Here's the next chapter, with all due apologies to any Australians out there for butchering Aussie slang. But, just as I promised, this chapter has been delivered much faster than the last one - and it's a long one too, with lots more plot, so I hope you appreciate it. (By the way, I have been getting like hardly any emails lately. Is anyone still reading out there?) Finally, for those of you like a little Justin-porn, this chapter has a nice treat in store for you. (No, I didn't turn him gay or bi, and no, I didn't do het-slash.) Okay, that's it. On with the story. The email address is at denis141@hotmail.com. WRITE ME!
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 35: FAR, AND AWAY: Part four: How You Act.
"They didn't act like people and they didn't act like actors. It's hard to explain. They acted more like they knew they were celebrities and all. I mean they were good, but they were too good."
--J. D. Salinger
"She bobbed her hair, put on her choicest pair of earrings and a great deal of audacity and rouge and went into battle. She flirted because it was fun to flirt ...she covered her face with powder and paint because she didn't need it and she refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn't boring. She was conscious that the things she did were the things she had always wanted to do."
--Zelda Fitzgerald
"We are always acting on what has just finished happening. It happened at least 1/30th of a second ago. We think we're in the present, but we aren't. The present we know is only a movie of the past."
--Thomas Wolfe
The electricians had been down there three days when Justin and JC decided that the wall had to go. There was too much equipment and too little room. They'd managed to squeeze in the Panasonic SV-3800 Professional Digital Audio Tape Recorder, the Mackie DB 8-buss mixing console, the TASCAM MX 24-track hard disk recorder, the Fostex VF08 16-gig hard disk workstation, and the Akai Z8 sampler - with room for two Aeron chairs. But then when electricians installed the SPDIFx7 distribution amplifiers, the Lucid 24-bit A/D-D/A super/clock converter, the double-stacked sync generators, and the two JBL monitors, there was no room left for the DigiTech DHP-55 digital harmony processor, the Roland D-50 digital synthesizer, the Korg poly-six analog synthesizer, or the MIDI controllers. And as Justin also pointed out, there was no room left for the vocal booth. "Where in the hell are we going to sing?" he'd said.
That was when JC said, "The wall's got to go."
It was pretty much down hill from there. The carpenter arrived and said tearing down the wall was a one-day job, at most, but that was before he found the water pipes in the wall. The plumber arrived the next day, a short woman with leathery brown skin and traces of a mustache. She wore dirty orange overalls with the sleeves cut-off. Her arms were muscular, and she had a military-looking tattoo on her upper arm. When she saw JC looking at it, she said, "It's the Rising Sun Badge, and I wear it proudly."
"Anyhow," she went on, her voice a grating cackle, like the noise a large and angry bird might make. "The name's Willicent Dowd, but you can call me Willie!"
"Okay," JC said, taking a small step back. "So what about the pipes, Willie?"
"Right," she snorted. "The pipes. Ya see, movin' 'em, that'd be a piece of piss really. But gettin' the right permits, that bit be a bloody hard yakka."
"I have no idea what you just said," JC said, looking at the plumber like she'd just grown a second head.
"Is there some way we can get the permits a little quicker?" Justin asked, knowing at least that she'd mentioned the permits. "Like this week?"
"Buckley's chance of that," she said, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.
"This is fucked," JC said, crossing his arms on his chest.
"No need ta burr up, mate," the plumber said, tapping one of the pipes with end of a wrench. "It in't as daggy as all 'at. Hit your kick and it's as good as go."
"Hit my what?" JC said, putting his hand on his hips.
"Yer kick," the plumber said, pointing to JC's back pocket with her wrench.
"I think she's saying that she'll do it if you pay her extra," Justin said, whispering in JC's ear. "Like a bribe."
"Ahh," JC said, pulling his wallet out, opening it, and looking inside. "So there's like an extra fee for doing it without the permit, is that right."
"Spot on!"
"How much?" JC asked.
"Ah dunno," the plumber said, scratching her chin with the end of a wrench.
"Ah don't wanna sound like I got tickets on me-self, but I don't fig-guh there's many blokes about that'll move those pipes lackin' a permit."
"Here's five-hundred," JC said, handing her the money. "It's all I have on me."
"Right-o then," Willie said, slipping the wrench under her left armpit and then taking the money and counting it.
"How long is this going to take?" Justin asked.
"How long's a piece of string?" Willie said, laughing as she turned around to look at the pipes again.
"What?" JC said.
"Anyhow," the plumber said, winking at Justin and then looking at the pipes. "To give you the good oil on it, I'm goin' ta need a bit more of a look at it, and then I'll let you know, probably in the arvo."
"Uh, okay," Justin said, grabbing hold of JC's arm like he thought JC might try to hit her otherwise. "Come on Jayce, let's go back upstairs."
"Whatever," JC muttered, as Justin led him away.
James and Aaron stood in front of Knox Grammar School waiting for JC to pick them up. It was hot standing there at the edge of the driveway without any shade and no real breeze. Looking at James out of the corner of his eyes, Aaron wondered why he was so quiet. Usually they talked all the time, right after school. But the last three days had been different. James seemed more distant now, like he had other - or better - things to think about. When Aaron had asked him yesterday, for the second time, if something was wrong, James had just smiled and said, "No, everything's great."
Aaron had noticed that James seemed somehow bigger now. Not so much taller, because he was not tall - maybe five feet, or five-one. But his shoulders seemed broader, and more thrown-back, and his voice had deepened, and become notably louder. He had always been a good-looking boy, gawky and thin-limbed; but now his brown hair had hints of red in it, like it had been burnished bright by the sun. And what had been lightly- freckled pale skin had become more golden and smooth, with the slightest traces of pink on the tops of his cheeks and the end of his nose. But what Aaron noticed most of all was the way James smiled more now, and laughed out loud, even when there were people other than him around, and how he seemed bolder, and less afraid.
None of this bothered Aaron, nor really mystified him either, except for one thing, one thing he did not fully understand: James liked to be alone more now. Like sometimes when Aaron would come into their room, James acted almost angry, like he resented the intrusion, and wanted the room to himself. Or maybe sometimes he did, because at other times James acted happy to see him, and he would lie awake and talk to him, like before - well almost like before, because now they stayed in their own beds. James had said it was too hot for them both to be under the covers together, and that, anyway, there were two beds, instead of just one, like back in San Diego, so they should use them. That what they were there for. He hadn't said any of this in a mean way, or in a way that had made Aaron worry that James was mad at him. But it was something he'd never said before, so it made Aaron wonder what was different now, because he'd always liked the feeling of having James lie next to him, and he kind of missed it.
And then there was the bathroom thing. James kept the door locked all the time now, every time he was in there. And he took his clothes in with him too, and dressed in there, not in the bedroom anymore, not where Aaron might see him without his clothes on, and that was something different than before.
Aaron had thought about asking him, asking him why he had seemed to change, even though it had been James who'd been worried about Aaron being the one that would change, and maybe not like him anymore. But Aaron had decided not to ask him, and to say nothing. He sensed that there was something about the question that seemed like it might embarrass James, or hurt his feeling, and he didn't want to do that - not to his best friend. Maybe he would ask his dad instead. That might be the thing to do, since they were pretty good at figuring things out. Yes, that's what he'd do.
The masters had arrived in a DHL overnight air-express carton three weeks ago. Neither Justin nor JC had bothered opening it because the masters were on digital audio tape and there was no place to play it until the studio was set up, which it wasn't. The plumber, Willie, had taken ten days to move and replace the pipes, stopping every two to three days to mention how hard it was to get a permit for work like this, and getting $500 in return. When JC asked her why she couldn't just cut the pipes off and cap them, she'd said, "I'm tipping having pissers that flush is a right bit of important for you." He was forced to agree, even though he was not exactly sure what she'd just said.
