I had already swum a few laps of the pool -- half-assed, but no one else needed to know that -- when Chris finally dragged his butt out of bed and joined me in the backyard. I hopped out of the water and sat on the edge while he approached the stairs and cautiously dipped his toe in.
"Enough testing the waters," I said loudly, startling him. "Just jump right in."
"Good morning to you, too," he said, and went in up to his ankles. "It's not like it's cold or anything," I added. I was cold now though, the water evaporating off my skin, and half of me wanted to get out and find my towel and wrap myself in it. The other half, naturally, wanted to watch Chris continue to make a production of getting into the pool.
"Cold enough," he said, moving another step down so the water was halfway up his calves. "There's gonna be shrinkage, I tell you ... "
"Unless you're worried about me mocking your little Chris-sized dick, I wouldn't worry. And don't forget, I've already been in." I kicked my leg up to splash water across the pool, some of it hitting Chris' chest.
"Hey," he said, jerking back. "Now would I do that to you?"
"In a second," I replied, knowingly. "Actually, you probably would have pushed me in by now."
"Would not," he protested, then squeezed his eyes shut and swung his arms back, leaping into the shallow end and drenching himself. Slowly, he swam over to where I was sitting and paused at my side. Suddenly there was a sharp yank on my legs and I was in the water again. "Now pulled, maybe," he laughed, backing away.
He was almost -- but not quite -- out of my reach when I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him under the water. When he came back to the surface he was still laughing, which brought a smile to my own face. Pulling him closer, I planted a kiss on the end of his nose. A moment later I let him go, let him back away, wondering if that had been the exact wrong thing to do. But he was the one to grab me, then, to pull me closer and kiss me firmly on the lips. "We have an understanding," he said when we were looking at one another again. "No need to get all shy about it now." He pushed me gently, teasingly, up against the side of the pool. "Now let me do some laps before you're in better shape than me."
"Too late," I joked, getting out of the pool, but I didn't mean it. Chris, sopping wet and dressed in nothing but his swim trunks, looked great. I, on the other hand, was starting to really feel those pounds I'd put on in rehab. It didn't bother me so much, most of the time, and I knew in my head it was a sign of my renewed health, but that didn't do much to make me fel any less self-conscious now that my body was in the public eye again.
I sat down on the grass and watched Chris swim, not wanting to go inside just yet. It was a warm, sunny morning, and I wouldn't be able to see much -- if any -- of it once we get to rehearsal.
Once Chris had sufficiently woken himself up -- and, really, he wasn't in there long enough for much more than that -- he swam over to where I was sitting and rested on his elbows on the edge of the pool. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes reddented slightly from the chlorine, then nodded, seriously.
"Can I talk to you about something?" he asked.
"Uh ... sure ... I guess." I really didn't know what to make of that; he wouldn't have asked to ask unless it was something he thought was big. And right now, the big stuff was still a little scary.
"Justin talked to me yesterday ... " he began. That in itself wasn't alarming; Justin had talked to me yesterday, too. "Britney's in town, and she wants to see you."
"Oh," I said, suddenly needing to look away. Remembering the things I'd done to her, I couldn't look Chris in the eye any longer. "Why? I mean ... she doesn't want to press charges after all this time, does she?"
"Heck no," said Chris, sounding surprised. "Joe ... she wants to tell you she forgives you. You think if she were that upset about it, Justin would even be talking to you?"
"I was an ass to her."
"It's in the past," Chris assured me. "I think she's just really glad you're doing better now?"
"Meaning she's really glad I won't be doing anything like that again," I responded, still looking away. I remembered what had happened with her all too well. It was the reason we hadn't spoken in over three months. I doubted Justin even knew the whole story -- he wouldn't be speaking to me if he did -- but Chris knew. That's probably why he was here giving me fair warning right now.
"She cares about you," said Chris insistently. "You were a friend to her a long time before the problems started. She isn't the kind of person to just forget all that."
"I don't deserve her forgiveness," I said, even though I knew that was probably the wrong thing to say.
"Well, she wants to give it to you," said Chris. "This morning. At rehearsal."
I sighed, resigned. "Do I have a choice?"
Chris paused for a long moment. "Yes," he said finally. "You do. But - "
"But you want me to say yes."
"I want you to say yes," he agreed. "I think you need to do this. It'll be good."
I nodded, but uncertainly. I really didn't deserve to be forgiven for that, especially if the forgiveness was being given solely because I'd gone through rehab and it really wasn't going to happen again. Maybe if I groveled and begged and promised I'd never touch her again, then I'd start to approach earning it.
"You don't need to beat yourself up about this so much," he said as he pulled himself out of the pool and sat down on the grass next to me. "I know that probably doesn't help, but it was just a mistake like any of the others. If it'd been me, I'd be forgiving you by now, too. Especially considering ... everything."
"Yeah, well, I didn't grope you in the back of a limo while your boyfriend was waiting in a club, or smack your cheek when you tried to push me away."
"No," agreed Chris, "but you did shove me into a wall, once. And you did steal my gold bracelet to trade for drugs when you had no cash on hand." I tried to pull away from him then, tried to hide from the shame of it all, but he wouldn't let me. "But you apologized for that and I forgave you and, like Britney, I know it's not going to happen again because it was a result of your problem. It wasn't really you, not the you that I'm sitting with right now, and not the you before the addiction either."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "You can't blame everything on me being a drunk and just dismiss it," I said. "I still have to take responsibility for it."
"You are," he assured me. "By acknowledging it and apologizing for it and letting her forgive you. And by staying sober every day."
And I wondered, then, if either one of them really knew what kind of fight that was. If they could know, without having been where I've been and come back. Abruptly I felt myself being pulled into a hug, felt Chris' arms coming around me and holding me tightly.
"Let's go inside," he said after a while, his chin resting on my shoulder. "I need some food to make it through the rest of this day."
"Yeah," I agreed. "And I need to check the time. I have to be ready when Gary comes to pick me up."
"When what?" said Chris, pulling away from me. "Shit, not that, too ... why can't I take you to rehearsal anymore?"
I just kinda shrugged, kinda surprised to hear him whine about that. "It's how they're working it, Chris," I said. "It's not that big a deal. You could ride with us, if you wanted. Or you can just take the car." It wasn't like I particularly wanted to go with Gary or anything, but it would be safe. I would be safe from myself.
"I'll take the car," he said decisively as he stood up, brushing grass off his butt and legs. "That way, when we're done for the day, you and I can go home alone." He held out his hand to help me up.
"Sounds good to me," I agreed, hoisting myself and leaving my hand in his for a long while, using the other to brush myself off. "Grass needs mowing," I commented idly as we walked back into the house.
"What, is that a hint?" laughed Chris, his good mood restored. "Next thing I know, you'll be reminding me that the flowerbed needs weeding."
"Well ... it does," I teased him, bumping his hip with mine.
"You're able-bodied now," he said. "You can help. Tonight."
