Secret Lives An *N Sync Experience
Disclaimer: I do not know any famous people. I do not know any friends, relatives or friends of relatives of any famous people. This is a creation by me to help ease my writer's block, and nothing serious will come of it. Occasionally, this story will divulge into areas that some deem inappropriate. If you deem it so, please rant and rave elsewhere. Thank you.
I love feedback. Good, bad, whatever. Feedback. Email me @ strytll3r@mac.com
Chapter One
The room erupted into a hurricane of applause. Another celebrity,' Jason thought bitterly, has entered the room.' The deafening noise went on for what seemed like hours. Jason turned his attention to the man who just entered the room. `Ah, the man of the hour.' Jason half raised his glass to Andrew Lloyd Weber, gave a mocking salute, and drowned himself with the double shot of tequila. He turned back to the bar and scoffed when he saw that the bartender was also showing reverence to the lordship.
Applause was not going to stop him, though. He was a man on a mission. "Hey barkeep." No response. Maybe the crowd was too loud. "HEY, SAMMY!" The bartender turned toward Jason, scowling.
"May I help you, sir?"
"Sir, that's right. Like that." Jason smiled to himself for no reason. Perhaps he delighted in the irate mood he was putting the bartender in. "I'll have another one of these, Sammy." Jason pointed towards the empty shot glass.
The bartender didn't move. "Sir, my name is Alex, not Sammy, and this will be the seventh drink you've had."
Jason's buzz began to slowly wear off. "Congratulations, Sammy! You can count to seven. So why don't you give me the drink and we'll see if you know what number comes next".
By this time, the applause had ended and Jason's raised voice began to earn stares and glances from people throughout the room. But Jason was oblivious to all but the need for drink. That and the increasingly irritating bartender.
"Perhaps you've had enough, sir." Alex the bartender stated firmly.
Jason started to laugh hysterically. A little schmuck of a bartender who was barely old enough to drink the damn stuff was telling him that he's had enough. Before he could respond, he felt a firm grip on his arm, dragging him away from the liquid gold. He tried to pull away, but the grip just tightened. In a room full of celebrities, there where probably a hundred bodyguards double his size. He was now being escorted out of the party. He turned to face his abductor, and saw . . .
"Oh, it's you," Jason spat out. Sheila didn't stop moving through the crowd to respond. "Great party, by the way. I love meeting all the fabulous people, especially that Sam Malone guy back there. Who knew that he moved from Boston to New York to . . ."
While Jason was talking, Sheila had guided him through the crowd, out into the hallway and into the stairway. When they got there, Sheila flung Jason into the concrete wall, knocking the air out of him. Jason fell to his knees, turned to his side and threw up onto the cement steps. The splashing sounds echoed throughout the narrow chamber.
Sheila didn't care. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT, YOU ASSHOLE!" The scream rebounded off the sterile walls and hit Jason again and again. He sat, half in his vomit, clutching his head in his lap. Sheila also didn't care that Jason had a headache. "You're making an ass out of me in there, Jason! Everybody's in there and you are making me look like a fucking fool!"
Jason glanced up angrily. "I told you I didn't want to come, didn't I? I hate musicals. Everyone knows that! You should have just let me stay home!" Jason closed his eyes and rested his head on the step above him. The cold concrete soothed the throbbing in his temples a little. After a while, he opened his eyes and glanced at Sheila. She was not going to let up.
"Jason, I wasn't going to leave you in your apartment so you could look at old pictures of Vic and cry your fucking eyes out." At least she's stopped yelling. "It's been three fucking weeks since Vic moved out, and you're even more of a wreck now than you were before. You needed to get out. I dragged you here for your own good."
Jason sat up quickly, fire in his eyes that was quickly extinguished by the pain created by the sudden movement. He lay his head back down. "You did it for yourself, Shelly, and you know it." Jason spat the words out as if they were acid. "You did it for my own good? Bullshit! You dragged me here because it's opening night and you wanted a date for the party. Your ass-faced boyfriend is too ugly to be seen with in public, so you choose me. Me, even though you know I hate musicals, I drink when I'm depressed and I act like an ass when I get drunk." Sheila shot Jason daggers through her eyes, but the tequila made Jason unafraid. "You brought this on yourself, Shelly, and you know it." Jason closed his eyes again. After a while, he heard the echoing footsteps of Sheila walking off and the stairway door opening and closing. And then, silence.
"Oh what a circus, oh what a show!" Jason sang quietly.
"I think that's the wrong musical, buddy." A deep voice said from above, startling Jason and causing him to sit up again. The pain was back again, but he didn't care. He tried to stand, but he lost his footing and slipped in the coagulating vomit. Smack! The step that gave him such relief only seconds before now quadrupled his pain. Everything began to turn fuzzy, and Jason heard footsteps rushing down the flight of steps above him. A dark blurry suit came into view. Strong hands picked him up off the steps and started to explore his right temple. He had the softest hands, Jason noticed, as the stranger gently caressed his face, feeling for broken bones or something.
