Geez, sorry for the delay. Real-life has been kicking my ass lately. But as Gloria Gaynor says, I will survive. Anyway, here is the next chapter. One reason it took a long time is because, well, for one, it's ended up being a pretty long chapter, and two, it was originally a LOT longer. I finally decided to cut out part and put it in the next chapter. That should mean that the next chapter comes out faster than this one, so that much is good, I guess. I hope you like where the story is going, and are not too confused with the increasingly large cast of characters. There are some fun plot twists coming up, most of which are foreshadowed here. Finally, for those inclined to give feedback, the email address is at denis141@hotmail.com. I love hearing from you.
DEDICATION: This one's for Aaron again, who I adore
DISCLAIMER: I don't know NSYNC, and this story is purely a work of fiction.
This story also contains male/male loving (and occasionally some smut). Thus, if that's not your thing, or if you aren't old enough to read this, you should stop reading now. Sorry.
ALONE/TOGETHER
CHAPTER 34: FAR, AND AWAY: Part three: Reaching Back.
Because we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought then thought make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
We were always hoping that, looking back
You could always rely on a friend.
~ Being Boring, Neill Tennant.
"And as I sat there brooding on the old unknown world, I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in the vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther....And one fine morning -
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
-- The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
He woke always early now, sitting bolt upright in bed like someone startled by the sounds of an intruder. But the only real intruder was sleep, the stealthy thief of what few waking hours he feared he had left. He looked up at the window on the opposite side of the room, blinking to focus even though he knew what he'd see. The blinds were open. They always were. It was dark when he lay down, and dark when he awoke. There was no need for them to be closed. He struggled his body from bed long before light nibbled at the edge of dark sky like fire burning up from the bottom of a long black curtain.
The bed felt too big to lay there for long. Too empty. He got up, pushing away his blanket like an unwanted embrace, and steadied himself on the small table next to his bed. Everything was different now that he was alone. Except for memories. He still had those, stuck in his mind like old postcards saved in an album. Bright colorful postcards. From all over. He had a box of them stored somewhere. He could not remember where. It was an accidental collection anyway. He had bought one everywhere he'd ever been before. As a souvenir of a place where he'd decided not to stay.
Je me souviens.
"Do you think we're boring," JC said, as he watched Lance hang his bath towel on the back of a chair and then rummage through a dresser drawer for boxer shorts to put on. "I mean, since we got Aaron?"
"What you were doing to my ass about twenty minutes ago sure as hell wasn't boring," Lance said, laughing as he watched JC blush.
"Lance - be serious," JC said, shaking his head and slapping the top of his foot on the bed as he lay there stretched across it, naked.
"I am being serious," Lance said, snapping a pair of blue boxer shorts in the air and preparing to step into them. "As serious as that look on your face."
Lance crouched down in front of where JC's chin hung off the edge of the bed. A smile slowly formed on JC's face as Lance looked at him. Leaning finally forward Lance kissed him, pushing JC's mouth open with his lips and sliding his tongue slowly inside it. JC loved the taste of Lance's tongue, the warm rough salty feel of it. Still kissing him, JC slid off the bed and on to Lance's lap. He faced Lance now, wrapping his legs around his waist and crossing his ankles behind his back, and pressing their chests together.
"I'll show you serious," JC whispered, pulling his lips away from the kiss, but just long enough to get the words out.
"Anytime baby," Lance said, growling as he half-laughed too.
The two of them kissed like this as minutes passed and the guests began to arrive downstairs, obviously unaware of what was going on here. They kissed like this for many minutes more, until JC finally pulled his mouth away with a startled gasp. Lance's eyes were a shiny dark green, and in the clear bright light they sparkled like a sunlit pond, with JC's face reflected in it. Lance ran his fingers up and down JC's spine, knowing it would make him shudder and sigh and then pull half-away until Lance pulled him back into his arms, and leaned him back on to the pale-grey softly-carpeted floor.
Lance crawled on top of JC and slowly stretched out across the length of him - face to face and toe to toe, finding there the full-flowing feeling of skin on skin, and the pulsing push and pull of sinew, muscle, bone, and blood, the pulsing living heat of sweat-wetted touch, the pulse of hands exploring like pirates for treasure, fearless hungry hands, oh yes, how he loved this, this.
"We were never boring," Lance said, whispering through a gasp of breath. "And we never will be. I promise you that."
People had slowly started to arrive about forty minutes ago, and James had been there from the start. He had stationed himself in the entrance hall some twenty feet or so behind Ang Lee, who was there to greet everyone. It was Ang's party really, even though it was here. It was meant to celebrate the start of rehearsals in two days, on Monday, and to give everyone a chance to relax and get to know each other.
As he stood there, watching people arrive, James remained awestruck, not just by the celebrity of the guests set to arrive, but also by the house. It was called the Neerim House, and he'd never seen anything like it. He remembered seeing Aaron's house for the first time in San Diego, and thinking then that it was the biggest house he'd ever been in. But this one, this house, it was at least five or six times bigger. Justin had dubbed it "Lansten-manor" and now everyone called it that. James thought it was funny, but he secretly admitted that was how it made him feel, a little like royalty to be there.
The house was a series of five buildings clustered around a central courtyard. It was built mostly on one level, except there was rumpus room downstairs, with three billiards tables, an indoor-outdoor pool, and a bar bigger than the one at the Red Fox Inn. There was a workout room down there too, and a bedroom that Justin and JC planned to turn into a recording studio.
