Date: Thu, 10 Feb 2000 21:28:39 EST
From: D LS <dls_stories@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brian & Me Parts 85-87

Hello again! :)

Okay, I'm going to get right into the tagline, because I have a feeling that
you're not going to be wanting to read a big intro.  So... remember all of
that stuff from the start of my last installment?  The stuff about how this
doesn't represent any actual people, and that if you shouldn't be reading
it, then you shouldn't read it?  Well, pretend I said all that stuff here.
Same thing goes with the story recommendations.  :P

And one special note:  I wanted to encourage all of you to go and vote for
your favourite stories at the awards site.  I'm not about to tell you to
vote for me, but I know that all of the authors nominated would appreciate
the support. :)  The URL, you ask?

http://209.222.79.223/boybandawards/voting/

So get out there and vote!  I'll wait for you right here. :)

There are a few people that I feel the need to thank, as well.  If you're
not listed here, please don't think that I don't appreciate you.  I'm bound
to forget someone, and you should know by now if I love you or not. :)

Extra-special huge thanks go to the always-lovable JB. :)  I forgot him last
time, so I have to make up for it this time.   Luckily, this also gives me
the opportunity to tell everyone that I finally got him to admit Lance was
cute. :)

Of course, huge thanks to Matt.  Great writer, great person, great accent,
excellent friend, all-round fabulous person. :)  Thanks for everything,
darlin'. :)  Not the least of which is putting up with my idiocy on a
regular basis. ;P

Thanks also to Lauren (sorry again about the pony!), Scotty T (even though
you're refusing to Jello-wrestle for me :P), DCKev (thanks for the
continuous stream of Lance pics ;), EG and Chris Taylor (I'm glad you're
*both* back around again), and Braan (you're just bloody cool, mate ;P).
And to everyone else who has taken the time to write about the story, too.
You'll never know how much I appreciate it! :)

Now, on with the story...

Enjoy! :)


	PART 85

	I woke up and immediately noticed that I couldn't breathe very well.
Opening my eyes, all I could see was white.  There was a brief moment when,
in my sleep-addled state, I thought maybe I had gone blind, then spent a few
seconds wondering whether, if I *were* blind, I would have been able see the
white.

	I was still pondering that when Brian moved a little and I suddenly
understood.  I had been seeing just the edge of his pillow.  Just enough for
the light to get through to my eyes.  The rest of it was firmly jammed over
my nose and mouth.  Putting my hand up, I pushed the pillow away a bit and
slid my head to the side on the mattress before letting it back down.  As
the back of my head came into contact with the cold mattress, I started to
wonder where *my* pillow was.

	Turning onto my side and elevating my head, I saw a pillow on the other
side of Brian, looking very soft and very unused.  Somehow during the night,
Brian had managed to steal my pillow.  So not only was my boyfriend trying
to suffocate me in my sleep, but he had been doing it with my own pillow.

	I considered ripping it out from under his head, and had even grabbed onto
the end of the pillow to do just that, but then Brian sighed contentedly and
shifted again, and I couldn't go through with it.  He looked so peaceful.
Instead of pulling the pillow away, I tilted it a little, causing his head
to roll to one side and supply me with enough room lay back down on it as
well.

	I put my head right next to his, still turned on my side, and put my arm
onto his chest.  Brian stopped moving, and he smiled at my touch.  I stuck
my head out a little and licked his earlobe, sucking it into my mouth and
nuzzling him.  I ran my tongue over the lobe, feeling the soft little hairs
on it.

	"Stop," Brian giggled, smacking me in the head.

	I released his ear, lifting my head again to say good morning.  But Brian
was still sound asleep, though his smile had grown.  I grinned to myself and
lay back down, deciding not to push my luck.  Instead, I just settled in
beside him, enjoying the warmth of his body next to mine.  Try as I might, I
couldn't manage to get back to sleep.  There wasn't anything particularly on
my mind, but I didn't seem to be able to drift off.

	Not that I was complaining.  With my eyes closed, I could concentrate on my
other senses.  I could hear his soft breathing as he slept, with the
occasional noise - sort of half-way between a sigh and a moan - escaping his
lips.  I could also feel his breathing, with my hand placed on the smooth,
soft skin of his chest.  It rose and fell rhythmically with every breath he
took.

	Had I wanted to, it would have been an easy task to taste him as well, with
that still-tempting earlobe lying less than an inch from my mouth.  And I
found that I even enjoyed Brian's sleep-smell.  I smiled at that thought and
inhaled deeply, pressing myself even closer to him.  He reacted by rolling
over on his side, allowing me to move nicely into the spoon position and put
my arms around him, resting my hands on his stomach.

	Still, I couldn't sleep.  As nice as it was, just laying there started to
get to me.  I turned my mind away from the bed, away from our bedroom and
into another one.  The one that Jamie, who my mind was already starting to
refer to as `Brian's hooker', came home to.

	It was an aspect of the story that I was having trouble getting right in my
mind.  I wanted Jamie to be the story's heroine of sorts, with the reader
seeing only one side of her life - the seedy side of it - for the first half
of the book, and then coming to realise that there was a depth to the woman
that they hadn't even begun to suspect.

	That was where I planned for her room to come into it.  She never took a
`customer' home, and used it as a refuge.  Someplace that she could lock
herself away and pretend for a little while that her life was where she had
planned it, or at least that it was on track, rather than spiralling quickly
downward with every night she spent on the street.

	But I was having a hard time actually picturing the room in my mind.  It
needed to be just right, reflecting both parts of Jamie's life equally,
while showing her attempt to appear better than she felt.  While I could
very much identify with the emotions involved in trying to look better than
you really were, I had never had to deal with it on the level that Jamie did
in the story, and I was at a loss.

	It occurred to me that I could actually ask Brian for his opinion now and I
smiled.  The smile wasn't out of faith that Brian could help me, since it
was entirely possible that he wouldn't even understand what I was asking,
but simply because of the fact that I could ask.  He was the first person
outside of Celia, Carrie, and Pete that I had shown my writing to since
university, where my first two attempts at a book had fallen apart after I
got too excited and showed my friends.

	With a slight sigh, I sat up on the bed, deciding that I might as well get
up.  I could wait for Brian to wake up and then ask him what he thought
Jamie's apartment would look like.  In the meantime, I could go on the
equally important search for coffee.

	I got up out of the bed, stopping to tuck the blankets around Brian so that
he wouldn't get cold without me, and opened the bedroom door, heading for
the kitchen.  I was sort of hoping that I wouldn't see anyone, though.  My
mind had turned away from Jamie's room, but it hadn't left her entirely, and
I was enjoying the flow of ideas that were coming.  They were soothing, sort
of like the way the water of a nice hot shower was, except that this was a
steady flow over my brain rather than my body.

	It didn't take me long to find the coffee and filters, and soon I had
nothing to do but wait for it.  While I waited, I sat down at the table and
picked up a pad of paper and the pencil sitting beside it.  I imagined that
Matt probably kept it around for writing shopping lists and the like.
Listening to the gurgle of the coffee maker, I started to doodle.


	Ten minutes later, there was a click and I looked up to find an entire pot
of coffee waiting for me.  Ever since I could remember, I had been incapable
of making less than an entire pot.  Even when I was alone, I just couldn't
seem to bring myself to make less.  There seemed to be something wrong with
skimping on something so fabulous.  Besides, iced coffee was good too.

	I got up and made myself a cup, then wandered into the living room,
standing at the doors to the deck, but not actually going outside.  If Matt
didn't spend a good deal of his time looking out those doors, he was a fool.
  Everything was peaceful and green, and had a certain feel to it.  Like it
was new.  As though, every morning, the scene in front of me was created all
over again, a completely new space, yet exactly the same as the one that had
been there yesterday.  Sipping on the coffee, I let my mind wander around
that thought.

	"Morning."

	I jumped and tried very hard not to spill my coffee while I listened to the
chuckling from behind me.  I looked down at my mug, making sure that the
coffee was under control, then turned and raised my eyes to JC's smiling
face.  "Good morning.  You gotta learn to make more noise."

	"I'm like a ninja," he laughed, moving further into the room.  "What are
you doing up?"

	"I generally wake up when someone's trying to kill me."  JC's confusion
made me grin.  "Brian not only stole my pillow at some point in the night,
but he tried to smother me with it."

	"Nice guy."  JC turned back toward the kitchen, giving me a nod to indicate
that I should follow him.  "I figured someone must be up when I saw the
coffee was already made."