"Tonight? Aren't we gonna be just a little too tired, don't you think?" I slid open the door and stepped inside the house, dry enough now that I wouldn't drip on anything.
"You could hire someone," said Chris. "You're gonna have to when we go on tour anyway."
"I don't want to hire anyone," I insisted. My backyard and my garden, right now, were a labour of love. Chris'. And I didn't want to change that, cheapen it by thinking I could pay someone to care for it the same way. "You think maybe my mom'll take care of it while we're gone?"
"Maybe," said Chris, "but that doesn't solve our more immediate problem. You talked to her yet?"
I shook my head, not wanting to get into it. At this point, I didn't care much anymore that they hadn't called. I didn't let myself. He just nodded back -- I think, understanding.
"I need to call Justin," he said after a moment, heading for the phone in the living room. "I'll just be a few minutes."
"I need to shower anyway," I replied, heading for my room.
"Oh yeah, me too," he said, as though just remembering. "We'll have breakfast after, okay?"
"Sounds good," I said, and started up the stairs.
My room was starting to get messy, clothes tossed on the floor, dresser drawers left half-open, bedspread dragging on the floor on the left-hand-side. It was actually starting to look like someone lived in there, which was a pleasant surprise to me as I passed through and headed into the bathroom.
I could smell the chlorine on my body as I stepped into the shower -- I was going to have to get someone to come by and check out the pool, and how long had it been anyway? -- but the moment I stepped into the spray that was forgotten. I've always been a sucker for hot showers. They're one of the best feelings in the world.
The image of Chris hanging around in my backyard in just a pair of wet swim trunks was staying with me as I rinsed my hair. He just seemed so comfortable here, comfortable with me. As I soaped down my body, that was when I realized something was going on.
My dick, which had been perpetually flaccid for over two months now, was starting to thicken and grow. I'd almost not recognized the feelings of arousal, the tinglings in my stomach and my spine, the inner sense of warmth that spread throughout my body. Almost more curiously than anything, I touched myself, felt its weight in my hand and considered what I wanted to do.
It was around that point that instinct took over. I closed my eyes and gripped myself and began slowly stroking, my dick growing harder and harder. My body certainly hadn't forgotten what it was doing; I'd trained it well enough when I was younger. My hand gripped tighter and looser as it stroked, varying speed, varying pressure, pushing my arousal higher and higher. I hardly even had to think about it. I didn't have to think about it, and that was probably the point.
My other hand began to roam my slick body and before I knew it, it was over. A shudder went through me and suddenly I was spurting into the rushing water, my hand slowing and finally stilling. I took a deep, harsh breath and my eyes flew open.
Well. For the first time in months I'd been turned on, masturbated, come. Enjoyed my own body. And I'd been thinking about my best friend the whole time.
Well, at least I wasn't going to run short of things to talk to Karen about on Friday.
Stepping out of the shower, onto the thick, soft bath mat, it suddenly came to me in a rush what else I was going to have to rediscover this morning. Chris had asked me to sing. Just the thought made a knot form in my stomach, which didn't bode well for my ability to 'perform'.
There was a time, before all this, where I would drop into song at the slightest provocation. We all would. It was that one common love that bound the five of us together and, deep inside me, that love was still there. That craving. That need. And one some level that still both repulsed and scared me.
It was months ago, months even before rehab, that music started being a tool for me, a means to an end, and stopped being just that thing that I loved. I realized that when I was in rehab and identified it -- somewhat incorrectly -- as an enabler. But that wasn't the real problem
The real problem was that in my head, music, too, was an addiction.
I'd never thought of it that way until one day when I was sitting sullenly in this group session in rehab, listening to people talk about their 'cravings', their 'needs', the absolute satisfaction they felt when they were drinking ... and I realized I felt the same way about music. I craved it. I needed it. It gave me utter joy.
Of course, my rational mind knew that music was a healthy thing, that music wasn't what was slowly killing me -- even that it might even be something that could help me -- but once the association was made in my mind, there was no getting rid of. Music -- singing -- was the thing that I talked about with Karen, and one of the only things I'd never talked about with Chris. I just wasn't sure he -- or anyone -- could understand.
But ... today was the day. Today we were going to be singing together in rehearsal instead of just retraining ourselves on the dance moves. And it was gonna be rough because it had been so long and from what Chris had said, the four of them hadn't been singing together without me. And someone was definitely gonna notice if I wasn't singing. It was my job. It was my love, still, even though I was afraid of it. I had no real choice.
And Chris ... Chris wanted me to sing for him. To him. Today. Now. I wasn't sure if it was going to be harder or easier to start out that way, but I was going to try. It almost felt like there was more at stake right now, with just the two of us, than there would be later.
First things first, though. I wasn't going to be able to sing for Chris -- or anyone else -- if I couldn't even do it for myself.
I walked out of the bathroom, humming softly to myself. Humming "Happy Birthday", which was both ridiculous and appropriate. When I was about two years old, my family tells me I was already belting out Happy Birthday louder than anyone at my siblings' birthday parties. It was probably the first song I'd ever sung, in my whole life.
So it was a start, at least. By the time I'd dropped my towel onto the floor and was looking for something to wear, I was doing some simple vocal exercises -- running scales and just generally loosening up my throat.
My voice was pretty rough -- it'd been a pretty long time since I'd used it, no matter how you looked at it -- but it wasn't as off or as different from how I remembered it as I'd feared it would be. I could feel the uneasiness roiling around inside me, no question about that, but I didn't feel as though panic was going to strike. Which was a relief, if a small one.
I was pulling a sweater over my head when I finally noticed Chris standing in my doorway. Immediately, my voice fell silent. A flush coloured my face, and I was glad that I could hide it with my sweater until it faded, even though it did mean exposing other parts of my body to his scrutiny.
"Don't stop," he said quietly. "I didn't want to disturb you."
"I didn't know you were there," I said, a bit more snappishly than I meant to. I didn't start up again.
"I know," he admitted. "That was the point. God, Joey ... do you even know how much I've been missing that?"
"Missing what?"
"Your voice," he said. "It wasn't even on a conscious level. I--" He stopped and just kinda stared at me. "I don't even know how to explain it. Will you sing for me now?"
I nodded, slowly. I hadn't even meant to do it, but my body took over. I'd meant to tell him I wasn't ready, that I couldn't do it, that I'd do ANYthing else he asked. I'd already turned a corner in my life a few minutes ago, was I really ready for another significant first?
I opened my mouth, then hesitated. I ended up laughing nervously, and waited until Chris smiled at me reassuringly before trying again.
This time, when I opened my mouth, the lyrics for More Than A Feeling came out. It was an old song, a familiar song to me - to both of us - and in a lot of ways it reminded me of the time before all this. I wondered if it did the same for Chris.
He never said, though. When my voice trailed off, he simply pulled me into a hug and held me close for a long while.