Willie finished her work on a Tuesday, and the electricians returned the next day. It took them three more days to re-install the equipment. Instead of watching them, as JC and Justin had done the last time, they sat outside by the pool, drinking beer and watching the sailboats in the harbour. Mel had flown with the twins to Melbourne to visit her mother, so JC and Justin had the house to themselves during the day, except when the housecleaners were there, which was every third day. JC had dozed off, and was asleep with a magazine on his chest when the lead electrician wandered out by the pool. Justin saw him walking across the courtyard and took his earphones off and stood up.
"You done?" Justin said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom edge of his tank-top.
"Everthing's hooked up, but we ain't tested nothing yet," the man said, squinting into the sun as he spoke to Justin. "I'll send someone around later in the arvo to do it."
"All right," Justin said, drowsy from the sun. "Any idea when?"
"Any tic of the clock, really," the man said. "Shouldn't be long."
"Okay," Justin said. "Thanks."
"Yeah, all right," the man said, turning around and walking back to the house.
Justin watched the electrician disappear inside. He imagined that he'd gather up the rest of his things and then leave. The electrician's truck was parked in front of the house so he'd hear him when he left. Pulling his tank-top over his head, Justin jumped into the pool, swimming across the length of it and then clinging to the blue-tiled edge on the other side. It was deep there and he pressed his toes against the pool's wall to keep his head above the water. He could still see the harbour from there, but the view was mostly of the sky, which was clear and cloudless and bright. The water was cool and felt good.
Moving along the far edge of the pool, hand over hand, Justin tilted his head back and wet his hair. It was buzz-cut short and the water sparkled in it like tiny bits of glass. He stopped near the corner of the pool and felt a jet-surge of water push from one of the four filter outlets in the pool. The water-jet pushed against the front of his swimsuit and through its thin fabric. Closing his eyes he felt himself grow hard. This was how he had experienced his first orgasm, when he was not yet thirteen, and alone one sunny hot afternoon in a pool much like this one.
Justin closed his eyes and remembered the startling pleasure that he had felt as his penis got hard and long and seemed to vibrate with a strange surging intensity that would not let him pull away from the water pulsing against it. He remembered how he had looked around to make sure that no one was there to see him, somehow knowing that what he was about to do was something you did alone, and kept secret. That was when he slowly lowered the front of his swimsuit, exposing his erection to the full-flowing force of the water, not knowing why, or having ever done this before: he was caught in the grip of a feeling so intense it told him what to do, and how to do to it. And he did it, eagerly, following this fierce fiendish feeling where it led him, which was right there quickly to the brink of coming.
He remembered how'd gripped to the edge of the pool, like he was doing now, fearful he might let go, overwhelmed by the growing excitement he felt, an excitement so intense it was as if he could still feel it pulsing forward from the past, to where he was right there. And he did feel it, felt it as he thrust his hips forward, pressing himself against the water jet, feeling the nearly-hot water rushing pushing pulsing against the root of it, and against his balls, until then the final near-the-end moment of it was upon him, and he no longer felt the shooting water, but only his own orgasm, the word he only later learned for what he'd felt then, and suddenly felt again right now - the sun shining on his shoulders, the water sloshing on skin that felt electrified, his knees and toes scraping the rough concrete sides of the pool as he struggled to hold on.
Justin eyes flashed opened as he started to convulse; he was coming. He gripped harder to the edge of the pool and pressed his mouth against the cool wet tile, tasting the chlorine in water splashed there as he whimpered quietly and was shuddered-jolted by the shoot-gush-burst-drip-spurt-gush-shoot that was coming.
And as the final slower-jolting shudders worked their way through him, Justin looked down; he could see semen leaking through the fabric of his swimsuit, like smoke seeping through a curtain.
A final shudder traveled up his spine and he tried hard to catch his breath. It was then that he remembered JC was at the pool too, and he looked back over his shoulder to see if he had seen. JC was still asleep.
Justin smiled and reached into his swimsuit and pulled his now-softening penis out and wagged it back and forth in the water, rinsing it, slowly, because he liked the feeling of this too, and the sight of it there in his hand, as he dunked under the water and let go of the side of the pool, and pulled the front of his swimsuit back up.
As he slowly re-surfaced, he laughed and thought, I'm going to do that again.
The second to last day of rehearsals was nearly over. Aaron was lying on the floor of the small dressing room trailer he'd been assigned. His legs were crossed at the ankle and his feet were up, resting on the edge of the couch. His knees were badly scraped and bruised from the flying-wire stunts he'd learned for his part. It had been a lot of fun at first, but after slamming into the wall repeatedly, and hitting the floor hard a dozen times, the learning process had stopped being fun and turned into something to just endure.
When he came back to his trailer, Aaron intended to study. Instead, he fell asleep, his social studies book open on his chest, and the chapter he'd been assigned unread. It had already been a long day for him. Up at six, he and James dressed, ate breakfast, and left for school by seven. Lance drove them to school in the morning, and JC picked them up at three o'clock - or eleven, if it was Wednesday - and brought them home. On the days that Aaron was scheduled to be at the studio - Monday, Wednesday, and Friday - a driver would pick him and James up at the house after they'd eaten something and done at least half their homework. They couldn't leave until JC had checked their work, which always made Aaron smile as he stood there at the door waiting for JC to give his okay.
Aaron was roused from sleep by a loud arrhythmic thumping sound against the side of his trailer. Pulling his feet down from where they were resting up on the couch, Aaron stood slowly, rubbing his eyes and trying to get his bearings as the trailer started suddenly to rock back and forth, like in an earthquake. Beginning to panic, Aaron lunged toward the door and yanked it open, forgetting that he was naked except for boxer shorts. About to jump, he saw that Colin had hold of the bottom of the trailer and was rocking it. Eric and James and Mark Ruffalo were standing a few feet away laughing. After three more upward tugs, Colin let go of the trailer and stepped back.
"Nice drawers mate," Colin said, pointing at Aaron, who looked down, blushed, and then jumped back inside the trailer.
"No fair!" Aaron yelled from inside his trailer as he quickly pulled on a pair of cargo pants and a short-sleeved shirt.
"Come on mate," Colin said, sticking his head inside Aaron's trailer. "Don't be mad. Just foolin' you."
"I know," Aaron said, sitting on the couch as he slid his feet into a pair of bright yellow flip-flops. "It's okay."
"So come on. We're playing a bit of poker."
"I don't know how to play that," Aaron said, standing up. "And I need to do my homework."
"Homework! It's Friday night" Colin said, scrunching his face, widening his eyes, and recoiling in mock horror. "No one does there eccers on Friday night."
"I do," Aaron said. "I like to get it done."
"Still in the running for the perfect lad of the year, I see," Colin said, pointing his finger at him good-naturedly. "That's what you're up to. Me, I hated school. Was on the hop half the time."
"You're funny," Aaron said, grinning at Colin as he shoved his hands into his front pockets. "Funny looking."
"Ah, gives as good as he gets. I fear you're a bit a match for me, eh?"
"I try."
"Well, anyhow -if you don't fart around a bit, life gets pretty feckin' boring. That's me pa always said. So waddya say, A-bomb? Have a couple hands of poker with us, and then you can get back to the books like a good lad."
