Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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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.
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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.
Never in the history of the store had the entrance of a potential customer been greeted with such dread. A fly on the wall of the storeroom would have thought that we'd just seen death riding over the horizon, a pale horse with a pale rider, or maybe one of those scenes from the beginning of a science fiction movie when the saucers arrive and everyone stares at the sky in frozen horror as the curved black shadow rolls over them. Justin was still holding onto me, and I still had an arm around his shoulders as the two of us stared forward at Pete and Michelle, who completely blocked the doorway with their backs. The two of them stared back at us with eye bulging shock, mouths hanging open, listening to the soft click of shoes crossing slowly from the door into the cafe area.
"Hello?" a voice called. "Excuse me?"
I turned to Justin as his bright, panicked eyes sought mine out. His face was a mask of pain, his breath hitching as if he was about to start hyperventilating.
"Do you want to see him?" I asked quietly. Justin shook his head quickly, and I caught his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. "I'll take care of this. Stay back here, ok?"
"OK," he whispered quietly, sounding miserable, and I leaned forward impulsively and kissed him on the forehead. Justin sighed gratefully against me, pressing his face to my shoulder for a second as he hugged me tightly, and I looked up to see Michelle and Pete staring, their mouths still hanging open but their expressions completely different.
"Pete, find that book and bring it to the woman upstairs," I said quickly, my tone snapping them into action. "Michelle, go out and stall him. You don't know Justin, and you haven't seen him. Got it?"
"Right," Michelle said, nodding.
The three of us moved as one, like football players breaking a huddle, as Justin shrank back into the storeroom. Michelle breezed back out into the cafe, sliding smoothly behind the counter and letting her semisarcastic gaze of casual disinterest fall into place as she straightened some napkins. Pete walked past Justin, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and I reflected on how much things had changed over the past few days, not just for me, but for all of us. At the beginning of the week they had been amused and cynical, writing Justin off without even knowing, just like I had. Now, though, he was one of them. Justin was part of the family, and we were loyal to our own. If he didn't want to see Chris, then Chris would have to go through all of us to get to him.
I walked out casually, holding a sheaf of papers that I'd grabbed at random, and crossed over to my office, watching as Chris approached the cafe counter. He didn't look like much from here, a short, slightly dumpy little guy with an obnoxious pointed little beard. Like Justin he had a little bit of a spark about him, a sense of barely contained energy, but he was hardly even cute, and I wondered how he could possibly be the idol of thousands of preteen girls. Wait, he wasn't. The idol was the one I was sharing my bed with. This guy was a backup singer, and he was here to bully someone I cared about, which made it hard for me to look at him in a positive or an objective light. Michelle looked up as he walked over, keeping her face neutral, and Pete hardly gave him a second glance as he brought the book out to the waiting customer.
"Excuse me?" Chris asked again. His voice was almost squeaky, a little whiny, and kind of sharp.
"Yes, can I help you?" Michelle asked, reaching for a coffee cup. "Get you some coffee, or a latte?"
"Actually, I'm kind of looking for someone, a friend of mine," Chris began. I settled into my office chair, pretending to be looking at the papers, knowing that in the storeroom Justin was probably also hanging on every word. "Young guy, taller than me, blond hair?"
Michelle frowned at him.
"Um, mister, no offense intended, but this is a bookstore," she said, sighing. "We get a lot of tourists and college kids, and a lot of them look like tall blond guys."
"I'm a tall blond," Pete called from the second floor, glancing over the railing. OK, guys, don't overplay this one. I half expected them to look at each other and go, "I don't know who you're looking for, but Justin Timberlake isn't here." They were capable of so much better than this.
"See?" Michelle said, shrugging. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No," Chris said, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet. "Look, I'm going to be straight with you. I'm looking for Justin Timberlake. His mom is really worried about him, and I have reason to believe he's here, or has been here. You think you could help me out?"
Chris pushed a couple bills across the counter toward her, and Michelle looked at them like she wanted to pour coffee over his hand. She leaned forward, and her voice dripped liquid nitrogen. I understood her anger. For Chris to play the Mom card was underhanded, casting Justin in a horrible light as some kind of selfish punk kid, the way I had seen him. And to top it off by sliding money out just reeked of all kinds of things that would irk Michelle, elitism and classism and all those other isms that pissed her off. The only thing that could make it worse would be if he tried that on Julie. Pete would just blink at him, Meg would take the money without helping him, tucking it away, Michelle would get pissed, but Julie would give him a rambling lecture on third world countries and starving children that would have us all running for the far corners of the store.