You could almost feel the tension rise in the room when Britney and Justin walked in. The sudden silence was my first clue; I looked up from where I was stretching to see them both standing just inside the doorway.
Chris broke the ice, rushing over to fold her into a bear hug. "Hey Brit," he says. "Long time no see. How's the tour?"
"Exhausting," she said with a smile. "Where's Joey?"
"I'm here," I said finally, standing up. "Hey, Britney."
"Hey, Joey," she said and, to my surprise, rushed over to give me a huge hug. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm ... okay," I said. "I ... um ... guess we need to talk." I looked around; all eyes were on us. "I'd prefer to do it in private, but I'll understand totally if you don't want to - "
"Don't be silly," she said, tugging on my shirt. "Let's go outside. It's a nice day.
I nodded at her, then caught Chris' eye and tilted my head toward the door to indicate where we were going . She let go of my shirt and grabbed my hand to lead me outside, giving Justin a quick, probably reassuring kiss on her way by.
"Britney - " I began when we were outside and leaning against the wall. "I'm so sorry."
"You're forgiven," she said, popping up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. "I was mad for a while, but I know it was just because of the drinking - "
"Wait," I interrupted. "There are things I need to say to you, even if all they do is make *me* feel a bit better about the whole thing."
"Okay," she said, nodding and smiling at me. "Whatever you need to do, okay?"
I sighed. "I am an alcoholic, Britney, but I don't want to just blame the booze and leave it at that. What I did to you was very, very wrong and it hurt you and I never wanted that to happen. You've been a good friend for a long time and you deserve only the best. I can't make up for what happened, so all I can do is apologize and promise you that I'll do everything I can to make sure that I'll never do anything like that to you or anyone else, ever again."
"And," said Britney, still smiling, "like I said, apology accepted. You're forgiven. So ... how's everything going? And for real, Joey, not the sugar-coated version you're getting ready to give me."
I closed my mouth again for a moment and reworded my answer in my head. The complete version was too ugly, the nice version too fake. She'd see right through that. "It's hard," I said, finally. "Hard but good. Everything feels all different now, but the guys are helping me out and I'm making it."
"That's so good to hear," she said. "I was worried. I wanted to be here for your party, but the tour and all ... well, there was just no way I could get away. And trust me, I tried."
"Thank you," I said. "That means a lot to me. It really does." Although, inside, I was glad I was seeing her now and not then. I hadn't really wanted to see *any*one then, least of all someone who needed to be 'dealt with', in my mind.
"Um, I don't mean to worry you," said Britney, looking uncomfortable but not afraid, "but I think there's someone watching us." Her eyes rolled towards the door we'd come out of. I glanced at it, then just nodded.
"That's Gary," I said with a small sigh. "He ... watches me."
"Um ... why?"
"To make sure I don't get myself into any trouble," I told her honestly. "Most people aren't as trusting as you are."
"You couldn't get out of it?" she said, sympathy in her eyes. "That's gotta suck."
"I didn't try," I said, wondering how many times I was going to have to have this conversation. "I'm sure Gary's a great guy, once you get to know him, and they're only trying to look out for me."
"Oh," she said, looking surprised for a moment. "I guess I figured you'd want to, you know, be alone. Now that you're on your own and all."
"I get lonely easy," I admitted, surprising myself. "I always have Chris around anyway. It's not such a big thing to have Gary around when I'm working."
"Yeah, Justy told me that Chris was living with you now," she said, sounding thoughtful. "How's that working out for you guys?"
I had to smile, thinking of Chris, even though a nervousness rose up in me. "Good," I said. "Great. We ... go well together, it seems. And it's less lonely, with someone there."
She nodded at me. "Wow, I totally understand that," she said. "I like it when Justy stays with me at my place. Sometimes, when I'm alone, it's all big and empty and I don't know what to do with myself."
Somehow, she did understand. At least, that part of it she did. "How come you're being so understanding?" I had to ask. "If I were you ... well, I don't know what."
"Oooh," she said, "I was really mad for a while. Like ... I trusted you and all. But I got over it. I mean, you think I'm gonna be mad forever over one little mistake? 'Course not. You're my Joey."
"But not the way Justin's your Justy?"
She laughed. "No, not quite the same way. You wanna go back inside now? They've gotta be waiting for us."
I reached out to hug her again, and pretended I didn't see that tiny flinch as I did. After all, what was one little flinch compared to everything she'd said to me?
"Yeah," I agreed. "Let's go back inside."
"I never meant to hurt her," I said softly to Justin as we grabbed sandwiches off the table and began nibbling at them slowly. Justin just nodded. "I know we've never talked about it - "
"Did you and Brit work it out?" he interrupted.
"Uh ... yeah," I said. "Things are cool now."
"Good," he said, and finally looked at me. "That was between you and Brit. I don't own her." He acted like he did, sometimes, but I had to agree with that anyway. "You and me, we settled our stuff a while ago."
"Did we?" I said. I hadn't missed the looks that Justin had been shooting me all morning, the short conversations he'd had with Gary, the long one he'd had with Brit right before she'd left for a lunch meeting where both of them had looked at me out of the corner of their eye more than once.
He nodded. "We did," he said. "You apologized and I forgave you, and - " He chewed and swallowed a bite of his sandwich before going on. "This last week, you've only taken steps in the right direction, so far as I can tell. The stuff I needed to say to you, I think it's been said now."
"It doesn't have to be," I said, taking a seat near the lunch table. It was hard and plastic, but it was better than standing. "I mean ... if there are things on your mind, and they have to do with me, you can bring them up. Even if you think they're old news."
Justin shook his head. "You don't need me yelling at you again," he said. "Chris gave me hell for that. Jace, too."
"I wish they hadn't," I said. "This isn't about them." God, this was SO not the time and place for the direction this conversation was heading, but I went for it anyway. "You remember the day I came home?"
"It was a week ago," said Justin with a short laugh. "Of course I remember." He stuffed half of the sandwich into his mouth and chewed noisily.
"You were pretty excited to see me, then."
"Well shit, Joey, of course I was. "I love you and you're one of the best friends I've ever had in my entire life. Do you even know how much I was waiting for that day? I practically counted the minutes."
"Really?" I said, genuinely surprised by that. "But ... " I sighed.
"But what?"
"But now, it's like no matter what I do, to you I'm doing something wrong. Don't think I don't see how you're looking at me, all the time. I know I deserve your distrust, but I guess I could use a bit of encouragement, once in a while." I though about that for a second, and I knew I wasn't being entirely fair, but Justin's body had always spoken more than his words did. It was just his way.
"You confuse me," said Justin, to his credit not getting angry at that. He probably should have. "I don't know what to feel about you. One minute I'll know, I'll just know, what the right thing is, and then something will make me question that. Or it's like everything is great and then suddenly I'll remember something you did before and I'll get all mad again. " Or see a bottle and wonder if I'm going to leap for it, drool running down my face? "I just don't know what to do, most of the time."
