Rebound

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1. If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.

2. I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

I watched JC walk over to wait his turn to talk and be photographed, leaning on the pool table. Lance walked over and started talking to him, running his hand over his hair and shaking a little of the stiffness out of the spikes now that his turn was over. Chris was off to the side, talking to Johnny, and I didn't see Joey anywhere, but didn't think much of it since this place was huge. JC's face, a little down, brightened at whatever Lance was saying, smiling and becoming more open. I looked over to see how Justin was doing, and saw him staring wistfully at the two of them. He was still talking to the reporter, and still taking direction from the photographer, but I could see that behind his smile he was thinking again about missing JC.

I wished that I could have done something for him, that I could have done more to help him, but talking to JC and trying to build that bridge was the best I could think of short of driving Justin over to his house and locking them in a room together. I didn't know how well that would work, either, as it didn't really seem like something any of us should try to force. Everyone else's attempts at forcing Justin and JC to relate had resulted in Justin's run to Boston, so I was hoping that a gentle nudge, something that could just get them to at least talk to each other and maybe think about being friends, something that could play off of the warm, easygoing feeling they had displayed today might work.

"Justin, look at the camera please," the photographer commanded, and Justin did. "Now keep the pose, but eyes away from the camera. Now eyes away the other way. Good, just like that. Smile a little more. Good, good, Justin. Now smile, but no teeth. That's great. We're almost done with you, ok? If we could just get a couple more."

I caught Justin's eye and winked at him, certain that no one was looking at me, and hoping that he could see it. He smiled, letting me know that he did. His grin lit up that whole corner of the yard, and the photographer caught it, snapping away. Apparently my presence really was helping, but now I was suddenly worried that Justin would see me and get a hardon or something, completely blowing his cover. It would probably be for the best if I didn't catch his eye again.

Fortunately Brianna intervened, toddling over to me with the fruit filling from her granola bar smeared all around her mouth. I looked at her sticky face and scooped her up, balancing her on my hip like Joey tended to (when he wasn't doing those airplane spins that freaked Kelly out) and looking around. I flagged down the nearest staff person, some girl whose name I hadn't caught because I hadn't been introduced to anyone other than Johnny, and asked her where the closest bathroom was. Armed with her directions, I carried Bri into the house.

"Come on, Bri," I said, smiling, bouncing when I walked as she giggled and squealed. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

The sound system outside carried through the house as well, and I wondered if there was anywhere that you could go around in the complex without listening to Top 40 pop. There was a bathroom close to the door I had just come in through, not the door Justin and I had used earlier, or the side door that Justin had sent me out of afterward, and I realized that the house really was enormous. I wondered how many acts Johnny managed besides the guys, because his manager's cut from them couldn't possibly be enough to pay for all of this. The bathroom alone must have cost thousands if my experience with remodeling the loft was any indication, although I hadn't done anything on this scale. I sat Bri on a counter with three sinks and enough room to serve a buffet for twenty, and shook my head in amazement at the thought that the bathrooms attached to the bedrooms were probably even bigger.

"Sit still, ok?" I said, reaching for a washcloth. Bri was kicking her feet back and forth on the edge of the counter, drumming them against the cabinets.

"K," she said, smiling.

Bri usually answered me with one word, if she did at all. I couldn't figure out how Joey, loud, booming, outgoing Joey, could have ended up with such a quiet, shy child, but she was still adorable. She sat very still, turning her head from side to side as I wiped away the fruit filling all around her mouth, and then I picked her up and let her stand on the counter to look at herself in the mirror. She clapped her hands as I rinsed the washcloth out and hung it back on the rod I'd taken it off of, and then I lifted her off of the counter and set her back on the floor. She stared up at me expectantly, and I held out my hand for her to take it.

"All set?" I asked, and she shook her head. "Do you need something else, Bri?"

She nodded solemnly, and then pointed at the toilet.

"Potty," she said, her blue eyes huge.

Potty? Oh, no way in hell. My few friends who had kids never asked me to babysit, and this was why. I was great with kids in the abstract. As a concept, I thought children were kind of wonderful and special and everything else. I was good with kids if other people were around, because the sad truth was that I wasn't good with the gross mechanics that came with children. If a baby spit up, I was done, especially if it landed on my clothes. If a diaper was full, I was the first to do the handoff, and didn't even like to be in the room when the changing was done. I wasn't comfortable with people changing their kids in the middle of the room, with people talking about pregnancy, birth, or anything related to it, and I really didn't like turning around and seeing someone breastfeeding nearby.