	"I can't be conscious for too long without a caffeine jolt," I told him,
sitting back down at the table as he took down a mug for himself.  "Matt's
not up either?"

	"Nope.  Looks like it's just you and me."

	"I can think of worse company."

	JC turned to look at me.  "Thanks, I think."

	"What?"

	"I mean, the question isn't really whether there's worse company.  I would
think that you could say that about anyone.  Hitler would be pretty lousy
company."

	"Good conversationalist, though," I pointed out with a smile. "Very
charismatic."

	"But he wouldn't have been too interested in talking with either one of
us."  JC poured his cup of coffee and put the pot back in the coffee maker.
"He didn't much like our... preference."

	"Point taken," I conceded.

	"But the point I was trying to make was that there are always going to be
those you could consider worse company.  The question then becomes whether
or not you can think of better company."  He smiled triumphantly and joined
me at the table.

	"Fine, fine.  I can't think of anyone that I'd rather be sitting and
chatting with.  How was that?"  I grinned and took another sip.

	"That was nice.  Empty compliment, but nice."

	"It's the thought that counts."

	"That's why it was nice."  There was a few moments of silence between us
before JC spoke again.  "Nate?"

	There was a different quality in his tone that made me glance up at him,
away from the reflection in my coffee.  "Hmm?"

	"How is Brian?  Did you manage to get him to open up about whatever was
bothering him?"

	I smiled at the concern that was in his voice, and on his face as he asked,
then nodded.  "Yeah.  He and I went for a long walk, and we wound up in this
little park just a little way..."

	"I know that park," he interrupted, his smile coming through his previous
concern.

	"Oh, well, we wound up there, and we sat and talked about what he was
thinking about.  We got everything worked out, I think.  As much as we can
right now, anyway."

	"Can I ask?"  His expression changed comically, conveying clearly the fact
that he was very much aware that he shouldn't be asking.

	"Um... I don't know.  Let's maybe just leave it at the practical problems
of being famous, involved, and in the closet kinda got him down.  I'm sure
that you of all people will be able to extrapolate from that."

	JC nodded his head and refrained from asking anything more about it.  I
knew that he wouldn't really need any of the details of what had been
bothering Brian.  He probably had most of the same thoughts running through
his head.

	"So are you still reeling over getting to play with BB yesterday?" I asked
him with a smile to bring the conversation back around to the
lightheartedness that we had had going.  I knew how much he and Kevin were
looking forward to the bragging rights when they got back together with
their respective groups.

	His face lit up immediately.  "You can't imagine how great that was!"

	"Oh, I think I can to some extent.  Authors have idols too, you know."  I
smirked at him as I took another sip of coffee.  "We may not get to jam, but
for a writer, talking is the next best thing.  After all, it's words that
make our living for us."

	"I never thought about it that way.  I guess it's only natural that you
would have someone like that too.  I'm not really into the literary world,
but I suppose that there are some pretty huge icons there too."

	I nodded.  "A lot of them are the ones that everyone recognises.  JRR
Tolkien, Dostoevski, Twain, Tolstoy..."

	"Something tells me that you haven't been able to meet those ones, though."

	I laughed.  "No, but there are some current big names too.  Though for the
most part, they're not appreciated fully.  For some reason, people seem to
think that a book has to be hundreds of years old to be worth anything.
We've got masters just like any other age, but we just don't think that
way."

	"Give me an example of someone that you would consider a master that you
feel is underappreciated."  JC was actually getting into the conversation,
and was leaning forward a little in his chair.

	I thought for a minute, trying to come up with an example that would both
surprise him and make him think.  I smiled as it came to me.  "Stephen
King."

	JC laughed until he realised I was being serious.  "You think of Stephen
King as a master?"

	"Undoubtedly.  While his genre isn't what is normally considered one that
would give rise to a classic work, he's definitely what I would consider a
master of the craft."

	"He writes coffee table books!  He's... whaddaya call it... a `popular'
writer."

	"Thanks for making my point for me."

	"Care to explain?"

	And he fell into the trap.  "He's a popular author, and he writes coffee
table books.  Since he's so popular, his books are on a lot of coffee
tables.  If you think about it, JC, Stephen King meets just about every
criteria that you can throw at him.

	"He's incredibly popular, with millions of devoted readers.  He's
incredibly successful, making millions and millions of dollars.  He's
incredibly prolific, with more than thirty books to his name.  He's the
top-selling author in his genre.  He's instantly recognisable, both by name
and by face..."

	"And he's attacked by just about every respected critic," JC supplied,
hoping to burst my bubble.

	"Not really.  Not anymore, anyway.  In the last few years, with the
attention he got from movies like `Stand by Me', `Shawshank Redemption', and
`Delores Claiborne', more and more critics are coming around and recognising
him as a storyteller rather than just a horror shlock writer.

	"The fact that he is a storyteller is one of the things that makes me think
of him as a master.  If you give him an opportunity, he can suck you into a
story like just about no one else.  He can drag you along and make you
believe.  The ability to make someone believe even if they don't want to is
pretty incredible."

	"I have to admit that I've never read any of his stuff."

	"Then let me give you some advice.  Pick up a copy of `The Stand'.  The
complete and unabridged edition.  If you can read that and not think that he
deserves a lot more praise than he normally gets, I'll sign over my next
royalty cheque."

	"What's so great about that one?"

	"It's an incredible story, JC.  Epic, really.  Within that one book, there
are at least twenty-five different main characters.  Each with their own
personality, and each with their own baggage.  And yet you *believe* in each
one.  Do you know how hard it is to create that many distinct characters?"

	"Not really, I guess."

	"Imagine trying to write twenty-five songs all about the same thing, and
making them all good enough and different enough to go on the same CD."
That made him think, and I smiled a little.  "It's hard enough coming up
with one believable main character, but to do it that many times within the
same book, and to put them in a world that's just familiar enough to be
creepy is practically impossible.  But he managed it."

	"Okay, so he can tell a story, and he's got a lot of fans.  That doesn't
make him a master."

	"Then what would?"

	He sat there for a few moments, trying to put it into words.  I was
interested in hearing exactly what his criteria would be.  I watched as he
squinted a little, trying to find the proper wording.  "I guess someone
that, a hundred years down the road, we can look at their book and see how
they made a comment, and a lasting impression, about the society they were
living in."

	"Like with Oliver Twist?"

	"Yeah!"  He seemed pleased with himself.

	"I'll give you that.  I would call that a classic too.  But think about
this.  What would you consider more remarkable?  The ability to provide the
reader with an impression of your society, and make some comment on an
aspect of that, or the ability to do all of that and still make the reader
afraid to turn out the light?"

	I could see the frown on his face.

	"What if I told you that Dickens had written a book that discussed the
problem of the disintegration of the modern family?  That it not only looked
at alcoholism, spousal abuse, child abuse and the perceptual rift between
childhood and adulthood, but that it did it from the perspectives of the
child, the father and the mother?  Would you expect it to be a classic?"

	"Sure."

	"And if I told you that Stephen King wrote it?"

	"I wouldn't believe you."

	I smiled.  "When you're picking up `The Stand', pick up `The Shining' too.
Not only is it the book that I described, but it'll scare the bejeesus out
of you.

	"The point I'm trying to make is that I think it's sad that we treat so
much writing as worthless just because it isn't in the same genre or class
as those that we already consider classics.  If Dickens had published his
shopping list, everyone would be studying it, trying to find the hidden
message that he was trying to convey.

	"All writing has a worth, and I think it's a shame that we feel the need to
pigeonhole so much of it and call it trash.  You're not going to find many
Twain's or Dickens's today, because we don't have the same society that gave
rise to them.  But our masters are made from common stock, just as those
before us were."

	JC smiled at me.  "You've done a lot of thinking on this one, haven't you?"

	"I wrote a paper on it in university.  `Should Cash Equal Trash?'"

	"Please tell me that you didn't really call it that."

	"No," I laughed.  "That was the working title.  Dr. Craine would have shot
me if I handed in something with that title."

	"Dr. Craine?"

	"My advisor, and my absolute favourite prof.  He completely disagreed with
my point of view, but gave me a great mark on the paper.  At the end of his
comments he wrote, in big bold letters, `I disagree with what you say, but I
will defend to the death your right to say it.'"

	"Nice way of looking at it."

	"It's attributed to Voltaire, but there's some debate about whether he
actually said it or not."  I suddenly realised that we were *way* off-topic.
  "Sorry, JC.  Didn't mean to go into a lecture like that."