'You still don't trust me."
"No," said Justin. "But I'm working on that."
"So am I."
"That's why I am," said Justin. "You're trying hard and I know that we're not exactly making it easier on you. Especially ... well, nevermind that."
"You ever talk to anyone about everything that you felt? I mean, about the whole situation with me. I know I messed around with a lot of people's lives."
"You mean like the guys? Yeah, sure, a bit. And Brit, too. She's been a doll."
"That's not what I meant." I set my sandwich - only half-eaten - down on the edge of the table. I was to nervous to be hungry.
"Oh," he said. "No, I haven't."
"Have you wanted to?"
"No," he repeated. "Unlike some people in this room, I don't need a shrink."
"Justin - " I began, then stopped. There were a lot of places that this conversation could go right now, and I wasn't sure that any of them were places that I particularly wanted to.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean that. I think it's great, the way you're taking care of yourself now."
"Honest?" The tension in my stomach eased, just a little.
"Honest," he said, reaching for another sandwich. "It's just not for me."
I didn't think he could say that with any degree of certainty, but I didn't argue. We could probably all use a good shrink, at this point in our lives. But Justin ... Justin as much as admitted to me that he couldn't handle this on his own, but he didn't want to do anything about that. And Lance - I wasn't even going to go there.
"It's not fun," I said finally, as Justin began to wander away towards the other end of the table, "going around feeling confused all the time."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said, giving me a smile and a wave as he went over to talk to JC. I hoped that had been sincerity I'd heard in his voice.
I looked around and abruptly realized that I was alone. Well, not alone alone - Justin and JC were still nearby, and Lance was working on something with Wade in another corner of the room, and Gary was watching me while trying to be at least somewhat unobtrusive while I was working, and I knew if I went a little way up the short hallway I would find Chris still in the bathroom - but alone enough that, for once, there was no one right there.
I figured now might be a good time to take care of some of the phone calls I'd been meaning to, since I hadn't really regained my appetite at all. Yesterday I'd gotten ahold of Bob, Daisy's brother-in-law, but he hadn't been able to tell me where to find her. Or hadn't wanted to; he hadn't sounded particularly pleased to hear from me. Which was fine, because there were other names on my list.
I grabbed my bag and pulled a small gold book out of it, thumbing through the pages until I found what I was looking for. I pulled out the cell phone and held it to my ear, sitting down in another of those hard plastic chairs - where had they found this hideous colour of orange? A high school lunch room? - as I waited for someone to pick up.
"Hi Cherry," I ended up saying into the answering machine. "It's Joe. I've been trying to track down Daisy, just to talk. If you know where she might be, can you let me know? I'll give you another call later." Cherry didn't have my number. No one did, really, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I thumbed through the book again, moving onto the next one. Sooner or later, someone was going to tell me what I needed to know and I would get this whole ordeal over and done with.
I eyed Gary, sitting off on his own as we rehearsed, and sighed. It was hard not to have mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, he was my safety net. He was the guy that would catch me if I fell, that I knew wouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of helping me. On the other hand, he was a symbol of everything that was different about me now. That I could not be trusted with my own life, even though my life and livelihood probably weren't their primary concern.
A moment later, when Wade called another break, I found myself walking over to him. "Hey," I said. It wasn't just to get his attention; he was already watching me. "You wanna go have a cup of coffee with me?"
It was strange to see him smile; he hadn't done it with me since the moment we met. Not that I could really blame him for that, though -- we hadn't been the easiest people to get along with over the last day or so. Not to him, anyway.
"Sounds good," he said, standing up for probably the first time all morning. "Here's a stupid question, but bear with me here -- are you actually going to drink coffee?"
I looked at him strangely. "Um, no," I said. "Iced tea, probably. Why? Am I not supposed to have caffeine, still?"
"Because," he said, still smiling, "it's a really strange thing, but 9 times out of 10, when someone asks you to coffee, it's not actually for coffee. Makes you wonder just how that saying became so popular." He shrugs. "Just something random from my brain."
I laughed a little as we headed for the lunch area. I grabbed a can of iced tea from the ice bucket -- I didn't like it much from the can, but it would do -- and he poured himself a huge cup of coffee from the urn. "Let's go out back," I said, heading for the stairs to the main floor "I think there's still a table there."
He followed me and we sat down at the white, plastic picnic table. The bench wobbled a little underneath me, but after a moment it seemed like it was going to hold so I relaxed a little. Gary had grabbed half a sandwich on our way up, too, and I realized he probably also hadn't eaten when we had, during our first break.
"If you get hungry," I said, off-handedly, "just go ahead and grab something. There'll always be enough there, even if Justin's eating." I grinned at him to show I was joking, and he, too, seemed to relax.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "I can't believe you all don't work up that kind of appetite, working out the way that you are. I'm impressed."
"You ever been to one of our shows?" I asked, cracking open my drink and draining half of it in one, long gulp.
"No," he admitted. "Can't say I have. Wouldn't mind, though. It looks like you guys really put on something special." He sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. "A lot of work goes into one of those, doesn't it."
"More than you can see just by watching us dance," I told him. "I'll make sure you get tickets to the next show we do in town."
"If it's not imposing too much," he said, "I'd like to bring my daughter along. She'd be thrilled to see you guys in concert. Well ... you and the Backstreet Boys, but I'm guessing you can't do much about that one."
I grinned. "You might be surprised," I said. "I'll ask Howie next time I talk to him, but I don't know when they're gonna be playing here again. Actually, I don't even know where they are right now."
"Oh, no need to worry about that," said Gary quickly. "You've been more than nice enough already. You know, I really didn't know what to expect when I met you guys. You certainly have a reputation for being nice, but -- if I may be blunt -- I wouldn't be here if it was all sweetness and light."
I gave him a look that was half-smile and half-grimace. "You don't beat around the bush, do you?"
"Never have, never will," he said honestly. He paused, then, and seemed to be waiting for me to say something else. But I really didn't know what.
"Well, you obviously know my history, if you're here," I said, finally, looking down at the can of iced tea in my hands. "Things have been tough, but they're getting better. I was, well, kinda surprised that they called you in when they did, considering things are on the way up right now, and all."
"Sometimes that's the best time," said Gary thoughtfully, sipping his coffee. "Can I let you in on a little secret, Joey?"
"Um, sure?" I said, unsure of where this was going.
"Me and your employers, we have different ideas of what I'm doing here," he confessed. "Them, they want me to be here to watch you. The told me that straight up. They want me to keep you out of trouble and, frankly, protect their investment."
"That's no secret to me," I said, a little sadly. I knew what I was -- what we all were -- to them, but it didn't help to hear it.
"You want to know why I think I'm here?" he prompted me.
"Sure."
