I checked my watch nervously as I jogged up the walk. It wasn't like the driveway was far from the front door, but no sense being any later than I already was. Which was already quite late. I lifted my hand to the doorbell only to have the door open in front of me.
"Morning, Chris," he said, way too brightly. It's not that I'm not a morning person, but nobody should be quite that cheerful when the sun is barely up. I don't care who you are, or how many hours of sleep you've gotten, or even how recently you've gotten laid. Which, incidentally, I'm pretty sure he hasn't.
"Morning," I said, waiting for him to step aside so I could come in. I thought about pushing, but that would just be rude. Maybe a week from now I'll be comfortable enough to be rude again. "Sorry I'm late."
He just shrugged, the smile firm on his face. "No problem," he said. "Ready to go?" I studied him for a moment, looking for those hidden signals that would tell me what he was really thinking, but there were none. Or maybe it was just that it was too early in the morning for me to be really catching them.
I took one more moment to think about what I would be like in his position. Okay, I just got out of rehab, I just tasted my first real bit of freedom, I just spend the night in my own house for the first time in two months, and I just opened my front door to find my best friend waiting there. Yeah, maybe he was just happy.
"Hello?" he said, rapping his knuckles against my forehead when I was too slow to answer. Definitely too damn perky.
"Yeah, I'm ready," I said, laughing in spite of myself as I swatted his hand away. Actually, I wondered how far we were going to make it before collapsing in a heap on the ground. I wasn't kidding when I said I was out of shape; none of us have done any performing since Joey went into rehab, and without the constant rehearsals and concerts, it was pretty easy to lose that edge.
As for Joey...well, the guy's packed on a few pounds, that much is clear, but fuck...he looks healthy. Sure, we both have a bit of work to do before we're in touring shape again, but rehearsals will take care of a big part of that. As far as I'm concerned, he looks great.
I realized he was looking at me funny as I stared it him with a kind of dazed look on my face.
"Sorry, thinking," I told him. "Which way?"
"Well, don't hurt yourself or anything," he shot back. "It's this way."
We took a left at the end of his front walk and took off slowly towards the park, three blocks away. We managed to keep up a steady pace for the most of the run. Well, jog really. Half-way through our second lap of the park we began to slow down, and soon enough we were just walking along the path together, breathing a little heavier than we probably should have been.
"This is a nice place," I said idly, looking around at the pleasant paths and benches and picnic tables. It was, yes, pleasant. Family. Joey didn't say much to that, just kinda grunted and looked away. "You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm okay."
"Gonna tell me what's wrong?" I pushed. He sighed and looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. "Why not?" When Joey wants to talk about something but doesn't know how, he looks at me. When he *really* doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't look. I wonder if he realizes that?
"Too hard," he answered finally.
"To say or to think about?" I went on. We continued walking at our casual pace, past the public washrooms and toward the main gate again.
"Both," he said. "Daisy and I...we used to come here a lot." He stumbled over the words a little, and couldn't even look at me as he said them. "To do stuff, you know?" I knew the kind of 'stuff' he was referring too. The kind of stuff that Just and Lance do on hotel roofs. But I doubted that he and Dais were up to anything quite as innocuous as smoking a couple of joints and trying to laugh at their world.
"Oh," I said finally, trying to keep all traces of judgment out of my voice. "How come you wanted to come out here this morning?"
He surprised me by smiling a little. "Sometimes," he said, pausing and leaning against one of the posts that lined the trail, "when Dais was shooting up and I was almost in my right mind...I would think about what a nice place this actually was. I didn't think about that much, but I remembered."
"And that makes you smile?"
He shrugged, but the smile didn't fade. "Cause I remembered, Chris. And you're here with me now, aren't you? So at least something good came of all of it."
I didn't argue with that. In fact, I smiled back at him, then took his elbow and encouraged him to keep walking the rest of the way. At the pace we ended up going, our workout was clearly over and had been for a while. Well, not too bad for our first day out, really.
"Ready to head back to your place?" I asked him when we reached the gate. It was propped wide open and looked like it had been for years; the hinges were all rusted and vines were growing up through it. There was a bench next to it, and when Joey didn't answer right away I led us over to it to sit down. "Not ready to head back to your place?" I asked when we were seated.
"Just a few minutes," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him and his arms across the back of the bench. "You...uh, you sure you don't mind hanging out with me so much, Chris? I mean..."
His voice trailed off, but I wasn't going to let him get away with that. "You mean what, Joey?"
"I mean...I'm sure you have better things to be doing," he said quietly.
"Nope," I told him simply, then leaned back against the bench, my head resting against his arm.
"And you don't mind when I just talk about what I'm thinking?"
I snorted. "I'd like it if you did it more, actually, Joey. I was shut out for so long..." I let my eyes slide to the side to gauge his reaction to that. He tensed up a bit too much for comfort, so I let it go for the moment. There was silence for a long time.
"I was glad you were there," he said finally. "When you came to see me. I looked forward to your visits because you would listen to me, even when I wasn't making any sense, even to me. I was afraid you'd get sick of that and not come back, but you never did."
"And I don't plan to," I replied with a bit of a grin. "Joey...believe it or not, I *like* listening to you. I mean, we've all gotten to know each other over the years, but know I feel like I'm really getting to know you for the first time. It's cool. I like you."
"You do?"
He looked genuinely astonished at that, as though someone liking him for himself was the most unbelievable thing he'd ever heard. Maybe because so many people had seemed to like him when he was being someone else. Myself included.
"Yeah, I do," I told him firmly. He nodded his head and fell silent again, briefly. I knew that it wasn't easy for him to open up to anyone, but I think he trusted me more all the time. And that was cool.
