Chapter 17 The words had come out before she could even think. Lance stared, not able to believe what he had just heard. The silence in the room was thick, solid, and everyone waited. JC looked stricken, Jeff shocked, and the two stood, unable to move. "Do you really mean that?" Lance asked. "If you're not willing to do the storyboards tonight, yes." "It's not about willing, I just can't. I need to find Justin." Jenna started out of the room, "Fine. Then look for another job." JC ran after her, "Please, Jenna, don't. Let me talk to him." Jenna eyed him, debating. She knew it was foolish to have done something so rash but she was livid. She wasn't even sure the campaign could continue without Lance but she was damned if she was going to give in again. "Talk. Come see me down the hall when you're done. Ten more minutes, Jeff, ok?" JC pulled Lance aside, the blond pale, all the color drained from his face. "Lance, let me go find him after we're finished here. I know where to look, who to talk to. The truth is if that john, the perv, finds him first, he won't be back till tomorrow anyhow." Lance nodded, listening to the logical train of thought, as JC continued, "You do the storyboards. Don't blow your career. And if nothing else, *I* need you here, man. What do you say?" "You're right I suppose, JC, but I am so freaked. You *know* where he'll go...." "I know. You can't change that. Just let me handle it." When Lance nodded again, JC clapped him on the back, "Let me go make nice to Jenna. Hope she likes me as much as you think she does." Lance paced, counting the steps, counting the tiles, pushing thoughts about where Justin was at this moment out of his head. Somewhere around the twentieth time he counted the same spaces, JC and Jenna came back. There were no smiles and the tension was obvious as Jenna said, "This was a fucking bad idea from day one. *Your* bad idea that I was stupid enough to buy. JC says you'll do the storyboards. Yes?" "Yes." "And tomorrow, you will both be here, on time, ready to work, no matter where your boy is." "Jenna," Lance said, "how can you ask that? What if...?" Her hand flew up, "We'll deal with that if we have to. Now, Jeff, let's get it going." They worked for four straight hours and it was after five when Jeff was satisfied with what he had shot. Lance had been checking his watch surreptitiously every few minutes, willing the session to end. Justin had run to the lake and found a bench, shivering and hugging himself, out of sight of all but the most determined. He needed the familiar like an addict, jonesing for a fix. But it was too early so he stayed there, thoughts of Lance's disappointment and hurt battering him. Had it really only been a few twenty-fours ago that they had that wonderful night? It seemed like an illusion now, a fine crystal piece, shattered into a million pieces by a careless movement. Justin forced the sadness back, forced the feelings for Lance to some hidden place as he prepared to betray him again. The sun was setting, its pale wintry light fading away, when Justin pushed himself off the bench and headed for the corner. As he came closer he slowed down, eying the boys there and sneering at himself that he thought he could get away from this. He was greeted by a few, ignored by many and scorned by a couple. "Hey, Timberlake, modeling a bust? Find out you have no dick?" He turned his back on them, focusing on the few who had acknowledged him. "How's it going, Howie?" he asked the shy young man. "OK, I guess. What happened?" "Not my thing. Guess I just can't shake this place," he replied with a sarcastic laugh. "Um, anybody asking for me?" "Some. Especially you-know-who. He comes every night." Justin just nodded and settled back to wait. It wasn't long. As soon as the shadows grew deep enough to hide their faces, the johns started creeping out of the woodwork. "Hey, you. How much?" Justin heard and he cringed. But at least this was the known. No surprises. He swivelled to answer and saw him, pushing the other johns aside, determined to get to Justin. The small man waiting for an answer nearly fell when the john pushed him away and grabbed Justin's arm. He growled in a low voice, "Welcome back, baby." Justin didn't resist at all, shocking the older man, who cocked his head, giving Justin a quizzical look. "Where to?" Justin whispered. "My hotel," the john said, meaning the Palmer House Hilton. Justin had this odd, relaxed feeling as if everything had fallen into place and followed him in silence. Ten minutes later, it was deja vu– the lobby, the elevator, the room. Justin waited for instruction and stripped when the john waved his hand to indicate that he get naked. Lance and JC and the agency seemed a million miles away. The john stared at that