Chapter 1 His head throbbed and pain was splintering that space behind his eyes.  Memo to self.  Never go out with Joey on a night when you have work the next day. Lance stood on the platform waiting for that damned early train, wondering how he could have promised his boss Jenna that he would be in so early this morning. The cold Chicago wind swept along the platform of the el, whipping his jacket, cutting through him like a knife.  He frowned.  There *was* a reason he came to Chicago from the sunny south, wasn’t there?  Oh yeah, that job in advertising.  The one that paid the medium bucks and allowed him to live in this great metropolis with two friends in an apartment intended for one. He dug in his pockets for his gloves as he scanned the tracks, willing the train to appear before he became a popsicle.  Not likely, he snorted to himself.  Alcohol has a much lower freezing point and judging from how he felt, he had to be 80% alcohol.  Oh shit, God, please make this train come. As a matter of fact, if we’re looking for miracles, how about sobering me up before I get to work, or sending lightning to strike my ex-boyfriend AJ, or finding me a new boy so I can forget about that hot little sexy thang I dated until two nights ago. He bit his lip and swore at the threatened tears.  Oh God, not now.  The pressure behind his eyes built and he closed his eyes, squeezed them shut actually, willing away the pain *and* the tears. The rumble in the station announced the imminent arrival of the commuter train.  He glanced around, disgusted that he was so early there were only a few other travelers waiting.  Shit on this, he thought glumly. The new ad campaign needed a jump start— something original.  Yeah original, just like the clothing line, another GAP-Abercrombie-JCrew clone that expected their agency to come up with a totally new concept, something to stir the souls of teen boys and their girlfriends everywhere. So here he was, his brain as frozen as his hands, expected to do something incredibly creative at 7AM after a hard night of drinking.  He was grateful when the doors opened and he stepped into the warmth of the car and sank down onto the hard plastic seat. His eyes closed without any conscious thought and he drifted into a nasty little scene playing on his internal screen.  He and AJ were dancing, thrusting hips at one another, staring into each other’s eyes, promising so much more than they could do out here on the dance floor. Then AJ’s glance shifted and when it returned to Lance, it was different, changed in some essential way.  Lance looked over his shoulder and saw Nick Carter, rubbing his hands together as if he had just come in from the cold and reaching for the drink the bartender had already provided. Lance’s eyes darted suspiciously between the two of them, but he couldn’t see any evidence that anything was different and AJ was still dancing his ass off, edging toward Lance with a lascivious grin that Lance returned, wondering how long they had to stay here. They had been dating for a few months and Lance was head over heels, the born romantic.  He was the one who came to AJ’s place with wine or a new CD or another small gift that said I love you.  AJ always laughed and kissed Lance with a smooth sexiness that could make Lance hard in an instant, but he never gave gifts.  He wasn’t romantic, he had declared, and it seemed okay to Lance because what AJ lacked in romance he made up in sex appeal. So here they were, Lance proud to be with this sexy, dyed -blond boy with the tattoos, so different from Lance’s own conservative self.  He always looked in the mirror before leaving to meet AJ and wondered what it was that AJ saw and just when he would stop seeing it? His best friend Joey, one of his roommates, teased him all the time, asking how he and AJ had ever gotten together.  Oil and water, night and day, black and white, good and bad.  Lance laughed and told him opposites attract and then Joey always got serious and told Lance to be careful.  Lance wasn’t sure why Joey always said this but he knew Joey loved him in that brother way and was just worried. Several dances later, AJ excused himself to go to the john, telling Lance to order them drinks while he was gone.  Lance moved to the bar and ordered the two Jack on the rocks, staring into space while he waited.  He picked up the drinks and turned to head toward their table, his glance taking in the other bar sitters, the stool where Nick had been empty. Nick worked with AJ in the recording studio and had been out with them a few times.  They all liked this place so it certainly hadn’t shocked Lance when he showed up here.  But now, his seat was empty and AJ still wasn’t back. Dread curled in Lance’s gut as he made his way to the men’s room, slowly, hoping AJ would come out, and his concern would be for nothing.  But he didn’t and Nick hadn’t reappeared and Lance was outside the door.  He pushed gently and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges and he saw exactly what he was afraid he would see. They were all over each other, devouring lips and skin, pushing against one another in this feral embrace that admitted no one else.  They weren’t even aware that they weren’t alone.  Vaguely, Lance wondered if AJ really thought he was that stupid or if he just didn’t give a damn? He let the door close and left the club, barely remembering to get his jacket.  It was a long walk but he just moved, one foot in front of the other until he was outside of his apartment. When he let himself in, James looked up.  He was the official stay-at-home-Saturday night geek and Lance knew he would be there.  Of course, Joey was out. When was Joey home?  Lance threw himself on the sofa and laid his head back. James said softly, “Want to talk?” Lance just shook his head.  He did actually but with Joey.  He wanted to know what Joey had seen, what he had been warning him about? This wasn’t the first time.  It was a pattern.  The great looking guy, too hot for Lance, dates him anyway and after a few months is bored but Lance is too nice to just dump so.....end of story.  Lance felt the tears come and just let them creep out soundlessly and make their way down his cheeks in tiny streams. When he started sniffling loudly, James handed him a huge wad of tissues and told him that’s all there was, so be careful with them.  Lance smiled at the small practicality before the picture of AJ and Nick flashed into his brain and the smile disappeared into a grimace of pain. He pushed himself up off the couch and went to his bed, wishing he had drunk a lot more than the one lousy drink he had managed.  