In short, I looked at babies in about the same way that I looked at the television. I like it, and as long as it didn't need any kind of special attention, everything was fine. The minute something went wrong, though, I was completely helpless, and now Bri was standing at my feet, tugging on my pant leg and pointing at the toilet.

"Chris," she hissed urgently. "Potty."

"Um, yeah, I hear you, hon," I answered, looking around urgently. "You have to potty, right. We, um, we."

"Potty!" she said urgently, tugging at my pant leg a little harder. I heard laughter, and looked up to see Lance in the bathroom doorway, chuckling.

"Thank God!" I said, holding my hands up toward the ceiling. Lance continued chuckling.

"You're not good with kids, are you?" he asked, smiling. I hadn't really noticed before, but his green eyes were extremely striking, not the dark bottle green of mine but a light, light jade that seemed to shine flatly under the lights.

"Not this part, no," I said, shaking my head. Bri grabbed his pant leg.

"Unclance," she said, running it all together into one word. "Potty!"

"OK, Bri, I got you," he said, bending down to walk her over to the toilet. I hurried into the hallway, closing the bathroom door behind me.

"Thank you!" I called through the door.

"No problem," Lance answered. "Happens all the time."

I heard flushing and water running, and then Lance carried Bri back into the hall, both of them smiling.

"Problem solved," Lance said, smiling at me.

"There you guys are," Joey said, walking down the hall. He was carrying a bundle of clothes that I looked at curiously. "They said we can keep it, but I'd rather wear my own stuff home."

"I'm ok with this stuff," Lance said, shrugging. "Remember when 'Teen People' let us keep all those leather jackets? That was awesome, dude."

"No kidding," Joey said. "That one with the flag pattern they gave JC? I would have killed for that thing."

"And he's probably wearing it with plaid pants," Lance said, and they both laughed. I didn't really get the joke, and they both saw me looking curiously at them.

"Sorry," Lance said. "I guess you don't know about JC's, you know, taste in clothes."

"Or lack thereof," Joey said, snickering again.

"No, sorry," I said, shrugging. "I don't really know a lot about JC. Justin doesn't talk about him much."

"I saw you talking to JC earlier," Joey said, and I noticed he and Lance staring at me intently. "Everything ok?"

I wasn't sure if I should answer in front of Lance, but I trusted Joey, and if Joey was going to ask in front of him, maybe it was ok.

"I don't know," I answered. "Justin says that he misses JC. Don't look at me like that. He didn't mean it that way. Justin misses being friends with JC, and I thought that, since they were hanging out all day, that maybe I should mention that to him."

"You did what?" Chris practically screamed from the end of the hall. Oh shit. I was getting really tired of playing this game with Chris over and over, listening to him freak out and then backing down because I didn't want to cause trouble for Justin. Justin wasn't here right now, and I was too frustrated to be diplomatic.

"I told JC that," I began, and Chris grabbed me by the front of my shirt and smashed me into the wall. The air rushed out of my lungs, and Lance pressed Bri's face into his chest and hurried away with her as Joey grabbed Chris's shoulders.

"Get off of him!" Joey snapped, struggling. "Damn it, Chris!"

"You don't fucking talk to JC about Justin!" Chris yelled. "You have no right to do that to him!"

He shoved me backward again and my head rocked painfully off of the wall. That was it for me. I brought my knee up into Chris's stomach, hard, and Joey managed to push us apart as Chris doubled over.

"Knock it off!" Joey said, shoving me away a little as he used his back to push Chris. "Both of you! The reporter's still here!"

I froze, suddenly aware of how loud we were, and how badly this could all go down in another few seconds. I still wasn't letting Chris off, though.

"You don't ever touch me, ever again," I said icily. "I'm not a violent person, but I will hurt you."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Chris demanded, backing away. "You'll hurt me? You? You're nobody! You're fucking shit! You can't fucking touch me, bitch! What the fuck are you going to do to someone like me?"

He was right. I was nobody. If I laid a hand on him, he'd have bodyguards all over me in a heartbeat, and I would never see Justin again. Chris had me, and I turned away so that he wouldn't see it in my face. Joey caught it, though, and gripped my shoulder, tightly yet comfortingly.

"Leave, now," Joey said, turning back to Chris. "Just get the fuck out."

"You're going to take his side?" Chris asked, straightening his clothes. "Joey, he's."

"He's not the problem here," Joey said sharply. "I can't believe you're doing this. You didn't learn a damn thing from Kelly, did you? You don't care at all about other people, or who you hurt. Just get away, Chris, right now, before I hit you."

"Joey," Chris began again, his voice rising argumentatively.