"To boost your confidence," he said candidly. "To let you live your own life again without someone else telling you what to do, yet having the certainty -- even if just for a little while -- that someone's there to make sure it doesn't go spiraling downward again. I'm not here to tell you what to do, Joey, though I will, if I have to. I'd rather you just used me for, advice. Or guidance. Or whatever you need from me. Someone who won't judge. Who didn't know you before and probably won't know you after."
I had to take a moment to consider that, consider what it was he was offering me. It was really something that no one else could. "How did you get into DOING this kind of thing, anyway?" I asked him. "I mean, it's not the kind of job you get just by answering an ad in the paper, you know?"
"Neither's yours," he countered with a bit of a grin. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his back a bit before answering. "I have a background in psychology," he said finally. "I used to work in a crisis centre back home in Cincinnati. A couple years ago I moved down here to stay with my sister, who happens to do PR. I've been working with a boys' home on a part-time basis, but when the opportunity to do this came up -- and the whole job was really kinda hush hush, so they were looking for someone with an inside connection -- I decided it would something I could do. So ... here I am."
I nodded, processing that information, too. I wasn't trying to get his qualifications -- just wanted to know a bit more about him -- but it sounded like he knew what the hell he was doing. Which was reassuring. He wasn't at all what I'd been expecting really, especially not considering what he'd seemed like when we'd first met. Then again, that probably had a lot to do with the difference of opinion he held with our management. That I suspected they knew nothing about.
"I guess going to that club was a bad idea," I said, wondering what his position on that was. That event that prompted this whole thing.
"It was," he said, nodding a bit in agreement. "In two ways. The first is just how it looked to people. They aren't used to you being out yet. Aren't used to thinking of you as sober. Then the more important one -- to me, at least, and probably to you -- is that I don't think you were ready. It was too soon, and it had to have been really difficult and stressful for you to deal with. Do you have a counselor or anything, Joey?"
"Huh?" I said, wondering what he was getting at. He tended to veer off in different directions, and I didn't know him the way I knew Chris, so I couldn't predict what those directions would be.
"A counselor. A therapist, a group, or whatever. Someone you talk to, about these things."
"Oh," I repeated. "Uh, yeah. Of course. Karen."
He nodded, satisfied. "Do they?" he asked, and I was clear, this time, on the fact that he was talking to the other guys.
I shook my head. "No," I admitted. "I don't think they, you know, want that."
He frowned a bit, that time. "I don't pretend to know what life is like, for you guys," he said. "But if you want, you can open up my offer to talk to the other guys. I'm open to it, any time."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," he echoed me. "It's ... it's really important for everyone to realize that, at this point, it's not just about you anymore. It's about all of you. It's about why it happened, and not just what happened."
"Thank you," I said quietly, understanding exactly what Gary was saying, and agreeing with him. "I'll tell them. A couple may even take you up on it. I hope."
Gary just smiled and nodded that time and looked very satisfied with what we'd accomplished here. And, happily, so was I. I hadn't expected this, when I'd tentatively asked him to sit down and chat, but I was now very glad that I had.
"Time to head back in, I think," said Gary, glancing at his watch. "Thanks, Joey. This was nice."
'Yeah," I agreed as we got up. "Yeah, it was."
I thought the rehearsal was over and I could go home when someone pressed a phone into my sweaty palm. "KJAM radio," said Lance quietly. "Just do a quick two minutes for them. The rest of us have already gone." I nodded and reached for the hold button, wishing I'd had more than 15 seconds to prepare for this. It was nothing out of the ordinary, not knowing about our radio phone interviews until five minutes before we did them, but I'd forgotten, really, what it had been like.
"Hey, it's Joey," I said, trying to sound as friendly as I could and hoping whoever was on the other would identify themselves quickly. Lance nodded at me and left, heading for the room we used to change in. The other guys were already in there; I wondered how I hadn't noticed any of them on the phone. Probably because I was too busy figuring out how I was going to be able to lift my arms for the rest of the night, after a grueling rehearsal like that.
"Hey there," came an appallingly perky voice. "Sandy Hopkins, KJAM radio here in in Cranbrook. How are you doing today, Joey?"
"Oh, pretty good, pretty good," I said, giving away nothing. "How are you today, Sandy?"
"I'm doing great!" she said. "After all, I get to talk to five of the cutest guys in the world. So, you guys are just in a rehearsal for your upcoming tour right now?"
"Yup," I said, hoping I didn't sound too out of breath. "Just finished it, actually, so we're all pretty wiped."
"Anything new in store for the fans, or is it the same show you were putting on before the tour was postponed?"
"Well, we always like to throw in a few surprises," I said, avoiding the subject of the tour postponement. "Every time we set out on a tour, we try to work out something new and exciting for our fans, so we're doing the same thing now. The tour starts in a couple weeks, though, so we don't have much time!"
"I'll say," laughed Sandy. "You boys sure put a lot of work into your shows. I saw you last time you were up here and it was just amazing."
"We work hard," I agreed, "but it's all worth it. We love what we do, and couldn't imagine doing anything else."
"And we all appreciate that," she said. "Any message you want to send out to your fans before we go?"
"Just to stay true to yourselves," I said. I could do these things in my sleep. I really could. "And remember that you can be anything you want to be, as long as you're willing to work hard for it."
"Thanks, Joey, and thank the rest of the guys for me. It's been a blast!"
"Thank you, Sandy," I said, right before disconnecting. I looked at the phone for a moment, trying to figure out whose it was, then just decided to hand it back to Lance. I headed for the changeroom myself, looking forward to getting out of my sweaty clothing and into something a little more comfortable.
"You guys should come by," said Lance, taking the phone from me as I entered the room and tossing it into his bag. "They got my hot tub up and running the other night - finally - and I need people to try it out."
"And you want us to do it?" said JC, snorting lightly. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have someone who fills out a bikini better?"
"Hey, I fill out a bikini just fine," protested Chris. "Except for those itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot ones ... "
"Chris aside," said Lance, "I'm not looking for anything in a bikini tonight."
"He's saving himself 'til we get on the road," called out Justin.
Lance gave him the finger, then pulled his sweaty T-shirt off. "Seriously," he said. "Will you come over? I'll even feed you if you ask nice enough."
"Can I bring Tate?" asked JC. "I'm picking him up from class as soon as we get out of here."
"Duh," said Lance. "Of course you can. But no making out in my hot tub."
"Yeah," said Justin. "He gets to be the first to do that."
"Shut up," said Lance, laughing as he smacked Justin on the back of the head. "How do you know I haven't already christened the thing?"
"And you expect us to get in it now?" said Chris. "No bikini for you!"
"Somehow, that doesn't bother me much."
"I'll be there," I said finally, once everyone had stopped talking on top of one another.
"Which means I will, too," said Chris. "Who, me, miss a hot tub party? Not in this lifetime."
"I just want to soak," I said, stretching and feeling a couple of joints pop. "I haven't hurt in this many places since - "
"Last time we started a tour?" supplied Lance. "I seem to remember those very same words."