He couldn’t even pretend he didn’t hear the phone when it rang a few minutes later. He picked up the phone and held his breath as he heard the apologetic voice.  “I’m so sorry, man, I was gonna tell you.” He didn’t breathe until he had replaced the receiver, gently putting it back in the cradle.  Only then did he allow himself to sob into his pillow, wondering what made him such an easy target. The train lurched into another station, startling him fully awake.  That was only a little over two days ago and he felt like it had been a lifetime.  Damn that skinny bitch, he thought.  The headache was finally starting to fade, thanks to the four advils he had thrown down and he looked around when the doors opened. It was still too early for a mad rush to the train so he was surprised when at the very last moment, a blur hurtled into the car and threw himself on the seat. He had been grinning when the doors closed but that had quickly changed to anxiety when he saw the cop peering in, saying something on his walkie-talkie. The young man flopped back and closed his eyes.  Lance watched fascinated at the drama playing out in front of him, noticing the tears that formed dirty rivers before the boy wiped them self-consciously on his shirt sleeve.  As he opened his eyes and caught sight of Lance staring mesmerized, he flashed an angry look that warned Lance not to mess with him. Lance didn’t want to stare, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy.  Under a layer of dirt and the crown of matted curls was the face of an angel.  Lance had seen enough models to know beautiful when he saw it and this kid was fucking beautiful.  He saw flashes of blue when the boy sent daggers his way and a body that had defined planes that the camera would love. I must still be fucking drunk to consider the idea that I could build an ad campaign around this boy. Especially as it was obvious the boy was missing some things like a coat or a hat or gloves. Even in the relative warmth of the train, his teeth were chattering, only a thin cotton shirt between him and Mother Nature. “Hey, you,” Lance called, thinking he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing.  The boy’s eyes remained closed and Lance was sure he was being ignored.  It pissed him off that this little prick could be that arrogant. “Hey, you, the one running away from the cops,” Lance persisted. “What?” The one word answer came out in a short high bark and Lance shrunk back into his seat, wondering how good an idea this was.  He lurched to his feet, willing away the headache that was returning with a vengeance, and went to stand over the younger man, swaying with the movement of the train. The boy looked up when he felt Lance’s presence.  He gave no ground, just glaring at Lance, demanding silently to know what the hell Lance wanted.  Lance was at a loss where to start.  “You oughtta be in pictures” came to mind and he snorted a laugh at the thought. When he heard the laugh, the street boy lunged up and pushed Lance out of the way.  Lance, off balance, nearly fell and ended up sitting down hard on the seat.  “Wait.  Sorry,” he called after the departing back. For some reason, the boy did stop and turned around, coming back, a forlorn expression on his face. “What,” he sighed.  But just then the train started to slow and his face took on a wild expression, as he searched the car for a place to hide.  It was wide open and Lance saw the hopelessness take over. “Sit down,” Lance ordered.  When the boy responded, Lance stood over him, trying to block him from sight. The young man looked up, an incredibly sweet smile on his face, “Thanks, but that won’t work.  They know I’m here.  Justin.” Lance bit his lip.  “Justin?  Lance,” he said holding out his hand, slightly regretting it when Justin shook it with a hand that said he hadn’t bathed any time recently. The train ground to a stop and the doors rattled open. Predictably the cops headed over and nudged Lance out of the way, “Excuse me, sir.” Justin flew up and tried to make a break for the door, but the nearest cop had no trouble grabbing him and throwing him onto the floor, handcuffs ready.  Justin continued to struggle and the cop leaned on him heavily, driving the breath out of his thin body. When the cuffs were in place, he dragged the boy to his feet. All the fight, all the arrogance was gone and in its place was a desperate, miserable boy fighting tears. Lance stepped over to another cop and motioned him aside. “What did he do?” he asked, as if he had a right to an answer. The cop shrugged, “Ran out on a check.” Lance’s eyes widened.  All this for a diner check? “How much?” The cop cocked his head and eyed Lance speculatively.  Lance squirmed under the stare but remained determined.  He avoided looking at Justin. “Ten bucks,“ he said as he watched Lance pull out his wallet.  Lance pulled out twenty and handed it to the cop. “Can you make it right?” Justin was staring openmouthed at the interaction. “Yeah,” he said, and then added, “Be careful.  He ain’t all that clean.” Lance blushed and started to say something, but the cop held up his hand.  “I ain’t interested.  Uncuff him, Jack.  Sir Galahad just rescued his boy.” The cops left and it was just the two of them, staring at one another.  The fell into each other’s arms as the train staggered out of the station.  Each jumped back as if burned, not even daring to meet the other’s gaze. “Um, thanks, man,” Justin said softly.  “So what do you want me to do.  Twenty doesn’t buy much.” The pain in his voice tore through Lance and he could feel tears trying to force their way up.  Anger was his only out. “What the fuck?  Why would I want you?  You’re filthy,” he snapped.  He saw the boy in Justin cringe. “Can’t anybody just be nice to you?” “No,” Justin whispered.  He sighed and pulled himself together, pulling on his street armor, feeling naked and vulnerable without it.  When he met Lance’s eyes again, the streetwise smart mouth was back.  “So you don’t want what I got?  Add a twenty and I’ll blow you right here.” Lance didn’t answer.  He moved away, determined to get off at the next stop and take a cab.  He couldn’t stand the thought of another moment with this kid.  He ran out as soon as the doors opened, gulping huge mouthfuls of clean air. As the train pulled out, he turned and caught a last glimpse of the boy, hunched over, hugging himself and rocking back and forth. continue menu