Aaron looked at the books on the floor of his trailer and then back at Colin, who was grinning at him like a mad man. It was hard to resist the offer, because he didn't get a chance to hang out with Colin much, except at rehearsal, and that was work.
"All right," Aaron said. "But only for a little while."
"I swear on me mother," Colin said, putting his hand on his heart and then laughing so loudly the trailer nearly shook. "For just a little while it'll be."
It was seven-thirty when the rehearsal was finally over and he could head back to his trailer. It had been a brutal two hours for Lance. Not just because this was the first scene he'd rehearsed with Brendan, something he'd been dreading, but because Brendan had shown up without knowing any of his lines. This shouldn't have been a surprise; but it was. Lance had somehow convinced himself that Ang would quickly block the scene, listen to some line-readings, make a few suggestions, walk them through it once or twice, and then let them go. That was what he'd always done before, even with Josh Hartnett, who was nearly as big a fuck-up as Brendan. But that was not how it turned out, and it had taken forever, so all Lance wanted now was to get back to his trailer, grab his bag, and then take James and Aaron home so he could meet Justin and JC for drinks.
As he rounded the corner, Lance walked by the door to the Green Room, rubbing his eyes and not noticing who was in there and what was going on. He heard it though: loud laughing, whistles, cat-calls, and hands clapping. Stopping short, Lance turned and walked into the room. There were a dozen or so people standing around a table and six people sitting there. He saw Colin and Stephane, and then Eric, Alex and Mark. They were all playing cards. Poker it looked like, because there was money on the table.
"Hey James," Lance said, giving him a gentle slap in the middle of the back.
James was standing behind Stephane, leaning lightly against his chair. He turned around when he heard Lance, and then felt his hand on him. His eyes widened slightly, as if in surprise, and he stammered as he started to speak.
"Uh...hey, uh, Lance," James said. "What's going on?"
"I was going to ask you the same -"
Lance stopped speaking before finishing sentence. His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed in anger. Aaron was the sixth player at the table. He had not seen him at first because Gene, the focus-puller, had been blocking his view as he stood watching the game. There was a good-sized pile of money in front of Aaron and an unlit cigar in his mouth. Lance stepped around Gene and was behind Aaron's chair in what seemed like less than a second. He snatched the cigar from Aaron's mouth, threw it on the floor, and then grabbed hold of Aaron's arm, lifting him roughly up from his chair.
"Owww-dad, you're hurting me," Aaron said, trying to pull away.
"Come on," Lance said, pushing the chair out of the way with his foot once Aaron was on his feet. "This party's over."
"Dad, we were just playing cards," Aaron said, his face flushed red.
"I can see what you were doing. And I said, let's go."
"Hey, mate," Colin said, standing up and putting his hand on Lance's shoulder. "Don't be angry with 'im - 'twas all me fault. We were having a bit of a hooley, and we wanted A-bomb to be a part o' it."
Lance stared at Colin, listening to him, but saying nothing. When Colin was done speaking, Lance looked at Aaron and said, "Let's go."
"Can I get my money at least?" Aaron asked, pleading.
Lance once more said nothing. He just looked at Aaron, his eyes squinted and his forehead deeply creased. The room was silent. Nobody spoke. Some people stared while others looked away. After what seemed like an hour, but was less than a minute, Lance let go of Aaron's arm and walked away. Aaron watched him for a few seconds and then followed, leaving his money on the table. Colin stared after them, and then at the empty door.
"I got to be taking a slash anyhow," Colin said, finally breaking the silence. "So I'll be seeing y'all later."
Colin left the room, and once he was out the door he ran to catch up with Lance. He found him outside Aaron's trailer, waiting. Lance had his arms crossed and a black leather duffel was sitting at his feet. The door to Aaron's trailer was open. Colin could hear Aaron inside, probably gathering his school books.
"Lance," Colin said, calling to him and signaling for him to step away from the trailer and come over to where he was now standing. "Come here a quick second."
"What?" Lance said, walking over to him.
"I just wanted to let you know again it really was me fault. Aaron told me he was s'posed to study, but I twisted his arm a bit, you know? So I'm sorry 'bout that."
"He doesn't need you to defend him, or try to justify what he did."
"Yeah, but..."
"No-there is no but," Lance said, cutting him off. "There'll be lots of people in his life that'll try to talk him into doing something he knows he shouldn't do. And if he doesn't learn how to say no now, then there's no way he's going to learn it later."
"Well, I ain't his ol' man," Colin said, speaking quietly so that Aaron would not hear. "And it probably ain't me place to talk. But he's a damn fine lad, and a funny fella too. Me, I'm a bit of a header so - for what it's worth, which ain't shite for sure, I wouldn't give the bit with the cards and cigar too much of a worry. Y'know, not fer the A-Bomb's sake."
"His name is Aaron," Lance said, his voice flat and dry. "But thanks for the advice, for what it's worth."
"Yeah-all right then," Colin said, turning to walk away, but then stopping.
Aaron had appeared in the door to his trailer. He had his book bag slung over his shoulder and it was notably heavy. When Colin saw him he smiled broadly and winked.
"Hey mate," Colin said, speaking past Lance and waving at Aaron. "I'll see you on Monday, aw-right? For our first big scene together."
"Okay," Aaron said, his face momentarily perking up. "See you."
"And don't be worrying 'bout your winnings. I'll keep 'em for you, in case your ol' man changes his mind about you keeping 'em."
"Fuck," Lance said, whispering it under his breath
Aaron said nothing as he watched Colin smile and then walk away. Closing the door to his trailer, Aaron climbed down the two, small metal steps to the ground and then over to where Lance stood waiting for him. Lance's arms were still crossed on his chest, and he looked plainly angry. His face was flushed red and he kept taking deep breaths, as if trying to calm down.
Aaron wanted to explain, or apologize, or just say something that would make his dad not be mad. But he didn't know what to say, what he could say, so he said nothing, and just followed him silently through the studio. They found James still in the Green Room, talking to Stephane, and then went out to the car. Aaron sat silently next to his dad on the drive home, saying nothing, nothing until after they got home, and James said he was going to watch some TV, and Aaron said that he was going to bed, and Lance nodded and went upstairs to sit in the chair on the balcony, looking out at the harbour, and the dark and starless night.
Sitting there, Lance thought of all the roles he'd played, all the movie characters he had pretended to be. It was as if now they were now all standing before him, dimly reflected in dark glass, like ghosts, or suspects in a police line-up, all looking like they'd done something wrong. Was being a father just a role he played? That was what he was wondering as he sat there, staring out into the dark and starless night.
Justin and JC had been at the bar in the Four Seasons hotel for just under an hour. Lance was supposed to meet them there, when rehearsals were over, but he hadn't yet arrived. Leaning back in his chair, Justin surveyed the room. It was filled with business people, and a couple wealthy tourists, and a few people from the movie. This was where everyone who had not rented a house, or made other arrangements, was staying.
"This feels like the good old days," Justin said, setting the front legs of his chair back down, and putting both hands down flat in front of him on the table.
"What do you mean?"
"You know, you got to stop doing that," Justin said, pointing at JC's scrunched-up forehead. "You're starting to look like Lance."
"Shut up," JC said.
"Anyhow - I just meant being in a hotel bar, in some city I've never been before, sort of single for the night, you know, it's just like when we were a younger, and on the road all the time. That's all."
"Yeah, but you said 'like the good old days' - like the 'good old days' all over, and now we're just being boring and old - what's that about?"
"Jayce - it's just an expression."
"Yeah, just like the expression 'old ball and chain'."
"Now you're just being difficult."
"Whatever," JC said, shifting in his chair and crossing his legs.
