DISCLAIMER: This story is complete fiction, all events are made up unless they really happened. Its up to you to guess which one is made up from my overactive mind and which one is real. I'll let you be the judge. This story containing sex between two men and if you don't like that, I suggest pretending to like it while you are here in my world. I don't know the sexual preferences of the celebrities I use, and I could care less. It's a story for entertainment purposes only.
LIKE THE RAIN CHAPTER THREE: AND THE ROCK CRIED OUT NO HIDING PLACE BY: WOLFFLYER
The hotel room was dark. All the drapes had been pulled shut to keep the dreaded sun from shining in. The room was a mess; guitar's thrown all over the floor. Ashtrays were overflowing causing the room to stink of stale cigarettes. Empty beer bottles were lining the table and half of the floor next to the bed.
Sheet paper was lying all over the floor. Some were crumpled and torn in half. Like the occupant of the room was angry about whatever was written on the paper. It didn't look like anyone had been there for days.
Someone was pounding on the door. The pounding continue for about three minutes before a key was inserted into the lock and the door swung open. A housekeeping staff member shouted out to see if anyone was there. Shaking her head at the destruction, she started her duty of cleaning.
The housekeeper was mumbling to herself as she started cleaning up the nightstand. She was very upset the do not disturb sign had been on the door for the last two days. As she was busy cursing musicians and their dirty habits, she didn't realize that she through away a note address to Gar that was sitting on the nightstand. She finished her cleaning and shut the door behind her.
"Excuse me. Was somebody in there?"
The housekeeper jumped as the voice startled her. She shook her head, "No sir. The room was empty when I went in."
Garet knew it. After the fight they had two nights okay, he shouldn't have waited so long to get back and talk to him. Now it was too late. Scott was gone, and maybe for good.
Garet shook his head in frustration. Where the hell was Scott? They had to go to rehearsal three hours ago for their show tonight. He had already called Stockton Rocks and explained that they were a bit behind schedule. But they were starting to get anxious down there wondering if their entertainment would show up for a packed house.
"When is the last time you saw Scott? Garet asked the housekeeper trying to keep the anger out of his voice.
"Yesterday, I asked if he needed towels." She replied.
"What time was that?"
She paused trying to remember. Her face crinkled up like it was the hardest thing she had to do in her life. "I think about 10am or so."
"Thanks." Garet stated as he started walking away.
Damnit! I knew we shouldn't have left him alone for this long he thought to himself. At least she didn't find him dead in the room. That was what he had been expecting to hear, Scott Taylor found dead in hotel room, overdose. Why didn't he listen to Shelia when she brought up the subject of him using those many months ago? Not like it would have helped, Scott didn't even talk to her anymore because she told him to get help.
He shook his head in despair. How had all of this turned to shit so fucking fast? He looked up and saw that he was at the right door. Pounding on the door, he yelled out.
"Hey guys, its me open up."
The door opened to his bandmates smiling face.
"Hey, did you get him? We have to leave like now." Garion asked, as he tied back his blue topknot.
Garet flipped his long black hair out of his face and answered, "He's not in his room, and the maid hasn't seen him since yesterday."
"What the fuck. Where would he go? This town is too fucking small to get lost in." demanded Greg. His long blonde hair was still wet, must have just gotten out of the shower.
Garet walked over and collapsed into a chair. "I don't know, I talked to him two days okay. We had a fight, now he's gone."
"What did you guys fight about?" Stated Greg.
Greg and Garion had sat down next to each other on the bed and were looking at him with a bit of anger in their eyes.
Exhaling a big breath, Garet said quietly, "It was about the drugs."
"Oh what the fuck did you have to go and say that for." Greg demanded loudly.
"Yea," Garion chimed in, "You know that just pisses him off."
Garet had had enough with their calm attitude and devil may care approach on drug use. He stood up and started yelling at the two friends.
"Just pisses him off. What the fuck is wrong with you guys? One of your best friend is killing himself with heroin and you're okay with that?"
Greg tried to answer, "Gar."
"Don't even say it!" Garet snarled. "Have you seen him lately?
Fuck, he's so skinny now, and he always stinks. He looks like shit."
Garet was so angry he was pacing back and forth in front of the two friends occasionally pointing his finger in their faces.
"Don't you guys even fucking care about him, or this band anymore?"
"Gar, that ain't fair. You know we care about the band. He's been showing up, his performances have been kick ass. The audience loves him, what's the problem if he gets stoned once and a while." Greg said defensively.
