Thieves

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.

Keith climbed out of the cab, swearing to himself as he looked at the sky and saw how early it was. He'd gotten up and dressed, leaving the hotel without even showering, in response to the phone call he'd gotten from Mitch. Mitch had given him an address and begged him to come down as soon as possible, because there was an emergency.

"What's wrong?" Keith grumbled, carrying his cell phone into the bathroom to avoid waking his roommate, one of the other bodyguards. "Where are you? Where are you calling from?"

"I just told you where to meet me," Mitch said. "I'm at a payphone. I had to leave the hotel, because something happened, something terrible."

"With Lance?" Keith asked, now completely awake. "What? What happened?"

"I don't want to get into it now!" Mitch answered. Keith noticed that he sounded upset, but, based on the past couple of conversations, he could just be verging on the overemotional again. Maybe he should get a bisexual for his next partner. The out and out queers just cried and got hysterical all the time. This better not be another round of Mitch getting squeamish.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Keith said, hanging up, and now, here he was.

Keith, following Mitch's directions, had taken a cab downtown to a strip mall. There were a few stores there, not yet open, a diner, and a bank. He knew that Mitch was in the diner, but he was surprised when he walked in to see Mitch in a booth with both of his bags next to him on the bench. Mitch looked like hell, as if he hadn't slept at all, with dark circles under his eyes. Keith was amused to note, though, that there was a large hickey on his neck, dark red and already turning purple. Mitch looked up from his lone cup of coffee, holding it with both hands to keep it from shaking. He was scared, very scared, but Keith had no idea why, and needed answers. He nodded as the waitress filled his coffee cup, and waited until she had left to finally ask him what was wrong.

"Well? What the hell are you doing here?" Keith asked. "And why are your bags with you?"

"I had to leave," Mitch answered, looking down. "I fucked up, Keith. Lance, he found out that I'm not, not who I said I was."

"What?" Keith hissed, wanting to slap him. They'd worked so hard, planned this so carefully. How the hell had it gone wrong? "What did you do? How did he find out?"

"I screwed up, ok?" Mitch said again. "He asked where I was from, and I told him, because it just seemed like a really innocent question, and he, um, he ran a background check on me."

"How could you be so stupid?" Keith barked, realizing that everyone was looking at them even as he also realized that his hand was raised to slap Mitch off of his chair. Fortunately there were only a few people in the diner, and Keith lowered his hand, calming himself. Mitch looked suitably chagrined, and Keith knew that he was aware of how badly he'd screwed up. "What happened?"

"He got a call this morning from his investigator," Mitch said, doing his best to look scared, sad, and disappointed all at once. He had to get Keith to believe this, but he didn't think it would be a problem. Deep down, Keith expected him to be a screwup, to have blown this somehow, especially after their talk the other day. Now he just had to get him to believe all of it, but that shouldn't be a problem, either. He'd proven before that he was a hell of an actor, and he was banking on the guess that Keith, in his arrogance, would never believe that Mitch could lie to him. "He got upset, told me that I was a liar, and he started yelling at me. I thought he was my friend, Keith, but he was so, so angry. He screamed at me, told me to get out, and then he left to go talk to Joey, so I grabbed my stuff and ran."

"Does he know about me?" Keith asked, the wheels in his head turning already. Mitch could be replaced, of course. After this, Lance would be wary, but it could still happen, or he could try Justin this time.

"No, he thinks I was alone," Mitch answered. That much was true, and sometimes the truth could be the best lie of all. "It's not a total loss, though."

Mitch reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic card. He slid it across the table as Keith watched carefully.

"I stole his ATM card," Mitch said, not quite smiling. "I know it's not much, but I thought, maybe, you know, we could use it to get enough money to send me back to the apartment. He doesn't know about you, so I could give some to you, too. This whole thing wouldn't be a total loss."

"You know the code for this?" Keith asked, picking it up, and Mitch nodded. The code had been written in Lance's calendar, on one of the personal pages. Keith looked thoughtful. "ATM machines have a borrowing limit. We'd have to hit a bunch of them, really fast. Does he know this is gone?"

"I don't think so," Mitch answered. "I put everything back the way it was, and what's he going to need his ATM card for this morning? He might not notice all day, and we're in the middle of downtown. We can just go from machine to machine."

"That might work," Keith said, nodding. Maybe this wouldn't be a total loss after all. With the entire day at their disposal, they could rack up a few thousand dollars, at least. Actually, since he had decided about a minute ago to take care of Mitch by the end of the day, the money would be his, free and clear, to add to his bank account. "OK, so you screwed up, but maybe this can make up for it. This saves it a little, I guess. Good job, partner."