	"No problem.  It was actually kind of cool.  I don't really get to have a
lot of conversations about stuff like that.  Normally, it's just meetings
and talking about the tour, or the CD, or business of some sort.  And when
we have down-time, it's usually just hanging out and talking about nothing."

	I hadn't thought about that.  For me, this sort of thing was almost second
nature, after my high school and university years.  In high school we had
regularly had discussions like the one that I had just had with JC.  One of
the benefits of going to a private school with a low student/teacher ratio,
I supposed.  University had seen more of the same, only taken to the next
level and much broader in scope.

	JC and the rest of the group hadn't had that opportunity, since they hadn't
had a chance to go to university and work within a reasonably normal
educational atmosphere.  I knew that Brian, AJ and Nick had been tutored to
finish high school, and figured that it was probably the same with JC.

	"Still," I told him.  "I really didn't mean to go off like that.  One of
the habits I picked up along the way, I guess.  I can't even remember how we
got talking about it."

	"We were talking about meeting idols, and you were saying that authors had
them too."

	"Ah," I said, remembering.

	"So have you met him?"

	"Who?"

	"Stephen King."

	"Oh, no.  It would be kind of cool, though.  But I did get to meet one of
my all-time idols."

	"Who?"  JC got up and took both of our mugs, heading to the counter to
refill them.

	"Max Whitner."

	"Who?"

	"Exactly," I laughed.  "He's written seven books, none of which were really
popular.  But he's got the gift.  The man could describe watching paint dry
and make it interesting.  My mother was reading `Gentle Kiss' when I was in
high school.  It's his third book.  Basically about the mystery of death.
Anyway, I picked it up because there wasn't anything on TV, and he had me
before I got through the first sentence.  I was up half the night finishing
the book.  My mother didn't particularly like not being able to read it
before bed, but she would have had to pry it from my fingers to get it
back."

	JC was watching me again, the coffee momentarily forgotten.

	"What?" I asked.

	"The look on your face."  He smiled and went back to getting us more
coffee.  "This is what we look like when we talk about music, isn't it?
Like yesterday at the table in the restaurant, when Brian, Kevin and I were
talking about performing and stuff like that.  We must have looked like you
do now."

	Without a mirror nearby, I couldn't vouch for that, but I thought it was
probably true.  I was in my element, as they had been.  "I guess so."

	"So you got to meet this guy?"

	"Yeah.  Actually, I lucked out on that.  He's with the same publisher that
I am, so we ran into each other at one of the parties that they throw from
time to time.  I got my editor to introduce us."

	"You must have been excited."

	"You bet," I grinned as he came and sat down again.  "I was bouncing off of
the walls just like you guys were yesterday."  I ducked out of the way as
his hand suddenly darted toward my head.

	"Relax," he laughed, then reached out and pulled something out of my hair.
"That's been bothering me ever since we sat down.  How on earth did you get
a leaf in your hair?"

	I blushed immediately.  "Um... no idea."  I could tell from the look on his
face that he knew I was lying.

	"You don't suppose it might have something to do with those grass stains on
your back?" he asked with a grin, then laughed as I blushed even more.

	"Anyway," I said, deciding that the best answer was no answer.  "We covered
what I was doing up, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

	JC smiled at my attempt to change the subject, and went along with it.  "I
woke up a little early and decided to get up and start breakfast."

	"How sweet."

	"You haven't tasted it yet.  I told y'all I wasn't the best cook."

	"You managed the bacon and toast pretty well the other morning."

	"I had supervision," he laughed.

	"I can stick around and give you a hand, if you like.  Brian will be okay
on his own for a little while longer."

	"Nah, that's okay.  I'm not going to do anything too elaborate.  I was
thinking of sticking to some bagels and cream cheese, with some fresh
fruit."

	"Sounds good."

	"Sounds easy," he said with a grin.  "But I don't imagine that anyone will
be complaining.  Hey, what's this?"  He picked up the pad of paper that I
had been doodling on earlier.

	"Just someone I'm trying to get to know a little better," I told him.  I
had sketched a picture of Jamie, hoping to gain a bit more insight into the
character.  She was standing on a hill, with a hastily-drawn city behind her
and an apple tree in front of her.  She was facing the tree, but looking
over her shoulder at the city behind her.

	"She looks like she's trying to decide which way to go.  Or like she wants
to go to the tree, but she's drawn to the city."

	I smiled.  "That's exactly what she's doing."

	"Should I be seeing this?"

	I looked up at him in surprise.  "What are you talking about?"

	"Isn't this one of your characters?"

	"Yeah, she is.  But I think we're still in safe territory here.  She's the
main character, and what you're looking at is the main struggle in her life.
  I'm having a bit of trouble getting it right in my head.  Trying to find
the mix of emotions there."  In reality, now that he had mentioned it, I was
a little nervous about the discussion.

	JC nodded and looked at the drawing again.  "I didn't know you could draw
too."

	"My Nana used to draw all the time.  I guess I got a bit of that.  I'm
nowhere near as good as she was, though.  The woman was incredible, but she
never showed anyone her stuff.  My Papa knew, of course, but I don't think
that my mother ever did.  As far as I know, no one other than Papa and I
knew about it."

	"Did your grandfather draw too?"

	I smiled at his reluctance to call him my Papa.  "No, he couldn't draw a
straight line.  But he loved to sit and watch Nana sketch.  He would just
sit there and watch her for hours.  Like someone watching a really good TV
program."

	"That's sweet."

	"Yeah, it was.  I used to love going there to visit.  Nana stopped drawing
after Papa died, though.  It was like she needed to have him there in order
to enjoy it."  I felt my eyes water as I remembered the two of them.  The
two perfect examples of unconditional love that I had had growing up.  "When
she stopped I wanted to as well, but she refused.  She told me that Papa
would have been disappointed in me if I did.  That they were each other's
inspiration, but I had to find my own."  The tear finally formed and fell,
tumbling from my left eye.  I wiped it away just before it got to my chin.

	"Nate?"  He put his hand on my arm.

	"I'm fine.  I just miss her.  No major breakdown."

	"For what it's worth, I think she would have been proud of you.  I think we
both know that you found your inspiration."

	I wiped at my right eye, catching the moisture there before it could
properly form into a tear.  "She would have loved Brian."

	JC stood up and moved his hand to my shoulder.  "Why don't you go be with
him for a little while?  I've got to start getting stuff ready before
everyone gets up.  I'll come and get you when everyone's ready."

	"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a hand?"

	"Positive.  Go crawl back in beside him and try not to let him smother
you."

	I took another sip of my coffee and nodded, standing as well.  "Thanks."

	"No, thank you.  I meant it when I said that I didn't get to have this kind
of conversation often.  I like it."

	"Anytime, JC.  I'm always willing to spout off whatever useless information
is stored in my head.  And opinions?  I'm right full of them."

	JC laughed and pushed me toward the hall.  "I look forward to hearing
them."

	"Be careful what you wish for."

	I started walking toward the bedroom, but JC called me back.  When I looked
back into the kitchen, he was smiling.  "What did he say when you met him?"

	"Who?"

	"This Whitner guy."

	"I know who you meant.  That's what he said.  `Who?'  He didn't have a clue
who I was."  I grinned as he started laughing, and then turned for the
bedroom again.


	I thought about joining Brian in the bed, but decided against it.  He
looked pretty comfortable, and I didn't want to take the chance of waking
him up.  Instead, I pulled on a t-shirt and contented myself with settling
in the overstuffed chair in the corner and watching him.

	Thinking about my conversation with JC, I tried to imagine what bringing
Brian home to meet Nana would have been like.  The more I thought about it,
the more I was sure that she would have loved him as much as I did.  I
wasn't sure whether or not she had suspected that I was gay, but I thought
maybe she had.

	With that thought, a memory clicked in my head so strongly that I could
almost hear it.  Every time I had left Nana and Papa's apartment, I had
given Nana a kiss and Papa a hug.  That was just the way it had always been.
  I could remember giving Nana hugs and Papa kisses at other times, of
course, but when it came time to leave, Nana got the kiss and Papa got the
hug.  I didn't know where it had come from, but it was a tradition that we
had never, to the best of my knowledge, broken.

	And, from about the time I was twelve, every single time I had hugged Papa,
Nana had said the same thing.  "He's my man.  Get your own."

	"She knew," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief.  At the time, I had
just taken it as a joke.  I'm sure that everyone else who heard it probably
thought the same thing.  But now, I could see it in the look on her face
when she said it, and could hear it in the tone of her voice.  She had
known.  There was no doubt in my mind.