beautiful body, an artist faced with an empty canvas. Justin stood up under the frank inspection, the streetboy insisting that it was the john's right. After all, he would pay top dollar. He pulled Justin toward him, the black leather cuffs open and ready. He stroked the inside of Justin's wrist, the smoothness silk under his touch, so unmarked. Then he slipped the cuff on and snapped it closed, repeating the same ritual with the other arm. It had only been weeks but it felt like years and this boy was so special. "Lay down, boy," he said. This time the memory that flashed was sweet, the picture of Lance making love to him clear and sad. But *this* was where he belonged. He knew it and the idea of talking to someone about this was ridiculous. "Lay down I said," the john snarled. Justin jumped and complied, watching the man put on the ankle cuffs and attach the four to the posts. When Justin was helpless, the john sat down and stroked Justin's cock, more gently than ever before and it put Justin on edge. "Justin, isn't that what your boyfriend said your name was?" When Justin didn't answer, the man continued, "Pretty name. Pretty boy. Want to be mine? Tell that boyfriend to keep off?" Justin was trembling. This was new, this possessiveness. Almost as if he were a wild bird who had returned to a long-abandoned nest and he needed to keep him tied to him. He saw the glitter in the older man's eyes when he saw and smelled the fear. "Time for your old friend," the man laughed and produced the black silk blindfold. He put it on and Justin sighed. The john would have been shocked if he had read Justin's thoughts. He was safe. He *knew* this. Safer than anything on that photo shoot, safer than the "us" he wanted so badly. The touches started, soft and then hard, gentle then painful, the contradictions, the satisfaction for this man, the fear and hurt for Justin that filled the air, feeding the john's hunger. And so it went, long into the night. Only this time it wasn't Lance's breathing that he heard . It was his own cries, his whimpers and begging noises, until he left his body behind and headed for some other place. Lance and JC left together, Lance loaded down with the storyboards. They separated, JC promising to update Lance as often as he could, Lance extracting a promise from JC to be careful himself. Lance forced himself to concentrate on the work, his heart breaking when he looked at each drawing and scratched Justin out, rewriting the scenes for one person. The client's head man said he would be over early to approve them. He wished it was an escape rather than a constant reminder that Justin was missing. He stared at the phone as it remained silent on the night table. "Call, JC," he whispered. So he jumped when the phone rang. "Lance?" "Did you find him?" "Not exactly. He's with that john but no one knows where. Probably the Palmer House Hilton, but it's not the type of place to give out room numbers even if we knew his name. We're gonna have to wait until he surfaces. Is it still ok if I crash with you guys? There's nothing more I can do here." Lance marveled at the matter of fact tone as JC revealed that Justin had gone with that creep, stepped in front of the fucking train again. Lance wanted to scream, to cry, to yell out to the universe. Instead he fixed tea and steered his brain back to the storyboards. They were done by the time JC rang the bell and Lance wondered where he had gone after they talked. He smelled wine and guessed, "Joey's?" "Yeah, sorry, I just needed to be with someone I could talk to without hurting. Joey's a good guy." "The best," Lance agreed. "Well, I'm going to bed but I doubt that will include sleep. See you in the morning. Come in if you need anything, talk, anything..." he trailed off. Neither slept much, just restless tossing and turning, dreams of Justin making the situation worse. When they got up, they both looked much the worse for wear and JC especially had to take an extra long shower to even feel human. Justin woke up in the same position, his arms and legs without feeling, a need to pee hard-on crying for relief. He stayed still, listening in the dark for the clues. A harsh laugh made him jump. "So, you're awake, lazy boy. Shower time." This was where he got a hand job and blew the john for the cash. When he could see once again, he blinked into steely eyes, something different there, he thought. But everything hurt too much to spend any energy guessing. So he obeyed every instruction, stumbling on rubbery legs, and had soon done the deed and was dressed, waiting to get paid. As he headed back toward the corner, thoughts collided until there was a cacophony in his brain that was making him crazy. The real Justin and the streetboy were arguing, hurling insults, and