Mitch smiled under Keith's praise, as he had so many times before, but he saw something in his eyes, something cold. He'd have to play the rest of this very carefully. They finished their coffee, Keith throwing some money down on the table, and walked out of the restaurant and down to the bank. Mitch was hoping Keith's greed would get the better of him, and it did. Keith pulled Mitch over to the machine, not stopping for a second to think about the fact that he was on camera as well. Mitch stood on his crutches, his bag at his feet and the other over his shoulder, and watched as Keith pushed the card into the machine.

"What's the code?" Keith asked quietly.

"Four four two five," Mitch answered, watching as Keith typed it in. "Keith, maybe, you know, since this didn't work out, we could go back and do a couple of the other ones. Blackmailing the businessmen again."

"I guess we could," Keith said amiably. In his head, a warning bell went off. Why was Mitch suddenly not reluctant? He'd always had to talk Mitch into those jobs before. "I thought you didn't like doing those jobs."

"I don't, not really," Mitch answered, realizing he had slipped. "But, you know, they're all we have, unless you have another plan."

"As a matter of fact, Mitch, I do have another plan for you," Keith said, smiling as he took the stack of twenties from the machine. "Later we'll go somewhere quiet, and I'll bring you up to speed."

Before Keith could say anything else, though, he heard car doors fly open behind him.

"Freeze!" someone yelled, and Keith turned to see several men with guns pointed at him.

"What the fuck?" he blurted, already moving, starting to run. It was useless, though. Before he got more than two steps three of them tackled him to the ground, pressing his face to the sidewalk. As Keith struggled against them he felt his hands being pulled behind his back, and one of them began to read him his rights. He looked up and saw Mitch looking sadly down at him. "You set me up!"

"Yeah," Mitch said simply, tugging up his t-shirt so that Keith could see the microphone taped to his stomach and chest. "I did."

The officers might have thought he was exercising his right to remain silent, but Keith was actually speechless as they led him away to a waiting squad car, tossing him roughly into the back. As he watched through the window, trying to get comfortable with his arms twisted around him, another officer led Mitch to a second car, holding the door open for him to get into the back, and throwing his bags in the trunk.

Back at the hotel, Chris paced around Lance's suite, unable to sit still no matter how many times JC told him to. Justin sat in one of the armchairs, barefoot but all in black with a turtleneck and long sleeves, his legs folded up on the seat with his arms wrapped around his knees. JC sat across from Justin, trying to keep an eye on him and Lance at the same time, wondering which of them was going to start crying first. Joey sat next to Lance on the couch, trying to comfort him, but unsure of what to do, since Lance wasn't crying. Lance had just finished telling them everything, the entire story, that Mitch had told him, from how he ended up on the streets all the way up to last night, when he admitted to being some kind of con man. Lance left a few parts out, but they all knew what had gone on in here last night, which made Mitch's sudden departure all the more confusing.

"Maybe he felt bad, and just decided to leave," Chris suggested.

"He wouldn't do that," Lance said, shaking his head. "He would have done that before last night, if he was going to just go."

"Lance, he did take your ATM card," JC said gently. "I really think we need to call your bank and get that turned off."

"No!" Lance said sharply.

"Lance," Joey began.

"No," Lance said, shaking his head. "He wouldn't just take it, not without a good reason. There has to be a reason."

"What if the reason is that he's stealing from you?" Chris asked. He wasn't really pissed at Lance, because they'd all screwed up in letting Mitch get this close. More than anything, he was pissed that Wade had been right all along.

"He wouldn't do that," Lance insisted. "If he was going to, he could have just followed his original plan. He could have just blackmailed me, like he was supposed to, and he didn't. He wouldn't steal from me."

JC and Chris both frowned at that, but decided to let it go. Lance might not be capable of clearly seeing Mitch right now, not without his emotional blinders. Mitch had lied to them, taken advantage of all of them, and now they were supposed to believe that he had taken Lance's ATM card, but wasn't going to use it? No matter how Lance felt about him, he was a thief and a con artist, and they couldn't trust that he wasn't out hurting Lance, even now, just because Lance didn't think he would.

"Lance, what do you want to do now?" Joey asked. If he didn't want to shut the card off, did he have something else in mind?

"We have to find him," Lance said, looking around at all of them. "We have to find him. Wherever he is, he's scared, and confused, and we can't just let him go. I have to find him. I have to find him, and help him."