"I keep thinking I should look at the time," he told me, a bit timidly. "Too see whether it's free time, or meal time, or therapy time, or group session time...it's hard to convince myself that my time's my own again. I mean--" His voice started to get louder again, and he used the arm that wasn't behind my head to gesture. "--I could stand up right now and walk through that gate and up the street and there's no one that's going to stop me."
"Well, I might," I joked.
"But I could tell you no,' he went on. "I can make that decision. I..."
"You what, Joey?" I promted him when he faltered.
"I could also make the decision to go right to the nearest bar and have a drink," he admitted. "The choice is all mine."
"Which means you can also make the decision not to," I reminded him. "Right now, right this moment, you are making that decision. But yeah...damn...free will is a big responsibility, isn't it?" He nodded silently.
"Let's go," he said, standing up abruptly. "There's something at home I need your help with."
"This doesn't involve hauling anything else up from your basement, does it?" I asked him as we left the park. "'Cause I'm really starting to regret not getting your help with those chairs yesterday." I rotated my shoulder delicately, reminding myself of the stiffness that had been plaguing me since I'd woken up. The run had worked out some of it, but not all.
"Feel free to use the downstairs bathroom to shower when we get in," he said as we walked. "I figure that's the one you were using anyway--you left all your shaving stuff in it. How often were you staying there anyways?"
"At least a couple times a week," I admitted. "Sometimes more. You sure you're okay with that?" He nodded. "I guess I could've told you that sooner...I just got so used to not telling you anything that was going on..."
"It's okay," he assured me. "If I'd been thinking, I would have invited you to anyway. I'd hardly been living in the place six months...it's good that there was someone using it. I mean that."
I stripped off my sweaty T-shirt as soon as we walked in the door and tucked it in the waistband of my sweatpants, heading straight for the bathroom. I heard Joey go halfway up the stairs to the master bathroom, but then he paused. I glanced up to see why, but he was just watching me and smiling.
"What?" I asked, self-consciously, looking down at myself.
"Nothing," he said. "I'll see you in twenty minutes." He turned back and resumed his trek up the stairs so I continued on into the bathroom, shutting the door and stripping quickly to get the rest of my sweaty clothing off my body. The hot water felt obscenely good, and I stood under it for far, far too long.
I finally stepped out into the steamy bathroom and toweled off, slowly and thoroughly, making sure I wasn't going to drip water through Joey's house the way I would have if it were my own place. I went to put something on and cursed myself as I realized that I hadn't thought to bring anything to change into. I knew there were a couple pairs of boxers and maybe a T-shirt or two in the spare room that I'd been staying in, but that wasn't quite enough.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and opened the bathroom door, grabbing my sweaty clothing on the way out and dropping it on the bedroom floor as I went inside. I wasn't half the slob Joey was, and I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if the house wasn't exactly pristine all the time, but I'd been trying to keep it that way anyway.
The only pair of boxers I'd left here had yellow happy faces all over them, but they'd have to do. I used to wear them around the guys on tour just to get a laugh, but with just me and Joey here they struck me as silly. There was a mostly-clean blue T-shirt on top of the dresser that I put on. Toweling the excess water off my hair one last time, I dropped the towel onto the bed and headed up the stairs to the master bedroom.
The shower was still running when I went in, so I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around. I hadn't spend much time in here at all in the last while. As much as I was already invading his home, Joey's bedroom was like his private sanctuary and I didn't want to violate that.
It was actually pretty simple--not what I'd expect having known Joey for as long as I had, even with all the ways he'd changed over the years. There wasn't much, well, personality to it. I'd seen his bunk, his hotel rooms, the room he used to have--still has--at his parents' place, and they all seemed more 'him' than this room.
He stepped out of the bathroom a couple minutes later with just a forest green towel wrapped around his waist. He paused a bit when he saw me, then continued into the room and over to his closet. "I thought you'd be downstairs," he said, facing away from me.
"Umm," I said, the hesitation in my voice pulling his attention back to me and away from his wardrobe. "I appear to be without pants." I pointed down at my bare legs for emphasis.
He laughed heartily, and it was a good sound. "I'm not sure I have anything that'll fit you," he confessed. "Give me a second." He went back into the closet, then stepped fully inside and I lost sight of him. I hadn't realized it was a walk-in. Hell, I hadn't realized he had enough clothing for a walk-in.
"Here," he said, coming back out and tossing me a pair of faded jeans, fraying a along the cuffs and a bit across the seat. "These haven't fit me in ages--they're all yours."
"Thanks," I said, holding them up in front of me for a moment, then letting them fall to my lap. I looked at Joey closely while I had the chance. I'd had to watch him run himself down over the past year or so, watch the weight come and go and move around, watch the skin tone take on an unhealthy colour. Our bodies were impossible things to hide from one another. He did look different now--not like he once had, trim and muscular, but still healthier.
Joey caught my stare and looked down at himself. He chuckled a bit self-consciously and slapped his stomach with a sharp thud. "Yeah, I know, you don't have to remind me."
"You look good," was all I said as I stood up and tried the jeans on. They actually fit pretty well--they'd lost something of their length as they'd frayed so I didn't even have to worry about tripping over them.
"They feed you pretty well on the inside," he went on, grabbing a pair of jeans for himself and a hooded Superman sweatshirt. He'd never owned so much Superman stuff before the group, he once told me, but as soon as he said he liked it, it became a sort of trademark for him. "I guess all the alcohol, it saps the vitamins and stuff that you're supposed to be getting. Especially when you're replacing meals with drinks. So they try and build you back up again."
I was surprised he was suddenly talking so candidly about it. Or maybe this was a safe subject, the food. The almost-psychologist in me noted clinically that he was speaking in second person, and not first. Like he was talking about someone else. He saw the expression on my face and sighed.
"Chris, I'm an alcoholic," he said. "It's okay to talk about it."
