He dreamed of the way candlelight looked reflecting in Lance’s eyes. And the way the skin on the nape of his neck felt. The flush of his cheeks after kissing -- and how his skin would glisten after sex. The sparkle of his eyes while he stared up. And the scent of his cologne.
And of the old man with the peculiar offer.
When JC’s eyes snapped open, it was dawn, and he was more worn-out than he’d been the night before. “Dammit,” he snarled, rolling onto his belly, pushing his face into the pillow. Curling up inside to try to combat the feelings of hopelessness and confusion that plagued him.
He was not ungrateful for his life -- simply unsure what to do.
Lying still for several moments proved nothing to himself. No changes were happening. No life altering revelations were unmasking themselves.
So he rolled over and grabbed the phone, remembering how Bobbee had made comments about the spas in room massages being the best in the world. He ordered one, along with a light breakfast and the daily papers.
Figuring that should do it. Sweep his mind away for an hour or two. Keep Lance far out of his world.
But when the masseuse entered, JC gasped at the blonde spikes the boy had, -- and when the papers came up, there was a full spread advertisement for On the Line. JC threw them both out, the boy and the paper, and focused on his breakfast.
His shoulders slumped as he wheeled the cart out to the balcony and took a seat in the plush chair overlooking the pool. Noshing on some grapes, he squinted in the early morning sun and sighed, wondering what else he could do. Hypnosis or therapy? All questions he needed answered before his gut burned any further -- before his life truly spun out of control and whisked innocent people along with it.
From the corner of his eye, JC caught a hand waving up at him. A hand that seemed so much closer than it was. His blue eyes narrowed and he stood, leaning over the railing to see who would recognize him from far away.
“What the hell?” JC whispered as he shaded his eyes and strained to see.
A smile. A wrinkled hand. Same unshaven face.
“Fuck me,” JC growled as his gaze caught the old man’s. “Fuck me to hell and back!” He retreated quickly, shivering as he slammed the doors shut. Unable to focus with his hands trembling. Wishing he was drunk or high so he could hide from the gnawing feeling.
His fingers raked through his curly hair and he looked around, like a deer caught in the headlights. It was so unfair, he thought, that he even had to deal with emotions he had no business dealing with. As he headed for the shower in the hopes of washing the ill feelings away, his cell phone rang.
There was a pause as his senses went on alert -- afraid. Anxious. When he snatched the phone, he recognized Bobbee’s number and picked up. Glad for the chance to speak to a voice he knew. Not caring if she was going to nag or bitch at him. Or ask if he cut his hair yet.
“Bobbee thank God ...” JC blurted, rushing to the window to draw the curtains shut.
“JC, it’s Lance. Caller ID blinking out on you?”
“Lance?” He was dumbfounded, and yanked the phone away from his ear, glaring at the numbers sprawled across the glass display. It was indeed Lance’s number staring back at him. “Shit!”
“Shit?” Lance laughed, the laugh JC knew was real. The chuckle that Lance reserved for friends and family -- or for things that truly amused him.
“No, sorry. It’s nothing. What’s ... what’s up?” JC nerves jumbled as he paced, wondering if it was lack of a true sleep or something more. Wondering why the hell Lance was phoning him.
“Wanted to see if you were still coming to the premiere? I want to make sure that you get your pass and all.”
“Premiere?” JC fell to the bed, his eyes fluttering shut. Lance and Joey’s movie. New York City. End of the week.
“Yeah, the movie? A little thing called On the Line?” Lance laughed again, and JC thought he would crumble, fall into a puddle of nothing and wash away into the ocean. “You still coming? Bobbee said you were away and I didn’t know if that meant you were busy.”
“Hell, Lance. Of course I’m gonna be there. Jesus, you and Joe are my family.” He choked because he wanted to say more -- ached to wrap his heart around the phone line and send it through. Just scream at Lance that he was battling these super fucked up feelings and ... help. One way or the other -- help!
“Good. Good. I’m glad, man. Things are crazy and Wendy was saying the premiere is gonna be small considering everything. And God, I’m damn nervous. I feel like I’m gonna puke every ten minutes so having you there ...”
JC held on while Lance paused, curious as to what he was thinking. Feeling. Wanting to say. Wishing for words he was pretty sure would never come.
“Well ... you know.” Lance laughed again and JC fell back, covering his eyes with his forearm.
“Yeah, I hear ya. I’ll be there. I won’t let you down.” And he meant it, in every sense of every syllable.
“Thanks. I’ll get all the passes and stuff. Send them to Bobbee and ...”
“No!” JC sat up quickly, causing his head to spin. “Send them to me. Or I’ll pick them up at your hotel in New York.”
“Everything okay? With you two?”
To lie or not to lie. That was his question. Pressing against his throat. An opening presenting itself. To say all was well would let Lance know he was fine. To say all was not well could garner some sympathy ...
“Fine,” JC uttered. “We’re fine but I’m going to the premiere alone. She’s ... busy I guess. Or something.” As the lie spewed, he regretted it. It angered him and he wanted to end the call -- to send Lance’s voice back across the line and forget it all.
“Okay, if you need to talk. I mean, things are crazy here and Joey has the baby. Laura’s in love with her and ...”
“Whoa! Laura?” JC’s heart fell, made a dive for his feet where it sat thumping erratically at the mention of her name. “Laura’s around?”
He could almost see the blush crawl over Lance -- almost see him dip his head and grin with that little dimple. He could almost feel the way Lance’s heart raced at her name. All that romantic shit that Lance was about.
It made JC burn inside. A slow burn that mingled with jealousy and want. His fists curled in the bedspread involuntarily and he made himself inhale slowly.
“Yeah, she’s here with me. Working at Happy Place now. I wanted to keep her in sight and all since September. It’s good to have her with me. I feel better.”
JC was clenching. Clenching and unclenching. Mostly because Lance was gracious to Bobbee always, even if she didn’t deserve it. And Lance was always personable and pleasant to the occasional flings he had, male and female.
But here, here he was, acting like a child. Like a petulant child who had a toy taken from him. “I gotta go,” he said uneasily, breaking the conversation. Longing to be the one Lance wanted to keep in sight. Knowing it was ridiculous, but still craving it. “I’ll see you in New York, Lance. Give Brianna kisses from Uncle C okay? Gotta. Go.” He snapped the phone off as he heard Lance saying okay -- saying good-bye and who knew what else.
His brain was on melt down as he hurled the phone across the room, his cheeks red, his world gray. Laura. The pretty blonde Lance grew up with. The one he’d heard mention of hundreds of times over the years. The one Lance himself said he could see himself married to -- raising kids.
Funny thing was, Lance never mentioned love with Laura.
JC thought of that as he stepped back out onto the balcony, his eyes scanning the pool-goers for the old man. His hand caught around his throat as he saw the wily and creepy guy lounging with a grin -- his eyes pegged directly on JC.
Like he knew he would be beckoned.
He waved JC down with his hand and returned to flipping through a magazine.
JC was caught -- he knew. Playing with fire or evil, making deals he shouldn‘t be making. Not fully believing this devious man could fuck with his voice anyway.
But Laura had made her entrance and his time was ticking.
He threw on a pair of jeans over his boxers and tugged a clean tee shirt on. Slipping into his sandals, he headed down to the pool. To see what could be offered. To enter a place he was unsure he’d escape.
All for a chance at true love. So his heart could sing the way it was supposed to.
Even if his voice couldn’t.
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