare for a moment, "Well I was hoping to get food," he finally replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, no I mean no one said anything about meeting with you today. I guess I'm not sure if I'm even doing the project and now here we are, and I'm not sure if this is still part of the interview, or what."

"Oh," he said loudly as though it was a major revelation. "Oh that! Well you've already got the job."

"I do!" I said, trying to maintain an appearance of coolness.

"Well I haven't told them yet,' he smirked, "but you've got the job."

"Oh, well, that's...that's...gee," I said trying to figure out if I was excited, worried, confused or all three.

Justin must have sensed my confusion. "You're not happy?" he asked with a look of concern.

"Oh yeah, sure...it's just...shit, now I have to actually do it!"

He laughed, "Yeah, I guess you do!"

"So, what do we do now?" I said

"Well," he said as the waitress arrived back and put our plates in front of us, "there's these metal instruments called knives and forks, and the idea is to get the food into your mouth..."

"Funny," I said.

He laughed, a huge smile on his face.

"I really meant after lunch," I said to underline the obvious.

"Oh! Why didn't you say so," he said, an innocent expression on his face. "Well, I think you need to spend the next day or so hanging with me so you can get a good feel for what it's like to be 'me'" he said tapping his chest, "so you can write the perfect Justin Timberlake movie."

"So what's the perfect Justin Timberlake movie?"

"Hey I don't know! That's your job!"

"Thanks."

"But I liked the idea of me being an undercover spy," he said grinning.

"An undercover spy? I didn't say that."

"Yes you did," he replied impishly as he chewed.

"No, I suggested that you meet an undercover spy and help her through some adventure."

"Yeah, yeah, well that was an okay idea too..."

"An okay idea?" I queried.

"Yeah. But really, and I mean the 'perfect idea'..." he said and he moved his hands to mime the quote marks around 'perfect idea' as he spoke, "would be if I played this pop star who had a secret identity as a spy or secret agent."

"Kind of a James Bond with a microphone," I suggested.

"Yeah, something like that,"

"I'm glad we're not going with the fantasy idea," I said with a hint of sarcasm, but either Justin missed it or was ignoring it, as he just pushed on.

"I'm on this mission and it turns out that this female agent is on my tail."

"She gets your tail too huh?" I joked.

"I was gonna get to that in a minute," Justin grinned as his fantasy spread it's wings and took flight in his imagination. He was leaning back in his chair, his eyes half closed as he spoke. "So I have to outsmart her, rescue the world from some deranged madman with a nuc, and win the girl."

"So you're an international pop-star and a secret agent then?" I persisted.

"That'd be cool don't you think?"

"Maybe you could be a brain surgeon too, then you could save the life of the President in the third reel."

Justin opened his eyes and stared levelly at me. "What's the matter?"

"Justin! It's just not believable..."

"What's not?"

"That you could be a pop star and a secret agent like James Bond. It just wouldn't make sense. When would you have time to do all that?"

"It's just entertainment," Justin replied a little irritably. He almost seemed hurt, and for a second an inner voice was telling me maybe I should back off before he decided I wasn't the right one for the project. Or worse, that he wouldn't pay for lunch.

"Yes but there's such a thing as suspension of disbelief..." I persisted, ignoring my inner voice.

"Oh, like James Bond movies are believable!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right," I agreed, deciding that a strategic retreat was the right thing to do.

Justin sat there in silence for a moment or two. "Maybe you're right," he said finally.

"About what?" I asked.

He put down his fork and leaned slightly towards me, an earnest expression on his face. I put down my sandwich and gave him my full attention.

"Look," he began quietly, "I don't want to get hung up on details right now...it's too soon. Let's just hang out a bit so you can get to know me...what I'm like...what I'm comfortable with, and then maybe you'll be able to come up with something that would be good for me."

"Okay," I nodded slowly, "that seems like a good idea."

Justin smiled and nodded his head a couple of times to some imaginary beat, then he leaned back. "Great!" he exclaimed. "Let's finish this up and go do something."

Lunch progressed quickly. We continued to chat a bit about music and movies. Movies he liked, things like that. Since he was sitting across from me, I had a much better chance to study him. I kept telling myself not to stare, but it was difficult. He was beautiful. Or handsome. No, he was beautiful.

It was kind of a shock. In the movie they'd sent me he looked like a pretty boy. Almost a little plain. But here, only a few years older, he looked like a completely different person. His hair was cut short and I liked it that way. Much better than the curly mop he had in the movie. His eyes were a brilliant blue color and the eyebrows and face just framed them perfectly. I loved it when he laughed. He had a wonderful smile.