"Go!" Joey barked in a dangerous, threatening tone I'd never heard him use before. If I were Chris, I would have been pissing my pants right about then. Of course, Chris wasn't quite as smart as I was, and couldn't help mumbling all the way down the hall while Joey glared at him. Joey followed me into the bathroom, walking in just in time to see me pound a fist on the countertop. "Hey, Chris, that won't help anything."

"Shut up!" I snapped, and then the fight drained out of me. "Just shut up."

Joey sighed, but I spoke again before he could say anything else.

"I'm sorry, Joey," I said, leaning on the counter, my head down. "I know you're just trying to help. I just, it's so damn frustrating. He bugs the shit out of me!"

"Probably because you bug the shit out of him," Joey said, chuckling. "You mind if I change?"

"No, I'll wait," I said, stepping into the hallway. Joey left the door open a crack so that we could keep talking. "What do you mean I bug the shit out of him? He's right. I'm nobody. I can't do a damn thing to him."

"Other than drive him completely insane just by being here," Joey said.

"Yeah, but it makes no sense," I said, leaning on the wall. I heard him changing, belts and buckles and zippers making noise. "I mean, you explained why he thinks I'm a threat, but everything seemed to go really well today, except for him."

"True," Joey answered. "But as frustrated as you are with him, he is with you. You think you're nobody, but really that's what bothers him. For all intents and purposes, you're untouchable. He can't out you, because you're already out, and if he draws attention to you, it draws attention to who you're hanging around with. You own your store, so he can't really do anything to ruin you professionally."

"He'd do that?" I asked. I don't know why it surprised me, in light of all the other things he'd done already, but I really didn't think he would stoop that low. Joey leaned out of the bathroom, holding his shoes in his hands, changed back into the outfit he'd worn over here.

"How much do you know about us?" Joey asked, his eyebrows raised above his chocolate brown eyes. "I mean, I know it's the basics, but do you know who Wade Robson is?"

I thought about it for a second, chewing on my bottom lip, running through the list of names I'd picked up from Justin and from magazine articles and other sources. It took me a second to place him, but then I remembered.

"He's your choreographer, right?" I asked, letting Joey put a hand on my shoulder. He leaned, storklike, to put his shoe on, and then switched hands to do the other one. I thought dancers were balanced and graceful, or something.

"He was," Joey said, nodding. "He also helped Justin write a bunch of the stuff for the album, filled in for me on the 'Pop' shoot, a bunch of stuff like that. At one point it was like he was the sixth member of Nsync. Wherever Justin and JC went, Wade was around, too."

"But he's in the past tense now," I noted, walking slowly with Joey down the hall. "What happened?"

Joey stopped, looking around. Wow, this must be good.

"Well, Wade had this idea that he, um, might be a better boyfriend for Justin than JC was," Joey said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He flirted with Justin a little, and Justin kind of blew it off, because they were friends. Then, when that didn't work, Wade asked Justin straight out, and Justin shot him down. He explained very politely that he loved JC, and then told JC about it. JC went after Wade, screaming and drama and everything, really ugly scene, and we kind of thought that was the end of it, but then Chris stepped in."

The way he said it sounded ominous enough, but I had to ask, expecting something really horrible, like hearing that Wade was under the floorboards out in the poolhouse or something.

"What did Chris do?" I asked, cringing a little in anticipation.

"Chris had Wade blacklisted all over town," Joey said simply. "He called everybody, and those people called everybody else, and the word went out everywhere. Wade wasn't to be invited anywhere, Wade wasn't to be hired anywhere, Wade was, for all intents and purposes, done. He cancelled Wade's clearance to be around us, and let Johnny and Jive know that Wade was not to work with Nsync again. He's still Britney's tour manager, because she wouldn't risk a lawsuit by breaking his contract, but that's it. When that's over he doesn't have anything lined up, and he won't. The poor kid isn't even twenty one, and he's finished."

"Isn't that a little excessive?" I asked, stunned. Granted, I would do the same thing if someone came between Justin and I, but I was his boyfriend. Chris wasn't. If anyone was going to do that, it should have been JC, not Chris.

"That's not all," Joey said, glancing up and down the hallway again. "Chris told Wade he did it, and then told him to stay the hell away from Justin and JC. He didn't come right out and say it, but he more or less let Wade know that it would be really hard for him to choreograph anything with broken knees."

Wow. There was addressing the problem, there was solving the problem, and then there was burning the problem, razing it to the ground, burying it, and salting the earth so that nothing would every grow there again. This was overkill. This was beyond overkill. This was the Borgias. This was "The Sopranos". This was Jimmy Hoffa under the goalpost at Giants stadium. This was what Chris wanted to do with me?