	Reaching over to snag the strap on my computer bag, I pulled it over to me
and took out my notepad and a pencil.  Putting the bag back on the ground, I
closed my eyes and fixed a picture of Nana in my mind.  When I had it, I
opened my eyes again and started to move the pencil in soft strokes across
the page.


	"Nate?"

	"Mmm hmm?"  I didn't look up from the page I was working on.  There were a
few crumpled first tries lying around on the floor in front of me, and it
looked like the one that I was working on at the moment was about to join
them.

	"What are you doing?"

	"Talking to my Nana," I said, looking up at him briefly.

	"What?"  Brian scooted off the end of the bed and came over to stand by the
chair.  Looking down at the paper in front of me, he knelt and put his hand
on my knee.  "Is that her?"

	"Yes and no.  It *looks* like her, but I can't get it right.  I'm missing
something."  I sighed in frustration and ripped the page off of the pad,
crumpling it up in my hand and dropping it to the floor.  I sighed again and
looked over at him.

	"Why did you do that?" he asked.  "It was good."

	"But it wasn't *right*."

	Brian leaned over and picked up the paper that I had just dropped.  He
spread it out again, smoothing it over the arm of the chair.  Then he leaned
back over and did it again and again until he had retrieved all of my
previous attempts as well.

	"Sweetie, these are really good.  I didn't know you could draw."  He
flipped through the papers again.  Each were of my Nana, from different
angles.  Some were more detailed, and some were nothing more than rough
sketches.

	"I can't.  Not like she could.  This would have been a piece of cake for
her."

	"What would have been?"

	"Getting it right on paper.  She could sit down and capture every aspect of
whatever it was she was drawing.  You almost expected it to move, or
breathe, or something.  I can't seem to get it."  I stuck the pencil into
the spirals of the notepad and dropped it beside the chair with another
sigh.

	"What brought this on?  Why are you drawing her?"

	"JC and I were talking a little while ago, and I started thinking about
her.  He found a little sketch that I did while I was trying to figure
Jamie's character out a little bit more clearly, and asked about it.  Nana
taught me to draw."

	"She was very pretty," he commented, looking through the papers again.

	"She was beautiful.  Inside and out, she was the most beautiful person I've
ever known.  I used to go visit them after they moved into Toronto to be
near us.  Mom was their only child, and they wanted to be close to her.
Nana and I would sit for hours and just draw whatever came to mind.  Papa
used to sit in this big green chair and watch us.  He hardly ever spoke.
He'd just sit and watch with this little smile on his face."

	"Green, huh?" Brian smiled.  "Is that where you got it?"

	I smiled.  "I don't think I ever really thought about it, but I guess it's
a possibility.  Papa loved green too.  Every time I got excited about having
drawn something good, he used to ask me if I could draw him `green' yet."

	"What?"

	"That's what I used to say.  How do you draw `green'?  It's like trying to
draw the wind.  I could draw green things, like I could draw trees bending
in the wind, but not the wind itself.  Every time I asked him what he meant,
he just said that he someday wanted me to show him a picture of `green'."

	"And you never found out what he meant?"  Brian stopped kneeling and sat
down in my lap instead, since it was clear that I was done drawing for the
time being.

	"No.  He wouldn't tell me, and the one time I asked Nana, she told me that
Papa was an oddball.  She said that little smile wasn't happiness, but
senility creeping up on him."  I laughed as I said it.  "Nana had a weird
sense of humour."

	"No kidding," Brian smiled.

	"I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out what he meant, but they both
died before I found out.  I always think of `green' as the sort of spark
that you need for life.  I can *draw* Nana, but I can't get that spark that
she could.  Papa told me once that Nana could draw `green' because she
understood it.  While I know that he didn't mean that spark, it's the
association that I have because that was how it was manifested in Nana's
work."

	"Nathaniel?"

	"What?"  I looked up to find him smiling at me.

	"You might not know what it means, but you can make that spark just like
your Nana could.  You just don't have the understanding behind it yet that
she did."

	"I'm not following you."

	Brian ran his fingers through my hair with one hand as he pointed to the
pencil stuck in the notepad.  "You can pick up that pencil and create life
like your Nana did.  Not the same way, though.  She drew things into life.
You write them.  You can both pick up the pencil and make marks on the page.
  The difference is that you use those marks to make words, and she used
hers to make pictures."

	"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to get at, Brian."

	"I think I do.  You looked at something your Nana drew and expected it to
come to life on the page.  I read what you write, and I get the same result.
  Except that your characters *do* come to life and breathe in my head.  I
think your Papa would say that you're writing `green' without understanding
what it means.  But that will come, I think.  If they hadn't expected it to,
they would probably have told you what it meant.  They obviously thought it
was an important concept for you to know."

	I smiled at him and pulled him to me, burying my face in his chest.  "I was
right.  Nana would have loved you."

	"What?"

	"That's what started all of this, I guess.  I think Nana knew that I was
gay.  And I *know* that she would have loved you.  I wish you could have met
her."

	"Me too.  Your Nana sounds like a pretty wonderful woman."

	"Brian?"

	"What, sweetie?"

	"Don't call her my Nana.  She was just Nana.  She wouldn't have wanted you
to call her anything else.  Papa wouldn't either."

	"Are you sure?  It seems like they were pretty important to you."

	I nodded against him.  "They were the only people that I really enjoyed
seeing for a long time before they died.  The only ones that I felt sure
about, and comfortable around.  They never asked any of the questions that I
didn't want to answer.  They died two years before my parents did.  I don't
mind sharing them with you."

	"Okay," he whispered, kissing the top of my head, then he noticed the
wetness on his shirt and tilted my head up to look at him.  "Should I be
worried here?"

	I smiled at him.  "No.  I just realised how long it's been since I stopped
to think about them, and how much I miss them.  I used to go and visit them
at least once a week, and now I've managed to go all this time without
really even thinking about them."

	I was surprised for a moment at how close the tears were to the surface,
then realised that it wasn't all that strange.  As with my parents, I had
avoided actually doing a lot of mourning for Nana and Papa after their
deaths.  I had been trying to avoid my emotions as much as possible at the
time, and I realised that there must have been quite a backlog of tears
built up.

	Brian's hands descended on my face and his thumbs wiped away the moisture
that remained there.  "It doesn't matter how often you think of them.
Remembering them is what matters.  And I have a feeling that you remember
just about every second you spent with them, don't you?"

	"Yeah, I do.  I can see them so clearly.  That's why these were so
frustrating," I said, indicating the smoothed-out pictures on the arm of the
chair.

	"Maybe it's best that you can't draw her the way you want to.  That was her
way.  It wasn't your... it wasn't Papa's, and it's not yours."

	I sighed.  "I guess you're right.  But I really wanted it to work.  It was
something that she and I used to do together."

	"Then do it.  But don't expect to do it as well as she could anymore than
you'd expect her to write a novel."

	"When did you get to be so smart?"

	"Must have rubbed off from you," he laughed, then kissed me again.  "You
okay?"

	"Yeah, I'm fine."

	"Then come over here and lay down with me for a bit.  Until someone comes
to get us anyway."  He got up and pulled me back over to the bed.  He
climbed in first, then pulled me in with him so that I was laying with my
head on his chest.  There was another couple of seconds before Brian spoke
again.  "Sweetie?"

	"What, pookie?"

	"What happened to Nana's drawings?"

	"We never found them," I told him.  "I think only Papa and I knew that she
did it.  She didn't have any friends in town, and I'm pretty sure that my
parents didn't know.  After Papa died, she stopped drawing altogether.  But
I never found what she did with her drawings.  For all I know, she burnt
them or threw them away."

	"So there aren't any left?"

	"Not quite.  I have two that she gave me, right after she stopped drawing.
There's one of Papa, and one of me.  She said that we were her two favourite
men, and that I should have them."

	"Are they with the rest of your parent's things?"

	I shook my head.  "They were mine.  I never even showed them to my
parents."

	"Then where are they?"

	"In my apartment.  I've got them put away.  It didn't seem right to put
them up somewhere without one of Nana to go with them."  I knew that he
wanted to see them.  "I'll show you."

	"You don't mind?"

	"I told you that I would share them with you."

	Brian stroked my back gently before hugging me and falling quiet again.


	PART 86

	I dozed for a little while, then was back awake.  From the steady rise and
fall of Brian's chest beneath my head, I knew he was completely back to
sleep.  Raising my hand up in front of my eyes, I gently touched Brian's
skin, letting my fingers graze his chest.  I watched my fingers for a little
while, noting how they moved, and the light shadows that they made.