"I've been trying to," I said softly. He'd already said those words to each of us during his stay in rehab, but at the time it'd felt like something he'd rehearsed. Something that they were making him say as part of his recovery. This time I could see the pain in his face and knew that he really understood what he was saying.
"I know," he agreed. He looked very unsure which of us he'd been trying to convince it was okay. "That's what I need your help with...I mean..." He ran a hand through his hair again and I wondered absently when he'd picked up that habit. "I had a lot of stuff stashed around the house, and I need to get rid of it. I can't have it around."
"Joey," I told him reassuringly. "Just and I...we searched this place top to bottom. It's all gone already."
He shook his head. "I doubt it," he said, with such confidence that I wondered what hiding places he'd contrived that he was so sure we'd have missed. "But even if you did...I need to do this. Will you go through the house with me?"
"Of course," I said, hopefully still sounding reassuring. His voice was so tentative when he asked, almost expecting rejection. "What, do you really think I would have said no?" I asked him.
"Yeah. Maybe. It's my problem to deal with, not yours."
"Wrong," I said, but didn't clarify. "Come on, let's do this."
We started in the basement, which I suppose was as good a place as any to start. It had been completely unfinished when he'd bought the place, but now there was a good start on the game room Joey had always wanted and quite a bit of space still used for storage. We checked in a half dozen nooks and crannies and a few still-packed boxes but came up empty-handed.
"I'm impressed," said Joey, standing at the base of the stairs with his hands on his hips and surveying the basement one last time.
"I told you we were thorough," I said with a touch of pride. I think it was easier for the both of us to cope with this when he played it up like a game. Like a twisted sort of hide and seek. I wondered if he would go so far as to chuckle with glee if he found something we'd missed.
"Well, one floor down and three to go," I said, starting up the stairs. I paused about eight steps up when I realized Joey wasn't following yet. "You coming?" I asked, turning to look at him.
"I'm gonna have to finish that room when we get back from the tour," he said, eyeing the half-finished game room critically.
"Just give Justin a run-down of what all you're putting in there and he'll probably do all the work for you," I joked. "Hell, Joey," I added, a little more quietly. "He probably would anyway."
He smiled to himself, still looking at the plywood walls. "Yeah, maybe I will," he said, then turned and raced up the stairs, right past me and into the kitchen where he leaned on the counter and waited for me.
"What was that all about?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Dunno," he smiled. "Just had a burst of energy." He shrugged and led me to one end of the main floor; apparently we were starting in the bathroom. The one I'd actually come to think of as *my* bathroom, as much as anything in this house is mine. "I have good friends," he said suddenly as he rummaged through drawers and cupboards carefully. "Thank you."
"You'd do the same for us," I said, knowing I was right. Knowing that even at his worst, Joey would have at least tried to be there for a friend. If he could.
"How many did you find?" he asked me as we started on the laundry room, looking behind the washer and drier and through the shelving. I wondered if he even remembered where he'd had everything.
"I don't know," I told him honestly. "Justin might." I paused, wondering what answer he'd really wanted to hear to that question. I sighed, and knew I had to give him more than an 'I don't know'. "There were a lot, Joey. I think you know that."
He nodded. "I was just curious." Even though I wasn't sure what his motive for asking was, I knew that wasn't it. Maybe knowing the exact number of bottles--knowing a fact in the midst of all this fuzzy emotion--would have given him some kind of feeling of control. I didn't think he felt he had much of that right now.
We moved on the the bedroom I'd been staying in, and he laughed at the state I'd left it in. "Nice to see you've made yourself at home, Chris." I knew he was joking, but I felt a bit guilty anyway and picked up the clothes I'd dumped on the floor, dropping them in the hamper. He stopped me from making the bed with a firm hand on my arm.
"I mean it," he said. "It is nice that you've been making yourself at home." He looked like he was going to say something else, but then closed his mouth and shook his head. "Let's keep going. I want to get this over with."
We didn't find anything until we got to the master bathroom, up on the second floor and near the end of our search. Joey stood on the toilet and pushed up one of the ceiling tiles, reaching in and pulling out a half empty bottle of vodka. He handed it to me immediately.
"I kinda figured that one would still be there." He definitely didn't look gleeful at the discovery.
I looked up and nodded. "Good hiding place," I said.
He got down off the toilet and leaned against the bathroom counter. I hadn't asked for an explanation, but he seemed to want to give one. "Sometimes Daisy would go on a binge," he said finally. "She'd drink up everything she could find, especially when she was here and I was on tour. I...I always wanted to make sure that there was something for me when I got home."
I left the bathroom without answering and waited for him in the hallway.
"You're mad, aren't you," he said, already resigned to the fact.
"Joey," I said quietly. "When are you going to get that I'm not mad at you?"
"I'm not," he said. "You should be. Chris, you've never once gotten mad at me for all this."
"I'm not mad at you," I repeated, trying to drill that into his head. "I just...I have a question." I held up the vodka bottle, just enough so that he could see it. "Do you still want this? Like you did before?"
He took a deep breath. "I think I'm always going to want that," he said. "That's why you're carrying it and not me." He closed his eyes and turned away, and I knew it was time to get moving and finish up this little mission of ours.
We found another bottle in the attic, but this one was empty. When me and Justin had looked in the crawlspace the first time, it had been late and we thought what we were looking at was just trash on the floor. This time we picked up two bloody rags, an elastic, half a joint and a broken syringe before we found the empty bottle, on its side, about as far in as a grown person could get.
"I didn't know about this place," said Joey. "This must have been where Daisy...well, let's just get rid of this stuff." He found a plastic bag in one of the empty packing boxes nearby and put everything into it. Except the bottle; I carried that.
We went back downstairs and he got rid of the trash. I set the bottles on the counter and mentally reminded myself to take them when I left. I'd take Justin with me and we'd get rid of them the same way we'd gotten rid of the rest; we'd formed almost a ritual around it.