The bedroom that James shared with Aaron was in the house's west wing. There were three bedrooms there and each had double-doors that opened on to a wide sun-filled corridor. The corridor was paved with shiny terra-cotta tiles and filled with all kinds of big-leafed potted plants. It was like a long patio, but indoors.
His and Aaron's room had an awesome view of the middle harbor and of the long sloping front lawn. When they went to bed at night, they left the curtains open so they could see the sky and stars and watch the moon rise. The view was best from James' bed so that was where they'd lie, looking out at the night sky, talking about their day, and the next day too. They would lie there, and sometimes fall asleep, like they used to do when James had stayed over at Aaron's house. And if Aaron fell asleep first, and James would always pull the sheet over him so he wouldn't be cold. He didn't want him to be cold.
But standing in the foyer now, James was disappointed that t the party was not yet started, or not much. It was mostly the behind-the-camera people who were showing up: the first and second assistant directors, the executive and associate producers, production managers, art directors, the screenwriter, the chief publicist, and the still photographer.
Fidgeting, James wondered whether he should maybe go back to the bedroom and see how Aaron was doing. He had expected him to be out here by now, and he wondered what was taking him so long. Looking past Ang again, and back to the front entrance, James smiled excitedly as he saw Chow Yun Fat arrive, with his wife, Jai.
It's finally starting, he thought, excitement building in his gut. So I'll just wait for Aaron here, or hang out with him later. There'll be plenty of time to hang out together, and we can talk tonight too. Besides he said it was fine to come out here without him, so he won't be mad at me or disappointed or anything. Yeah, that's right. It'll be okay.
James smiled when he saw that Stephane Rideau had walked in. He recognized him from a photo Aaron had showed him, and from a movie he'd seen and liked a lot last summer, Wild Reeds. Stephane was shorter than James had thought he'd he'd, but no less handsome or intriguing. He had a glowering full-lipped smile that made him look like he was plotting something sinister; and as he wandered in a plume of cigarette smoke trailed behind him, like a flag unfurling. He walked slowly, as if uncertain whether he wanted to be there, and he was wearing sunglasses, which he took off and slid into the inner pocket of the jacket he was wearing. It looked like suede, and was dark brownish-red, like the color of dried blood.
Bowing slightly, Stephane shook Ang's hand and spoke briefly with him, getting up close and whispering in his ear. James wished he could hear what he was saying, but he imagined that it was something funny, because Ang smiled as he listened. When Ang pulled back from their private conversation, he laughed hard and squeezed Stephane's hand like he did not want to let it go. Stephane laughed too and then said something that James could hear, but did not understand.
"Mais - je ne voudrais pas prendre le menu du jour!"
"J'accord! J'accord!" Ang laughed in reply.
James then watched Stephane finally turn and walk in his direction. James smiled at Stephane and hoped that he would notice him, or maybe even stop to say hello. He had no idea why someone like Stephane - someone famous, someone who'd been in movies and on television, someone who'd traveled all over the world - would want talk to someone like him. But he didn't care, and he wasn't intimidated at all. James realized that he belonged there too, at this party, and at this grand, amazing house. Just like Stephane. And he realized that, even if he wasn't some movie star, or famous, or rich, or as beautiful as some, he had the same right to be there as anyone else. This realization made James feel strange and strong and excited. And that was why he didn't care when Stephane walked by without noticing him at all.
The party has just begun, he thought.
"You just about ready," Lance said, leaning back against their bedroom door as he checked his watch again.
"Just about," JC said, his voice a muffled shout emanating from deep within their walk-in closet.
"Jesus," Lance muttered, but not angrily.
"Okay," JC said, emerging several minutes later.
"You changed clothes. You have a fashion crisis or something?"
"Sort of" JC said, smiling. "If you call not wanting to wear a shirt with a big cum-stain on it a fashion crisis."
"No way," Lance said, his mouth dropping open."Your shirt was way over there."
"I know," JC said, leaning forward to kiss Lance, but barely managing it because he was giggling. "Shotgun."
"Josh," Lance said, blushing.
"Shotgun Lance."
"Shut up," Lance said, playfully pushing JC away from him and opening the door. "You ready then?"
"As I'll ever be."
"You think Aaron joined the party yet?"
"Maybe."
"I hope. Because I'll feel bad if he's been waiting this whole time."
"It hasn't been that long," JC said. "And, besides, he'll be all right."
"Yeah," Lance said, following JC out the door and into the hall.
"Anyway, James probably has him in tow by now."
"Man, who would've figured that one - Aaron getting all nervous and shy, and James turning into a 13-year old version of my agent Stephen."
"Without the swearing...I hope."
"God, Luanne would kill us. She'd be like, uh, hello, how did my son turn into a foul-mouthed pushy egomaniac?"
"No, she'd kill me," JC said, shaking his head. "I was the one that talked her into letting him come with."
"Anyway, Aaron will find his feet soon enough," Lance said. "So I'm not going to worry."
"Good, because I want us to have some fun tonight."
"You mean, more than we already had."
"Exactly," JC said, stopping for a moment as they neared the top of the stairs and kissing Lance gently on the lips. "Fun at the party with my sexy-handsome husband, and then maybe some more fun in bed tonight."
"My lord," Lance whispered, kissing JC back. "What has gotten into us?"
"I don't know, maybe having the whole upstairs to ourselves again."
"Just like the old days," Lance said.
"Remember that one week, just after we first moved in.
"When we christened every room in the house."
"And the gazebo swing."
"Josh," Lance whispered, the two of them halfway down the stairs now. "You're going to make me hard again."
"Sorry," JC said, giggling and shaking the hair from his eyes. "But you remember don't you?"