	Finally, I raised my head with a sigh and looked about the room.  I didn't
know what time it was, but it was clearly late enough that we should have
been up.  I sat up completely and looked down at Brian's sleeping form
before leaning over and running my hands through the hair at his temple,
brushing the little curls back behind his ear.  "Pookie?"

	He moved his head into my hand, nuzzling slightly, and grunted what might
have been an acknowledgement of my presence.

	"Pookie?" I said again.  "I'm going to go and have a shower."

	"Mmmmmmm...'kay."

	"You coming with me?"

	"Sleep."  That one was loud and clear, and made me grin.  I gave his
stomach a final brush with the backs of my fingers, and then climbed out of
the bed and grabbed my towel before heading into the hall.  I could hear
voices from the kitchen, but I figured I'd see everyone after I was cleaned
up a bit.

	Without Brian to distract me, showering was a much quicker process.  I had
been under the spray for only a few moments, but I had managed to wash my
hair when I heard a knock on the door of the bathroom.  Sticking my head out
of the shower, I asked who it was.

	"It's Kevin.  Just wondering if you and Brian were in there together."

	"Nope.  He's still sleeping.  There a problem?"

	"Nevermind," he called through the door.  "Nothing major."

	"`Kay!"  I retreated into the stall.  I finished washing, and then rinsed
my hair again and turned the water off.  Stepping out of the shower, I had
just started to towel off when I heard Matt and Kevin talking in the hall.

	"Not to sound rude or anything," I heard Matt say, "but we need to get Nate
out of the shower and Brian in it, since the radio show wants to hear you
guys, not us."

	Radio show?  Not bothering to dry my hair, I threw the towel around my
waist and opened the door, stepping out into the hall.  "Nate's already out
of the shower," I smiled, walking down the hall toward the two of them.  "I
heard you guys talking.  I take it I need to get pookie up?"  I was still
trying to figure out what radio show they were talking about, and why no one
had mentioned it until now.

	Matt got a gleam in his eye and told us that he had a plan to get Brian up.
  He urged Kevin to go and get showered and leave it to us.  Suddenly
feeling like I had absolutely no idea what was going on anymore, I just
arched an eyebrow at Matt as Kevin headed for the bathroom.

	Matt smiled at me as I turned the knob and let us both into the bedroom.  I
joined him in that smile when I saw Brian.  He was still sound asleep, lying
on his stomach.  I don't know whether he had been too warm or dreaming, but
he had managed to kick the sheets down almost off the end of the bed.  I was
willing to bet that he would be glad he wasn't sleeping nude when he saw
Matt in the room.

	Matt looked at me and grinned.  "Remember that bit with Kathy?"

	It took a moment, but then everything clicked into place and I started to
chuckle.  Fastening my towel around my waist to make sure that I didn't wind
up flashing Matt, I went straight for my computer bag and got out my camera.
  I was starting to get a nice collection of these photos.

	Turning back around, I found Matt climbing into bed with Brian.  He was
visibly holding in his laughter as he traced Brian's back with his fingers,
then leaned in and nuzzled him just like I normally did.  I wondered if he
had caught us doing that at some point, or whether I was getting a sneak
peek at what JC was woken up with in the morning.

	That thought made it even harder not to laugh, and some noise escaped me as
I started taking pictures of the two of them.

	"Pookie?" Matt said in a whisper, keeping his mouth close to Brian's ear.
Brian managed to turn over, but he didn't open his eyes.  He also gave that
same pseudo-acknowledgement that I had received when I had gone to get into
the shower.

	Matt smiled even more and glanced over at me, probably to make sure that I
wasn't getting uncomfortable with how close he was getting with my man.
Since I trusted them both completely, and I was having a great time getting
it all on film, I gave him a nod.

	"Good morning, pookie," Matt whispered, leaning in even closer.

	Without opening his eyes, Brian leaned up and over and planted his lips on
Matt, shocking both of us.  I could tell from the way Matt's eyes opened
wide for a moment that he had certainly not been expecting a reception like
that.  I could have warned him, but I had been too busy preserving it for
posterity.

	Keeping his lips locked to Matt's, Brian's hand fell onto Matt's chest,
lightly running along it until he encountered the chest hair.  As soon as
that particular tactile experience registered, Brian's eyes shot open.  I
made sure to take a couple of quick shots of that before he clued in on what
was going on.  Taking pictures was getting harder and harder all the time,
now that there were tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.

	Matt finally let his laughter out as Brian jerked away.  I couldn't help
myself.  "I get up to take a shower," I panted, trying to get enough breath
to speak, "and you're in bed with the first strange guy you meet?"

	"Who you calling strange?" Matt laughed, still lying on the bed.

	I just continued to grin as I watched Brian try and stare us both down.
With the show we had just received, he wasn't going to have any luck at all.
  I noted the muscles in his face working to keep the smile off of his face.
  "No.  You were the first strange guy I ever shared a bed with."

	I threw both of my hands to my chest, pretending to be shocked and offended
by such a cutting remark from my boyfriend, but the fact that I was still
chuckling and couldn't seem to stop probably betrayed the act.  Matt and I
continued to endure Brian's gaze until we had finally started to come around
again and the laughter had subsided a little bit.  When he could safely talk
again, Matt told me that he wanted copies of the pictures, just like the
ones that I had taken with Kathy.  I assured him that he was on the long
list of those who would receive them.

	"Well," Brian said sarcastically.  "I'm glad to provide you both with your
morning entertainment."

	Matt continued to smile, still lying on the bed.  "Actually, what's gonna
be even more entertaining is when I tell you that you, Kevin, and JC have a
radio show to do in thirty minutes."

	Brian looked surprised, then even more surprised when he was told that the
station was twenty minutes away, leaving him ten minutes to get ready.  The
surprise quickly turned to skepticism, however, and he looked over at me,
waiting for confirmation.  I nodded and told him that I had heard Kevin and
Matt talking about it in the hall after my shower.

	Brian's response was immediate and shocking in it's speed.  He was suddenly
standing on the bed, then launched himself off of it and ran for the shower.
  He managed to walk all over Matt on the way too, making me laugh a little
more.

	Kevin had been just coming into the room as Brian exited.  He smiled after
his cousin, and then came in and gave Matt a hand off of the bed.  Seeing
him standing there in his towel, still dripping, I started to laugh even
harder.

	When Matt asked me what I was laughing at, I glanced again at Kevin, and
then back at Matt to answer him.  "I was just going to tell Kevin that he
shouldn't have bothered putting any clothes on, since we've both seen him
naked."

	Kevin's reaction was almost as quick as Brian's had been a moment before.
Maybe it ran in the family.  He denied that we had seen him, and then
realisation hit as he looked over at Matt.  He blushed intensely and quickly
looked away.  Matt just smiled and gave him a little push toward the door,
chastising me lightly for being mean.

	"No more mean than finding you in bed with my boyfriend," I shot right back
with a smile.  That was enough to get Kevin stopped once more as he looked
at the two of us.  Matt assured him it was nothing and once again ushered
him toward the hall and his room, adding a little pat on the ass, starting
his blushing all over again.

	"Well," Matt said once Kevin was gone.  "I'll clear out of here so that you
can get dressed."

	I nodded and turned for the closet as I heard Matt close the door behind
him.  Quickly picking out a casual outfit, since I wasn't going to be going
out anywhere, I threw it on and dried my hair.  After I took a few minutes
in front of the mirror to get it to behave itself, I headed in search of
another cup of coffee.  The two that morning with JC had been good, but once
you went back to sleep, they seemed to be negated.  Essentially, I was
starting my morning over again.  My conversation with JC was like a bonus
morning.

	Just as I was heading out into the hall again, I realised that Brian hadn't
taken his towel with him.  I grabbed it for him and walked to the bathroom
door, knocking lightly and then opening it.

	"Hello!  Shower in use!  Nudity abounds!  Matt, that better not be you!"
Brian called, hearing me close the door behind me.

	"It's nothing I haven't seen before," I laughed, tapping lightly at the
glass of the shower door.  "I brought you your towel."

	The door opened a little bit and his head appeared, his hair spiked into a
mohawk with the shampoo in it.  I had to laugh.  "Thanks sweetie," he
grinned, taking it from me and hanging it up on the hook beside the door.
"But that doesn't mean that you're forgiven."

	"Oh come on," I said, reaching out and stroking the side of his face.  "You
have to admit that it was funny."

	"For you, maybe.  But I kissed Matt!"  He made comic spitting noises and
started to laugh.

	I grabbed his jaw and pulled his face to mine, giving him an extra-special
good morning kiss, then pulled away again.  "How was that?  Did that erase
the memory?"