He came back inside with a strange expression on his face, almost a combination of disgust and fright. I still hadn't caught on to all the things that would make Joey feel better when past events started to overwhelm them, so I just put my arms around him and rubbed his back gently.
"What are you afraid of?" I asked him quietly.
"Myself," he answered, pulling out of the hug and going to the fridge. "We're going to have to get some groceries for this afternoon," he said. "What I've got here won't last an hour with the guys."
I understood that the subject was dropped. For now. But the way things had been going, I wasn't worried. We'd pick it up again soon enough.
The ringing phone woke me. We'd settled down on the couch to watch TV for a while and I guess we both needed just a bit more sleep than we'd gotten the night before--Joey's head had fallen against my shoulder and he was snoring lightly. It took me a moment to figure out just which phone was ringing; I grabbed Joey's cell phone just before the other person gave up.
"Hello?"
"Um...Chris? Is that you?"
"Hey, Just," I said easily. "Yeah, Joey's asleep on the couch so I just grabbed it. I wasn't thinking. So what's up?"
"JC and I are just on our way over there now and we wanted to give Joey fair warning. So you're already there, huh. I was wondering where you got off to so early this morning." He paused and I was about to reply when he went on "You did remember to call Lance and tell him, right?"
"Oh...shit..." I said, realizing I hadn't. Lance was going to kill me; this definitely wasn't the first thing that had just slipped my mind in the last while.
Justin laughed. "Yeah. I knew you forgot. I'm just fucking with you, man."
"Jerk," I said. "I gotta go, Just. I gotta call Lance."
"Chill, Chris. I called him this morning. He's already on his way. Oh, and you're welcome."
"Thanks," I said belatedly. I managed to get myself out from under Joey and slid a throw pillow under his head so that he wouldn't wake up yet. I was guessing he could probably use as much sleep as we could let him have; I hadn't asked, but I doubted he slept really well last night.
"Is there anything we need to bring?"
"Shit...we haven't even gone to the grocery store yet. Well, don't worry about bringing anything, and we'll go and pick up everything we need when you guys get here."
Justin laughed. "You're getting old, Chris. Okay, we'll see you soon."
"Bye, Just." I refrained from making any diaper comments, knowing that they would just get him going.
"See ya, Chris."
I snapped the phone shut and set it on the glass coffee table in front of Joey. He could answer his own phone the next time it rang, not that I was expecting it to. All three guys were already on their way over here.
I went to the front window and pulled the curtain back slightly; Lance was just pulling into the driveway, sunglasses and hat firmly in place. A few of the people in the neighborhood knew who their neighbor was, but no one had made a big deal out of it. Maybe when their kids got a little older it would be more of an issue, but the average age of offspring around here was about 4 years old.
I opened the door for him so the doorbell wouldn't wake Joey and met him on the front step.
"You forgot to call," he said, crossing his arms over his chest in mock anger. He couldn't keep from smirking a little, though, which gave him away.
"You're right, I did," I admitted. "Next stop, senility." I glanced back inside and saw Joey still sleeping soundly on the couch. Knowing JC and Just, it would be at least an hour before they made it here, so there was time for a little side trip. "I need to run by the grocery store and pick up some stuff. You wanna come with? Joey's taking a nap."
"Sure," he said, shrugging. "My entire plans for today consist of hanging out with you guys. I've got nowhere else to be."
"Good," I said, shutting and locking the door. "Joey needs to rest. He's a little stressed."
Lance chuckled. "There's an understatement. So where are we headed?"
"There's a supermarket a few blocks away that shouldn't be too busy," I told him. "Oh, and you're driving."
He rolled his eyes. "What else is new?"
Okay, so I hadn't had a car for years. So sue me. I never really liked driving much. Maybe that's why I'm having so much trouble finding the perfect house--I wanted all the essentials within walking distance. When 'the essentials' included the other guys' houses, well, I think I set myself up for a no-win situation there. Of course, the supermarket here was walking distance too. I justified the drive by convincing myself that we were pressed for time and hopped into the passenger seat of Lance's car.
We returned about five minutes before JC and Justin arrived, piling our bags on the kitchen table and grabbing the few things that needed to be chilled to toss inside the almost-empty refrigerator. We could both hear the car tires as they squealed around the corner, signalling their arrival.
"Shit," I said, checking on Joey reflexively. "Lance, you wanna grab them before they ring the doorbell? We don't need to be getting Joey up yet."
"Sure," he said, but not before giving me a bit of a strange look. I continued putting groceries away as I heard him let them in, heard their hushed voices get closer to the kitchen.
"We're here," I heard Justin say from behind me. JC had come in from the other side and promptly started helping me with the groceries, until we heard Justin's voice again. "What the fuck??"
I turned to see him holding up the half-empty vodka bottle. "You fucking lied to us," he said coldly, his face white and full of rage and fear. "He's been out all of a day and already you're lying to us. He's not sleeping is he? He's--"
"Justin, no!" I tried to interrupt. Both JC and Lance had frozen.
"He's fucking *passed out* on the couch!" he shouted. "He's passed out, not sleeping, and you're already covering for him. Some friend you are." Before any of us could make a move to stop him, he raised the bottle over his head and threw it forcefully against the kitchen floor. The glass bottle smashed into fragments and a pool of liquid began speading quickly across the floor. The stench of liquor rose up and I coughed involuntarily.
"Justin--" I tried again.
"You think that's gonna help, Chris?" he choked out, tears falling from his eyes now. "Don't you remember anything?"
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joey approaching the kitchen, stretching his arms out, then rubbing his still-sleepy eyes. "You should have gotten me up, sooner, Chris," he said cheerfully. "I didn't know everyone was--" As he reached Justin, he took in the scene in front of him. "What's going on?"