"We sell books, we sell coffee, and that's all we sell," she hissed. Chris shrank back a little, but still kept that arrogant little sneer. "I can't help you."
"How about you?" Chris asked, looking up. He picked up the money from the counter, and held it up toward the balcony. I couldn't see Pete, but imagined that he kept the same genial expression he always wore. "You think you can help me find him?"
"Justin Timberlake?" Pete asked. "Sure. Arts and Entertainment, second floor. I'm sure we have something up there."
Chris sighed, and glared at Michelle, stuffing his money back into his pocket.
"Look, I know he was here," he said firmly. "He left a phone number and this address on his paperwork at the hospital. You might as well just tell me where he is, or when he's coming back."
"You might as well get yourself a spoon to eat my ass with," Michelle said smoothly. I couldn't believe the hospital would give out Justin's information, but I also couldn't believe that he hadn't mentioned to me that he left my apartment as his address. I guess he didn't think of everything. "I don't really like your tone, nor do I like you. I don't know how you got his information out of the hospital."
"It was easy," Chris said, cutting her off. "Some people like money, and know when to take it. Look, I'm about three seconds away from calling the cops and telling them he's been kidnapped."
"Is that a threat?" Michelle asked, pointing at the phone. "Dial away. I don't mind extra business coming through the doors. There's no such thing as bad publicity, but is it really the kind of bad publicity you feel like dealing with?"
Chris was stuck for a minute, fuming silently, and I figured it was as good a time as any to hop in. Maybe we could keep him off balance until we succeeded in pissing him off enough to drive him away. I glanced into the storeroom on my way out of my office, and saw that Justin was still in there. Why hadn't he just retreated up the stairs to the loft?
"Michelle, is there a problem?" I asked. Both of their heads snapped toward me.
"No, just some trash cluttering up my counter," she said pointedly. Chris was never, ever going to come off of her shit list.
"You work here?" Chris asked, ignoring her.
"I own here," I answered, holding out my hand. I was deliberately, cloyingly charming. "Chris Vanderhall. How can I help you?"
"You!" he said, eyes widening in recognition. What the hell? I'd never met him in my life. "Did he leave town with April?"
"Do I know you?" I asked, slipping a little. "And how the hell do you know where April is?"
"Justin's mother, who, I'll repeat, is very worried about him, figured out that he only has one friend in Boston," Chris said. "I went looking for her, since we have all of her information from when she worked for us, and her roommate said you might know where she is."
"I do know where she is," I said, which wasn't a total lie. "But I'm not planning to share that with you, and I know that Justin isn't with her. Maybe if you can't find him it's because he doesn't want to see you. Why don't you just leave him alone and give him some space?"
"What fucking business is that of yours?" Chris snapped, glaring at me. "Look, I don't know what the hell you people know, or think you know, but I'm just trying to do Justin's mother a favor, and do him one, too. People who care about him are worried, and want him to come home."
"That's bullshit," Justin said from behind me. I turned to look at him, and saw that he looked scared, but also pissed. That was what he needed, damn it. Some of that fire he'd shown at the airport, and not that weepy helplessness he'd been wearing last night like a shroud. "People who care about themselves are worried about me and want me to come home."
"Justin, what the hell are you doing?" Chris asked, his hands balling into fists. His eyes fixed on Justin's nametag. "What the fuck? You work here?"
"I don't want to talk to you," Justin said quietly, shrinking a little. Chris's voice was harsh and sharp, and I wondered if they always treated Justin like this. "I think you should leave."
"I think we both should," Chris said. "Come on, Justin. We're going."
"No," Justin said quietly, shaking his head and crossing his arms.
"Justin, damn it, I'm not in the mood for your shit," Chris said, walking around the counter. Michelle stepped in front of him.
"Customers aren't allowed behind the counter," she said sharply, challenging him.
"God damn it," Chris said loudly, and I heard Pete walking quickly down the stairs. We'd never ejected a customer from the store before, but I'd be happy to start with this one.
"Don't you swear at me!" Michelle snapped as I put a hand on her shoulder to pull her back. She had a bad temper, and I didn't want her to do something stupid, like slapping him. Sudden recognition dawned on Chris's face as he glared at her, and I saw his neck turn brick red as he flushed.
"You're that bitch who answered his phone!" he blurted, and Michelle flushed scarlet as well.