	"Another one might."

	"Maybe later.  Right now, you have to finish getting showered.  Oh, and
pookie?  If you're going to be wearing shorts today, you might want to make
sure that you wash those grass stains off of your knees."

	Brian looked down and then quickly back up at me.  "Shit!  Do you think
everyone else saw them?  Do you think they know?"

	I put my hand on his shoulder to get him quiet, and then I smiled.  "I
don't know if they saw them or not.  But JC almost definitely knows what we
were up to last night.  When I was up earlier, he came out for a while.
Between the grass stains on my back - which, by the way, I'm going to need
your help with later.  I couldn't get them completely by myself - and the
leaf that he picked out of my hair, I would say he's got a pretty good
idea."

	Brian looked concerned for a moment, and then smiled along with me.  "I
guess it's not like they didn't know we did it anyway, right?"

	"That's right.  Although, I don't imagine JC would have expected it in the
park," I laughed.  "But you hurry up and get done.  They'll be waiting for
you.  I'll be in the living room waiting to give you your goodbye kiss."

	"`kay," he grinned, then disappeared into the shower again.  I was just
opening the bathroom door again when I heard him speak above the noise of
the shower. "Love you."

	"Love you too," I answered, then closed the door behind me and continued my
search for coffee.


	Everyone was waiting in the living room when I emerged again with my mug in
my hand.  Matt was sitting with his back against JC's stomach, and JC had
his hand in Matt's shirt, rubbing gently.  Matt's eyes were closed and
neither one of them were talking.

	I sat beside Kevin.  It only took him a second to get started on the
questions.  "So what happened last night with the two of you?  Did you get
him to talk to you?"

	I nodded.  "We went for a walk, and then sat and talked for a while.  He's
going to be fine."  I couldn't really say that he *was* fine, since we
hadn't really resolved anything.  All of the factors that had been bothering
Brian the night before were still there.  We had just talked about them, and
talking about things like that almost always makes them seem less
insurmountable.

	"This is going to be one of those things that you won't tell me about,
isn't it?"

	"I think so," I told him, taking a sip of my coffee.  "If Brian wants to
tell you, then he can do it.  It's not my place to let you in on something
that he might want to keep to himself."

	I felt a little guilty about telling JC more than Kevin, considering that
Kevin wasn't just a friend or a bandmate of Brian's, but was actually
family.  But I knew that JC understood things on a level that Kevin didn't.
That Kevin couldn't.  And it was that difference that had made me more open
with JC that morning.  That, and the fact that I was sort of hoping that JC,
who had been dealing with this thing longer than Brian had, would be able to
help Brian get it all under control.

	Surprisingly, Kevin took being out of the loop in stride.  He didn't argue,
or try to get me to say a little more about the situation.  He just nodded
and let it go.  I took it as a vote of confidence in my being able to look
after his cousin, and smiled back at him.


	Brian came strolling in a couple of minutes later, dressed casually in
shorts and a blue t-shirt with his sandals from the night before.  He put
his finger to his lips as he saw Matt sitting with his eyes closed.  I
nodded and kept silent, watching Brian creep up on his target.  He put his
lips to Matt's ear just as Matt had done to him and whispered "wake up,
sweetie."

	Matt's smile surfaced immediately.  "I'm not *that* asleep, Brian," he
laughed, opening his eyes.  Looking around the room, he noted that everyone
was accounted for.  "Everyone ready?"

	They all nodded and stood up.  I smiled and put my hand in Brian's.  "Now
you behave yourself.  No crawling into bed with any more guys."

	"He crawled into bed with me," Brian said with a smirk.  "It's not my fault
that JC can't keep him satisfied."

	"Just so long as you don't go looking elsewhere," I laughed, then gave him
a kiss and wished him luck as Kevin dragged him out the door behind JC and
Matt.  I watched as they piled into Matt's car and pulled out of the
driveway, giving Brian a wave when he looked back at me.

	As soon as the guys were out of sight, I got to work.  I wanted to get as
much done as I could before they got back, so that I wouldn't be ignoring
anyone.  Getting my computer and sitting down at the dining room table, I
opened the folder with my revision notes in it and got down to business.

	I figured that I would be able to get through the majority of the revisions
that I could do on my own.  The ones that I needed to talk to Carrie about
could wait until I got some more spare time, or until Brian finally insisted
I do them.  Either way, they would be waiting until later.

	I flipped through the folder, passing by lists of suggestions, all of which
I had crossed out two days before, when I had started the revisions.  When I
found the page without any crosses, I settled in and started searching for
the proper place within the story to make the changes and additions.



	I worked for about half an hour, and then decided to take a short break to
check my e-mail.  I marked my place in the folder and saved my work, then
tore my brain away from the story long enough to do so.

	There was a short message from Erron, letting me know that he had talked to
his boss and had been able to get the following week off.  Which meant, of
course, that he would be going with us.  I smiled at the mental image of
what his face would look like when he saw Nick and realised that Nick was
coming too.  I sent him a quick reply, telling him that Brian and I would be
back sometime on Sunday, then went on to the next e-mail.

	Which very quickly brought my mind back to the book.  The email was from
Denise Rutledge, who was essentially Carrie's boss.  Denise had written to
tell me that they weren't happy with the way the book was progressing and
that they were expecting more effort out of me so that they could capitalise
on the way that 'Blue Sky' was selling with the release of the new one.

	In essence, she was telling me to stop fucking around and work.  I read the
email over a couple more times, making sure that I didn't miss anything and
also trying to really believe that it was there in the first place.  It was
highly irregular that Denise would come to me directly with something like
this.  Carrie was supposed to be my link with the company.

	The revisions that I was working on had been carrie, but she ha been pushed
into sending them and demanding that they get done as soon as possible by
Denise.  She had told Brian as much on the phone, and it had also been the
first thing that she had mentioned in the email she sent with the revisions
themselves.

	Was Denise referring to my getting those revisions done, or was she after
more than that?  Did she want the revisions as well as a batch of new pages?
  I thought that the latter was probably the one I should go with, but there
was only one way to find out.  Picking my phone up off of the table, I hit a
speed-dial button and waited for the call to be picked up, then punched in
Carrie's extension number.

	"Carrie Redding."

	"Hey Carrie."

	"Nate!  How's Memphis?"

	"Good so far.  Too damn hot, but not intolerable.  We're having a pretty
good time.  Got to go to Graceland yesterday."

	"You like the pool room?" she laughed.

	"Ugh.  Ugliest room on the planet.  I take it you've been there?"

	"Yeah.  My dad is a huge Elvis fan.  We made the pilgrimmage when I was in
high school.  Quite the place."

	"It's something, alright.  Listen, Carrie, I'm calling on business."

	"Oh?  Problem with the revisions that I sent?"

	"No, not at all.  There's a few that I need clarification on, but I'll
e-mail you with the details of that.  I'm calling because I just got an
email from Denise."

	"Denise Rutledge?"

	"One and the same."

	"That's odd.  She shouldn't be emailing you directly.  What did she want?"

	I read Carrie the email.  "Now, what I don't know is whether she was
backing you up on the revisions, or bypassing you in order to personally
kick me in the ass for not getting the pages out fast enough."

	Carrie was quiet for a minute before responding.  "I don't know either,
Nate.  I didn't have a clue that she was going to email you, which probably
means the latter.  I'm about to have a meeting with another author, but how
about I go and see Denise when I'm done with that, and I'll see what's going
on.  I'll call you back as soon as I know what's up."

	"Sounds good.  Thanks, Carrie."

	"Not a problem.  I'll get back to you as soon as I've talked to Denise."

	"Sure.  Talk to you later."

	"Bye."

	I said goodbye and hung up the phone.  Clicking back on the file with the
book laid out, I decided to get some more work done while I waited for
either Carrie to call back or the guys to be on the radio.

	I had been working for another twenty minutes or so when the phone rang.
Figuring that it had to be Carrie, I grabbed it quickly and flipped it open.
  "Hello?"

	"Hey sweetie."

	"Andy!  What are you doing calling in the middle of the day?"

	"I had a few minutes free, so I thought that I would call and see how you
were doing with everything."

	"Fine and dandy," I said with a smile.

	"Really?"

	"Really.  Brian and I are just fine."  I thought about telling her about my
little crying fit on the deck, but decided against it.  Andy knew a lot
about me, but she didn't need to find out about every moment of weakness
that I had.

	"Good.  So you're just hanging out in Memphis?"