Justin let out an involuntary sob. "Fucking drunk!" he cried, shoving Joey out of the way and racing out the patio doors into the backyard.
You could barely even hear anyone breathe for a moment. I looked up and saw Joey's expression change as he took in the words, the look, the broken bottle on the floor, and quickly figured out what had just happened. Suddenly he looked very weary and very, very sad.
"I need to go talk to Justin," I said to break the silence, carefully avoiding the broken glass as I followed him outside. I found him sitting on the edge of the deck, his feet hanging over the side.
"He wasn't drinking," I said quietly, sitting down beside him.
"Chris," he replied, his voice quieter now but not much calmer. "Don't you know what lying about it can do? It's like...feeding his addiction." His tears splashed down on his hands as he continued to cry, looking down at the ground. "I was the one who found him, for fuck's sake! I'll never forget--"
"Justin," I said again. "Listen to me. He wasn't drinking."
"Chris, please!" he said, frustration sounding in his voice. "We scoured that house. We got rid of every drop of liquor. Then I walk in and there are two bottles of it--no, two practically empty bottles. Explain that to me."
"I will if you'll let me."
"So do it. No more lies."
"This morning Joey asked me to help him get rid of all the alcohol in his house, because he didn't trust himself around it," I began, trying to simplify the story as much as I could so I could get the whole thing out before Justin interrupted. "I told him we'd already done it but he wanted to make sure. Those two bottles are what we found." I paused a moment for that to sink in. "I was going to take them with us tonight," I added. "So you and I could get rid of them with the rest."
"Oh," was all he said for a moment. He stared at his legs as they dangled, then at his fidgeting hands, then out at the yard. "Shit. Chris...I just saw that and I got so fucking scared. It was just like before--"
"I know it's hard to trust him right now, but--"
He interrupted with a shake of his head. "I don't, Chris. I don't trust him right now. I can't."
"He knows that," I told him bluntly. "But we can't keep rubbing it in his face. Not if we want things to ever be comfortable between all of us again. Once in a while, we need to give him the benefit of the doubt."
"I--"
"He needs us, Just. He might not admit it, but he needs us more than he ever has."
He nodded and wiped his eyes with a fist. "I need to apologize, at least."
He seemed settled enough now for me to reach out and touch his back, rubbing calming circles into it. I hadn't acted the big brother much, not before, but this whole thing had changed the group dynamics more than we'd realized at first. When I'd dropped everything to be with Joey, suddenly I was the one people looked up to, the one people came to, and thus the one they felt the most betrayed by when they thought I screwed up. It was a hell of a responsibility, and one I'd managed to avoid for many years by trying to stay a kid myself.
"Are you ready to go back in?" He nodded, so I helped him up and led the way.
JC was just finishing cleaning up the kitchen, trying to make sure the last of the glass had been picked up off the floor. He looked up and I nodded to him on the way by. I think, by the way they'd reacted in the kitchen, that JC and Lance had understood better than Justin what was going on.
Justin had been pretty broken up about everything, maybe because he had been the one to find Joey. He'd been a wreck that first night, managing to get one of us in there to see what had happened and letting us take care of the rest. I think it shattered his illusion of us being perfect--a fantasy world that he'd convinced himself we lived in--and he was left with little to cling to for a while.
Joey was in the living room, talking quietly on the couch with Lance. Justin cleared his throat.
"Joey," he said, the name almost a question. Both men looked up at him. "I'm sorry, man," he said, a few tears falling again. Embarassed, he scrubbed them away. Joey stood up and walked around to the other side of the couch, then just looked at Justin for a long moment. "I shouldn't have--"
"It's okay," interrupted Joey softly. "I know why you did it. I just..." I couldn't see Joey's eyes clearly enough from where I was, but after last night I was willing to bet they were tearing up again as well. "I doesn't feel good...but I know you were trying to help. So...oh, hell...Justin--thanks for loving me enough to do that."
Fuck, I was gonna start crying myself. Justin raced up and threw his arms around Joey and they both started crying, clinging to one another. It was something they'd needed to do since the night Justin found him in the hotel. Lance and I discreetly removed ourselves and went into the kitchen with JC. I put the rest of the groceries away as we waited for them.
This certainly wasn't going to be the end of the tension between Joey and Justin, but at least it was a start. At least they both knew where they stood now. At least they were both trying to let go of a bit of the pain of the past year, and especially of the past two months.
"Do you want me to start the barbecue?" asked JC. "Or do you want to wait until later?"
"Start it now," answered Lance for me. "I know we were planning on talking first," he explained, "but I think right now a little food might go a long way."
I nodded. "I stored it in the shed out back. It's not locked," I told JC. "You don't mind doing this?"
"Of course not," he said with a smile. "What red-blooded American male doesn't like to barbecue?"
"Me," said Lance, raising his hand with a grin. "I'll make salad. And potatoes. Chris...you just sit."
"Just gimme a few minutes to get everything set up on the deck and I'll be right back," said JC, hastily removing himself from what he knew was coming.
"I can cook," I protested. "I cooked for myself in college."
"And if we were having macaroni and cheese for dinner then I'd be happy to let you," said Lance bluntly. "You can scrub potatoes if you want something to do--we can bake them on the barbecue. Damn. I feel like having corn, now. We should have picked some up."
"Next time," I promised him, muttering something vague about where he could shove the potatoes as I hauled out the bag out and settled myself by the sink. I mean, who likes being stuck with all the menial chores when making a group dinner? It seemed to be my lot in life, though.
I noticed Lance looking for something--probably the salad bowl, so I opened the cupboard it was in and handed it to him.
"You're such a good host," he teased me as he took it from my hand and found some empty counter space to work on.
"Hey, I'm not the host," I told him. "These are Joey's digs. His barbecue."
Lance snickered. "You can tell yourself that all you want, Chris," he said, "but you're not fooling anyone. Did we remember to get any tinfoil?"