"Hey!" I said sharply, trying to get between them. They were right in the break in the counter, and I kind of had to force Michelle away.
"You fucking little gremlin!" Michelle snapped. "Who the fuck are you calling a bitch?"
"Knock it off!" Pete said, just as loud. He was standing right behind Chris, trying to decide whether or not to touch him. I thought the pause was wise, since Chris seemed like the suing type. "Customers."
Oh shit. We had an audience.
"You!" Chris answered her. "I'm calling you a bitch, Elvira!"
"Stop it!" Justin yelled, breaking in before Michelle could snap back. His lip was trembling, and his expression when he looked at Chris was full of anguish, and actual, palpable pain. His voice cracked and broke. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Justin," I said softly, stepping toward him.
"I only want what's best for you," Chris said, the tension draining out of him. Michelle's shoulders were dropping, too, but she still blocked the walkthrough.
"You don't know what's best for me," Justin said, his voice almost a whisper. "You don't know anything."
Justin reached out for me, and I wrapped my arms around him without giving it a second thought. Chris smirked though, his mouth almost curling into a sneer, and I saw his eyes tick over the marks on my neck and the way that Justin, although taller, leaned into me.
"Oh, I see how it is," Chris said snottily.
"Shut up," I said bluntly, turning Justin away from him. "Michelle, Pete, go settle the customers. Justin, come on. Chris, I'll talk to you in a second."
"Look," Chris began again, with that slappable look still on his face.
"No, you look," I said sharply. "Justin is upset right now, and it's your fault. You can talk to him later, if he wants, and I'm going to talk to you in a minute. You can wait in the store, or you can wait outside. Your choice. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal," he said, biting the word out.
"Good," I said, guiding Justin into the storeroom. I walked him to the back, and took his face in my hands again. He looked at me tentatively, like a dog that's been slapped, and I felt crushed inside. How could they call him a friend and treat him like this? "Justin?"
"I'm sorry he yelled at you," Justin said quietly. His voice was cracking again. "And I'm sorry he, he called Michelle."
"Hey, no," I said quickly. "Not your fault, Justin. That's his fault, not yours. Don't take blame for that, ok?"
"I'm sorry," he said again, and I wanted to shake him and tell him to stop apologizing. It wasn't really the time for that, though, either.
"Justin, I want you to go upstairs for a while, ok?" I said, pointing at the door. "Go lay down, and calm down, and collect yourself. And don't tell me about your shift. Michelle and Pete will understand, and they won't be mad at you."
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"I'm going to talk to Chris, and let him know that he's not talking to you until he's ready to actually listen and not yell," I said. Justin looked at me skeptically. "And I might snap at him a little."
"OK," Justin said, nodding. "Thank you."
I leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead again, as I had earlier. It just seemed like the right thing to do, at the time, and he brightened visibly when I did. I waited until I was sure he was in the stairwell, listening for the door to close behind him, and then I went to go find Chris. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, exchanging surly glances with Michelle. They weren't speaking to each other, and I figured I needed to move him quick before she accidentally scalded the hell out of him with a big vat of coffee. He redirected his surly glance at me as I walked over.
"I heard all of that," he said, frowning.
"And?" I said, shrugging. "Come on. I want to talk to you."
"Gonna snap at me?" Chris asked sarcastically.
"Come on," I said again, a little firmer. I really don't enjoy repeating myself.
"Where are we going?" Chris asked.
"The parking lot," I answered, gesturing for him to follow me behind the counter.
"Ooooh, the parking lot," he continued, in the same snotty, sarcastic tone. "Gonna kick my ass? Defend your new boyfriend's honor?"
I spun on my heel, wanting to plant it right in his teeth, and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. Off to the side I saw a large black guy move toward us. I hadn't noticed him before, but it would make sense that Chris would have a bodyguard, since I knew that Justin was supposed to have one at all times. Chris raised a hand, and he paused, but still walked slowly over.
"Listen to me carefully," I said, keeping my voice low. I didn't need to raise it, since I was right up in his face. His color streaked hair looked a little dirty, and I remembered that it was supposed to be cool. "We're going out to the parking lot because I have a definite policy of not shitting where I eat. If you and I are going to get in an argument, something you seem determined to do, I'd rather not have it in front of my customers in the middle of my store. You can bring your guard if you want, but we're not doing this here."