"Wait, what about Justin?" I asked, crossing my arms. "If Wade was his friend, why didn't he say anything?"

"Because he knew about it," Joey answered. "After JC found out what Wade did, he didn't want him around Justin anymore, either, and Justin went along with it because it was what made JC happy. I don't think Justin knew that Chris was going to go all out like that, but he knew Chris was going to say something, and he was ok with it, because it was easier to let Chris handle it than it was to do it himself. And then, afterward, it was too late to try to undo it. It would have raised too many questions."

Hearing Joey say that, another piece fell into place in my head. When I met Chris, he tried to tell me that Justin wasn't the person that I thought he was, that Justin was capable of some pretty manipulative things if he needed to be. I had written it off, because Justin and I talked about it, and because in the end I just trusted Justin more than I trusted Chris, but this was probably what Chris had meant. I noticed, though, that the chat he had given me about how evil Justin could be to get what he wanted left out the fact that Chris himself had done all of the dirty work. Knowing that definitely would have put a different spin on things.

"Why is Chris like that?" I asked, looking down the hall. We were still in the clear, but I was starting to wonder where everyone was. "I mean, I know what you said, but that's a little severe for someone who just wants to protect their stake."

"He, well, Chris has a blind spot," Joey said, shrugging. "When it comes to JC and Justin, he just has this huge chip. You don't mess with them, ever, if Chris is around, and that's exactly what he sees you doing."

"Great," I said as we started walking back down the hall. "So Chris wants to break both my legs, and the fact that I'm still walking is frustrating the hell out of him."

"Something like that," Joey said, chuckling. I did, too. It was actually kind of funny, in a really weird way. "You know, Chris is wrong about something, though. You're not a nobody. You're somebody to Justin, and that pisses Chris off."

"He's wrong about two things, then," I said firmly. "I can fucking touch him, and I think I need to, before this gets any more out of hand."

"Chris," Joey said, looking concerned.

"I'm not going to be his punching bag, Joey," I said, shaking my head. "I've had about enough shit from him on this. It's about time I put my foot down, and if he isn't going to listen to Justin, then maybe it's time he listened to me."

Joey started to say something, and then just sighed.

"You're going to go say something to him regardless, aren't you?" he asked, opening the back door for me.

"Yeah," I answered, scanning the yard. "Don't worry, I promise not to cause any major trouble."

Justin was hurrying across the yard as I walked out of the house. Joey stood behind me, shaking his head, as he held the door open, giving up on talking me out of anything. When I set my mind to something, like going and telling Chris off, that was the end of it, and anyone would be able to read it in my face. Over on the grass, Lance and Johnny stood, both of their heads snapping toward me as Bri played with that naked Barbie doll in between Lance's ankles. Justin's face was a mix of concern and anger, and he grabbed my arm as I scanned the yard, searching for Chris.

"Are you ok?" Justin asked, tugging at my sleeve. I turned and looked at him, and he was staring at me with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging a little open. He was looking at me, but he was also looking me over, smoothing my hair down, turning my head a little with his hands so he could check my face and neck. "Chris?"

"Reporter?" I asked, still looking around. Boy, Lance must give a full and comprehensive report for everyone to be staring at me like this. It wasn't just concern, though, not for the others. Justin wanted to make sure I was ok, but the rest of them were waiting to see what I would do, to see if I would make waves or if I would just let this go quietly.

"She's gone," Justin answered, looking anxious. He'd seen that I wasn't hurt, but he just fidgeted, waiting to see what I would do. "Photographer, too."

"Good," I said, grabbing him. I crushed Justin against me, hugging him tightly. He was a little surprised, but then I felt his arms closing over my back, and I rested my head on his shoulder as we both sighed. "I'm ok, baby. Where's Chris?"

Justin pulled back, frowning at me.

"Him and JC went over to theirs cars," Justin said, swallowing. "They haven't left yet."

"Good," I said, kissing Justin on the forehead.

Justin trailed an arm down mine as I walked away, and when I pulled back he squeezed my hand, not letting go. When I looked back, he looked worried, his eyes large. Behind him, I saw Johnny and Lance watching, starting to walk over, as Joey picked up Bri. I gently disengaged my hand from Justin's, kissing his knuckles as I let it go. I looked at his face and saw the fear there, and realized what he thought was wrong.

"No, baby," I said, caressing the side of his face. "I'm not leaving you, ok? I'm not leaving you, and I'm not going to do anything stupid, but I'm not going to let Chris touch me, ok? And I've had about enough of the way he talks to us. Now wait right here, and I'll be right back."

"Come on," Lance said, touching Justin's other shoulder. "Why don't you show me that new club?"