"What's the problem?" Garet shouted. "The problem is he's not getting stone every once and a while. He's shooting up about five hundred dollars a day. And if you would stop getting so fucked up yourself all the time, maybe you could see that he's dying right in front of us."
"Five hundred dollars?" Greg exclaimed. "Where is he getting that kind of money?"
Garet shook his head at his bandmates. They truly didn't know anything that was going on around them.
"Ugh, I give up. You fuckers better call the club and cancel. Then you have to call Rick (band manager) and tell him that his drug boy is missing." Garet ordered as he started to leave the room.
"Where you going?" Garion asked trying to mask the anger he felt at the younger man.
"Too call the hospitals and see if our casual user is dead." Garet answered as he slammed the door shut behind him.
Greg flipped off the door then he turned to look at his friend, Garion. "Do you think something happened to him?"
"Gar thinks so. Man, five hundred dollars a day. Do you think Rick was giving him the drugs?" Garion asked in disbelief.
Greg shrugged his shoulders, "Who cares, I think Garet is over-reacting. Scott looked fine to me."
"You know what, I am going to wait to call the club. Scott will be back before its show time. He's never missed one yet." Greg sat down and turned the TV on.
"You're right, fuck Garet, that old whiney woman."
The two men started to watch the TV as show time got closer and closer.
MEANWHILE BACK IN DETROIT
Justin Timberlake had just got done playing Someone Else Not Me, the song he had written the night before, to his friend and co- producer, Stevie Borders.
"Man, that was fucking awesome, Just." Stevie stated. "I think I have the perfect riff for that."
He had met first met Stevie Borders right after he broke up with Nysnc. As the papers were running the story about Jc and him being lovers, Justin was trying to get a deal for an album. Stevie was the only one to even try to get him a deal.
He looked at his short friend with a smile. His brown hair and his blue eyes deceived most people at first glance. He looked nothing like a record producer. He was very short for one thing and he always wore a gray suit. He looked more like a computer nerd than a world renowned guitar player and producer.
The only problem with their relationship was the fact that he wanted a hit record. He had promised the record execs a hit album and sometime that clouded his judgment on things.
Justin grabbed his friend's arm before he could get his guitar.
"Wait, I think I want to record it just with the piano."
Stevie ran his fingers through his short brown hair. "Are you sure? It's a bit. I don't know. Are you sure?"
"I like it, its simple. I wanted to do a song that summed up my life so far. I think it's the one I had been looking for." Justin tried to explain his conviction.
"How am I going to explain this to the company?" Stevie was asking the air.
Sighing deeply, Justin told him, "You know what I wanted to do here. I don't want to do the same ole shit."
"I know," Stevie backpedaled, "And I do like all the songs we have picked, but I don't think there is a radio hit on the record yet."
Justin was rubbing his head again, he probably didn't even know he was doing it. He never really got used to his short hair even after six months of having it short.
"I don't want a radio hit. I want magic. When you play my CD, I want you to feel what's inside of me. I want to take them on a journey straight through into my head. Let them see what I see. Let them hear the world that I hear. The music is in my head, Stevie, I just have to get it out." Justin said passionately.
"You are hopeless. Okay, we do it your way. Just with the piano. I really do love the lyrics Just, fucking beautiful." Stevie gave in. He always did.
Just then, Justin's cell phone started to ring. Running over to his bag, he searched for his phone.
Grabbing it, he pushed the button but still continued to talk to Stevie, "Just mic the piano and I bet I get it with just one take."
"What?" Stevie asked as he was in the next room and couldn't hear everything that was being said.
"Oh fuck. I'll tell you in a sec." Justin screamed, then lowered his voice and said, "Hello, Justin Timberlake."
A quiet voice on the other end answered, "Do you always yell fuck into the person's ear that is trying to call you?"
Justin's face went blank, his voice sounded cold as he answered, "What the fuck do you want?"
QUIET ROOM, MENTAL HOSPITAL REHABILITATION WARD
The two figures were staring at the man lying prone on the hospital bed. The man almost looked like he was sleeping. But the look on his face wasn't that of a peaceful slumber. His face contorted in pain and his breath rapid. His once youthful body was drenched in sweat as he lay in a deep coma.
"I don't know what's happening to him. He shouldn't be in a coma just from withdrawal." Doctor Dan Reynolds shook his head in frustration.
The balding brown hair physician rubbed his tired brown eyes for the hundredth time today. He glanced at the nurse as she checked his vitals and IV lines.
The nurse explained, "Everything is normal. He seems to be over the worse of it. It's been four days, I can't see the body shutting down for this long of a period due to just heroin withdrawal."