"Fine," he said, as I let go of him and turned away. Chris and his bodyguard followed me around the counter and through the storeroom, Chris looking around, as I led them through to the back parking lot. It was either there or the roof, and I was afraid if we went upstairs I would want to throw Chris over the side before his bodyguard could stop me. We walked out, and I leaned against the wall as Chris stood across from me, still frowning. The bodyguard paced around the lot, giving us space. "Well?"
"Well what?" I asked. "Why are you so mean to him? Couldn't you see how upset he was? What kind of a friend are you?"
Chris surprised me by laughing, shaking his head. I stared, and he stopped, smirking up at me.
"He's got you already," Chris said. "That didn't take long at all. Sleeping with him yet?"
"Excuse me?" I asked, flushing a little. "That's not really any of your business."
"And that's all the answer I need," Chris said, shrugging. "Look, Chris, if I can call you that, you don't really know anything about what's going on here."
"I know plenty," I said, crossing my arms. I could play surly just as well as he could. "I know you're here to bully Justin, and tell him what to do. I know that you're here to talk a lot, and you're not going to listen to a thing he says."
"Oh, you know all that?" Chris said. "That's so cute, but, like I said, you don't really know anything. What makes you think it's even possible to bully Justin?"
"He's told me about the way you guys treat him," I said, a little annoyed now.
"I bet he has," Chris said, nodding. "I bet he's told you all about us, and his mom, and everything else. He's probably thrown in a whole bunch of tears, and pity, and told you all about how all we do is tell him what to do, hasn't he?"
"It's not like that," I said, shaking my head.
"Oh, I bet it's not," Chris agreed sarcastically.
"Why are you such a dick?" I asked, annoyed. I didn't like the entire tone of this discussion.
"Look, I'm just trying to open your eyes a little, ok?" Chris said. "You seem like a nice enough guy, and you're clearly loyal, which is always a good character trait, but you're not getting a clear picture."
"No?" I asked. "Justin told me all about JC, and how he cheated on him, and how you're probably here to tell Justin to go back to him because that's what's best for all of you. Is that the piece of the picture that I'm missing?"
Chris's eyebrows went up a little. Maybe he hadn't thought Justin would tell me about that.
"Actually, that is some of what you're missing," Chris said, shrugging. "But it's not all of it. Justin and JC's relationship is, well, kind of complicated, and the reason why we all have a hand in it is because they're our friends, and the five of us spend a lot of time together. It's hard not to be involved when you share a bus and a dressing room and twenty hours a day. What I'm trying to tell you, though, is that whatever Justin told you, it's only half the story. You don't really know the other side."
"I'm not sure you could tell me anything about JC's side that would change my mind," I said, sitting down on top of a garbage can. I still didn't like Chris, but it was hard to stay mad at him now that we'd stopped sniping at each other. I still didn't like the way he almost seemed to be talking down to me, though. "Justin loves him, and JC cheated on him with his exboyfriend even after he promised Justin he wouldn't. That's a dick move, and I don't think you can tell me anything that'll change that."
"I'm not going to try to," Chris said. "Like I said, their relationship is complicated, but when it gets screwed up, it affects the rest of us, too. You can't expect us not to say anything, or to try to help them figure things out. What I meant, though, is that you don't really know much about the rest of us. I'm sure Justin has told you plenty about how we treat him, but I bet he hasn't said a word about the way he treats us."
Now that I thought about it, that was kind of true. Justin had told me quite a bit about the way that everyone made demands on him, and how he just needed to be away from them to clear his head, but that didn't really tell me anything about how he was with them. Still, it couldn't be all that different from the way he was with me, could it?
"I'm sure he's not half as mean as you are to him," I said, shaking my head, pushing that sudden doubt away. "What I saw just now was you snapping at him, being deliberately hurtful, and completely ignoring the way he was feeling or anything he was trying to tell you. Even if he is a little mean to you, there are four of you, and only one of him."
"And it's all of us against him, is that it?" Chris asked, chuckling again. He sat down across from me on a stack of wooden crates. There was all kinds of weird stuff back here, and I remembered that it was probably time to have the lot cleaned again. "Chris, you haven't really had any time to get to know him at all, no matter how much you've talked, because Justin has only shown you what he wants you to see."
"And what?" I asked, shaking my head. This ploy was so obvious it was transparent. "You're about to tell me that he's this two faced master manipulator, and he's turned me against all of you? What would be the point? I'm nobody to you people. I'm just a friend that Justin's staying with."