"How could I forget," Lance said, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I still have the scar under my chin to prove it."
Aaron stared at his new shoes. They were made of smooth shiny black leather. He had picked them because he liked that there were no laces and they slipped on an off easily. He had been dressed for twenty minutes or so, except for his shoes, which he had just put on. He was wearing a dark grey suit, the one his dad wore to The Ghost Road premiere. He liked it, even though wearing it made him feel fancier than he usually liked to be. Some designer named Sandy something-or-other made it - the suit. His dad said it was kind of expensive when he bought it, back a while ago, when he was in Los Angeles. He'd asked his dad what JC wore to the premiere that night, and his dad at first said he didn't remember, but then he said that JC wasn't with him.
"Was it like before you met?" he'd asked his dad, confused.
"No, it was when we were apart for a little while," his dad had said, a sad look on his face, so sad that it made Aaron feel sad too.
"Were you mad at each other?"
"No - well, sort of. It's hard to explain. Mostly I was just being stupid."
"But you're together now," Aaron had said, taking hold of his dad's hand, but not really knowing why he'd done it. "And now everything is okay."
"Yes it is," his dad had said, as he nodded and the smile returned to his face.
Remembering his dad's smile made him happy, and Aaron smiled thinking about it, and how right after that he and his dad had driven to this tailor-place not far from their house back home and the man there fixed the suit for them, so that it would fit. The man had measured Aaron first, and then had him put the suit on.
"It's a little big on him," Aaron remembered the man saying. "But I'm sure we can make it fit."
"It used to be mine," his dad had said. "I was skinnier back then."
"We were all skinnier back then," the man had said, like he was trying to tell a joke, but it wasn't a very good joke, because no one laughed.
Aaron looked at the palms of his hands. They were sweaty and he wiped them on his bed. He felt something weird in his stomach too, like being hungry, but he wasn't. Aaron could hear cars continuing to arrive, slowly pulling into the broad turnaround out in front of the house. That was where he and James had earlier in the afternoon watched the valets set up. There were six of them, all blond and tanned and looking alike in blue shorts and white short-sleeve shirts.
After watching the valets, Aaron and James had wandered back to their bedroom to start getting ready. James had taken a shower and stayed in there for a pretty long time, longer than usual. James had never minded before if Aaron brushed his teeth or went pee or talked to him while he was in the shower. But this time, James closed the door, and when Aaron tried to open it, he realized that it was locked.
Aaron fidgeted on the bed and pulled his feet in and out of his shoes as he tried to decide whether to keep waiting, or go join the party. Since James was there already, it wouldn't be like he'd have to stand all by himself or anything. And his dad had said he didn't have to wait for them, saying, "Either way is fine." But Aaron had said he'd wait and so now he felt like he should. That was when there was a knock at the door and then it swung open with a bang. It was his not his dad. It was Eric Bana.
"Hey mate!" he shouted, bounding across the room with a big grin on his face and his hand thrust out. "Fancy running into you in these parts."
"Mr. Bana," Aaron said, standing up and grabbing hold of Eric's hand.
"Aaron," Eric scolded, wagging his finger at him.
"I mean Eric," Aaron said, correcting himself.
"That's more like it," Eric said, playfully slapping Aaron on the back.
Aaron really liked Eric, how he never treated him like a little kid, and how he was always joking and laughing. That was why he'd been excited to learn that Eric was going to be in the movie with his dad and him. Eric's character was a powerful Jedi, General Cassell Schirach. He wasn't in a lot of the scenes in the movie's first half, but Aaron suspected that his part would get bigger near the end. No one knew for sure though, because no one had seen the second half of the script.
As Aaron was about to ask Eric how long he'd been in Sydney, and where he was staying, he heard a shout from outside his room. It was a male voice with a thick accent that sounded Irish. Aaron didn't recognize the voice, except for the accent.
Glancing past Eric toward the doorway, Aaron saw someone he'd never met walk into the room. He had thick brown hair so dark it was nearly black. His eyebrows were dark and sharply-arched and his eyes were moist and wide open, like he'd been laughing. He was wearing scuffed black leather pants, cowboy boots, and a long-sleeved white shirt he'd left untucked. The shirt was open half-way down his chest, which was faintly furred with soft-looking hair.
"This the kid?" the man said, pointing the longneck of a beer bottle at Aaron.
"Aaron," Eric said, bowing slightly at the waist and extending his left hand with an exaggerated flourish toward the man standing in the doorway. "May I introduce your co-star, the unrepentantly incorrigible Colin Farrell."
"Wow, hi," Aaron said, stepping forward to shake Colin's hand.
"He looks a good bit older than ten," Eric said, winking at Colin.
"No, I'd say ten's about right," Colin said, shaking Aaron's hand and burping.
"I'm eleven," Aaron said. "And I'll be twelve tomorrow."
"Twelve, huh?" Colin said. "Then I guess your old enough for a swig of beer."
Aaron looked at the beer bottle that Colin had offered him. It was three-quarters empty and the beer in it was frothed from Colin drinking it. He had not tasted beer before but he was tempted to try it. He reached out to take the beer from Colin but stopped short when he heard Eric say, "Aaron - you're dad'll have my hide if he smells beer on you."
Colin laughed and pulled the beer back, slapping Aaron on the back.
"That's okay kid," he said. "Maybe later."
"I was just kidding anyway," Aaron said. "I don't really like beer."
"Suit yourself maestro," Colin said, draining the bottle with a single long swallow and then setting the bottle on the desk near the window.