"It's like he just gave up. Bodily, he's doing fine. But mentally he's completely shut down."
The nurse finished her duties and she left the doctor alone with the patient. Doctor Reynolds sat down in the chair facing the comatose man. He sat there in silence, listening to the beeping of the monitors. He didn't know what else he could do.
Reaching over to the man, he grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard. He softly whispered, "Hold on Scott. Hang in there, I can't help you now. Only you can help yourself. Hang on."
The middle aged Doctor leaned back into the chair still holding onto the hand, as if to say, I'm here. His head drifted back and tears began falling down his cheeks and onto his shirt collar. He hadn't ever felt this helpless before with a patient.
THE VOID
It was a place like no other he had ever seen before. It was dark and light all around him with no clear ending or beginning. Seemingly existing at the same time, hot and cold, black and white. A place that time didn't seem to hold stable, where time stopped or slowed. There was no sensation in the void, only a feeling of being.
For the longest time, he didn't think or even seem to be aware of his surroundings. He couldn't remember coming to this place, only that he had been here forever. What he was before didn't matter now, only what he was now. And he was alone for the first time that he could remember, all alone in the void.
His conscience mind drifted like the wind. Going through his memories at a rapid rate. He was astonished at what his mind linger on. Events that seemed small when they happened but his mind dwelled on them for the longest time in this place. And events that were huge and self-changing, his mind briefly paused before continuing on its journey. A journey that he wasn't in control of, but merely a passenger or a bystander.
He wasn't aware of when he stopped or when he awoke to a room. All of sudden he was there and sitting in a chair. His eyes wondered the room taking in the strange sights and sounds.
It looked to be a circular room about fifty feet across. And all around him was darkness. Not a darkness that he couldn't see but more like a darkness he could feel that shook the very fiber of his soul. And a loud noise echoed around the room. A single sound that reminded him of a heartbeat, a wounded heartbeat that was faltering. And a smell that could only be associated with death filled his nostrils causing him to gag with every breath.
The sound of his own breathing brought him to his senses. Where am I he thought to himself? He stood up and looked around trying to find a door or something to let him know where he was being held. But the entire room was empty except for the chair that he had awakened in. Walking around the entire room, he finally made it back to the chair and sat down.
"Where am I? Is anybody there?" He shouted out.
But there was no answer. He didn't know how long he sat there but it seemed like days. He had all but given up hope that he would ever find out where he was. He had accepted the fact that he was going to die in this room.
A voice came out of the darkness; "I have been waiting for you. Welcome Scott Taylor."
IN DETROIT
"Is that anyway to talk to your best friend?"
Justin cursed under his breath and replied, "I don't have a best friend anymore. Like I said, what do you want, Jc?"
"I am going to be in town in a few days to do a show, I was hoping that I could see you. I miss you, Just."
Justin started pacing in the small booth, "I.we have nothing to say to each other."
Jc pleaded, "I have a lot to say to you. I want to know why you quit."
Justin answered in a cold voice; "Anything I could say to you ended when you lied to me. You were suppose to be the one I could trust above all others."
"Damnit Justin, I deserve, no, we deserve an explanation on why you quit us. You owe us a reason."
"Who the fuck do you think you are? I owe you. Fuck you Jc, you lied to me and you hurt me. I didn't quit you, you quit me."
"What about the rest of us?" Jc demanded. "What about Joey and Chris and Lance? You just didn't leave me, you left us."
Justin screamed back, "I did what I had to do."
"You were always the spoiled one. Everything had to be your way didn't it?" Jc quipped.
"What," Justin asked, "You think it would have lasted forever? We were just the flavor of the week Jc. Someone younger and cuter would have come along and we would be forgotten along with the rest of the teen idols and one hit wonders."
"Is that it? You were scared that someone cuter than you would knock you off the cover of the damn magazines." Jc demanded. "How fucking juvenile is that?"
"You just don't get it, do you? It's not about the money, it's not about someone else knocking us off." Justin answered.
"Then what was it?"
Justin answered with a quiet voice; "You are stupid as I thought you were. I don't want to see you and I have nothing further that I want to say to you. Bye Jc."
Justin pushed the button to his cell phone before Jc could reply. He sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. He didn't need that complication in his life right now. All he wanted to do was forget that he was ever in the band Nysnc. He wanted to forget his friends and move on with his life.
Stevie called out from the other room and asked if he was ready to record the song. Justin muttered out an answer and went to the piano and started to play the melody for Someone Else Not Me. He started to sing.