"We already have some," I said, pulling it out of the drawer and setting it aside. As we quietly worked side-by-side for a moment, I wondered what Lance had meant by that. Was I being overbearing? Was I taking on too much that should have been Joey's responsibility? Was I acting too much like this was my place and not his?
"Lance," I asked finally. "Do you think I'm doing something wrong?"
He looked over at the pile of potatoes that was growing on the other side of the sink. "No, I think everything looks fine. Even you can't screw up potatoes."
"No, I mean with Joey," I replied.
"Oh," he said, thinking for a moment. "No, I don't think the way you care for him is wrong," he said, seeming to choose his words with great care. "Just be careful. He's fragile right now. But at the same time, don't cushion him from the world. He's got to be able to deal with it again."
"Yeah, I know," I said. "I just feel like...like he needs someone who's always on his side. No matter what. So he can start trusting himself again."
Lance nodded. "Well, if anyone can do that for him, you can, Chris," he said. "That's enough potatoes. Just wrap them in the tinfoil and take them out to JC. They need to go on first. Top rack."
I dried my hands off on some paper towel and set myself to work wrapping. "Lance," I asked. "What did you say to Joey? I mean, in the living room." I'd wanted to ask that right away, I'd wanted to know exactly what was going on on all sides of the situation, but this was the first real opportunity I'd had.
I looked at him and he shrugged. "Not much. He told me what the bottle thing was all about, and I told him that you were taking care of Justin. And that everything was going to be all right. You know, the usual touchy feely stuff."
"You okay?" I asked, wondering at the uncomfortable tone that had crept into Lance's voice.
"Yeah," he said, pausing to squeeze the bridge of his nose and close his eyes for a moment. "I'm just a little stressed about the press conference tomorrow, I think. I had a nightmare about it last nght."
"What kind of nightmare?" I asked quietly.
"Just...I guess I remembered the press conferences we did back when...you know. I'm not looking forward to going through that again."
"I'm not looking forward to putting Joey through it," I added. "He's not up to this. He's hardly even had a chance to be home yet."
"Well, it's not like we have any choice in the matter. Maybe it'll go smoothly."
The potatoes were wrapped, so I dumped them in a bowl to take them outside to JC. I touched Lance's back lightly on my way by and he turned to me. "It'll be okay," I told him. I think the rest of us needed to hear that as often as Joey did, right now.
He just smiled at me and went back to tearing up lettuce. I stepped out onto the deck and watched JC scrubbing diligently at the barbecue grill. He turned as he heard me and grimaced. "This thing is a mess," he said. "Don't you guys ever clean it."
"Hey! Innocent!" I said, raising my hands after setting the bowl of potatoes on one of the lounge chairs. "It's Joey's barbecue, not mine."
"Right," he said, turning back to it. "Well, I've got as much of this off as I'm going to. The rest is going to have to burn off." He lit the thing like an expert, then backed away. "We're going to have to leave this for a bit before we put anything on. Let's get those steaks ready."
Justin and Joey were in the kitchen when we came back, getting out drinks and pouring chips into bowls. We all kinda worked alone until the food was ready, JC being fortunate enough to be cooking out on the deck and not subjected to the uncomfortable silences that the rest of us were. Lance and I were giving Joey and Justin sidelong glances--neither of whom had deemed it necessary to tell us about anything that had gone on between them--and they were clearly still awkward around one another, too.
Finally I'd had enough. I slammed both hands down against the counter, hard, to get everyone's attention.
"Chris?" said Justin uncertainly.
I turned towards them all and smiled, slowly. "Group hug!" I shouted, and tackled Justin to the floor, my arms wrapped tightly around him. A moment later I felt two other bodies latch onto us from behind and we were all in a laughing, poking heap on the kitchen floor. I heard the patio door open and close.
"What the hell?" I heard JC say, though all I could see were the bright colours of Lance's t-shirt and the solid blue of Joey's jeans. He sighed. "When in Rome..." A moment later the fifth and final body was added to our pile.
Dinner was easier after that. Justin and JC told us about some ridiculous nature program they'd watched this morning where the host spent most of the hour looking out through a deer blind and talking about his wife's new lingerie, and Lance was getting a bit excited about a song he was working on, hoping we'd all like it enough to work it into the next album.
Joey was pretty quiet, but he spent the whole meal smiling which was a pretty damn good sign. I'd managed to stay pretty quiet myself, but it was through conscious effort and not by nature. This was the first time just the five of us had been together, and I wanted to observe everyone. It had been hard to tell, at times, what everyone was thinking, and that was something I was usually pretty good at.
Joey was...better than I'd seen him in a while. Stress still lined his face, but it was softer. Like he finally had something to think about other than his problems and his past. Like he was feeling close to his 'brothers' again, something that had been sorely lacking in his life.
Justin was looking a bit distant; he was smiling and laughing but there was something in his eyes that made me think his thoughts were elsewhere. His blow-up today had been a long time coming, but I couldn't help thinking that it wouldn't be the last. He'd let off some steam, but the real problem hadn't been resolved yet. It would take a lot of time spent around Joey for him to feel confident in him again.
JC was trying to be the life of the party which wasn't really like him at all. He was performing today, not for Joey's benefit, entirely, but to keep the tension down to a manageable level. Once he saw that everyone had relaxed a little more, about halfway into the meal, he began to quiet down and became his more serious, off-camera self. I think, of all of us, he was dealing the most naturally with Joey's return, or at least he appeared to be.
But Lance...Lance was still awkward. He smiled at the appropriate moments and was as easy on Joey as he could be...but he was definitely still uncomfortable. I was reminded of a conversation that JC and I'd had shortly after Lance had gone home to be with his family for a while. He'd said something then that really stuck with me, that each of us has to deal with this in his own way and in his own time before we'll be whole again. So I guess that Lance was just dealing with this differently. His own way.