"Did my dads come downstairs yet?" Aaron asked, turning to look at Eric. "I was sort of waiting for them here."
"They're going for that fashionably late thing," Colin said, playfully rolling his eyes and then throwing his arm around Aaron's shoulder. "So what say you, me, and Eric here join the party ourselves - 'cause it aren't likely to start without us, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, let's go mate," Eric said. "It's your party too."
"All right," Aaron said, smiling weakly as his stomach tensed again.
Colin winked at Eric as he nudged Aaron toward the door, sliding behind him and putting his hands on his shoulders. Once through the door, Aaron turned left and headed down the corridor, Colin pushing him gently from behind. Eric followed the two of them as they turned left again, this time heading toward the main house. It was about 100 to the main part of the house. Aaron had expected to hear the party when they turned the corner, but there was instead a strange silence, broken only by Colin trying not to laugh.
"What's going on?" Aaron asked, slowing down as he looked over his shoulder at Colin and then Eric.
"It's a party mate," Eric said, quickly jumping forward and sliding his arm around Aaron's waist as Colin did the same thing, picking Aaron up.
"And time for your grand entrance!"
"Hey!" Aaron said, shouting in surprise.
Eric and Colin broke out into loud laughter, carrying Aaron the last twenty feet as his new shoes slid and clattered on the terra-cotta floor. Aaron instinctively flailed his arms, half to keep his balance, and half to try to wriggle free. He felt their grip grow stronger on him as he neared and then rounded the corner into the lounge where the buffet tables had been set up. There were probably 200 people gathered in a big group all facing Aaron's direction. Letting him go, Colin gave Aaron a small shove forward, holding one shoulder so he wouldn't tumble over. Aaron stared in stunned silence at the crowd facing him. Lance and JC were at the front, flanking Ang, who walked toward Aaron and then gently put his arm around his waist.
"Most of you don't know this young man," Ang said, speaking up so he could be heard. "But soon you will, and I suspect you'll like him very much. I know I do."
"Ang," Aaron whispered, softly protesting the attention.
"He's Lance and JC's son, Aaron. And he's our Lucas Anakin Skywalker too."
"See kid," Colin said, leaning forward and whispering in his ear. "You're already stealing the spotlight from me and your old man."
Aaron laughed and blushed and looked at Lance, who was smiling proudly at him. JC was smiling too, and gripping Lance's left hand. James was standing at the edge of the crowd, off to one side of the room, but Aaron could not see him.
"This party has been in the planning for a while," Ang said, smiling. "But I fear I must admit that our planning was slightly less than perfect. Lance called me last night in a panic. You see, he'd forgotten to change his watch, and he thought today was the 13th."
Aaron looked at his own watch; it read the 13th too.
"Well, my friends, it's the 14th ," Ang said, watching Aaron as his eyes widened a bit. "Which means it's Aaron's birthday."
With that the crowd in front of him parted, Lance moving with one half of it, and JC moving with the other. As it parted, a table with a big birthday cake on it was wheeled forward, twelve tall candles casting a flickering glow on the faces of the people crowding the room. Aaron's hands covered his mouth as he saw the cake. A picture of him in one of his Star Wars costumes was air-brushed across the top of it. The picture was from the costume fittings of a few days ago. The still photographer had taken dozens of pictures and he'd not seen them yet. It scared him almost to see how different he looked. It was as if he'd been transformed into someone else.
Aaron was quickly distracted from his thinking when people started to sing Happy Birthday to him. He always hated this; it embarrassed him. But still he smiled and played the good sport as he hugged Ang and turned to shake hands with Colin and Eric. Turning back around, Aaron walked over to Lance and JC. They were beaming at him and quickly hugged him, both of them wrapping their arms around him.
"Not exactly an intimate family gathering," Lance whispered in Aaron's ear.
"We're sorry about that," JC said, whispering too. "We'll do something else tomorrow, something nice. And we can give you your present then too."
"It's okay," Aaron said, smiling as he struggled from their embrace. "But dad, come on, there are people around. You're embarrassing me."
"Ooh, sorry," JC said, nudging Aaron in the ribs once before letting him go.
Aaron blushed and felt bad for a moment. He had not meant to be rude, or to push his dad away. He was just surprised and nervous about everything - the party, which was now a birthday party too, all the people he didn't know, and about rehearsals starting in two days, the same day he started at his new school. Shaking his head, Aaron smiled and tried not to think about any of this, focusing instead on the task ahead: blowing out the candles on his birthday cake.
"Don't forget to make a wish," Lance said, patting Aaron on the back.
Standing in front of the cake, Aaron closed his eyes and thought for a moment before opening them again and blowing out the candles with one long breath of air. When they were out, everyone applauded and then started to disperse, moving in all directions, but mostly out into the courtyard. Two waiters appeared at Aaron's left and told him that they would cut the cake in the back and bring it out to serve later. Aaron smiled and thanked them and then turned back to Lance and JC.
"So did you guys know this was going to happen," Aaron asked.
"Not exactly," Lance said.
"Ang said he'd do something nice," JC said. "But we weren't sure what."
"I hope you're not disappointed," Lance said, tugging gently on the bottom edge of Aaron's suit jacket. "Because, like I said we're going to do a family thing tomorrow."
"No, it was cool," Aaron said, shrugging his shoulders and smiling at Lance. "It was kind of a shock, especially with Colin and Eric practically kidnapping me."
"That was pretty funny," JC said.
"Yeah, Colin seems like a pretty all right guy."
"I've don't really know him," Lance said. "But Eric seems to like him, so that's a good sign."