After the song was done, Stevie sat in silence for a few minutes. He had never heard Justin sing like he just did. The passion and pain that he poured into the song spoke of an endless pool that welled deep out the soul of the singer. Stevie felt like he had been witness to some private pain that he was going through.
"Justin, that was brilliant. I think we got that one on the first take." Stevie beamed over the intercom.
Justin didn't answer him instead he waved his hand and continued to play the haunting melody lost in his own thoughts.
SCOTT'S ROOM IN REHAB
"Scott's band is here for you Doctor." The nurse said in a whisper.
Waving his hand, he answered, "Please, show them in."
The nurse said something to the men in the hall as she held the door open for them.
The Doctor watched as the three men entered the room. He looked at each one as if he was studying them. He saw a short one enter the room first; his head was shaved except for a long blue topknot. He was dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. His brown eyes looked haunted. The next one to enter was a long blonde hair man with piercing green eyes. His face was drawn taunt and he had dark circles underneath his eyes. He was dressed in blue jeans and a plain white shirt. He breathed a sigh of relief when his green eyes found Scott lying on the bed.
The last one to enter had long black hair that hung in his face like he was trying to hide from the world. He was wearing all black. His wife beater shirt did little to hide the tattoos that were covering every inch of his body. The Doctor couldn't take his eyes off of this one. His body language spoke volumes. This was a man that was close to the breaking point.
The doctor stood up and offered his hand to the first man. He said softly, "Hi, I'm Doctor Reynolds."
"Garion, nice to meet you." Garion replied as he shook the offered hand.
"I'm Greg, how's he doing Doctor."
"Please, call me Dan. I'm kind of informal around here." He replied with a small smile. His attention was drawn away from Greg as the dark one spoke.
"What's wrong with him?" Garet asked with a concerned look on his face as he brushed the hair out of his eyes.
Dan's eyes widen as he saw the look in the other man's eyes. He was right, the man was about three steps from having a mental breakdown.
He tried to keep his voice even as he gestured for them to go into the hall. They followed him out and waited for him to speak.
Dan rubbed his head and started, "Like I said on the phone, I found him out in the hall three days ago. He was sitting there crying and screaming. We talked, and he told me about the drug use and that he needed help. We put him in a normal detox program where he seemed to be doing fine."
"What happened?" Garet prompted.
"I'm not sure. We talked about different treatments we could do but he chose not to do any of them. He kept saying that he wouldn't trade one addiction for another."
Dan looked at the three friends. He wasn't sure how to proceed. Hell, he thought, he wasn't sure what was going on any way.
"After he was here about a day, he had it bad. The tremors, the vomiting, hot and cold sweats, he was pretty bad off. But after a day, we found him on the floor. He was still shaking but he wasn't conscience. He hasn't woken up yet even though there is no medical reason why he should be in a coma. His body has gotten over the dependency of the drug. But his mind hasn't been able to handle whatever it was he was hiding. He's somewhere deep inside his own mind, and only he can bring himself out of it." Dan tried to give his best guess.
Garet spoke out with frustration, "So there's nothing you can do for him. What kind of Doctor are you?"
"Please understand, we can only heal the body here. He shouldn't be in a coma right now. The only thing we can do is be here when he wakes up."
"When will he wake up, Doc?" Garion asked looking at Garet.
Taking a deep breath, Dan answered, "We don't know. Could be hours, days, maybe months, we don't know for sure if he will ever wake up again. Something's wrong with him, and until he works it out..."
"Can I talk to him?" Garet asked with desperation.
"I think that would be good to hear a familiar voice right now. I think it helps the patient a great deal to have their loved ones close."
Garet walked into the room followed by the three men. Garet walked to the chair by the bed and sat down. Tears started coming out of his eyes as he leaned over and started whispering in Scott's ear.
Greg had walked over to the other side of the bed and grabbed Scott's hand in his. Garion stood next to Garet and had one hand on his back and the other one touching Scott's chest.
Dan watched the men as they tried to comfort the sleeping man and each other. All three were crying. Dan tried to disappear in the background, as this was a private moment. But he walked over to the bed as Garet started talking.
"Damnit Scott. I shouldn't have left you in that room. I'm sorry what I said to you but you needed to get help. I'm just glad that you came here instead to some druggie to get high. Fuck man, we miss you. Come back to us."
Dan interrupted, "Look guys, you all look like you need some sleep. Why don't you go back to the hotel and I will call you if there are any changes."
Garet ignored him; "Don't you do this us? Remember, we live in each other's lives. I help you, you help me. Don't you fucking do this."