"You want another glass of wine?" Justin asked. "Because I'm getting another."
"Okay," JC said. "But get me a glass of Semillon or something. It's too warm to drink red wine."
"Wait - is that your phone?" Justin asked, pointing.
"No - oh, wait, yeah it is."
Justin walked up to the bar while JC took the call. There was only one waitress on and he didn't feel like waiting for her. As he gave the bartender his order, he looked in the mirror behind the bar. The room, which was long and narrow, was reflected there, in reverse. At one end of the reflection he could see JC talking into his cell-phone, and at the other end he could see the entrance to the bar. Toni Collette had just appeared there, along with Ryan Gosling, Brendan Fehr, and Stephane Rideau. They were together, and laughing. Picking up their drinks, Justin walked back to his and JC's table and sat down.
"It was Lance," JC said, setting the cell-phone on the table. "He's not coming."
"How's that?"
"He said he was tired and in a bad mood and that he was just going to stay home."
"What a kill-joy."
"No - coming here in a bad mood would be being a kill-joy."
"Cool then," Justin said, smiling. "So let's stay a while?"
"I don't know," JC said. "I probably should go."
"That's stupid. I mean, if he's is in a bad mood, he probably wants to be alone."
"One never knows with Lance."
"All the more reason to stay," Justin said.
"Fine. But just for like one more."
"Right on - oh, hey, I almost forgot. You'll never uess who walked in a couple minutes ago?"
"Who?"
"Ryan."
"Oh, great. Just my luck."
"He was with Toni and Brendan and that French dude."
"Stephane."
"Yeah, him," Justin said.
"Brendan and Ryan - that's kind of weird."
"Weird how?"
"I don't know. It's just weird. I can't explain it."
"I'd say you're the one being weird," Justin said. "I mean, what's the frigging deal with you and Ryan? It's like every time his name pops up you get all, I don't know, mysterious or vague or something."
"No I don't."
"You most certainly do. Like right now for example."
"Justin - I really don't want to talk about it."
"Obviously."
"Look let's just go then," JC said, sliding his chair back from the table.
"What's wrong?" Justin said, more sarcastically than concerned. "I hit a nerve?"
"Okay, now you're being a jerk."
"All right - sorry. But, come on Jayce, tell me what's up. I'm interested. I'll listen. I care. And if it's something that's weighing you down, fucking off-load it man, because that's what I'm here for and I'm all ears."
"We had a thing once," JC said, blurting the words out and then taking a quick sip of wine.
"Who did?"
"Me and Ryan."
"No way."
"It's true," JC said, sliding his chair back to the table and leaning forward so that Justin could hear him as he spoke more softly. "Right at the end of the season on MMC."
"What was he, like thirteen?"
"Fourteen, I think."
"That's still kind of young."
"I guess," JC said. "But I was only like seventeen, so it wasn't like I was pulling a Lou or anything."
"Now that guy was a pervert."
"He so deserved it when that O-Town guy shot him," JC said, shaking his head in disgust.
"What was his name?"
"I don't remember now. Ashley something, I think."
"Anyway, did you like Ryan, you know, like a boyfriend or something."
"He was more an 'or something' kind of thing," JC said, sighing.
"What kind of an 'or something' thing?"
"I don't know, it's hard to describe," JC said. "To be honest, it wasn't really about Ryan. Not at first. It was mostly about Tony."
"Lucca?"
"Yeah."
"Well now I so don't get this."
"Tony -uh, he was my first," JC said, moving his wine away, not wanting to drink it. "The first guy I ever had sex with."
"How old were you?"
"The first time? Like fourteen. I'd had a huge crush on him for awhile, and was always tagging after him. He liked the attention though. I could tell."
"How'd it happen," Justin asked. "I mean, if you want to tell me."
"There's not much to tell. One day he invited me into his dressing room, locked the door, dropped his pants, and I sucked him off."
"Geez - how romantic is that?"
"It was for me," JC said. "Or so it seemed. I remember I was so excited I shot in my pants in like ten seconds."
"Ooh, Jayce - way too much information," Justin said, cringing.
"Sorry."
"No it's okay. I'm the one that asked."
"It was pretty much like that from then, me doing that, or him fucking me."
"See, that's where I'm confused," Justin said. "Because I was pretty sure that he was fucking Tiffini, and that she was his girlfriend. She always said she was."
"No, she was," JC said. "And he reminded me all the time, saying he could never have feelings for a guy, except to want to fuck one, and I shouldn't think that he was my boyfriend, or tell anyone about what we were doing."
"That's twisted."
"And cruel."
"Tony was always kind of a jerk."
"Tell me," JC said.
"Well, it's good you dumped him then."
"Dumped him?" JC said, laughing. "How could I dump him? He wasn't even my boyfriend. All he did was fuck me. He called me 'bend-over boy' - which was exactly what I was. I was just another way for him to jerk off. It was pathetic."
"Dude - it's more than pathetic. It's wrong."
"I know. Or at least, now I know."
"So what happened with Ryan then?"
"I did it to make Tony jealous," JC said, lowering his gaze and staring at the table. "I thought if I was with another guy Tony would fight to get me back."
"That doesn't make any sense," Justin said, shaking his head. "Not if he was like how you said, just in it for the fuck, because guys like that don't care where they get it."
"Thanks for the advice," JC said, with a short and bitter laugh. "It's only like about twenty years late."
"Yeah, all right," Justin said, conceding a point that was not worth arguing about.
"But it's not like I remember giving my little plan much thought. I'd seen Ryan watching me, probably like Tony had seen me watching him, so I went for it, thinking if Tony was going to play me, I'd play him back."
"In other words, you hit replay, doing to Ryan what Tony had done to you."
"Bingo."
"Did you even like him?"
"It didn't matter," JC said.
"I bet it mattered to him."
"Yeah," JC said, closing his eyes for a moment, and then looking at Justin. "It had to have. I was his first. And you're first always matters, for good or bad."
"I know how that works," Justin said, wincing.
"Looking back at it," JC said. "You know, from here, I just...I don't know. I just wish it had never happened."
"Except for Lance."
"Yeah," JC said, nodding once. "And see, that's just it. Tony wasn't a first in any way that matters. Lance was. Everything I did with him was like a first for me - the first kiss, the first time I saw him without clothes, the first time we showered together, the first time I had an orgasm with him - it was all new to me. And in some ways, it still is."
Justin smiled and JC, listening to him without any need to comment or interrupt or doing anything but listen to what he said, and understand it.
"I remember wanting so badly for him to be in me," JC said, smiling and closing his eyes, as if not looking at anything allowed him to draw closer to the memory. "But we waited. It felt like forever, but it's not like we didn't do everything but that. Plus we were touring and, well, you know, how that goes. But then when it finally happened, it was nothing like I'd ever experienced before. Not just the feel of it, but how it made me feel - about myself. It was - I don't know to describe it except to say that it was the most incredible feeling of being set free, or saved, like everything bad that I'd ever felt about myself, my life, how I'd acted - it all went away, replaced by something new and hopeful and beautiful, like in baptism, where they say you go into the water one person, and God cleans away all your sins and rise up out of the water new again: a fresh soul."
"I know exactly what you mean," Justin said, softly, almost whispering it. "It was like that for me too, with Mel. She restored my faith in love."
"Exactly," JC said. "But, you know - seeing Ryan at the party, it reminded me that the past doesn't go away. How could it?"
"I'm sure he's moved on though," Justin said. "Everyone does. You did."
"But that's it," JC said. "What if he never did? What if he never found someone to move on with, because it's not something you do on your own. You know that."