"Lance, wherever he is, he's out stealing money from your bank!" Chris burst. "I can't believe you still want to give him another chance. He told you he's a thief, and then he stole from you. Why aren't we on the phone with the cops right now?"

"Chris!" JC said sharply. "Calm down. We'll take appropriate steps once we talk this out, and Lance feels comfortable with it."

"There's nothing for me to feel comfortable with," Lance said, shaking his head. "I know you guys all think I'm lovestruck, and that I'm not thinking straight, like I just got snowed under by a hot guy and a good fuck, but that's not it. You weren't here, you didn't talk to him. I know he lied about some stuff, and that you all feel kind of betrayed. I do, too, but he couldn't lie about the things I saw in his eyes. I love him, and he cares about me, too. Wherever he is, he isn't hurting me. I don't know what he's doing, but I don't want to think about him out there, alone, back on the streets."

Lance jumped up, stalking over to the windows, looking down as if he might see Mitch out on the sidewalks below. JC, Chris, and Joey all looked at each other, unsure of what to say, and Justin's voice broke the silence.

"I'll help you look for him," Justin said, still holding his knees. Wade hadn't been in his suite this morning, having left like Justin told him to, and that made last night seem very real to him again. He looked very sad, to Lance, but Lance could tell that he meant it. "We have to hurry, because we only have a couple hours before lunch, but that still gives us most of the day before sound checks. Where do you think we should start looking for him? We could check the homeless shelters, or some other hotels, or maybe just drive around and look on the sidewalks, unless you have some better ideas. Do you have any other ideas, Lance?"

"No, Justin," Lance said, shaking his head. He smiled. "But those are good ideas. Thank you. I appreciate it."

"It's not that easy, you guys," JC said, shaking his head.

"I'll help, too, if it's what you want," Joey said, and JC shot him a look of exasperation.

"Guys," JC began again.

It's not that he didn't think they should find Mitch, because really, they needed to, but he thought they were all looking at this the wrong way. Before he could say anything else, though, the phone rang, and Lance raced over to it, snatching it off of the table. The four of them watched tensely as Lance talked to someone, his voice firm, but a little surprised. They were only getting little bits, and Lance wasn't speaking in full sentences, but suddenly he sighed deeply.

"I understand," he said, his shoulders dropping. "Where did you say you're located? I'll be there as soon as I can. Thank you."

Lance hung up the phone and sighed, closing his eyes for a minute.

"Lance?" Joey asked, worried about the way his shoulders were dropping.

"That was, that was the police," Lance said, wiping quickly at his eyes. "They have Mitch downtown, with his accomplice."

"Accomplice?" Chris asked.

"Keith," Lance said, turning away to go get dressed, not seeing all of their mouths dropping open.

All five of them went to the police station, leaving their bodyguard in the car, figuring that they couldn't get into much trouble in the precinct house. The ride over had been kind of quiet, all of them trying to figure out what they were going to do, and how Mitch had ended up getting arrested when none of them had called the cops yet. And Keith? Mitch's accomplice was Keith? It made sense that he had to be working with someone in order to get this close to them, especially to know enough about their movements to be able to throw himself in front of Lance's car, but it was still a surprise. They had worked with Keith for months, and had trusted him as much as they trusted any of their staff. To think that he had been plotting against them for months, watching them, waiting for his chance to hurt them, and to hurt Lance, was disturbing for all of them.

Lance asked at the desk for the man who had called them, and an officer came out to meet them, leading them into a back conference room. They walked in and faced two older gentlemen, who motioned for them to sit down. One wore a suit, but the other was in a police uniform, and he stood, holding out his hand, as they walked in.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "My name is Charles Bridge, and I'm the chief of police. This is Marcus Sanderson, the district attorney. Which of you is James?"

"I go by Lance."

"Of course, sorry," the chief said, gesturing at the chairs. "Please, have a seat."

"Is it ok if my friends stay with me?" Lance asked, looking at the others. The chief looked at the district attorney, who nodded, and they all sat down. "Where's Mitch?"

"He's down the hall, in a holding cell," the chief answered. "We've separated him from his partner, for his own protection, as he feels that there may be a threat to his safety. I have to say that this is one of our more unusual cases."

"What, exactly, is going on?" JC asked. "What did you pick them up for?"

"We didn't, exactly," Sanderson answered. "Mitch came to us, early this morning. How much do you know about his situation?"

They all looked at each other, unsure of what they should say, or how much they should reveal. Sanderson caught it.

"He already told us everything," he said understandingly. "According to him, we know more than you. I just wanted to know what parts we should skip. I also feel that you should know that we are aware of the, well, the sensitive nature of the extortion that they were planning, and it will not leave this room."