Dan grabbed Garet's arm as he said, "Come on, you need some sleep."
Garet twisted out of the older man's grip and leaped on the bed. He grabbed Scott's gown and started shaking him back and forth as he screamed.
"Don't you give up on me! You never walked away from a fight in your life. Now fight damn you! Fight you fucking asshole!"
A nurse heard the yelling and came into the room. She saw three men trying to get a fourth one off of Scott. She grabbed a sedative and shot Garet in the arm. Seconds later he collapsed. Dan and Garion hauled him off of Scott's prone body.
"Thanks nurse. It's all right. He's just upset. Get some orderlies and a bed." Dan ordered. "Greg, Garion, let him stay here tonight. We'll take care of him. Come back tomorrow and we'll start again."
The two men said their thank yous and left the building. After Garet was put to bed; Dan sat down in the chair next to Scott and whispered, "Fight, fight you fucking asshole. People need you here. Come back to us."
The last thing he thought before falling asleep was, could he ever help all the people that he needed too? Did he have the strength for the task ahead? He didn't know, but he was going to find out. Scott wasn't the only one with a problem. Maybe he could help all four of them. He would at least try.
THE VOID
"Who are you?" Scott stammered.
He looked around the room trying to find the speaker. But the room was empty save for him self and that blasted chair.
"That isn't the question. Who are you?" The voice asked.
Scott turned to face the direction of the voice. He saw a cloaked figure standing in the center of the room. He took a hesitant step towards the figure.
"What do you mean? You know me. You said my name." Scott stated. "Now, who are you? What am I doing here? Am I dead?"
"Questions that need answers, every one. Questions that I might answer, but for now, who are you?"
"Stop it. What is this place?" Scott demanded as he approached the figure.
Two steps away from the cloaked figure and it vanished right before Scott's eyes. But Scott heard a statement as the figure disappeared.
"When you are ready, you will know."
Scott ran to the spot in the center of the room. "Wait, don't go. Where am I?"
Scott looked around the room as it dissolved and became a narrow dark corridor that seemed to go on for miles. Looking in both directions, he pondered which path to take.
Then in front of his eyes, a sign appeared. He took an intake of breath as he read it. The sign was an average ordinary sign. An arrow pointed one way with a word that read, Beginning. And one arrow pointed the other way and the word read, Confusion.
"Where am I?" Scott pleaded to the darkness. Sinking to his knees, he hugged himself tightly.
"Choose." The voice thundered inside of Scott's mind.
Scott reeled back in fear at the voice that shook him down to his very core. As he backpedaled across the hall, he ran into the wall. The voice kept repeating the instructions, choose.
"Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?" Scott pleaded with the voice that was in his mind.
"Choose." The voice answered harshly.
Scott started running down the hall. In his haste forgetting which path he fled down. He ran for what seemed like days, his body racked with pain. His throat burning from lack of water, his body drenched in sweat. Finally, the end was in sight. A burning bright light stopped him.
He walked out of the tunnel and into a house. Suddenly his senses were overloaded. He knew this house. He knew the smell of the leather furniture. He smelled the pipe tobacco that he had smelled for over half his life. He could hear voices coming from a room; that he knew was the kitchen. He knew where he was.
"Welcome home Scott. You choose wisely."
Scott turned at the sound of the voice. The cloaked figure was back and standing right next to him. Scott tried to look underneath the hood that hid the speaker's face, but failed. It was just too dark.
"How is this possible?" Scott asked in wonder.
"Everything is possible. I've been waiting for a long time to get you here. Now it begins."
"Who are you?" Scott begged for an answer.
The figure turned and looked directly at Scott and replied, "Who do you want me to be?"
Scott stammered, "Roy?"
The dark figure slowly dissolved and in its place, there stood Scott's cousin Roy.
"You can't be here, you're dead." Scott yelled as he backed away from the man who had stolen his cousin's face.
"No, I am very much alive. You keep me alive."
Scott fell to the floor; his fragile mind couldn't comprehend what the figure had turned into to. He lay on the floor shaking his head and murmuring to himself as he gently rocked back and forth on his heels.
"There is much work to be done."
"No!" Scott screamed.
TBC
NOTES: Thanks to everyone who has emailed me about my stories, first In My Dreams With You, then about the sequel Like the Rain. Questions, Complaints, and Criticism email me at WOLFFLYER26@Yahoo.com all emails will be answered even if you hate it, let me know why. Peace and stuff Josh
Copyrightc2001 Glacier Boy