"Yeah," JC agreed.
"Anyway," Lance said. "How about we mingle?"
"Okay," Aaron said, looking at Lance and then JC. "Let's go."
"You look familiar," Justin said, smiling at the woman standing next to him at the buffet table. "Have we met before."
"That is the worst pick-up line I've...oh, Justin."
"So we have met before," Justin said, looking like he'd just won a bet.
"Yeah, but apparently you don't remember where," she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she selected a second piece of sushi and put it on her plate.
"I'm sorry, I don't."
"It was at the Academy Awards," she said, moving down the buffet line. "When JC won for best song."
"Alex!"
"And we've got ourselves a winner," she said, laughing.
"So how are you?"
"I'm good. Tired from the flight, but overall, I'm good."
"When'd you get in?"
"Yesterday. From New York. It's a freaking brutal flight."
"We didn't have it so bad, flying in from the West Coast. But it's still long."
"Too long."
"I guess you're in the film then," Justin said, watching Alex bite into a piece of French bread slathered with tapenade.
"I am," she said, swallowing before she answered. "I play Lana Solo."
"Like Princess Leia's daughter or something?"
"It's Ex-Chancellor Leia," Alex said, correcting him with a tone of feigned importance. "I'm her granddaughter, and a Senator."
"Well la-dee-dah," Justin said, laughing. "That's cool."
"Cool enough," she said, shrugging and taking a second bite of bread. "I'm a bit of a goody-two-shoes in the first half of the film, but Ang assures me I wig out at the end, so that should be fun."
"I was a huge Star Wars fan when I was a kid."
"And now?"
"It's okay."
"You certainly aren't a kid anymore," she said, winking at him.
"Not single anymore either," Justin said, flashing his wedding ring.
"And that's relevant because....?"
"Ooh, down girl," Justin said.
"Relax," Alex said. "I've got my eye on Stephane anyway."
"The French guy?" Justin said, nodding in Stephane's direction. "The one talking to James."
"Whose James?"
"The kid he's talking to."
"I figured that," she said, handing her now empty plate to a waiter that had walked by. "But is he in the movie or something?"
"No - he's Aaron's best friend. You know, birthday boy."
"Got it. He seems nice."
"Great kid," Justin said. "If mine turn out half that good, I'll be golden."
"You have kids?" Alex said, genuinely surprised.
"Twins boy, Cameron and Connor."
"I guess I better behave myself then."
"At least when my wife's around."
"What's her name?"
"Mel."
"I'll make a note of that then."
"Speaking of Mel, I better be finding her."
"Sure," Alex said, smiling at Justin and then winking again. "Anytime."
He'd not been surprised to see him. How could he be? This was where he lived, him and Lance, along with that adopted kid of theirs, the one that came out of nowhere to get one of the biggest fucking parts in the film. Daddy pulling strings, he figured. Not that he cared. He had a good part too. And a eight-month gig down-under was just what the doctor ordered. It got him out of New York and away from all his self-satisfied I-told-you-so friends eager to celebrate their prescience in having predicted that, yes, he'd gotten his ass dumped again. What was it? Like the fifteenth or sixteenth time? Not that it really mattered, because it seemed like him getting dumped was an annual event, like a fucking birthday. Or like dominos, one falling, then the next, and the next and the next and the next.
One right after the other. And JC had been the first.
That was why he'd had that trademark smile-smirk of his on as he watched JC come down the stairs, joining the party nearly an hour late, his face flushed like he'd just stepped out of the shower. He knew that face. He'd seen it before, on him and other men, hunched over him, asking him if he was ready, but then not waiting for the answer. But there he was, all smiles, holding on to his man's hand and laughing at something he'd just whispered in his ear. How cute.
Oh - and then there was that airy-fairy faraway look he'd seen so many times before. That was JC's trademark, the thing he remembered most, how he always looked like a guy trying to remember something he'd just forgot. God, how he hated that look, hated how frustrated it always had made him. And even when he'd understood it meant nothing, it had still had this power over him, this power to make him want to fight for his attention, just like a little kid yelling, look at me, look at me.
His first sight of JC had been over an hour ago now, and he had since then spent his time mingling at the edge of the party, waiting for that moment that had to come, and eventually did. But waiting for it, the moment to come, he had talked to Vin for awhile, and James Franco, who had adjusted his crotch so many time when he was standing there that he thought he was about to whip it out. And then there was Toni, who he'd met before, Toni who had dated an ex-boyfriend of his, although not at the same time as him.
"What an asshole," they had said in unison.
"Yeah, she'd said. "And as if it weren't bad enough me having such horrid taste in men, you'd think I'd every once in a while cadge one that's actually straight?"
"Tell me," he'd said, laughing.
And as he and Toni laughed together, he realized that it had happened: JC had seen him, and now he was staring. Yes it's really me, he thought. It's me.
"So you're Aaron?"
"Yes I am," Aaron said, speaking over the noise of people talking and the band's loud playing.
"Well, I'm Toni," she said, extending her hand.
"Thank you," Aaron said, shaking Toni's hand and smiling at her. "I'm glad to meet you."
"Aren't you the polite one," Toni said, arching her eyebrows as she took another sip from her martini.
"People always say that like it's a bad thing," Aaron said, frowning.
"Oh, it's not," Toni said, absent-mindedly waving a toothpick with olives on it. "It's just unusual, especially among this set, so I suppose people point it out because they don't know what else to say. But it's not a bad thing, so don't worry."
"All right."
"So, tell me, do you and I have any scenes together?" Toni asked.