"No, not quite," Chris said, shaking his head. "You're the friend that Justin is sleeping with. What do you think he would have done if JC came to get him instead of me? Justin's using you, Chris. JC hurt him, and Justin's going to hurt him back with you."
"Justin wouldn't do that," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not Justin's new boyfriend. And he's not like you said. He wouldn't be that petty. You said that I don't know him, but I don't think you really know him, either."
"What do you know about him that I don't?" Chris asked. I thought it was sarcastic, that he was about to use this as another chance to point out how he'd known Justin for years and knew so much more about him than I ever would, but he actually seemed serious.
"I know that he's hurting," I said. "I know that what JC did has really hurt Justin inside. When he talks about it, I can hear the pain in his voice, and I had to more or less dig it out of him. I know that he's just a scared, hurt kid, and he's trying to find himself, and that it's really hard for him to do that with all of you telling him who to be and who to be with."
"You're right," Chris said. "He is a confused, young kid. Justin's lost a lot of his childhood with us, and sometimes he's a little temperamental and immature because of that, but his scared little kid side is the only part of him you've seen. He's not some lost little lamb, wandering through a forest full of wolves."
"I already told you," I began, standing. "I'm not going to believe that he's some kind of manipulative brat that's just using me to flash in front of his boyfriend. If you're just going to keep repeating yourself, I'm going to leave."
"Wait, please," Chris said, standing as well. "I'm not trying to convince you that Justin's some kind of two faced bastard, because he's not. Sure, he's a scared kid right now, and kind of upset, but this is typical behavior for him. Running away from his problems is something Justin does all the time."
"And you guys always come running after him," I said. "He told me you always bring him back."
"Because we have to!" Chris said. "We have obligations, all of us, and Justin is part of that."
"Whether he likes it or not," I said, frowning.
"Oh, did he give you the impression that he doesn't like that?" Chris said, shaking his head. "Do you know who you have upstairs? You have Justin Timberlake, the ego that ate Nsync. He's written half the album, and yeah, we let him, but still, he's basically taken over the entire band. His press agent works overtime making sure Justin gets mentioned, and don't even get me started on the sham dates with Britney. The kids want Justin, and the rest of us are along for the ride. Given that, I think we have a right to make sure he's there in the driver's seat, don't you?"
"Justin wouldn't stomp all over you guys," I said, my voice rising a little. "He wouldn't hurt you to get himself ahead."
"No, and we're not hurting him, either," Chris said. "We want what's best for him, and we also want what's best for ourselves. Like I said, though, you've only seen one side of him. You haven't seen Justin, the superstar, standing in front of the cameras. And no, he hasn't stepped all over us and hurt us on purpose, but, like I said, he's a kid, and what kid doesn't want to be number one? Like it or not, Justin is Nsync's lead singer. He's the frontman, and we can't really go to photoshoots and press conferences without him. He has obligations, and if he doesn't like them, he has no one to blame but himself."
I shook my head. The picture that Chris painted was an entirely different Justin from the one that I had seen, and I found it hard to reconcile the two. At the same time, though, Chris was right. I had only seen Justin in one setting, in one light. I remembered his tantrums at the airport, and the argument we'd gotten into in my office. Even now he and I still bickered a little as he kept trying to get his way, stubbornly insisting that he and I should be together.
"Look, Chris," I said, turning toward the door. "I care about Justin a lot. I know I haven't known him long, but I still don't want to see him hurt. I know that you guys don't have anything planned for a couple more days, so there's no rush, and I also know that he's planning to come back for your shoot, anyway. He and I have already talked about it. I just don't think you understand how much pain he's in. If you want to talk to him, I'll tell him to call you, but I won't let you upset him again, Chris. I know you mean well, but so do I."
"Fine," Chris said, shrugging. "I'll go get a hotel. I understand you wanting to take care of him, and I won't criticize you for that. Just remember, Chris, that there's more to Justin than the sad little boy who cries a lot. Here."
I looked down, and saw that he was handing me his card.
"Thanks," I said, wondering why I'd need to call him.
"Can you at least tell me something about his hand, to tell his mother?" Chris asked. "She really is worried about him."
"It's what he told her on the phone," I said, opening the door. "He had an accident in the kitchen, and he got a couple stitches. He's basically ok."
"Thanks," Chris said. "I'll tell her that."
I went inside to go check on Justin, wondering the whole way who, exactly, he was, and whether Chris was right about him.
To be continued.
Before I go, thanks, everybody, for the support and the votes in the BBSA's. Congrats to all the winners!