"Yes I do."
"So that's what makes me so sad," JC said, looking momentarily at the wall to his right, and then back at Justin. "What Tony took from me I got back. But what if..."
"Maybe you should ask him."
"I couldn't."
"Why not."
"Because there's nothing I can do about it now. And I think that knowing would be worse than not knowing."
"Maybe," Justin said. "But it might help to at least tell him how you feel. And maybe apologize - if that's what you think you should do."
"I tried to do that once," JC said.
"When?"
"After I finally caught a clue about Tony, I hung out with Ryan for awhile. It was only a couple months, because taping for the season was almost over, and so - you know - it was something to do, being with him. At the time, I never thought it was serious. But apparently he did."
"Did he tell you?"
"No, not really. When the season ended I told him I'd stay in touch. And I did. At first. But then we ended up in Europe, which happened kind of fast so I didn't get a chance to tell him until like we were already over there."
"So he wasn't too high on your priority list."
"No. And by then I was hooking up with other people every now and again. Nothing too serious. Just one-time here-and-there thing."
"The Joey-special."
"Yeah."
"But you told him eventually, like where you were."
"I think I like called him, or sent him a postcard. I think it was a postcard because I remember that Lance walked me to the post-office to mail it."
"Were you two..."
"No, not yet. Not really. I think I knew I liked him. And that I was attracted to him. But I wasn't like pursuing him or anything. I was just trying to stay focused on the music and the band and stuff."
"Those were kind of crazy times."
"That's why I didn't mind at first that Ryan started sending me like two or letters a week. Super-serious love-type letters, filled with all this stuff about how thought about me all the time, that he wanted to move-in together some day - blah, blah, blah."
"Yikes."
"I know. But it was kind of nice too, getting the strokes, and the attention. So I wrote him too. Not as much as him, of course, but - you know, I didn't ignore him either. I sent him postcards. And I think we talked on the phone a few times. But then..."
"Lance."
"Yeah - Lance. I didn't know what to do at first, about the whole Ryan thing. So, to be honest, I mostly decided to ignore it. I was really happy about Lance and me and so I just kind of let it go, and stopped writing back."
"No 'Dear John' letter or anything?"
"I tried once," JC said. "Like in my journal, trying to decide what to say. But I just couldn't. I mean, what could I say? Dear Ryan, I thought I sort of liked you but I really didn't. Sorry. In the end I guess it just seemed like it was nicer to say nothing."
"Or easier."
"Or easier."
"But he kept writing, didn't he?"
"For over a year."
"Poor guy."
"I felt awful."
"Well-"
"I know," JC said, lowering his head. "I deserved to feel awful. And I did."
"I wouldn't worry about it now," Justin said, concerned for a moment that he'd been too harsh. "It's over."
"I wish it was," JC said, his eyes suddenly wet with tears.
"Jayce, come on," Justin said, leaning forward and putting his hand on JC's left arm. "Don't cry. Shit happens, man. Some things work and some things don't, and love fucks you over sometimes. Ryan's got to know that by now."
"Probably."
"And fuck," Justin said. "And what was he, like sixteen by then, I'm sure he had long-since saddled up someone new."
"That's where you're wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"Like two years later," JC said, taking a deep breath first. "I don't know, maybe it was three. I can't remember. But it was right after No Strings Attached came out, and we were getting ready to tour. Ryan called me from out of nowhere. I hadn't spoken to him in what seemed like ages. Fuck, I hadn't thought about him in ages. Anyway, he said he was in town and wanted to see me, you know, to talk. My first instinct was to say no, or to make up some excuse. But hearing from him again made me feel bad about how I'd acted, so I figured I owed him and agreed to meet him."
JC lapsed into a long silence, staring at the table top. Justin waited for him to go on; he knew he would, and that he just needed time to compose himself. As he waited, the silence felt heavy, and uncomfortable. Part of him did not want to hear what JC was trying to tell him, and he was almost sorry he had asked. JC finally looked back at Justin. Tears had wetted his cheeks and his lower lip was shaking.
"I slept with him," JC said, his voice barely audible. "We had dinner and talked for a long time. He was staying at a hotel - the Wyndham, I think. We ate at the hotel, in dining room there. Mostly because it was easier. Anyway, at the end, like when I was standing up to go, he told me that he was still in love with, that he'd been hoping forever that I'd come back to him, and he'd do anything to get me back - anything."
"Oh man," Justin said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Oh my god, it was awful," JC said. "I didn't know what to say. I'd already told him about Lance - well, not a lot, but enough for him to get the picture that I was seeing someone. But he just didn't seem to get it. And even when I flat out said, you know, 'Ryan, I do not love you,' he wouldn't listen."
"He sounds psycho."
"I wouldn't go that far, but he was really upset. He was crying, and then sobbing so loud people started to stare, because we were in the lobby by then, and he was getting hysterical. He kept trying to hold my hand and hug me and hold on to me. It was scary."
"Sounds like it."
"So then, after like the fiftieth time I'd told him that I was sorry, and that I truly was in love with Lance, that was when he asked me to spend the night with him. He said that if I would sleep with him one last time, he would never call or bother me again. He said he'd be cursed otherwise, that he would never be able to move on unless...."
"Jayce - you didn't."
"I did."
"Oh fuck."
"I just felt so bad for him," JC said, his hanging so low Justin thought that it was about to touch the table. "And about how badly I'd acted before. Lance was in Laurel, so I knew he'd never know. So I just did it, like I was paying off an old debt."
"Did you spend the night?"
"Not really," JC said, lifting his head but then looking away. "He wanted me to, but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it."
"I can see that."
"It would have felt too much more like cheating."
"Yeah."
"And it was bad enough already, especially afterwards, because I think he thought I might change my mind about how I how I felt about him, that I might see him again, and that was real reason he'd wanted to do it again - to try and win me back."
"That is insane."
"He just wanted another chance," JC said, closing his eyes. "Which is the one thing I couldn't give him. Wouldn't give him. I could give him my body for one night. And I did. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, give him my heart, or my true feelings. That I'd promised to Lance, and I had no intention of breaking that promise. And so it all ended up exactly like before. Just sex. And that was all it could be. Just two people getting off, using each other - again. I didn't care, because like I said, I felt like I was paying a debt, or a fine. I don't know. Except the act itself, what he was doing, and I was doing, it didn't matter to me at all. And when it was over, I got out of bed, dressed, and left, and I never thought about it again."
"You never felt guilty about cheating on Lance?"
"I didn't cheat on him."
"But..."
"I didn't cheat on him," JC said again. "What I did with Ryan had nothing to do with Lance. Nothing. So no, I did not cheat on him."
"Okay," Justin said. "But saying something doesn't make it true."
"I don't need to make it true," JC said, wiping tears from his eyes. Because it is true. Lance is the only man that ever had my heart, and he is the only man whoever will."
"All right," Justin said. "But it just seems to me that if Lance had known about Ryan, if you had told him, that maybe he wouldn't have been so fucking freaked-out when the whole Brendan thing went down?"
"I don't know," JC said, standing up. "I just know that make dozens of decisions every day, and you can't know how all of them will turn out. You'd drive yourself crazy trying. I made a decision to sleep with Ryan, and a decision not to tell Lance. I'm ready to live with the consequences of my decisions. But I'm not going to let my decisions stop me from doing what I have to do, or from loving my husband. Now let's go."
"Jayce - wait."
"No. Let's go."
"Fine," Justin said, taking one last sip of beer before standing up and following JC across the bar.