Justin allowed himself to be led away, looking around for his bag of golf clubs, and I gave Lance a smile and a little nod. No matter what he thought about me, or the way Justin lived his life, he really wasn't a bad guy. I turned and started walking back toward the cars, and realized that Joey and Johnny were following at a discreet distance. I threw them a look, and they both smirked. Whatever.

Chris and JC were standing over by their cars, talking about something, and Chris had his back to me. JC saw me, his eyebrows raising in curiosity, but I didn't let him slow me down. Stalking over to Chris, I spun him by the shoulders and grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him against his Jeep. The bodyguards, milling around the front of the house, sprang toward us, but Johnny gave a little gesture with his hand, a kind of Marlon Brando "Godfather" type of motion, and they paused as JC jumped back in surprise. Chris's eyes were wide in front of me, darting around like some kind of little rodent, and I realized for the first time since I'd met him that he honestly, finally though he wasn't in charge of the situation.

"What the fuck are," he began, and I slammed my knee up into his groin. Yeah, it was mean, and it was dirty, but those were apparently the only things Chris would understand. I was probably making a dangerous enemy, but I didn't care. He already hated me, so all I could really do was make it worse.

"You do not touch me," I said, repeating what I'd told him earlier. I leaned right up into his face, my eyes across from his as he winced in pain. "You do not put your hands on me, and just in case you're getting any ideas, you do not put your hands on Justin, either. You don't like me, and I don't care. I do care about Justin, though. If I hear another word from you that hurts him, if you yell at him again, or call him another name, or make him cry again, I will hurt you just as badly, and all the gates and security and bodyguards in the world won't be enough to keep you safe from me. Do you understand?"

"Chris," JC said, putting his hand on my arm. His voice was soft, but firm. Too bad I wasn't done.

"Do you understand me?" I barked, slamming Chris back against the car to punctuate each word.

"Chris, stop, please," JC said, his hand gripping me tightly. "I know you're mad, but."

"Do you know why?" I asked, letting Chris go. He slumped down the side of the car, wheezing, bending over to stand with his hands on his knees. Over by the house, Joey and Johnny were staring, their mouths hanging open. I don't know what they expected, but I bet it wasn't that I would assault him. "Do you know why I'm mad?"

"No," JC said, shaking his head. He still had a hold of my arm, his fingers firm, but not painful, and he guided me a few steps away from Chris. I made sure I didn't turn my back, though, because I wouldn't put it past Chris to come at me from behind. "Did he say something?"

Were we really going to stand in the driveway and have a rational discussion like Chris wasn't cradling his groin behind us?

"Yeah, he did," I answered, tugging at the bottom of my shirt, straightening myself. "He threw me up against a wall in the house and screamed at me."

"Why?" JC asked, glancing at me. I didn't answer, and he turned to Chris. "Chris K? Either of you?"

If Chris wasn't going to answer, then I would.

"He did it because I talked to you," I said, watching Chris's shoulders slump even further. JC's thin eyebrows knit together in confusion, a line appearing between them. "Because I talked to you about Justin. He said I had no right to."

JC sighed, and a look of disappointment fluttered across his face. He let go of my arm, patting my shoulder for a second, and I found myself staring into his eyes. I wanted to look away, but they were too intense, piercing. It was almost like he had some kind of superpower or something.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and soft. I caught that hint of an accent again. "But I have to ask the same thing of you that you just did of him. Please don't hurt my friends. Physical violence isn't really the way to solve any problem, and screaming at each other will only make it worse. Please, even if he doesn't respect you, don't hurt Chris or anyone else I love, ok?"

"OK," I said, finally looking down, actually feeling bad about what I'd done. JC stepped away from me and walked over to Chris, who was finally standing, glaring at me like he wanted to lunge at me again.

"You don't speak for me," JC said quietly, and Chris's mouth opened, as if he was about to protest. JC cut him off. "You don't have the right, and when you interfere with Justin's life you're overstepping your bounds. I won't have it, and we won't have this discussion again. Goodbye, Chris, Chris."

Without another word, JC got into his car and closed the door. Chris and I stared at each other over the roof of it as JC pulled out and drove away. Sure, he'd only meant the goodbye in the regular way, but couple with the tone of voice he'd used, and the look on his face, it seemed to carry more weight, to be something more final. Chris's eyes narrowed as he glared at me and fumbled out his car keys.

"This isn't over!" he said sharply, jerking his car door open.

"Bring it on," I said, hands on my hips.

He slammed the door closed, started the car, and peeled out of the driveway, his tires screaming. I watched him go.

To be continued.