"Thank you," Lance said quietly. Under the table Joey squeezed his hand, offering his support. "Mitch told me last night that he became my friend so that he could get proof that I'm gay to blackmail me with. We talked about it, and he explained that he decided not to do it, but when I woke up this morning, I found out that he was gone, and that he had taken my ATM card with him."

"We have that," the chief said. "We'll return it to you before you go."

"How did you get it?" Chris asked. "I don't understand any of this."

"For a little over a year, Mitch and Keith have operated as a team to conduct a similar blackmail scheme on a number of men," Sanderson said. "Evidence of this exists in their apartment, in New York, which Mitch is going to turn over to us. When he took your ATM card this morning, he came directly here, and asked to speak to a detective. He laid out his story for them, and offered to help us catch his partner in exchange for leniency for himself. Mitch allowed us to set up a quick sting, and right now we're holding them both for theft while the New York City police department obtains a warrant to search their apartment for evidence of the other extortion operations."

"What if I don't press charges?" Lance asked, looking up.

"Excuse me?" Sanderson asked. The others also looked up in surprise.

"Right now you're just holding them for stealing from me, while you wait," Lance said. "What happens if I decide not to press charges?"

"All you would really do is slow us down," Sanderson answered. "We'd have to release them, at least until the other evidence comes in and we can charge them for it. In the meantime, they'd be free to go, and would probably take off before we could find them. You're not thinking about that, are you?"

Lance didn't answer, looking away at the wall. If he decided not to press charges for the theft of his ATM card, to just claim that it had been an accident even though they all knew the truth, Mitch would have a chance to get away. Turning himself in had been a horrible, unnecessary mistake, and this was his chance to get out of it. Sure, Keith would get away, too, but maybe that was worth it, if it meant Mitch could be free.

"I want to see him," Lance said, standing.

"Lance," JC began. Lance ignored him.

"I want to talk to Mitch, now, in private, please," he said, staring Sanderson in the eyes.

"This is highly unusual," Sanderson began, but he caught something in Lance's expression, something hard, and sharp around the edges. "Then again, so is the rest of this case. I'll give you ten minutes, but I want an answer from you after that. Chief Bridge, could you please have someone escort Mr. Bass to the holding cells?"

"Certainly," the chief said, rising.

Lance wondered if they were getting special treatment because of who they were, but decided that it didn't matter. After he left the room, the others looked at each other uncertainly, hoping that he would be ok, but also hoping that he would make the right decision. When they reached the holding cells, the chief let Lance into a hallway and called the guard out, telling Lance to knock on the door when he was ready to leave and reminding him again that he had ten minutes. Lance nodded, and began walking down the short hallway until he stood in front of the cell. Mitch sat alone on the bottom bunk, his casted leg stretched out in front of him. When he saw Lance, he sighed, and knew that this was almost over.

"Hi," Mitch said quietly. "I'm sorry I took your ATM card, but I needed it."

"I know," Lance said, standing with his hands on the bars. He wished Mitch would get up and walk over to him, but he didn't move. "Mitch, why did you do it?"

"I told you, I needed the card," Mitch said. "I needed something to hook Keith with."

"That's not what I meant," Lance said. "You could have stayed with me. You could have taken that job, and built a new life, and left Keith and everything else behind."

Mitch sighed again, but he didn't look away.

"He wouldn't have let me, Lance," Mitch said. "If I'd stayed, he would have hurt us both. If I left, he would have tried to find another way to hurt you. I had to get him away from you, and there wasn't any way to implicate him without implicating myself, so I thought maybe the police and I could cut a deal, and they agreed. After they have all the evidence, they're going to contact some of the guys we hit before, and get them to testify against Keith, too, so it's not just my word against his."

"You still don't have to be here," Lance said. "You don't have to stay in jail. I could post your bail, and hire you a lawyer. We can tell them that Keith forced you, that he, I don't know, that he threatened you or something. I can get you out of this, Mitch."

Mitch stood, finally, and walked over to the bars, his crutches making a soft padded tapping sound on the floor. He was close enough to see into Lance's eyes, close enough to touch him, but he didn't. He just stared, his blue eyes inscrutable, and kept his distance.

"I don't want you to get me out of this, Lance," he said finally, shaking his head.

"But why?" Lance asked. "I don't understand, Mitch. Why do you want to be here?"