"I'm I dying?" Jason asked. The suit was becoming blurrier and Jason could no longer focus. "Are you an angel?"
The deep voice began to chuckle. "No, sorry to burst your bubble there. I'm no angel. And I don't think you're dying. You'll probably have a nasty bump but . . . good thing I . . . name's . . ." And then Jason closed his eyes and slipped away.
Jason felt the fluorescent lighting burn through his eyelids. He moaned softly, feeling a dull throbbing near his temple. He felt a soft hand grab his and begin patting. With each pat, the throbbing intensified a little. Finally, Jason couldn't take anymore and ventured to open his eyes. The light leapt in the slivers, blinding him and causing him to begin to feel queasy. Suddenly, strong but gentle hands moved his entire body, rolling him over causing his head to hand over the edge of the table he laid on. An instant later, Jason felt the rush of his stomach contents force its way back the way it came in. The smell hit, causing his gag reflex to kick in. After what seemed like an eternity, the torrid stream suddenly stopped and the hands rolled him back. Jason opened his eyes again. The pain increased again, but was bearable. He turned and saw Sheila standing there, all dressed up for the opening night of Whistle Down the Wind, holding his hand and half smiling at him.
"Feeling better, sweetie?" Sheila whispered, barely mouthing the words. Jason could only nod his head. "Good." She suddenly dropped his hand and began to leave.
Jason started to get up and quickly realized that was a bad idea. He lowered himself back down and pleaded with Sheila with his eyes. She wasn't buying it.
"I have to get back to the party," she said nonchalantly. "Jason, you can be such an asshole sometimes, but I still love you." She grabbed her purse and headed toward the door. "That's the only reason why I'm not going to scream at you for all the embarrassment you caused me tonight. That can wait until tomorrow." And with that, she switched the lights off and left.
"Oh great," Jason said to the empty room. She was still pissed. And who could blame her? He had acted like such an ass at the party. He robbed her of her spotlight, stole her thunder. He listened in the quiet room, hearing her footsteps slow fade away. He sighed. He was alone. Again. "I'm all alone," Jason started singing softly. "At the drive in movie. It's a feeling that ain't too groovy . . ."
"You know, for a guy who doesn't like musicals, you sure can quote quite a few lyrics from them." A voice coming from Jason's left rang out in the darkness causing him to sit up suddenly. The pain that had quieted let its presence be known again as it roared back to life. Jason held his head in is hands, sobbing. Strong hands began to massage his shoulders and rub his back. After a long while, Jason sat up and looked at the figure that startled him. It was dark, but he didn't look familiar. His voice sounded like someone he knew, but couldn't quite place.
The stranger began to chuckle quietly. "Seems like I tend to bring out the best in you. Or are you always that jumpy?" Jason just gave a questioning look. His eyes started to adjust to the darkness and he could see a slender man about his height and weight. He had short, messy hair and smelt like Hugo Boss cologne. He smiled, and even in the dark, Jason could see the white teeth sparkle.
Jason ventured to speak. "I'm sorry, I don't follow you. Jumpy?"
"Just now. And in the stairway."
Understanding crept into Jason's eyes. "Ah, you're the one who made me fall and hit my head." The stranger began to nod, the smile fading. Jason realized that he probably sounded accusatory. He quickly added to the guy "not that it's your fault that I got wasted, made an ass of myself, threw up and slipped in my puke." The guy smiled again. "At least it's not wholly your fault."
The stranger laughed. "Ah, so your sense of humor returns."
Jason smiled. He couldn't quite place it, but talking to this guy seemed like second nature. "Yes, my sense of humor, as dry as it is." He lay back down. "Thanks for the massage. It was just what I needed, how'd you know?"
"Lucky, I guess." He ran his slender fingers through his messy hair. Blond,' Jason noticed. His eyes finally grew accustomed to his surroundings. Dirty blond hair.' "That what works for me, so I figured why not. Actually, a foot rub works the best, but I don't really know you, and I didn't really want to rub your smelly feet when we haven't even met."
"That's all right, the shoulder rub was perfect. You have," Jason paused for a moment. "Hey, who says my feet smell?" The guy smiled and leapt of the table an instant before Jason tried to playfully kick him.
Jason's head felt much better, but he wasn't taking any chances and stayed lying down. The stranger found a chair and sat down. A silence descended in the room, but it didn't feel awkward to Jason. It was weird, feeling this comfortable with a complete stranger. He hadn't felt like this for a while, now, and suddenly he got scared. It was too comfortable. Too comfortable, too fast.
"So, how'd I get in here?" Jason asked. He looked around and noticed the room for the first time. It looked to be a preparation room for the party, with glasses, clean and dirty in one corner, plates of hors d'oeuvre lined up by the door and empty food carts near the back.