yelling in piercing tones. It had started sometime during the night, the real Justin talking, asking why he would throw away the best thing that had ever happened to him? And the streetboy had no answer except that a relationship, something that required an equal effort, was just too fucking scary to let happen. He needed Lance to hate him, to push him away, once and for all, and if this didn't do it, nothing would. The real Justin fought back, asking why he couldn't be happy, why he couldn't be with Lance, get a real job and just be fucking okay. The real Justin demanded help, thought it was a good idea to see Chris, wondered if he was too far gone to change the way he needed to for any kind of a decent life. And streetboy sneered, reinforcing every awful thing he believed about himself until finally, here he was limping toward Lynn, again, looking for help, again, the argument still raging. He stumbled into the diner and saw her dismay when he slid into his usual seat. "Hey, baby, you ok?" "Yeah, fine. Lynn, I fucked up again." She sat opposite him, ignoring the screaming customers, listening to him pour out his soul. When he took a breath at long last, she shook her head, sadness etched on her sweet face. "Baby, I'm no shrink and that's what you need. You *know* that somewhere, don't you?" He nodded, a small thing but a victory nonetheless. "Will you let someone help you?" Tears started and he nodded again. "Can I call Lance?" Justin looked up, fear and hope in equal proportion. "He probably hates me. I fucked him over so bad, Lynn." "Let's see. Lance and JC had dragged into the studio, Lance handing the boards to Jenna who nodded approvingly. The tension was still there between them and it hurt Lance that their easy friendship was gone, probably for good. Lance chuckled when Jeff noted that JC's spacey look was more pronounced today, apparently a good thing. JC got dressed and they waited for the client, drinking coffee and in JC's case, dozing. When he came, he spent no time commenting, just agreed to the changes and left, telling Jenna to speed things up, that the agency would eat some of the cost if it ran over badly. This did nothing for Jenna's mood so when Lance's phone rang, she shot him a filthy look, daring him to ask for any more time. She knew he would as she listened to his end of the conversation. "Is he ok? .... Did he ask for me or are *you* asking for me?....Yeah, I'm on my way." He closed the phone and took a deep breath before looking at Jenna. He was glad he had because her expression sucked the breath right out of him. "Jenna?" "No, Lance, no," she started. "Jenna, you know you don't need me here right now." And it was true. Jenna counted to ten again, sorting through her options. Firing Lance would only piss the client off more and double her work, assuming she could even do it alone. Not firing Lance, well, she didn't want to go there, what that message was. But the businesswoman won and she decided to put off the battle for another day. "You're right,"she said, forcing the words out, "as usual. When will you grace us with your presence again?" The sarcasm cut Lance and he shivered, "Tomorrow." When she nodded curtly, he turned to leave and caught JC's eye, an encouraging look that told him he was doing the right thing. The taxi ride gave him the opportunity to sift through his thoughts and feelings. He was angry that Justin did this, he was hurt that he didn't matter more to this boy, he was scared that it would all be too much for him to handle and then he would lose his job anyhow. But underneath it all was this amazing love that he had developed in the short time he had known Justin. It was the willingness to grow along with Justin, to honor himself as well, to believe that he could be enough for that beautiful boy down the road. He felt almost peaceful as he entered the diner and saw Justin, sitting with his head in his hands, rubbing the tears away. He slid in opposite him. "Hey," Lance said softly. Justin looked up and Lance gasped at the agony on Justin's face. It wasn't about last night. It was clear that he had realized something that tore his soul into shreds. "My God, Jus, what is it?" "I fucked you over......I love you.... and I fucked you over.....because I hate *myself* so much." "I know," Lance said. Just two words. Justin was astounded. There were no recriminations, no justified anger, no hurled epithets. Just `I know.' "So now what?" Lance asked, fear replacing the peace. "I need help, Lance. I need somebody to help me. I know it can't be you or Lynn or JC. What about that Chris guy?" "What about us?" Lance asked. He couldn't stop the words. "Is there still an us?" "For me there is, but it's up to you," Justin whispered. "Let's go home then." continue menu