	"Pretty much, yeah.  Matt's great.  I think you'd like him.  And I *know*
that you would like Kathy, his friend and Kevin's ex.  You two are a lot
alike.  Come to think of it, you might be too alike.  Anyway, our first full
day here, Matt took Kevin and JC out to the casino and gave Brian and I most
of the day to ourselves."

	"Do I even have to ask what you did with that day?"

	"I could give you the details, if you like."

	"I don't think that will be necessary," she laughed.  "I have no desire to
have those images in my mind, thanks."

	I consulted the mental images that I did have and decided that it was her
loss.  "We didn't just do that, you know.  We napped, and I got some
revisions done that Carrie sent, and we went for a walk.  There's a nice
little park not too far from Matt's place, and we sat there for a while.

	Upon saying that, my mind flooded with even more pleasant images.  Yes sir,
it was a *very* nice little park.

	"So what did Brian do while you were working.  You didn't leave him to...
um... entertain himself, did you?"

	"Sweetie, you've seen Brian.  Do you really think that I'd miss out on
that?"

	"Well, I thought that you were maybe boring him, so he would have to take
matters into his own hands.  So to speak."

	I grinned.  "Rest assured, matters are... uh... fimly in my hands."

	"Eww."

	"You asked."

	"That doesn't mean that you have to answer!  So really, what was he doing
while you were working?  Staring lovingly at you?"

	"Actually, he was reading through something that I was working on earlier
in the day."

	"What?!?  You let him read the book?"

	"No, not yet.  It was a story that I've had on the go for a while now.  I
couldn't sleep on our first night here, so I got up to work on it.  Brian
woke up and asked about it, so I decided to let him read it."

	"Does he know how huge that is?"

	"I don't know if he knows exactly, but he knows it's pretty big.  He knows
that it's a huge step for me, and I think he appreciates it.  Kevin too,
judging from the smile on his face when he found out about it."

	Andy was quiet for a few seconds, then couldn't resist any more.  "So does
that mean that I get to read it?"

	"Can't have Brian getting something that you're not getting, eh?" I
laughed.

	"Excuse me, but I do believe that Brian is *already* getting something that
I'm not."

	"Well, I'm not about to give you *that*."

	"Trust me, I ain't asking."

	"Well, about the story, I'll have to ask Brian.  I told him that I was
writing it for him.  You might want to think about sucking up to him for a
while."

	"I think I'll leave that up to you."

	"No argument from me."

	"Not that I'm trying to change the topic or anything, but just where is
your cuter half?"

	"Keep it up, Andy, and I'll write you into the book just long enough to
kill you off again," I laughed.  "And, on the off chance that you're
referring to Brian, he's gone out with Kevin, Matt and JC to do some sort of
radio show."

	"I thought you would have tried to go this week without being noticed."

	"Well, what were the odds of that?  Brian was recognised the other night
when he and Matt went out to get movies, and all of them were recognised
last night too."

	"Where did you go last night?"

	"Well, after we went to Graceland, we went to eat at BB King's restaurant.
They were recognised, so they got up to do a few songs.  They actually got
to meet and play with BB himself."

	"They weren't too excited about that, I bet."

	"They're still smiling,"  I laughed, remembering the way JC had glowed
earlier when I had mentioned it.  "After we got back to the house, Brian and
I went for another walk, and apparently JC and Kevin called in to the radio
station.   So they agreed to come in for a little while this morning.  They
should be on the air in a little while, I think."  Again, I didn't see the
necessity of filling her in on the specifics of why we had gone on the walk.
  At least not over the phone.

	"Oh, well, I guess I should let you go then.  I just wanted to touch base
and make sure that you were okay."

	"Some would use the word perfect, though that might be coming to an end.  I
got a weird e-mail today from the company."

	"What did Carrie want?"

	"That's one of the weird things about it.  It wasn't from Carrie.  It was
from Denise Rutledge.  She's one step further up the ladder than Carrie is."

	"That's strange.  I thought you only dealt with Carrie."

	"Normally, I do."

	"So, what did this chick want?"

	"Me to get to work, basically.  I knew that they were getting impatient,
but this is beyond strange.  Carrie called with revisions a couple of days
ago, and I don't know if Denise's e-mail was about getting those done, or
about more new pages.  I called Carrie a little while ago.  She was just as
surprised as I was.  She's checking it out, and then she's going to get back
to me."

	"Well, I'm sure it's nothing too major.  You'll figure it out."

	"I just hope that they're not picking now to clamp down.  I still have a
week and a half on vacation with Brian."

	"Don't get worried until you know that there's something to be worried
about."

	"I guess, but I'd like to get this cleared up.  I don't know how long it's
going to take Carrie to get back to me."

	"Well, I'll get off of the phone, just in case.  Tell Brian and Kevin that
I said hello, and tell Brian to call me sometime."

	"I don't think so, sweetie."  With all of the embarrassing information Andy
had in her head, I didn't want the two of them together without me there to
mediate.

	"Come on.  You afraid that I might embarrass you?"

	"Not at all.  I know for a fact that you'll embarrass me."

	"Fine, just tell him I said hi, then."  Andy sighed dramatically, but I
knew that she would be smiling.

	"Will do."

	"Okay, I'll talk to you later.  Love you."

	"Love you too.  Bye, Andy."

	I flipped the phone closed again and slipped it back into my pocket as I
got up from the table.  After a quick stop in the bedroom, I walked to the
living room and took a seat on the couch after turning the radio on.



	In a little while when the show went into a commercial, I got back up and
headed for the kitchen for a drink.  I had just managed to get a can of Coke
out of the fridge when my phone started ringing.  I put the can down on the
counter and dug out my phone, sure that it had to be Carrie this time.  As I
opened it up, I headed for the dining room, where my computer and notes were
still all set up.

	"Hello?"

	"Hi, Nate."

	"Oh.  Hi, Cin."

	"You sound happy to hear from me," she laughed.

	"No.  I mean yes, I'm happy to hear your voice.  I just thought that it was
someone else calling.  I'm expecting a call from my editor."  I smiled and
leaned against the table.  "So to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your
angelic voice?"

	She giggled.  "Save it for Nick.  I just wanted to call and let you know
that I talked to the caretaker of the place up north, and he assured me that
everything would be ready for you when you get there.  He and his wife are
going to air it out and make the beds and all of that, though he said to
make sure you either bring food with you or you go into town to get some.
There's nothing there."

	"That's no problem at all.  Thanks for letting us use the place."

	"Don't mention it.  I'm glad someone's going to get some use out of it."

	I didn't answer her.  I had glanced out the window, and my attention was
diverted to the car that was sitting in the driveway.  It was Matt's car,
but he was the only one I could see.  And he didn't seem to be making any
attempt to actually get out of it.

	"Nate?"

	I jerked my attention from the car and remembered that I was still on the
phone.  "Oh, sorry, Cin.  Something just caught my attention for a minute."
Matt still hadn't come out of the car, so I decided to go out and see if
there was something that he needed help with.

	"Something wrong?"

	"I don't know yet," I told her, opening the front door and stepping
outside.  I walked around the front of the car, my worry growing more as I
noticed that Matt didn't appear to have seen me at all.  His eyes didn't
move from the place on the dash that he was staring at.

	"Nate?"  By this time, I was around to the driver's side door and I could
see Matt clearly.  He was sitting there, hands loosely resting on the wheel,
and he still hadn't noticed me.  There were tear streaks on his face, and
his entire body seemed to be trembling.

	Reaching out, I knocked lightly on the window, trying to get his attention.
  When he continued to ignore me, I tried to open the door, but it was
locked.

	"Shit.  Cin?  I'm going to have to call you back."

	"What's wrong?  You sound scared."

	"I am," I said frankly, then flipped the phone closed and slipped it into
my pocket as I started to bang on the window of the car again.

	I knocked as hard as I could, hoping to get through whatever it was he was
thinking about so intently.  About ten knocks after my hand started to hurt,
he finally jerked in his seat and turned his head to look at me.

	There was a moment there where I knew he didn't recognise me, and then I
finally saw it click in his eyes.  He reached for the lock on the door,
seeing that I couldn't get it open, but he couldn't manage to work it with
his fingers shaking the way they were.  I sighed and looked around, not
knowing what to do.  Then my eye settled on the opposite door of the car.

	Running around, I jerked it open, thanking both JC and the deities who
looked after such things that it was unlocked.  I climbed inside, asking
Matt if he was okay.  He didn't say anything, just continued to stare at and
through me, as I reached over and unlocked his door, then retreated again
and ran back around to the driver's side.