JC was half way toward the door when he was intercepted by Brendan Fehr, who grabbed JC's arm in a good-natured way and stopped him. JC spun around and glared at first, but then forced himself to smile as Justin caught up with him. Brendan was wearing a short-sleeve shirt that looked like something a gas station attendant would wear. The name "Mack" was embroidered over the right pocket. Brendan's jeans were scuffed and hung low on his hips exposing a crescent of skin in the back where the bottom of his shirt didn't quite cover.
"So hey man - what's going on? You guys leaving?"
"Yeah, I got to get home," JC said, his words clipped and tense.
"Nah, let us buy you a drink first," Brendan said, tugging on JC's arm. "You too Justin. Come on over."
"Actually, it's me that needs to get going," Justin said, lying. "I got kids at home and my wife will kill me if I'm any later than I already am."
"Okay, that's cool," Brendan said, letting go of JC's arm. "We'll owe you one then."
"And us too," JC said, wiping his hand across the back of his neck and then on his pants. "We'll have you over again or something."
"That'd be cool," Brendan said, grinning at JC and then slapping him on the back.
"Alright then," Justin said, extending his hand to Brendan. "It was good to see you again, and thanks for the drink offer."
"Yeah - thanks," JC said.
"Don't mention it."
JC waved and nodded in the direction of the booth where the three others were sitting. Stephane and Toni did not notice; they were sitting close, side-by-side, and deep in conversation. Ryan noticed though; he was staring intently in JC's direction and he smiled when JC saw him. JC considered going over to say hello, but decided against it. He wanted to be out of there, and on his way back to the house. And soon he was, sitting silently in Justin's leased Mercedes sedan. As they turned off Neerim Road, and made their way up the long private drive, JC finally spoke, turning to Justin and then saying, "Thanks for lying for me."
"What are friends for," Justin said, laughing, but half-serious too. "But I'm going to say it once more, and I promise not to say it again. You should tell Lance about Ryan."
James did it in the shower because that was where he could best be alone. It was also where he didn't have to worry about cleaning up after. The only problem was that Aaron was starting to tease him about being in there for so long, and for taking showers - even longer showers - at night. He explained it away by saying that he it was hotter here in Australia, hotter than in San Diego, and that he didn't like to be sweaty. He knew that Aaron didn't this explanation, not completely. But there was nothing else he could think to say, except for the truth, and that was out of the question.
He couldn't help wanting to do it all the time. Once he'd found out how it felt, he couldn't help but do it. And what was worse, or better - because he wasn't really sure which - was being at the studio. That was when he could see him in person, and talk to him, and be near him. And that was when he just had to do it - like in the men's room, locked in the stall furthest from the door, or in Aaron's trailer when he was away, or when he thought he was away, like the one time that Aaron had walked in on him almost, the time he'd been foolish enough or brave enough or both - and done it stretched out naked on the couch there. Luckily he'd heard Aaron laughing loud at one of Colin's stupid jokes and he'd had time enough to grab his clothes and get into the trailer's tiny bathroom. It had been hard to get dressed in there, but he'd managed.
The best time yet was when he'd waited for Stephane to be on the set, and he'd snuck into his trailer and found a shirt he'd been wearing, and some jeans, and his briefs and socks. He'd put them into a pile on the floor and laid down, pressing his face into the pile, inhaling deeply as he slowly rubbed himself up and down on the carpet, through his pants, not naked. That time didn't take long at all, maybe a minute at most. But when it happened, and it was over, he could hardly breathe and was left gasping - like when you've been punched hard in the stomach. But it wasn't pain he felt. Not right then. Not that time. No, it was definitely not pain.
"You ready?" Justin said, holding the DAT cassette in the air and waving it back and forth.
"Man, I was ready like three weeks ago," JC said, irritably.
"All right, hold on a tick," Justin said, sliding the cassette into the DAT player.
"Don't even start talking like that again," JC said, shaking his head. "Because I will so kill you."
"Sorry," Justin said, laughing.
"Just put it on," JC said, pushing his hair behind his ears and leaning against the wall. "I know I'm going to hate it so I want to get the first listen over with."
"We need to get a couch for in here," Justin said, looking around.
"I swear you must have ADHD," JC said, rolling his eyes. "How about putting the music in and then we can chat about your redecoration plans later."
"Yeah, yeah, don't get you're jocks in a knot."
"Justin!"
"All right, just give me a tick."
"God damn it Justin!"
"Don't get Berko, Jayce," Justin said, laughing almost too hard to speak. "I'm just giving you a bit of curry."
"You are so going to die now," JC said, his face flushed as he jumped forward, his finger pointed at Justin.
"Okay, okay," Justin said, holding his hands in the air. "Take it easy, I was just mucking around. You'd think the kangaroos were loose in your ...."
"Not ...an-other...word," JC said, gritting his teeth as he punctuated each syllable with a half-hard finger-jab on the end of Justin's nose.
"Geez," Justin said, shaking his head as he continued to laugh.
"I mean it," JC said, pressing his finger-tip against the end of Justin's nose one last time before stepping back and glaring at him.
"You know, you need to mellow out a bit," Justin said. "I think this thing with Ryan has got you a little messed up."
"Oh fuck you," JC said. "It's not that at all. Like I just said, I'm freaked about the album, about maybe not liking it, and thinking that it was maybe a bad idea. I mean, it's not like we can back out and not release it now. But I don't want it to suck either."
"Yeah, okay. We'll just pretend that's what's bothering you. Fine with me."
"Whatever," JC said, walking back to where he'd stood before. "Just play it."
"Okie-dokie," Justin said, looking at the DAT player and then pushing a button.
"Thank you," JC said, taking a deep breath and leaning back against the wall.
"I don't hear anything."
"Is it on?"
"It's got power," Justin said. "The lights on."
"You know what?" JC said, his voice edging higher. "This is going to drive me fucking insane."
"That's pretty damn clear."
"Try turning it on and off."
"Okay."
"Nothing?"
"Nope."
"Let me see," JC said, pushing Justin out of the way with his left hand and then pushing the play-button on and off several times.
"Nothing."
"Fuck!"
"Oh, wait," Justin said. "I think it might be the speakers. Are they plugged in?"
"What?"
"Jayce - over there," Justin said, pointing. "Behind you. Are they plugged in?"
"It looks like it," JC said, crouched down and squinting. "But I can't really see, because of the way they're attached to the wall."
"Let me see."
"No, I can do it," JC said, sliding his hand behind one of the speakers.
"You get it?"
"I can feel the plug, but...ouch, mother fucker!"
"What happened?"
"I fucking got shocked."
"Come on," Justin said, going over to where JC stood. "Let's take it down."
"All right," JC said, gripping one edge of the speaker and pushing up.
"No - this way," Justin said, grabbing the other edge and pulling on it.
"No - up," JC said. "It's a U-bracket. You have to push up."
"No it's not," Justin said. "It's a slide-bracket. I watched him install it. You slide it to the side, then push up."
"No one ever uses slide-brackets on speakers," JC said, still pushing up. "Every one knows you get vibration feedback with slide-brackets."
"You are so totally making that up," Justin said.
"Fuck you."
"Yeah, you wish," Justin said.
"Liked I'd want your scrawny legs on my shoulders," JC said, pushing harder on the speaker.
"Oh, I'm scrawny. Right. Like you're..."
"Will you just fucking push up on this thing for a moment," JC said, cutting Justin off. "Humor me."
"Fine then," Justin said, bending his knees and putting both hands on the bottom of the speaker, which he knew weighed at least a hundred and fifty pounds.