"You're Delia Wolff, right?'
"That's me - the wife with more secrets than brains."
"That's funny," Aaron said, laughing.
"I do my best to amuse," Toni said, focusing on Aaron for a moment, and smiling, instead of looking over his shoulder at the other people in the room.
"One, about half way through the first half. Have you read it?"
"I read the treatment, but that's it."
"The treatment?"
"It's like a three-page summary," Toni said.
"I've never seen one of those before," Aaron said, trying to be nice but wondering why she would not rather read the script itself.
"I suppose not," Toni said, her voice drifting off as her attention wandered.
"It's just a short scene," Aaron said, glancing backwards over his shoulder to see what Toni was staring at.
"Easier to learn then," Toni said, draining the last of her martini and looking into the now-empty glass. "Well, mama needs another cocktail, so I'll be off."
"It was nice meeting you," Aaron said, holding out his hand.
"You know what?" Toni said, taking his hand as she cocked her head to one side and looked at him. "I wish you were ten years older."
"Why?"
"Oh - no reason," Toni said, flipping her hair back. "Not a good one, anyway."
JC had been completely shocked to see him. He'd been walking back from the bathroom, to look for Lance, when he'd caught a quick and sudden glimpse of him on the opposite side of the courtyard. It stopped him instantly in his tracks and, without really thinking about it, JC just stared. He'd thought at first that it wasn't him. But then he'd turned around and saw his face. It was him. Ryan Gosling. Who else could it be?
His hair was darker now, maybe dyed, but it was definitely him. Those were his sleepy bashful almond-shaped eyes. Those were his round full lips the color of clay. That was the cleft in his chin, now whisker-stubbled and not smooth and pale like before. Those were his broad straight shiny-white teeth and his impish smile. And those were his oversize hands with their thick long fingers and flat wide nails. It was him, definitely him. And after all these years too. Fifteen at least. Fifteen years of not thinking about him once, not that he could remember, and now, there he was, standing fifty feet from him, like a time traveler back from the past.
Seeing him made JC feel queasy and unsure. He didn't know whether to hide or walk over and say hello. He knew there was no real way to hide, but it was hiding that he most wanted to do.
Just find Lance, he thought.
But he couldn't seem to walk away or make himself stop staring.
Maybe I should at least say hello. Because there's no way I can just avoid him. And it would be the nice thing to do. There's no reason to be mean or rude. Yes he should walk over and say hello.
Taking a deep breath, JC shook his head lightly from side to side and licked his lips and smiled as he walked towards him to say hello, to say how surprised he was to see him, how he had not known that he was going to be in the film, but that he was happy to see him again, and he hoped that all was going well, and how he had always followed his career, and been really happy about his success, or should he say successes, since he had been in so many films it seemed, like that that one he liked a lot, even though he couldn't remember it's name, what was it called, yeah, that one, it was really good, and anyway, it was really good to see him, and, oh yeah, everything was good with him too, and he had a family now, imagine that, him a dad, Aaron, yes, Aaron, uh-huh, that Aaron, the one in the movie, yup, with Lance, and - What?
Oh, sure, of course - we're still together, and, yeah, it has been a pretty long time, like - what? - 17 years almost, yeah, 17 years in March, but, you know, it doesn't feel like it's been that long, not really, I mean, it seems like just we met, well, sometimes it does, and other times, I guess not, but, yeah, we got together in Germany, after, well, you know, after we started the band and stuff, but I really love him a lot, and we're happy and - what? Lance? - yeah, I'm sure he's around here somewhere, probably close by, so yes, you really should meet him, because it's weird that you two have never met before, so, uh, well, let me see if I can track him down - okay? - and then I'll be back around.
"So where's this Brendan I keep hearing you and Joshua talking about?" Mel asked, leaning on Justin's arm. "Is he here?"
"I haven't seen him," Justin said, surveying the room. "I don't think he's here."
"You know, you never really told me what went on with him and Joshua to create such bad blood."
"It's not exactly bad blood," Justin said, lowering his voice. "And it wasn't really a JC-thing either. It was Lance."
"Lance?" Mel said, looking confused for a moment. "You mean Lance..."
"Yup. He took a little stroll down unfaithful lane. Nothing too serious, but he totally wigged out after."
"Joshua did."
"No, Lance."
"What?"
"Lance - totally overreacted, feeling guilty, like he'd ruined everything."
"It is a big deal though," Mel said, not sure what Justin was suggesting. "Being unfaithful, cheating."
"Oh, I know," Justin said, quickly. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not sticking up for cheating or anything, I'm just saying...hell, I don't know what I'm saying, so I better just shut up now."
"That might be a good idea," Mel said, poking Justin in the ribs.
"Anyway, from what I get about it, the whole Brendan thing, was that it was like this one-night stand thing, with Lance being lonely and getting drunk at a party, and then losing your head a little - the kind of thing you just forget about and take to your grave."
"I can't say I entirely agree," Mel said. "Not exactly, but I understand your point, and agree that honesty is not always the best policy."
"Exactly, which Lance I think understood, because he kept quiet about it. But he also got it into his head that he was damaged goods, and it was downhill fast from there."
"What about JC? He had to know that there was something wrong."
"Your guess is as good as mine on that one," Justin said, shaking his head.
"See, I can kind of figure the Lance take on it. JC was the first and only person he'd ever been with, and he has always been the kind of guy that takes things way too serious. But it just seemed like JC turned a blind eye to what was happening, like he didn't want to deal with it and hoped it would just go away. I don't know, really, because he's never been willing to talk to me about it."