"'Cept that time they were coming out of your mouth," said Chris. "Sounds good, though. Is it big enough for all of us?"
"Would I get one that wasn't?"
"I have to say good-bye to Brit and see her to the airport," said Justin a little sadly. "I'll be over after that."
"Great," said Lance as he finished changing. "Then I'll see all you guys there."
I took another shower before we headed to Lance's place. No repeat performance or anything, but I still couldn't help remembering. Well, of course I couldn't ... it was a pretty damn monumental event, when it came down to it.
I met Chris downstairs in the living room, him fully dressed but still scrubbing at his hair with a ratty towel. "Hey," I said, straightening my shirt. "Ready to go?"
"Do I look ready to go?" he said, flinging the towel at me and shaking his head furiously. "I still need to do my hair."
"Um, Chris?" I said.
"What?"
"Okay, here's the thing - a, we're going over to Lance's place and, b, we're going to be in a hot tub. Why are you worried about your hair? Who're you trying to impress?"
"No one," he said, grinning at me. "Tate, maybe. He's the only one that hasn't seen me almost every morning for the last few years. That kinda takes the mystery out of everything.
"We all still have mysteries," I replied, taking the towel and scrubbing the last of the moisture out of his hair. "There, you're artistically tousled. Ready to go now?"
Chris sighed dramatically. "You're fashion impaired, you know that?"
I had to laugh. "You've met JC and you still call me fashion impaired?"
"He has Tate to balance him out. Who do you have? Me? HA! You lose." He grabbed the towel from me and tossed it over the back of a chair. "Okay, fine, let's go then."
"You could sound a little more enthusiastic," I told him. "It's a hot tub, Chris. I get to soak my poor, abused muscles." I made a show of rubbing my upper arms and pouting.
"You could have just asked for a massage, you know," he said, poking me in the side. "I would have given it to you."
"I'm taking you up on that tomorrow," I said quickly. "You are so gonna regret that offer. I'm gonna make you rub me until your arms are ready to fall off." I suddenly realized what I'd said and turned away, coughing politely.
Chris just laughed as he grabbed the car keys and headed out the door.
We chatted about nothing in particular on the way to Lance's, which was nice, for once. I knew that cleaning up my messes was going to be the biggest part of my life when I got out of rehab -- rebuilding relationships with people that I'd wronged in so many ways -- but it was so nice to get a respite from that, from time to time.
We were the last to arrive, and had even been beaten by Justin. He gave us a half-hearted wave from where he was half-reclined on the couch and looked pretty lost now that Brit wasn't at his side. I knew he'd shake if off soon, but I felt bad for the guy anyway.
"Bout damn time," said Lance, shaking his head at us. "Get one of you alone, you're late enough. Get both of you together, it's hopeless."
I gave Lance the finger good-naturedly and spotted JC off to the side corner with someone I didn't know. He was about JC's build but slightly shorter, with short brown hair and light, wire-rimmed glasses over a pair of the cutest green eyes this side of Lance. So this was Tate. JC'd done well for himself in the looks department, anyway.
The cutest thing in the world though, to me, was the fact that they were holding hands. A simple, completely innocuous thing that made me want to smile. The way JC looked when he was next to him ... if I'd though he was happy before, he was absolutely radiant now. It was ... cute. It really was.
I saw JC nudge him as he noticed us and Tate looked over, smiling. After giving JC a quick peck on the lips, they both walked over.
"So you're Joey," said Tate, reaching out to shake my hand. "Boy, have I heard a lot about you."
"Oh, God," I groaned, and covered my face with one hand.
He laughed. "Don't worry," he said. "Only the appropriate proportion was bad. It's great to finally meet you.
"You, too," I said. "Nice to meet the guy who put that smile on JC's face." I winked at him. "Take that however you like."
He laughed again. "And in a few ways you probably haven't thought of," he added, winking right back at me.
I was gonna like this guy.
Lance quickly led us to the enclosed pool area, the hot tub installed off to the side. He wasn't kidding when he said it would fit all of us. The rest of the guys headed for the change room, but I stood there and stared out the glass enclosure into his wooded back yard for a long while.
Chris was the first to come back out, bouncing to my side and poking me in the stomach. "Hurry up," he said. "I want to get in."
"I wore my trunks underneath," I told him.
He grinned and reached for my waistband, staring to undo my jeans. "Even better," he said.
I laughed and slapped his hands away. "I can undress myself," I said. "I'm just not sure I want ... " I pulled at my T-shirt so it wasn't clinging so close to my body.
Chris stopped bouncing and slid a hand under my T-shirt, gently laying it on my stomach. Then he leaned in and kissed me softly, reassuringly. "You look great," he said, looking me in the eye as he pulled away. "Now get your damn clothes off and get in the tub with me." With that he bounced in, splashing water up over the sides. "Ooh," he said. "This is nice."
Tate was the next to join us, just a moment later. "Hey," he said, sliding into the hot tub with Chris. "Long time no see. How've you been?"
"Busy," said Chris, smiling at him. "Sore. Damn this feels good. Get your butt in here, Joey."
I finally took off my T-shirt and jeans and tossed them aside, far enough away that Chris wouldn't be splashing them in his more exuberant moments. The water was hot, the jets just hard enough, and I was hard pressed not to fall asleep right there, in utter bliss.
Chris laughed at the expression on my face. "I told you," he said. "You see?" I told you."
"All right, you told me so," I agreed with him, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my stomach again.
"How's school?" asked Chris, and I was about to ask him what the heck he was talking about when I realized he was talking to Tate.
"Exhausting," he said, then laughed at himself. "Geez, look who I'm complaining to. School is fine. Great, even. No complaints."
"Complain all you want," said Chris, laughing with him. "I remember college. It wasn't all drinking and parties and naked girls." He considered that for a moment. "Or guys."
Right about then JC pouced into the hot tub, right into Tate's lap, the other two close behind him. "Stop talking about school," he said, caressing Tate's upper arm briefly. "All of you. We're supposed to be relaxing."
It seemed like a good idea, and I took his advice.
The waterbabies quickly abandoned the hot tub for the swimming pool -- I will just never get that -- and Chris decided to join them after running a lingering hand through my hair and blowing me a quick, teasing kiss. Lance ... Lance, even though we were in his house, had taken off for parts unknown. Which left just me and Tate soaking in the hot tub.
"Can I ask you something?" He said as we watched the others splash around in the pool. "Or should this be 'quiet time'?"
"Go ahead," I said, my eyes on Chris as he sped across the pool, chasing after JC. "I don't mind."
"Are you and Chris together?"
My head snapped around to look at him in alarm. "What?"
"Don't get offended or anything," he said, then gave me a sheepish smile. "I'm blowing my first impression, huh." I shook my head. "I'm just ... JC's the gay one," I blurted out.