"Good," JC said, barely able to get the word out before the monitor slid suddenly up the wall.
"Oh fuck," Justin shouted as he and JC struggled to hold on to it.
The speaker was held, or barely held, just over their heads. JC was more under it than Justin, who was holding it from the side with only minor success. He didn't have a good hold on it, and his position was made more awkward by the fact that JC was now standing on his foot. Pulling his foot free, Justin made JC's foot slide forward, knocking him off balance. The weight of the speaker was pulling him back now, and couldn't hold onto it any longer.
"Get it! Get it!" JC shouted.
"I can't!"
"You have to!"
It was at that point that the speaker slipped from their grasp and crashed with a loud thud in the middle of the mixing console, breaking it nearly in half. It then bounced-rolled across the now broken mixing console and landed hard on top of the DAT player, crushing the front of it and trapping the DAT tape inside it.
"Oh my god," Justin said, looking at the broken and crushed equipment in front of him. "I can't believe that just happened."
JC stood open-mouthed and staring, saying nothing as he shook his head slowly back and forth. He could hardly breathe. It may as well have been his chest that had been caved in by the falling speaker. That was how it felt. And when he could finally speak, all JC could think to say was, "I'm beginning to think this album is cursed."
Aaron stood at the edge of the set, at the edge of the light, in the shadows, behind the rigging and two key grips. It was the third take and the scene had just begun. He had never seen his father act before, never seen him with another actor, in character, with the camera rolling and the director watching and the light shining in his face. His hands were wet with sweat and balled into two fists. Peter Pau, the cinematographer, was behind the camera, which was set up low and shooting up at an angle. Aaron could see the monitor from where he stood but he preferred to watch the scene unfold live before him. This was the first scene shot, on the first day of shooting, and the first one that he had ever seen.
Ang pointed at Diane Wiesst, the actress who played Mara Skywalker, the wife of Luke and the mother of Jhon. She bowed her head for a moment and then walked onto the set, into nearly blinding light. Lance stood with his back to her, his hand pressed high and flat on the wall, his shoulders slumped forward, his head hanging low - so low it was nearly out of view. She walked up to him and nearly touched his shoulder, as if to reassure him, but she pulled her hand away and placed it over her heart instead. Waiting, she sighed noisily and with faint disapproval.
"He will be all right Jhon," she said, her voice firm and loud. "Luke will find him, and return him safely to you."
"I already lost his mother to these mad wars," Jhon said, turning slowly around to face her, his eyes glowering, his voice deepening into a disrespectful hiss. "Lost her to wars that never seem to be won, or close to ever over, wars that my father seems to love to fight, loves more than his own family - certainly more than me."
"You are being foolish now. Letting your heart speak for your mind."
"I only sound foolish to you because my heart speaks of things that your mind does not want to understand," he said, dismissively.
"I understand what I need," she said. "And do what I must. That is all."
"That is all - to you. But not to me. To me, what matters now is that my son has become a pawn in a game that I cannot control, except in one way."
"I understand your anger. And your fear."
"I don't think you do," he said, lunging his face forward into hers, staring at her now with eyes that seemed on fire. "You and father have been hardened to these things, hardened by so many losses that you don't see how one more might matter, even if it is Lucas, my son."
"Jhon..."
"No - no! Listen to me. Lucas - if, ...if I lose him....."
His voice trailed off, leaving much obviously unsaid about how he felt. Then the sound of a single sob filled the set as Lance clutched his throat and began to squeeze it, his facing turning red. He was choking himself. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Dianne reached for his hand, as if to pry it away or off his throat, but he shook her off and pulled away, still staring at her, as his eyes bulged and filled with tears. Then, after several more seconds, he finally released his choke-hold on himself, gasping loudly as air rushed back into his lungs, like water through a breached dam.
"That is what it feels like," he hissed and turned away, spitting on the floor.
Aaron stood transfixed. Lance had not done it this way before. In the first two takes he had seemed distant and depressed, resigned to the possible fate of losing his son, like he was the victim of circumstances not in his control. But this time, it was as if he was about to kill himself and Dianne too. He was full of rage, furious at the world, and at his mother for being a part of it. The look of horror on her face had said it all; it seemed so genuine that Aaron was horrified to see it, and so near tears he had not heard Ang shouting "Cut" and he did not notice Lance hurrying from the set. Aaron also didn't see Ang walk up to him until he had his arm around his shoulders and nudged him slightly with his hip to get his attention.
"Your father, Jhon, he feels very close to defeat now," Ang said. " He wants to give up, but he can't. He doesn't trust his father to save you, nor suspect that you may be strong enough yourself to find your way back. He is looking over the edge and into the darkness of his own soul, wanting to jump into it. He fears the worst for you, and is angry at himself for not being stronger. And so it may fall to you, as if by destiny, to determine your father's fate - not he yours, but you his. And you understand this. You don't know how, but you do. It is your ability to see things clearly, with your heart and your mind, that lets you do this. This is your gift, and your affliction."
Aaron listened to what Ang had said but he did not fully comprehend it. He let the words flow over him like water, trying not to be afraid, trying not to think of failing, of falling. His scene was next, his first time before the camera. He could still see the image of Lance choking himself. It wouldn't leave his mind and it disturbed and frightened him. He took a deep breath and looked up at Ang, smiling weakly.
"I'm afraid," he said.
"Good," Ang said. "You should be."
It took another half hour to get the shot set up. Aaron had waited patiently, not saying anything until he was called to the set, where now he stood, still made up to look like he had a purple-green bruise under one eye and a badly bloodied lip. The harness he wore under his costume pinched painfully against the sides of his chest. Two guide-wires were hooked to the harness through small grommet-holes in his tunic so that, when the scene began, he could be lifted into the air. In the finished film it would appear that he was suspended in a trapping beam and held aloft of a bubbling pit of lava.
The set was a rocky volcanic cavern on the planet Sluivan. It was here that Darth Vader once had had his lair and where his climactic battle with Obi Wan Kenobi had taken place. Spiden, the leader of the Dark Jedi, had rebuilt the lair and now used it as a base from which to direct his battle against the New Republic. At Spiden's direction, Sepp Wolff has kidnapped Lucas Anakin Skywalker and brought him here as a way to lure the Master Jedi, Luke Skywalker, and to coerce his acquiescence in Spiden's plan to merge the Dark Jedi with the other Jedi into a single fighting force.
Aaron nervously went over his lines in his head as he waited for the shot to be set up. With the lights everywhere, he could not see beyond the set's edge. There was only darkness beyond it. He could not see JC standing behind one of the three cameras set up to film the scene. And he could not see Ang speaking quietly with Colin Farrell who was about to join him on the set. Nor could he see Lance walk away from Brendan Fehr and join JC, taking his hand, as they waited for Aaron's first scene to begin, one of the more important in the film. But then someone yelled ALL QUIET ON THE SET, and then it was quiet, and Aaron knew that it was about to begin.
"All right Aaron, we're going to raise you know."
It was the voice of stunt-coordinator, and it came from out of nowhere, or that was how it seemed. Aaron concentrated now on what he had to do, visualizing what he had a dozen times before at rehearsal. Bracing his legs, he felt the guide-wires tighten and lift him three feet into the air. When he was in position, Aaron threw his shoulders back and placed his hands, one on top of the other on his chest. Aaron then heard the assistant director yell, ARE WE READY, and when there was nothing said in response, he heard Ang loudly say, OKAY, LET'S GO THEN! ACTION!