"I had no idea they'd been apart," Mel said. "They seem so happy now."
"They were apart for like nine months, and...uh, anyway, here comes JC."
"Joshua," Mel said, putting her hand on JC's arm. "This really is a lovely party."
"It's nice, isn't it?"
"Where's Lance?" Justin asked.
"I'm not sure," JC said. "He was talking to Mark Ruffalo for a while, and then I kind of lost track of him."
"Did you see that Ryan was here?" Justin asked.
"Who's Ryan?"
"Ryan Gosling," JC said. "And, yeah, I just talked to him."
"He was on the New Mickey Mouse Club with us."
"The what?" Mel said, suddenly laughing.
"Oh, be kind," JC said, rolling his eyes. "It was a job."
"My first, in fact," Justin added.
"Ryan was on the show the last two years I was on it," JC said, looking around for a waiter so he could get another glass of wine.
"Season seven," Justin said. "We left to start NSync right after that."
"That sounds like a step up," Mel said.
"Yeah, ha-ha," Justin said, scrunching his nose and making a face at Mel.
"Well, I'm going to find Lance," JC said, waving his hand and then turning and walking back toward the courtyard where most of the guests still were.
"You see," Mel said, a quizzical look on her face. "The one thing I've never fully understood is how one could possibly decide whom to choose to play which part. I mean, obviously you can go for big stars and such, or maybe a certain look. But you don't seem to do that."
"I try not to," Ang said, leaning against one of the columns in the courtyard as he talked to Mel. "But it depends on how much control I have too. On a bigger budget film, studios will usually want a big star, as a kind of safety-check."
"I can see that," Mel said.
"It doesn't always work, of course. But it makes the studio executives feel more secure. And it gives them someone to blame if the film opens poorly."
"Poor Lance," Mel said, laughing as she wiped a drop of wine from her lower lip.
"Not really," Ang said, glancing over Mel's shoulder to see who was nearby or in listening range. "This film will open itself. The grosses will be huge the first weekend regardless of who is in it. Look at The Phantom Menace. It was an absolutely atrocious film. But no one cared. And it still made tons of money."
"I've never seen it."
"Don't bother," Ang said.
"But with this film, how did you cast it then? Lance for example. Why him?"
"If you can keep a secret, I will tell you."
"Oh well - now I really want to know," Mel said, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially. "We'll consider it privileged information, how about that?"
"Perfect," Ang said, smiling. "You see, with all my films, I choose actors who are good, who I believe have the skills necessary to play the part convincingly."
"And Lance is a good actor?"
"Oh yes," Ang said. "And as with all good actors, Lance creates a character by reinventing himself, turning himself into something different, something new, something other than himself."
"But that's not possible."
"Well, no. Because we can never truly escape who we are at our core. But for an actor's performance to be credible, the actor must base it on real emotion. And to do that, he must reach back, into his own past, for things that have affected him, that made him who he is. And so in acting, the past becomes present, but in a new way, on a new stage, and in a new context."
"It sound like psychotherapy," Mel said.
"Yes, in a way it is," Ang agreed. "But I am not the therapist. The actor is."
"His own therapist."
"Yes."
"Does that mean you choose an actor with the past that you think works well with the role he is to play."
"Yes and no," Ang said. "I think it important to choose actors who are willing to take risks, to maybe reach back into places they'd prefer to avoid, scary places. That is what I like in an actor, because it is not just about knowing your lines and standing in the correct place. Lance knows this - well, he does not know he knows this, but he does well for me, and he lets me lead him to where I want him to go. He fights it, of course, and it sometimes takes a while. But eventually it comes out, and it is always a surprise."
"I'm not sure I'd like to see that," Mel said. "It sounds frightening."
"For some, I suppose. But I think it is beautiful. Like a flower blooming."
"And Aaron?"
"Ah, Aaron," Ang said, pausing to give his empty wine glass to a waiter that was walking by. "That is a different matter. Because I am going purely on instinct with him. But a son cannot help but be a by-product of his father's love for him, as well as his fears, and that is really what my movie is about. Fathers and sons. So I believe he will do fine."
"You hope."
"Yes. I hope."
"You know, it's rude to stare."
"Uh - what?" James said, spinning around and nearly knocking the drink from Stephane's hand. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry. None spilled."
"I'm not sure what you said," James said, stuttering slightly.
"I said it is rude to stare," Stephane said, arching his eyebrows in a way that was both menacing and charming.
"I was watching people in the courtyard," James said, pointing outside.
"No, I mean at me."
"I, uh, what?"
"You keep looking at me, and I was wondering why. Do I know you?"
"No," James said, blushing furiously. "I, um, I'm a friend of Aaron's."
"Aah, our little Luke."
"Yeah," James said, trying to calm himself. "Lance Bass is his dad."
"Yes. I know."
"You were in that movie Wild Reeds," James said, feeling steadier now, but also changing the subject. "I really liked it. Your character too."
"Merci."
"I know what that means," James said.
"I suspected you might," Stephane said, more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Since nearly everyone does."
"I'm sorry if you thought I was staring."
"No - it is fine. You are entitled to look at what you wish. I was just curious is all. Curious at what you might find so fascinating that you must look so closely."
"I don't know," James said, bowing his head and then looking quickly back at him. "Maybe that I've never seen someone like you before, someone who was in a movie I liked so much - you know, and, I don't know, you seem interesting too."
"Interesting?"
"Yeah. Interesting."
"And what is it that interests you about me?"
"I don't know," James said, blushing. "I don't really know you."