Tate laughed disarmingly. "Well, if anyone would know that, it would be me," he said, spreading his arms out along the rim of the hot tub. "And he's told me a lot about you, but he never mentioned that." He paused then, and I got the impression he was either weighing his words, or appraising me. "But JC doesn't know everything."
"Chris has a girlfriend," I said, glancing back at the pool. "Danielle. She's a real sweetheart."
"I've heard about her," he said, nodding. "Never met, though. She hasn't really been around here since JC and I started dating. Chris was pretty busy, and I guess she has some sort of new project going on, too ... " His voice trailed off and he shrugged.
"How's JC doing?" I asked him, keeping the conversation quiet so that we wouldn't be overheard. "Honestly. I mean, he seems to be handling this better than the other guys, but you'd know. Right?"
"He's good," said Tate. "He missed you a lot, and he was pretty messed up for a while." He pauses again, and this time I know he's considering what he's going to say. I just didn't know if it was for JC's privacy, or my protection. "Once he was able to see you and talk to you, things got better. Once he knew that you were going to be okay."
"Thank you," I said. "For helping him. For being there for him."
"You don't have to thank me. It's not like I get nothing out of the deal you know." He winked at me unexpectedly. "JC"s a great guy. I'm lucky to have him."
"It's good to see him happy," I went on.
Tate looked at me levelly. "He says the same about you, you know. I guess you weren't happy for a long, long time."
I licked my lips nervously, a habit I was going to have to break if I didn't want perpetually chapped lips. "I thought I was," I said. "Except in my more lucid moments. I owe these guys a lot."
"You do," agreed Tate. "But you know as well as I do that they aren't gonna call it in. Not deliberately anyway. And the time's gonna come -- if it hasn't already -- that they're gonna need you, too."
"I hope they do," I said. "I hope they still feel like they can."
"Not yet," he says. "But they will again. I'm starting to get to know them, and I've never seen a group of more devoted friends. They'd stick by you through anything, and I'm willing to bet you'd do the same for them."
"I would," I said, looking at the pool again, looking at three of the people who meant the most to me in the world. "I can say that now."
"So how long have you had feelings for Chris?"
I sighed and actually came very close to grinning. "Are you still on about that?"
"You didn't answer," he pointed out, smiling. "I'm gonna be 'on about that' until you do. I'm stubborn that way, sometimes. Ask anyone."
Damn my whole not-lying thing anyway. This was not going to be easy to get out of. And honestly ... I wasn't sure that I wanted to. From everything I'd heard, and everything I'd seen, Tate could be trusted. Was trusted, by the people I trusted. And he hadn't known me before all this, wasn't prejudging me, was just taking me in as I appeared to him, right now. With Tate, I didn't have half a decade or more of baggage.
And more, he would understand what I was going to say. Possibly. If I even *knew* what I was going to say; they were vague feelings that I hadn't really put into words before. I sighed again as I made my decision, the weight of the whole situation pressing down on me a little.
"The question is more complicated than you think it is."
"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, and I could tell, instinctively, that he was sincere. And I was going to go with my instincts.
"It's not something I've talked about before," I said. "With anyone. You sure you want to do this."
"You don't know me well enough to know this," he said. "But I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it. Besides," he adds, smiling again now, "I'm minoring in psych. I'm a good listener, and my advice occasionally works."
It made me smile back. "I don't know how it happened," I said softly "One minute I'm completely Asexual, then the next I'm having these feelings for someone I really should not be having feelings for. Chris. God. Makes me feel like I'm going a little nuts."
"Good nuts?" asked Tate.
"Very good nuts," I sighed. "Okay ... I can't believe I'm telling you this ... but until today, I hadn't had an orgasm in well over 2 months." I looked at him apprehensively. "Was that too much information?"
He grinned. "I'll tell you if it's too much information. It's not like I'm picturing it or anything. Why so long? I was given to believe that you were ... uh ... what's the polite word for it?"
"Promiscuous?" I offered. "That's the one my therapist uses. I prefer 'randy' myself. I guess it was a combination of the alcohol and the rehab and the whole, massive, life-changing thing that I was going through. Sex took a backseat to, well, just about everything else. I didn't even get turned on. I forgot what it was like to get hard. That's just ... strange."
"And then today ... ?" he prompted me.
"I got off. On Chris. Well, not ON Chris, but thinking about Chris. Fuck." I ran a hand over my face and tried not to look as embarassed as I felt. "You know, now that I'm talking about it, it's seeming like a way bigger thing than it did at the time."
"Because he's a guy? Because he's Chris? Because it happened at all?"
"All of the above," I said. "Mostly a and b. C, I knew would happen eventually. The rest is a bit more of a shock."
He seemed to contemplate that for a moment, sliding further into the tub and closing his eyes. "Joey," he said finally. "Have you ever heard of a condition where a victim or an injured person falls in love with their caregiver? Or thinks they do?"
"No," I said. "But..." "But what?"
"That's not what this is."
"Are you sure?" he asked me gently.
I had to think about that, because I wanted to be sure. There were so many things hanging by a thread in my life right now; the last thing I needed was another. I never meant to have feelings for Chris that went beyond friendship - never even imagined it was possible - but it was happening and it felt very real and part of my whole deal right now was that I wasn't lying to anyone, not even myself.
"Pretty sure, yeah," I said after a while. "I don't know what this is, but it's more than that. I think, looking back and all, that it's been developing for a while. For me, anyway." I sighed again, still not knowing what to make of it. "You sure you don't mind me talking about this?"
"It's nice to get to know you," he said. "On your own, and not just from what other people have told me. It's a bit of an unusual thing to learn first, but--" He shrugged. "--hey, why not. I don't mind a bit."
"Thanks," I said. "I'm sure I'll figure it out for myself sooner or later."
"You will," he said. "And so will he."
"I don't think Chris has anything to figure out," I said.
"Hmm," said Tate non-committally. "Tell me, do you guys kiss a lot?"
"Do we--" I look at Tate in confusion. Chris had blown me that one mock kiss, but that was nothing. What me and Chris were doing, that was private, and how the hell did he know about it. All I'd talked about was my feelings, not what was going on.
"When I came out of the changing room," he answered my unspoken question softly. "I saw something that looked, well, pretty intimate. Intimate like me and JC would be intimate, not like you're intimate with the other guys. But you guys didn't do things like that in front of everyone else, so I didn't want to ask until we were alone."
"Things are different between me and Chris," I admitted. "I just don't know how different."
"You guys'll figure it out," he assured me. "And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to ... "
"I know who to come to," I finished. "Thank you. I really appreciate that."
"And now," he said, starting to stand up, "we unfortunately need to get out of this water for a while. You up for a swim?"
"Actually," I said. "I think I'm gonna hunt down Lance. He's missing his own party. But I'll catch up with you guys in a bit."
"Okay," he said agreeably. "Take it easy."
"And give JC a big squeeze for me," I added with a grin as we got out.
He grinned back. "Not a problem."