"I guess we should get down to business," said JC reluctantly as he helped me clear the picnic table off. Thank God for paper plates and utensils, that's all I have to say about that. Lance and Joey were sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling their feet in the water, and Justin was laying on his back on the grass, staring up at the clouds.
Joey turned back to him and nodded slightly.
"Are you ready for this, Joe?" I asked, sitting beside him, throwing my shoes aside and rolling up my pants to slip my feet into the cool water.
"No," he admitted, "but we have no choice. Besides...it's not like you guys were ready before, either."
"No, we weren't," said Justin quietly, still staring at the sky.
"Justin," I said warningly, but Joey waved his hand a little to silence me.
"Thanks, Chris," he said, "but it's okay. Let him say what he needs to say." Silently, Lance squeezed Joey's knee for a moment, then pulled his hand away again.
"That's it," said Justin. "We weren't ready. That's all."
"You're not just talking about the press, are you?" said Joey.
The question surprised me, as much as it seemed to surprise Justin. That was the kind of thing you asked in your head, or when you were alone with someone, not when you were in a group. And especially not if you were Joey, who didn't really call people on anything. Or, at least, he hadn't before. I reminded myself that I was sitting with the New Joey now.
"I...uh..."
"No more secrets," said Joey. "We have enough to deal with."
"No," said Justin, sighing quietly. "I'm not just talking about the press. But that's what we're dealing with today, so I think we should stick to that."
Lance took control of the situation. "They're mostly gonna be focusing on you, Joey, but I think you knew that. We're more or less there for moral support."
"And to field the questions you don't feel up to," I added. The most important thing was to appear as a group, all five of us as one unit again, but second to that was making sure that Joey wasn't overwhelmed by the whole thing. "Joey...they've been waiting for this for weeks."
"What Chris is trying to say," said Justin bluntly, "is that they aren't going to be gentle."
"Are they ever?" asked Joey, quite seriously. "Has there ever been a time where they've not asked something just because we didn't want to answer it?"
"Yes, but they're going to get answers this time," said JC. "That's why they're coming. They're going to expect answers from you, Joey. What happened, who was involved, how you're doing, what you're going to be doing in the future."
"And probably wanting the sordid details, too," added Lance, dismally.
"Joey," I said, laying a hand on his leg. "We need to know what you're going to answer, and what you aren't, and what you need us to do for you." I hoped he understood that I was being dead serious here. Whatever he needed, we--or at least I--was willing to do.
"I'm going to answer everything about the alcoholism and about rehab and about how I feel about it," he said. "I'm not going to talk about relationships, mine or anyone elses, including Daisy. Anything that has to do with the tour or future public appearances or anything like that, I'm going to need someone else to field. And...when they ask you all about how you feel about it--and I know they will--be honest."
Joey's tone was so even I knew he was already keeping himself under tight control. The way he was going to have to tomorrow to make it through the press conference. I didn't want him to be like this around us, the people who are closest to him in the world, but he'd already cried in front of us once today and I had a feeling it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat just yet. I actually wish he would. I'm not too masculine to admit that crying makes you feel a whole lot better sometimes.
"How honest do you want us to be, Joey?" asked Justin.
Joey sighed. "As honest as you're comfortable with. Don't give them your life secrets just because I asked you to be honest, Just. But...if they ask you if you were mad at me, you can tell them that. I don't want to sugarcoat this thing."
"Are we in for any suprises, Joey?" I asked him quietly. I knew that everyone else could hear, and that the question was for their benefit as well as mine, but I wanted it to feel more personal to him.
"I don't know," he whispered. "Maybe. I don't know what you guys know or don't know. A lot of the stuff I thought I kept secret, you knew, and a lot of the stuff I thought you knew, you didn't, so I don't know if what I'm gonna talk about is gonna shock you or what. It might. Some of it would surprise me if I heard it from any of the rest of you."
"Like what?" asked JC. I was surprised it was him who'd asked; I was expecting it to be Justin or Lance. But I knew it would be someone.
"I'm not sure I can do this..."
"Wouldn't you rather do it now than tomorrow with dozens of reporters there?" pressed JC. "They're going to be capturing our reactions. They're going to know if it's a surprise to us."
"I don't know what they're going to ask," said Joey. He wasn't whispering anymore, but his voice wasn't loud either. "I can't cover everything..." He steadied his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands for a moment.
I was surprised again when Lance leaned over and put his arms around Joey, hugging him tightly. "I've missed you," was all he said, resting his cheek against Joey's shoulder for a long, silent moment.
"Thanks," said Joey, straightening up again. Lance went back to just sitting at his side, staring at the ripples his feet made in the water. "You guys all know that stuff that's happened...and what happened to land me in rehab," he began. "It's...it's gonna be hard to talk about, and hopefully I'll be able to avoid it, but at least it's stuff you know. I...I know it's gonna come up, so...just so you know...for about four months before you guys, uh, intervened...well, I didn't spend any of it sober. Not during concerts, not during interviews, not hanging out. None of it."
"None?" said Justin. "Shit, man, that could have killed you."
"It almost did."
"That's fucking scary."
"Frankly, Justin," said Joey, "there's no one it scares more than me. But it's not going to happen anymore."
"We're here to help you," said JC. "You're not alone in this."
Joey laughed, a little bitterly, and I knew he was close to breaking. "Remember the last time you said those words to me, C?"
"Oh...fuck..." he said quietly. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't be," he interrupted. "None of you be sorry for that. You did what you had to do. You did what I needed you to do."
I couldn't take it anymore. This was a necessary conversation, but not one that was meant to be had all at once. We'd come about as far as we could without starting to break down, and I knew it. After briefly flirting with the idea of pushing Joey in, I did the one thing I knew would take everyone's attention off Joey. I fell into the pool.