"And perhaps it is because you do not know me that I interest you, yes?"
"I guess."
"Well, perhaps you will think about it, and let me know when you decide."
"All right," James said.
"Well," Stephane said, looking at his watch and then smiling at James. "It is late, and I must go. But we will talk again some time."
"I'm going to work on the movie too," James said, blurting it out as if he feared he might not have another chance to tell him. "Helping Aaron."
"C'est bon!"
"Anyway," James said, still blushing. "Good night then."
"Yes, good night," Stephane said, smiling once more as he lit a cigarette and then turned to go.
"Thank you then," Stephane said, putting his hand on James' shoulder and then drawing him slowly closer. "I will take your looking at me as a compliment, yes?"
"Yes," James said, his voice soft and low. "Please do."
James watched Stephane walk away, knowing that he knew he was being watched and didn't mind. There was a strange exhilaration in this that James did not understand. It was as if some sort of switch had been turned on in him, allowing a kind of electricity he had not felt before flow through him. And he liked it.
Aaron lay in bed alone. It was past midnight but he could still hear the blunted murmur of voices in the distance. The party continued without him, but didn't mind at all. He was tired, and wanted to get up early tomorrow to go over his lines again. He had looked for James to tell him, but couldn't find him and finally gave up.
Lance and JC walked him back to his room, and sat there with him for quite a while, talking about the party and the people he'd met, and how it had all been such a whir for him. He'd had a really great time and thanked them three times, at least, for being so nice about introducing him and not making him feel like a little kid. The last time he'd said this JC leaned forward and took his hands in his and said, "Don't be in a hurry to grow up too fast Aaron, promise me that." And he had promised him, even though he had not been entirely sure what he had promised. Still, it was a promise he intended to keep, if he could.
Rolling over onto his back, Aaron put his hands behind his head and looked out the window. The moon glowed like a mirror reflecting fire, which in a way was what it was. He knew from school that the moon glowed because it reflected sunlight, not directly, and not all of it. But it was the sun that made it glow, the sun no longer visible in the sky, but still affecting it. He understood the moon, and how it worked, and that was what he was thinking of as he fell asleep.
JC picked up the corner of the bed sheet and quickly climbed under it. Lance was in bed already, and JC slid up next to him. As JC put his hand on Lance's shoulder, and slowly started to rub it, Lance let out a loud pretend snore and rolled over on his side. JC laughed and sidled up next to him.
"You're not getting away that easy," JC said, whispering in Lance's ear, and then gently biting his earlobe.
Sliding his hand under Lance's arm, across his stomach, and down between his legs, JC took Lance's penis in his hand. It was already erect and the tip of it moist. JC smiled as his finger traced small circles around the head, causing Lance to shudder and goose-bumps to rise on his arms.
"I didn't want you to think I was easy," Lance said, slowly rolling back over and giving JC a light soft kiss.
"There's easy," JC said, pulling Lance on top of him. "And then there's easy."
Lance kissed JC, this time with more force. When the kiss was finished, he raised his head and looked at JC. His face was lit by the moonlight coming through the skylight over their bed. The moon was nearly full, and quite bright, and its image was reflected in the irises of JC's wide-open eyes.
"Did you have a nice time tonight?" JC asked, looking up at Lance.
"It was really nice. How about you?"
"I had a great time. I like meeting new people."
"And seeing old friends."
"You mean Ryan?"
"Yeah. He seemed nice."
"He can be."
"Were you guys close?"
"What do you mean?" JC said, the words coming out quickly and more sharply than JC had intended.
"You know, like good friends."
"Oh, not really. He was three years younger than me, so - I don't know, that's a big difference in ages."
"Um, like you being three years older than me?"
"More like two and a half," JC said.
"Hey - I was just teasing," Lance said, kissing JC lightly on the nose, both cheeks, and then his lips.
"Okay," JC said, kissing Lance back. "But, the age thing is different when you're 17, like I was then, and he was 14. Beside I mostly hung out with Tony Lucca then."
"Ah, the infamous Tony Lucca."
"Man, how did we get on this all of a sudden," JC said, irritated. "I thought my man here was about to make love to me."
"And so he was," Lance said, returning to his kiss and smiling as JC's hands found there way to the small of his back and pulled him down. "Or is."
They made love then in the moonlight, slowly and silently, and hardly moving. It was an easy thing for them to do, rubbing together, Lance sliding gently up and down on him, like the slow swaying of a boat pushed by the tide to shore, rocking gently back and forth as a steady series of waves lap against it. JC's face was pressed now into the nook of Lance's neck, and his breath hissed slowly, as Lance listened to it. He loved to hear it quicken and get deeper, the rhythm of his breathing, and to listen for this quickening as the sign that he was close so that he would then get close too. It was a subtle dance they danced this night, a dance they'd danced hundreds of times before, in time with the music of the moment, and the force of not fleeting desire. And as they each together reached the brink of climax, the just for-now end of this, clutching to each other before the sharp intake of breath that signaled they were there, it was then when they looked always into each others eyes, as if to say thank you for making me feel this way with you.
There was no need for many rooms now, nor chests filled full with soft beautiful multi-colored shirts, nor for any other symbols of what he'd once sought to be, or chased, or coveted, or even stole. Now it was only sleep and death that waited for him at the end of the day, like the twin-brother gods, Thanatos and Hypnos, waiting ready to remove the hero Sarpedon's body from the battlefield in the Trojan war, the famous war fought over the loss of a single love. So yes, the night was his friend, his sole solace, and his release from the prison of regret for all that could have been, but in the end never was.