I found Lance hiding out in his office. He didn't even hear me come in at first, headphones stuffed in his ears. He was tapping away at the keyboard of his computer, a bottle of vodka on the desk beside him. The cap was off, and a wet-looking glass sat next to it. I almost didn't want to go any closer.
"Hey," I said, a little louder than I needed to, closing the door behind him. He turned at the sound, pulling the earphones out and giving me a sheepish smile. "Sneaking out on your own party."
Lance gestured at the computer helplessly. "I had some stuff that needed taking care of. You guys looked like you were having enough fun without me, so I thought now would be a good time ... "
"You work too much," I said bluntly, still hovering near the door. "I'm willing to bet that whatever you're doing, it could be being done by someone else. Should be being done by someone else, but you volunteered instead."
"I like things to be done right," he insisted, turning back to his computer for a moment. "You can come in, you know. I'm not going to bite; just give me a sec to finish this up and shut it down."
"Uh ... can you put that away first?" I said, gesturing at the vodka bottle. "It's making me a little uncomfortable." He actually looked at me in confusion for a moment before flushing in comprehension and dropping it in a desk drawer, along with the recently-used and recently-emptied glass.
I went over and sat on the corner of the desk that it had been inhabiting. "How are you doing?" I asked him.
"Aren't I the one who's supposed to be asking you that?" he said, not even looking up at me as he finished writing an email. I couldn't even see it from where I was, and wondered what was so important that he had to do it right now.
"You'd think," I said, "but no. Everyone needs to be asked that sometimes. You okay?"
He turned his head to briefly look at my again. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" he asked, frowning a bit. "I know ... I shouldn't have snuck off like that ... but one of you guys would have stopped me, and--"
"Maybe one of us should have stopped you," I pointed out, giving him what I hoped was a significant look. "You need to relax a little, Lance. Maybe even more than the rest of us."
He sighed as he backspaced over half a sentence. "You guys ever think that maybe doing *this* is relaxing to me?"
"It could be," I agreed. "But it's not. I see you, Lance. If I believed this was relaxing, or even doing you good, I wouldn't be here."
His lips tightened a bit; he still didn't look at me. "I hardly think you're in any position to be lecturing anyone--"
"I'm not lecturing," I interrupted him, struggling to keep my voice quiet. Calm. Trying not to get either angry or scared by anything that Lance was saying to me. "I care about you. The same way you guys care about me."
"Really, Joey," he said. "You don't need to. I'm happy."
Yeah, I'd heard that before. I sighed and slid off the desk; this was going nowhere. "You coming back out?"
He finally looked up at me again. "What? Oh, yeah, of course, I've just got..." He gestured at the work on his desk helplessly.
"Promise me you'll take a break later?" I said, heading back for the door again. "You do work too hard."
He nodded absently, and I stood there until he actually looked me in the eye and nodded. "Seriously," he said. "Just a few things to finish up." I didn't believe him, but at least I knew where he was if I needed to come back and drag him out again. "Joey--" he added, unexpectedly. "You wanna hang out later this week, just you and me?"
"I'd like that," I said. I was smiling as I left the room until I heard the drawer open and close, and had to wonder if it was that vodka bottle coming right back out again.
I flopped down in a dining room chair and held my cup of coffee between both my hands. The night had turned chilly, unexpectedly, and me and Chris had been caught out in it, going for a long walk once we got home from Lance's. Chris was currently rummaging through my closet, looking for a sweatshirt that was sufficiently worn, thick and oversized that he could curl up in it. Apparently, he didn't own one.
I grabbed a handful of letters from the sack next to me and dropped them on the table, rummaging through them a little as I waited for Chris. There was one that was opened already, then taped back shut again. I looked at the writing on the envelope. It was typed, somewhat professionally, and stood out from the rest of the letters by the sheer absence of perfume, round handwriting and pink. Had someone been watching as they came in, checking for anything that might have been less than positive? Or was it the usual sweep for threats?
Whichever, I opened that one first. The letter, too, was typed and I was able to scan it in a couple of minutes. I had to get up to find my notepad and pen - which I'd left in the kitchen last night - to begin writing a letter assuring her that rehab was successful, I was clean and sober, and she wouldn't have to get rid of her children's Nsync merchandise. I sighed as I finished it, stuffing it in an envelope and addressing it to her, then pausing to sip my coffee.
"Everything okay?" asked Chris, sitting down next to me. I'd heard him banging around in the kitchen and wasn't surprised to see him sit down at the table next to me with a mug of hot chocolate, piled high with whipped cream. I wasn't surprised to see him wearing my University of Maryland sweatshirt, the one I, in turn, had gotten from JC because it had been way, way too big for him.
"Fine," I said with a little smile, just looking at him for a moment. "Answering some letters. "A few each night and I should get through them all in, oh, ten years or so."
Chris grinned at me. I know he thought I was nuts, trying to answer them all - let alone answer them all myself - but he didn't try and stop me. I was thankful for that.
"You need some help?" he asked after he'd slurped half the whipped cream off the top of his drink and licked the remnants off his lips.
"Um, sure," I said, gesturing at the bag. "Knock yourself out. Just let me read 'em too, okay? I need to."
"I know," he replied, kneeling down next to the bag. "Ooh, are there packages in here? Can I open them? It'll be just like Christmas."
I laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "There are some," I said. "Go ahead. Everything's got to be opened." He grabbed my wrist as it left his hair and stuffed the tips of two of my fingers in him mouth, biting at them playfully. Then he stood up, a couple of brown-wrapped packages in his hands, and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "This could be fun," he said.
I just smiled at him, a little more broadly this time, and I thought about my whole conversation with Tate. Among other things.
"What are you smiling about?" asked Chris, finally looking at me with more than a little curiousity.
"Nothin'," I evaded. "Can't a guy just smile?"
"Trust me, Joey" he said. "These days, when you smile, it's for a reason. So spill ... what's on your mind."
I shook my head. "You're gonna laugh at me."
"I will not laugh at you," he protested. "Come on, would I do that?"
"You will," I insisted, close to blushing. "But that's okay. I'd laugh at me, too, if I were you and you were me and you were smiling for the reasons that I'm smiling."
"You're so frustrating," said Chris, but he was smiling. "Just tell me."
I bit my lip and chuckled softly to myself. "I jerked off in the shower today."
Chris laughed. "What, that's supposed to be news--?" He abruptly broke off the sentence and stopped laughing, a stunned look on his face. "Wait, that is news," he said. "That's the first time, since ... isn't it?"
"Yup," I admitted.
"Wow," he said. "What made you ... I mean, what turned you on, man?"
I laughed and did blush this time, even though I hated it when I blushed. Yeah, like I was really gonna answer that. "That's between me and my dick."
Chris laughed again. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to say right now. I've never been in quite this situation before. Um ... would congratulations do?"
"Congratulations would do just fine," I told him.
"Well, then," he said. "Congratulations, Joey. You've got your libido back."