The main camera was set up below him and Aaron opened his eyes and stared into it. He imagined that he was looking at his father, seeing his pain, and feeling it. His bottom lip quivered, but only slightly, and his eyes widened further as what he imagined grew more disturbing. Taking a long slow deep breath, Aaron shut his eyes and his lips pressed together into a stiff uneasy smile. Colin Farrell entered the cavern-set from the back, slowly descending a long rock-strewn path. Aaron's eyes remain shut but his body stiffens. He knows that he was no longer alone.
LUCAS: And so the Wolff returns to his lair.
SEPP(startled): To find his prey. Or should I say bait.
LUCAS: I am not afraid of you.
SEPP (laughing): Saying you are not afraid proves that you are. You should remember that, or persons stronger than you will know you are not merely afraid, but also foolish and weak - like your father.
LUCAS: You don't know my father.
SEPP: I know him well enough. Believe me that.
LUCAS: You only think you do.
SEPP: Ah, the wise young man wants to teach me something now. Fine. It is of little consequence to me. Like you, he is but a means to an end.
LUCAS: Your end.
Sepp has until now not looked at Lucas, focused instead on a screen that is tracking the arrival of ship about to move out of hyper-space as it approaches the planet. Spinning around, Sepp thrust his hands palm out toward where Lucas hangs suspended in air. The thrust-force flings Lucas out of the column of light that had held him aloft and he hit hard against an adjacent rock wall. Sepp leaps across the lava pool and is instantly upon Lucas, holding him down by the neck and viciously choking him.
SEPP: You should learn to show some respect you insolent brat.
Lucas stares at Sepp with calm, fearless eyes. He smiles at him and does not struggle. Sepp stares back, but a look of increasing uncertainty appears on his face. He knows he cannot kill Lucas and that, if he does, Spiden will kill him without giving it a second thought, kill his own son for ruining his plan. Lucas' eyes suddenly close and he goes limp. Frightened, Sepp jumps back. He fears he has killed him accidentally and does not know what to do. Several seconds pass. Sepp takes a half step back and then leans forward, extending two fingers toward Lucas neck as if to check for a pulse. Just as Sepp is about to touch his neck, Lucas rolls to one side and jumps past Sepp and then over the lava pool in a leaping arc that causes Sepp's mouth to fall open as he tumbles backwards, off-balance.
SEPP(yelling): Bastard!
LUCAS: You are the only bastard here. My father was married to my mother when I was born. Unlike yours.
The two are on opposite sides of the lava pit over which Lucas had been held suspended. They circle it warily, each eyeing the other. Sepp consider using the force again, but he fears injuring Lucas further.
SEPP: This is a fool's game Lucas. The only danger here is that you are creating. Accept your part in this and all will be well.
LUCAS: Except for those others who must sacrifice their principles as the price they pay for their survival and your father's rise to power.
SEPP: You mean like your father will sacrifice his principles to have you returned to him safely?
LUCAS: He will not.
SEPP: Ahhh - but that sudden sad look on your face tells me that you know it is true. He will quickly agree to cede the majority leadership to Blake Antilles, and then we will be but a single assassination away from him becoming Chancellor. All because of a boy.
Aaron pauses for a moment, imagining his father hanging over the lava pit, and Sepp about to lower him into it, killing him. He can see the look of horrified pain on his father's face, and it is Lance's face, dying for him, dying for his son. Seeing this image, unable to make it go away, it fills him with rage, a rage he can hardly control and then cannot, and he gives up trying to. Screaming as loudly as he could, a scream that began deep within his chest and then exploded from within him.
"NO!"
Leaping hard, Aaron soars over the lava-pit, the wires pulling painfully under his arms. His lungs burn from the intensity of his scream. Spinning in mid-air, he flies feet-first and kicks Colin with full-force in the chest, holding nothing back. Colin is hurtled back against the wall, his arms flailing to steady himself. Before he can, Aaron is upon him, pounding him in the chest with both fists, still screaming, overcome with rage, filled with the vision of his father sinking into the lava, being tortured and dying.
"Okay - that's it" Ang yelled, looking pleased as the lights on the set dimmed and the lights surrounding it came back up.
Aaron, who had ended up on top of Colin, stands slowly up, unwrapping a guide-wire that had wrapped around his arm. Once he's standing, Colin jumps up next to him, slapping Aaron on the back and smiling. Aaron looks confused and uneasy at first, blinked repeatedly as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. It is as if he doesn't know where he is, and only slowly figures it out.
"The bastard hit me full-on," Colin said, laughing as he rubbed his chest where Aaron had kicked him at the end of the scene. "Which sure as shite not how we practiced it, now is it, A-Bomb?"
"Sorry," Aaron said, sheepishly. "I guess I kind of got into it."
"Don't worry 'bout it," Colin said, throwing his arm around him. "I got plenty of time for pay-back in the next scene."
Lance sat alone in the middle of the front lawn. It was late and the sky was dark except for what little light was offered by a waning crescent moon.
He had crawled from bed a half-hour ago, careful not to disturb JC, who was still asleep. He'd carried his jeans out into the hall, and pulled them on after quietly closing the bedroom door. He'd stood at the door for several minutes, unsure what next to do. Finally, he'd wandered outside, to where he sat now, just thinking and staring out at the inky blackness that was the middle harbour at night.
The air felt thick and difficult to breathe. Sweat formed on his upper lip and his forehead and the back of his neck. There was no noise that he noticed, except for his breathing, and the sound his throat made when he swallowed. He sat there, not thinking, or trying not to think too much. Lance did not know that Aaron was awake now too, and standing at the window in his own room, looking out. He was watching Lance, watching him sit there; and as he watched him, he wondered what it was his dad was thinking.
Was he worried? Afraid? Angry? Sad? Aaron did not know, and could not bring himself to try to imagine. He had realized in these last few days the competing pressures that his dad felt, and his unremitting sense of obligation. It was something that Aaron had taken for granted before, like there being food in the house, and when he flipped the light switch in his room, it would work, and the room would fill with light. But all these things happened for a reason, and that reason was Lance, and it was JC. Two people who loved him, who would always love him, not because they had to, but because they chose to, and wanted to - even when it was difficult, and their own lives were hard, like now.
To Aaron, before, his parents had always been these two perfect people, without flaws or fears, infinitely strong, all-knowing, and with an endless supply of energy and passion. Aaron remembered how Lance had each year dressed up in an elaborate costume for the Halloween party they always had at their house. And there were his birthdays, and taking him to school, and buying his clothes, and breakfast every morning and dinner at night. JC made his lunch every day, and Lance helped him with his homework. Thinking about all of this now, Aaron realized that, just like watching a movie, and not knowing what it took to make it, his happy life was the byproduct of hard work, dedication, and a kind of fierce love. But his life was real, as was his happiness, and his love for his dad.
Aaron watched as Lance stood slowly up and brushed the grass from the back of his jeans. There was a small piece of paper in his right hand. Aaron could see the paper, but only as something white and small waving slightly in the breeze as Lance held it. But if Aaron had been able to see it, see it like Lance saw it right then, he'd have seen that the paper was creased from having been folded in fours, and the creases were close to being tears. It was a piece of paper that Lance always carried with him, ever since Joey had first given it to him that morning on the first day of shooting his first film. It was something that Joey had jotted on a notepad from their hotel. It said:
It doesn't matter how good you act.
What matters is who good you are.
And you are good.
Don't ever forget that.
~ JOEY.
Carefully folding this piece of paper, Lance put it back into his wallet and turned toward the house. He didn't see Aaron watching him from the window, and didn't think to look. He assumed that he was asleep and safe and warm.