The stranger smiled. "Well, after you lost consciousness, I made sure you were all right and then found your friend. She grabbed Michael Clark Duncan, the big guy who played Amos, and he carried you in here. You woke up a couple of minutes after that."
Jason grimaced. He glanced at the man who had taken care of him. "Thank you," he whispered. Never before had a complete stranger offered his help so graciously.
He smiled again. "It was the least I could do." He got up off the chair and came toward Jason. "With me causing you to fall in the first place." He extended his hand. "I'm James."
Jason took the hand and smiled. "Jason. Nice to meet you James."
"Likewise." Their hands lingered intertwined for a moment longer than usual, and both noticed it the same time and they nervously separated.
James cleared his throat. "So, what brings you to the party?"
Jason felt relief for the change of subject. "Sheila. Ms. Sheila Tartaglia. She was in the show. Got the lead, actually. Played Sparrow."
James grinned. "You really don't like musicals, don't you?" Jason gave him a confused look. "Swallow. The name was Swallow."
"Oh," Jason blushed a little at being caught not knowing his friends character. "I knew that, just making sure you knew that."
James laughed. "So, I passed the test?"
Jason grinned wickedly. "Perhaps. The judges are still discussing that." A comfortable silence descended again. And again, Jason got scared. "Anyway," he continued, breaking the moment and causing James to jump a little. "Sheila and I have been friends since kindergarten and best friends since high school. We dated a while during senior year. I came out that summer and she wouldn't talk to me for about a year. But we reconciled and moved to New York to make it big. She dragged me to every musical that opened, and then when she started getting parts, I got to see the shows several times. That's why I know the lyrics."
James sat there for a moment. "Wow. That's some story." He cleared his throat. "So, your gay, huh?"
Jason looked at him and saw that he was looking at the floor. "Isn't everybody?" Jason joked, causing James to smile. "And don't tell me you didn't know."
James looked up shyly. "I don't know, my gaydar has been out of wack of a while now. Ever since my last boyfriend cheated on me with a girl."
Jason hated being in this condition. Trying to console someone who just broke up was nerve wracking at best. He should know, since he saw so many people try to console him about Vic. But still, he had to try. James just stood there, looking down at the floor.
"Hey, the donkey butt doesn't know what he let go of. He'll realize it one day and kick himself." James smiled and began to laugh. "And being dumped for another guy is just as hard, believe me. I know."
James looked up, and the two locked eyes. This time, Jason didn't notice the silence and it was James who eventually broke it.
"Donkey butt?"
Jason chuckled. "Yeah, I'm forbidden to swear."
James looked confused. "Forbidden? By who?"
"Whom," Jason corrected absentmindedly. "I forbade myself."
James grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "And let me guess." He straightened up and folded his arms. "You're teacher. English teacher."
"How'd you know?" Jason asked, flabbergasted.
"Lucky guess." James cleared his throat. "Anyway, enough about you. Now it's about me. All about me."
Jason laughed whole heartedly. He rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "I'm all ears."
James glanced down. "Yeah, tell me about it, Dumbo."
"Hey,"
James tisked him quiet. "Jason, you need to focus, now. It's all about me, remember. OK, so it's being about a month since Josh and I broke up. Another friend of mine, Joey had enough. . ."
"Wow," Jason interrupted. "That's a lot of j's." James gave him a confused look. "Josh, Joey, James. Jason. Any more?"
James grinned. "Actually. . . yeah. There's Justin." Jason rolled his eyes. "And Josh cheated with a girl named Julia."
"You lie."
James started laughing and Jason soon joined in. "I wish." Eventually the laughter died down. "OK, where was I?"
"Joey," Jason supplied.
"Oh yeah." James continued. "Well, Joey drags me here to the big city to get away from it all. He's in the play, too. He played Jesus."
Jason just stared blankly. "Jesus was in the play? When."
James rolled his eyes. "Nevermind. Anyway, I also was not in the party mood, so I slipped away into the stairway, and the rest is history, I guess."
"Or fate."
"What was that?" James asked, startled.
"I was talking to myself. Sorry." Jason scolded himself for not having a better internal monolog.
"OK." James looked down of a second, and Jason got scared. Just when he started to actually like the guy, he screws it up.
"But, talking to yourself or not, I think I feel the same way." Jason could barely hear James' whisper, and didn't know how to respond. After a moment, James started to get up, but Jason grabbed his hand and made him sit back down.
"Jason, I don't know what's happening. Ever since I met you, well, ever since you've been conscious, I've become very comfortable with you. Like I've known you for a while. And I would like to get to know you better."
Jason cleared his throat. "You know, I feel the same way." Relief filled James' face, and Jason was ecstatic that he had caused that beautiful sight. "I want to take it slow. Is there somewhere we could go to? Have coffee and talk?"
James held Jason's hand and smiled. "I would love to. Lead on."
End of Chapter One -- So, what do you guys think. Write me. strytll3r@mac.com