Perhaps what surprised me most of all was how he was nothing like the character he'd played in the movie. In the movie he'd seemed kind of...well...kind of a wimp. Maybe that's the wrong word. He was reserved and quiet, almost lifeless. But the boy - or man - sitting across from me was nothing like that. He laughed, he smiled, he bounced around and fidgeted. He kept making jokes and his eyes were bright and searching. He was so...alive.

We skipped the dessert and Justin paid the bill much to my relief. Back in the car I assumed we'd be going back to the office, but instead we ended up on the highway.

"Where are we going?" I asked finally, after we'd been driving for some time, and Justin hadn't offered any details.

"Disneyland. You ever been?"

"No," I said, a little surprised. "I've been to Disney World."

"It's kind of the same but different. It's smaller."

"Oh," I said, "Hey Justin."

"What?"

"Shouldn't you let the office know where we are...or I am...I was supposed to meet with your manager."

"You really hot to meet Johnny?" Justin asked quizzically.

"No...but I just thought he might be waiting to meet me or something."

Justin nodded and pulled out his phone, opening it up and pushing a button. I hate cell phones, and people who drive while talking on them. And people who drive big SUVs that waste gas.

I watched him as he half concentrated on the traffic ahead and half on the phone in his hand. It occurred to me that if I was in another car and saw him I'd think 'what a jerk'. Then it occurred to me that if I was in another car and I saw him I'd probably want to jump his bones. Better not think about that too much I reminded myself. Don't think sex. Think friendship and big check. Think rent. Don't think about the smile...or the tight t-shirt and the muscles in his arms. Why wasn't he wearing the sweatshirt?

"Hey, it's me." I heard him saying, "I've got the writer with me...yeah we had lunch..." who was he talking to I wondered? "Tell Johnny he doesn't need to talk to him... he's got the job..." Justin looked quickly across at me and smiled, making a funny face while looking at the phone as though he was an idiot. "We're going to hang out...I don't know...does there need to be one?" He looked back at me and half whispered to me "Do you need a contract to hang out with me?"

"What?"

"They want to know if you want a contract before you start, or just work it out with your agent."

"Ahhh..." I paused. I hadn't really thought about this, couldn't this just go under the category of initial meeting?

Justin was waiting for a reply and he prompted me, "If you want to wait for the contracts and stuff then we can go back to the office. Or if you trust us then you can come play with me now! What do you want to do?" His face was a mixture of hopefulness and enthusiasm, and it was also watching me instead of the traffic in front of us. I waved at the road for him to look forward and he turned as I answered.

"Contracts and business, or playing with you. Hmmm" I said as though weighing a difficult decision. I could see him rolling his eyes. "Well," I went on, trying to sound casual "I think I'd rather play with you."

Justin smiled and put the phone back to his ear, "Just talk to his agent and work it all out. He says he'll work for less than scale as he's a huge fan of mine!" He tried to keep a straight face as he spoke but by the end he was laughing.

"What!" I almost yelled and saw he was laughing and saying good-bye into the phone. "Hey give me that!" I said trying to snatch the phone away from him, but he clicked it off and put it in his pocket.

"Oh too bad," he said with mock concern, "all that money you could have made but you decided to spend the day with me instead."

"You wish!" I protested.

"I happen to think you're making out on this deal."

"You would!"

"There are people who would pay millions to be where you are right now," he said.

"Really? You think?" I said.

He nodded, a huge smirk on his face.

"Any chance we can find one of them?" I joked, "I'd gladly take the money."

"I'm hurt!" Justin groaned, clutching his chest.

"Yeah well you better work on your acting," I teased. "And you can let me out at the next pay phone, I've got to call my agent!"

"There's no pay phones in LA, sorry!" Justin yelled as he turned up the music and accelerated through the traffic. He's going to get us killed I thought to myself.

-------------------------------- Acknowledgements

I'm still not sure how this happened. A lot of the blame goes to writerboy69, the author of 'JCS Hitchhiker' and 'Rebound.' The story JCS Hitchhiker really hooked me in - particularly the whole Justin/Lance subplot, and then Rebound started (another Justin story) and I was hooked again! The problem was that it always seemed such a long gap between chapters! While I tried to be patient, three, four, sometimes seven days would go by without a new chapter! Talk about frustration!

So I found myself creating my own stories to fill the time.

Meanwhile, everywhere I looked; on TV and magazines, the real Justin kept popping up. I always thought he was kind of cute, but it was his personality and sense of humor that really intrigued me. Hence he's the star of this story.

Of course, I don't know anything about the real Justin, and this story should in no way reflect upon him. I wonder if other writers sometimes feel a tiny bit bad for appropriating the character of someone they like? Well, I guess I don't feel that bad.

So this story is dedicated to writerboy69 and Justin. With thanks for the inspiration!