"Because I have to make up for what I've done," Mitch answered. "It's not enough to not hurt you, Lance. It's not enough that I didn't go through with it this time, because there are still all those other times when I did, all those guys that we took money from. Maybe those guys did just use me, but what about them? How did they feel when we were done? What did they have to think about at night, when they were trying to fall asleep? What did they have to see when they looked in the mirror? I did that to them, Lance, me and Keith. I have to make up for that. I can't just walk away from it, or get out of it."

"You could still get away," Lance said. "They told me that if I don't press charges against you for stealing my ATM card, they'd have to let you go, because they wouldn't have anything to hold you on. Maybe Keith would get away, but you could, too."

"And then what, Lance?" Mitch asked, shaking his head. "Make up another name? Go on the run somewhere? They're probably searching the apartment in New York right now, Lance, and they won't have to look very hard, since I told them where everything is. Once they have that, they'll have enough for more charges, but if I'm gone, I'll be a fugitive, Lance. I can't do that. I want to make amends, if I can."

Lance sighed, pacing the hallway.

"But what'll happen to you afterward?" Lance asked. "You'll get some jail time, no matter what kind of deal you cut. What'll happen to you after that?"

"I'll have a clean slate," Mitch answered, looking down at the floor. "I'll have settled everything, and I can get on with my life, with a real life, like a normal person."

"What about me?" Lance asked finally.

"What about you?" Mitch asked coldly. He felt his insides twisting again, but he had to do this, too.

"What?" Lance asked, blinking in surprise.

"You heard me, Lance," Mitch said. "I'm doing this for myself, Lance, not for you. I'm taking responsibility for what I've done, and I've already settled up with you. You and I are even. I'll still pay you back for the clothes, and stuff, but other than that, you and I are finished."

Lance swallowed, feeling his eyes sting. Why was Mitch doing this?

"But, but Mitch, I," Lance began, shaking his head. "I love you. I mean that, Mitch. I love you, too much to let this happen, too much to let you go like this."

Mitch sighed, laying his hand over one of Lance's.

"Lance, I care about you," he said finally. "I do. You're the best friend I ever had, but the way you feel about me, I don't feel that way about you, Lance. I'm sorry, but I don't love you. I know it hurts you to hear this, but when I said that I loved you, it was just another lie."

Mitch watched Lance's face, sighing, and could almost hear the sound of him breaking, of his heart dropping down and smashing all over the floor. Lance watched Mitch as well, reading his face, and saw how blank it was, how serious. Mitch, finally, was telling the truth. He cared about Lance, but he didn't love him, not as anything more than a friend.

"I'm sorry, Lance," Mitch said again, adding just enough feeling to the words to make it sound sincere. It wasn't hard, because he really was sorry to hurt him, but he knew that he had to hurt him a little now to keep him from being hurt worse later. Lance sighed, swallowing, fighting to keep everything inside. It wasn't Mitch's fault he didn't feel the same way.

"You're sure about this?" Lance asked. "The charges, I mean. You're sure you want me to do this?"

"Yes, Lance," Mitch answered, nodding. "I need you to do this, so that I can get on with my life, and so that Keith won't be able to hurt anyone else."

"OK," Lance said, looking away. He started to walk back toward the door, but turned for a second. "Mitch, once they get the other charges, I'm going to drop mine. It won't matter then, and I won't feel like I'm hurting my friend."

"That's fine, Lance," Mitch said, nodding. "Actually, I appreciate that."

"Mitch, this is goodbye, isn't it?" Lance asked quietly.

"I think it should be," Mitch answered. "It wouldn't be good for you, you know, for your career, to be close friends with a convicted criminal. So, I guess, you know, goodbye, Lance."

Lance nodded sadly from the end of the hall, barely able to see Mitch.

"Goodbye," he said, turning away.

Lance tapped at the door to be let out, and then he was gone. Mitch walked back to his bunk, setting his crutches carefully against the wall. He sighed, thinking about what he'd just done. It could have gone either way. He could have answered differently, but what would have happened then? Lance would have waited for Mitch, because he was like that, loyal and faithful. Lance would have waited however long it took for Mitch to get out of jail, denying himself the chance to meet someone else, denying himself a real chance at happiness, to wait for someone who had never made anyone happy. Mitch had thought about it all night, and, in the end, had decided that it wasn't worth it, because he wasn't worth it. Lance deserved better than him, better than someone who hurt people who cared about him, who hurt his family, his friends, and even Lance, the man who loved him.

He thought about what he'd just said, about how he told Lance that he cared about him, but didn't love him.

Out of all the lies he'd told Lance since he met him, that one had been the hardest to tell, but it was the one he most needed Lance to believe.

Concluded.

Thanks to everyone who supported my summer vacation project.