"Oh, fuck," I said, the water splashing up around me and drenching both Joey and Lance. I resurfaced and slicked my hair back from my face. I looked at their two matching, astonished faces and moved a little to the left of them. "Um, JC? A hand?" I pleaded. He unsuspectingly came over to help me out, and found himself being launched into the water over my head.
Justin stood up and laughed at his friend for a moment, then shrugged and stripped off his T-shirt, doing a cannonball into the water.
"Well, shit," said Lance, giving Joey's leg a pat as he stood up. "I'm already wet..." He jumped straight in and proceeded to dunk me the first chance he got. I came up, sputtering and rubbing my stinging eyes. When I looked towards where Joey had been sitting, he was gone.
"Shit," I breathed.
Justin quit horsing around with JC for a minute to look at the empty space. "I'll go after him," he volunteered, heading for the edge of the pool.
"No," I said, stopping him. "Just...let him come back on his own, okay? This is his home, and we can't let him feel intimidated in it."
The mood became a little subdued again, all of us more-or-less hanging around in the water rather than having fun. It was about five minutes before Joey came back out of the house, a stack of towels in hand and wearing his swim trunks.
"What?" he said, looking at us. "It's my house. I'm allowed to change." He left the towels on the picnic table and took a flying leap into the pool.
As soon as he came up I threw my arms around his neck to get close to his ear. "Next time, say something," I told him. "We were worried." I pulled back to see him nodding at me, then he smiled and began horsing around with the rest of the guys.
We were in there for about an hour before we decided to drag our tired bodies back out into the sunshine. I stole the largest towel--of course I knew which one it was--and lay it over one of the lounge chairs on the deck, stretching out along it. Joey quickly claimed the other by virtue of it being his house, and the rest of the guys had to settle for lawn chairs or the ground. Justin and JC stayed by the edge of the pool, talking softly to one another, and Lance stretched his towel along the grass and lay down. He was gonna burn, I just knew it.
"You guys gonna stay for a while longer?" asked Joey.
"If you don't mind," I said. I'd told Just and JC last night that we weren't going to just take over his house, like we would have before, and if he wanted us to go, we were really gonna go.
"I don't mind. I thought maybe we could watch a movie or something. I have that sweet setup in the living room and I've hardly had a chance to use it."
"Sounds good," I told him, smiling a little. We didn't have a big-screen TV at Justin's place--even after all this time, it didn't feel right calling it my place--and the sound system Joey'd had put in was unparalleled. It uncharitably occurred to me that it was a good thing he'd hired someone else to put it in, given the state he'd been in at the time.
"You getting a ride home with Justin later?"
"I guess so," I said. "I think him and JC came together. Better that than grabbing a cab like I took this morning." He grunted a little and I looked at him, frowning. "What?"
"I was just thinking," he said, closing his eyes to avoid squinting in the sunlight. "You were spending so much time here before...why don't you just keep staying here?"
"Because you're home," I said simply, puzzled. "You don't need someone to keep an eye on the place anymore."
"We both know that's not the only reason you stayed," he said. "It's gotta be tough, living with someone else's family. It's different when it's not just for a week at a time."
"Well, you know I'm looking for a place--"
"Chris," he said, interrupting me. He swung his legs around the side of the chair and sat up, looking at me. "You're not getting it. I'm asking you if you want to stay here with me. Move out of Justin's place and into that room you've been staying in. Hell, I've got the space, and there's no way you're gonna find a house before we go out on tour again."
"Are you asking because you want me to stay? Or because you think I want to stay?"
"Both," he admitted. "It's good for you...and it'll keep me from getting too lonely."
"Okay, then," I said, smiling. "I will, thanks. Can you help me move some stuff tomorrow after the press conference?"
"Sure," he said, a little darkly. "I have a feeling I'm going to need to find something to do with my hands after that."
So, it was as easy as that. My mind did run-through a few objections before I answered, most having to do with Joey re-learning how to be independent, but frankly they were all pretty invalid when applied to our particular situation. No matter where any of us actually lived, we were together a lot of the time, and that was going to be especially true over the next little while. I really liked this place, and I was already used to it.
"You just want me here because you want me to mow your lawn," I accused him.
"You just want to stay so you can play videogames on the big-screen TV," he countered.
"Touche."
We ended up watching two movies before everyone started getting ready to go. Joey had been giving off I-need-space signs for a little while, and everyone else kinda wanted to go out, anyway.
"Before I forget," said JC, getting Joey's attention. "Johnny and a couple of the PR people are going to be meeting with you tomorrow, about noon, just for some prep. I guess you need to write up a statement and stuff."
"I know what I'm going to say," said Joey.
"Well," JC went on. "I told them to meet you here. Figured you'd be more comfortable."
"Thanks," he said. "I will be."
"Chris, you coming back with us?" asked Justin, slipping his shoes on.
I looked at Joey and then back at Justin. "Actually," I said, "I'm staying." That got me curious looks from both Justin and Lance. I shot them back an ask-me-tomorrow look and didn't say anything further.
"Okay," said JC. "Well, we'll be back here about one o'clock tomorrow and we'll all head over together. I figure it's best if we all show up at the same time."
"As a unit," said Joey, repeating my thought from earlier. "Can I ask you guys a question before you go?"
"Of course," said Lance. "Shoot."
"You asked me before if I was going to have any surprises for you," he said. "Now I'm asking you the same thing. Are you guys going to have any surprises for me tomorrow?"
We all looked at one another, unsure of how to answer the question. We hadn't all discussed our reactions with him yet, but I think they were all pretty typical. It was JC who finally said something.
"Anything we're going to say tomorrow," he said, "we've all already said to you personally. You don't have anything to worry about."
"Thanks," he said, smiling weakly as they filed out of the house and he closed and locked the door behind them.