	Pulling the door open, I reached in and took hold of Matt's arm, pulling
his upper body out of the car.  He managed to get his legs under him, but I
don't know whether it was a conscious action or not.  They certainly didn't
manage to support him.  He fell against me, and I grabbed onto him,
supporting him against my hip as I tried to get a better hold on him.

	Two things were going through my mind at the time.  The first was wondering
what the hell had happened to him to bring on this kind of reaction.  My
first instinct had been to wonder if something had happened to the guys, and
Matt was coming home to tell me about it.  But since I had heard all three
of them on the radio only a few minutes before, I knew that wasn't it.
Whatever was going on with Matt, they weren't a part of it, and I was going
to have to deal with it without their help.

	The second thing that I was thinking about was that things were going too
fast.  In the movies and in interviews, everyone always talked about how
things moved in slow motion in a situation like this, but that wasn't
happening.  The world seemed to be crashing around me as I tried to keep
Matt from spilling to the driveway.

	I managed to let these things run through my head while I continued to talk
to Matt, asking what was going on.  I wasn't at all sure that he could hear
me, but I didn't know what else to do.  Lifting his arm, I put it around my
neck and then grabbed his waist, hauling him fully to his feet.

	I dragged him the first couple of steps, and then his feet finally started
to work.  His legs still wouldn't support him, but at least I didn't have to
drag him any further.  That little bit of help from him - whether he knew he
was giving it or not - was enough to allow me to get him inside without
having to carry him.

	Still talking to him, I got him into the living room and lay him down on
the couch.  I sat down next to him on the floor and turned his face to mine.
  I didn't see even a glimmer of recognition anymore.  Wherever he was, he
definitely wasn't in that living room with me.

	The most distressing thing about it was that he had started to cry again.
Not actual crying, though.  There was no laboured breathing, and no hitching
at all.  Even his face remained devoid of emotion.  But the tears fell
nonetheless, slipping silently from his eyes every time he blinked.

	I sat with him for a couple of moments, gently brushing the hair back from
his forehead in some attempt to offer whatever comfort he could take from
it.  As I sat, I tried to think of what I could do.  I could call Brian or
Kevin.  They'd both likely have their phones with them.  Brian almost
certainly would, since he rarely went anywhere without it.  JC likely had
one, too, but I didn't know the number and I had a feeling that it would be
unlisted.

	But I couldn't call them.  They were doing an interview, and if there was
ever a bad time to call and let JC know that his boyfriend was having a
breakdown of unknown origin, it was during a live interview.  With a sigh, I
crossed them off of my mental list.

	I didn't even know what Matt was doing away from the guys.  I had thought
that he would be going along and waiting for them to do the interview and
the rest of the show before bringing them back to the house.

	My eyes opened wide as my mind settled on Kathy.  She was the only one
around that I knew and that might know what was going on or how I could help
the situation.  But my excitement faded again as I realised that I didn't
have a clue how to get in touch with her.  Then my rational side seemed to
step in to take control, and I jumped up from my seat on the floor.

	Matt probably had Kathy's number on speed-dial, as I did with all of my
important numbers.  Failing that, he must have an address book somewhere in
the house.  I walked quickly to the telephone and pulled it down off of the
wall, then smiled when I saw the list of numbers.  'Kathy - Work' was the
second one listed.  'Kathy - Home' was first.

	Glad that it was a cordless phone, I walked back into the living room with
Matt as I pressed the buttons and put the phone to my ear.  Matt still
hadn't moved, and he wasn't watching me.  His gaze was starting to creep me
out a bit, so I walked to the far side of the room to talk.  I wanted to
stay close enough that I could keep my eye on him.

	A voice suddenly appeared on the other end of the line, and I asked to be
connected to Kathy.  I got that far before I realised that I didn't have a
clue what Kathy's last name was.

	"Kathy who, sir?  I'm going to need a surname."

	"Uh... I don't know what her last name is," I said, feeling more than a
little stupid.

	"Sir, I'm afraid that I'm going to need one.  There are a number of women
named Kathy in this office.

	"Please," I argued.  "This is a bit of an emergency, and I don't know what
her last name is.  She's tall, with blonde hair, and..."

	"I'm sorry, sir, but without a last name, I'm not going to be able to help
you."

	Frustration gave way to good manners.  "I don't *know* her fucking last
name!" I practically shouted into the phone, barely resisting the urge to
throw it across the room.  The woman started to respond in a very unladylike
manner, but I stopped paying attention when I heard Matt speak behind me.

	"Don't."

	I looked around at him in surprise and found him watching me.  The lost
look was gone from his eyes, though he still looked like hell.  I thumbed
the button on the phone to end the call and walked over to where he was
still lying down.  I took my seat on the floor again and looked him in the
eye.  "What's going on?"

	He looked at me for a moment, and then tried to smile.  "Sorry for scaring
you like that."

	"Don't worry about that right now, though you're in for the ass-kicking of
a lifetime later.  Now what's going on, and what can I do?"

	Matt told me that he didn't really know what it was, and when I continued
to just look at him, waiting for a further explanation, he finally spoke
again.  "Do you remember the other night on the patio?  Everything just kind
of hit you all at once?"

	I certainly did.  There wasn't much of a chance that I was going to be able
to forget that night for a while.  I nodded to let him know that I
remembered, but I didn't really understand what that had to do with the
situation at hand.

	"I guess that's what happened to me today in the doctor's office."

	I started to nod again, and then frowned slightly.  Doctor's office?  I
hadn't known anything about a doctor's office.

	He must have seen the question coming, because he gave me the answer to it
without allowing me to ask first.  "I had a doctor's appointment this
morning."  He went on to explain that the friend that he had asked to handle
the tests had, once he had seen the results, gone ahead and made some
arrangements for Matt to go in and talk to an oncologist.

	Which answered the question of what he was talking about, but not why I
hadn't known about it.  "How come... why..."  I let the question trail off
as I realised that it really wasn't any of my business what Matt did, or who
he went to see.

	"Why didn't you know about the appointment before now?" he asked, making me
nod.  I was glad that he apparently thought that it was a legitimate
question.  "Truthfully, a part of me was trying to put it out of my mind."
I could see the logic in that.  I was a master at trying to push things out
of my mind.  The problems came when they pushed back.  "But more simple than
that, I thought the appoinment was a few days from now."  Apparently Matt
hadn't realised that it was that day until he had been making a note in his
day calendar.

	"So what do we do now?" I asked when he was finished with his explanation.

	"I really need to go and talk to him, to find out exactly what I'm dealing
with this time, but I don't know that I'm up to it."

	"Do you just want to rest?  I can call Kathy's office and see if she can
pick the guys up."  I was very concerned about him, but I wasn't going
anywhere near a hospital if I could help it, and I knew that, once Kathy
knew what was going on, she'd make Matt go to the doctor, and she'd
volunteer to go with him.

	Matt smiled, though it didn't look like he was really in the mood to do it.
  "No, that's okay.  I'll be okay.  Besides, I don't want the guys to worry
any more than they already are."

	"Then I guess the question still stands as to what we're going to do."  I
gave him what I could muster of a smile.

	My pseudo-smile brought one to Matt's face as well, and he even laughed a
little bit.  "That depends.  Do you feel up to dealing with Memphis
drivers?"

	I tried to keep the slight grimace off of my face, but I saw by the look on
his face that he'd caught it.  "I guess so.  I mean, they can't all be as
bad as you are, right?  And I drive around Toronto and LA.  How bad could it
be?"


	Very bad.  Very bad indeed.  It turned out that Matt might just qualify as
one of the safer drivers in the Memphis area.  I was more than nervous
behind the wheel, and kept my eyes moving trying to spot the idiots before
they could get in my way.

	"I appreciate it," Matt said from the passenger seat.  It looked like he
was enjoying himself.  "I just wasn't up to driving yet."

	I changed lanes to keep from being run over, and risked a quick glance at
his smiling face.  "No problem.  So which way to the radio station?"

	"Actually," he said, and with that one word, my heart sped up even more
than the crazy drivers around me had been able to make it.  I sent a silent
prayer out to the deities that he wasn't about to say what I thought he was
about to say.  "We're not going there just yet," he continued.  "The guys
obviously have some time left, so if you don't mind, why don't we go to Dr.
North's office?"

	I cursed mentally and felt myself go cold, but I managed to agree.


	To take my mind off of my own anxieties, I kept asking Matt if he was okay.
  I'm sure that it bothered him as much as it usually did me when I was
working through something and people kept asking me if I was okay, but I
couldn't think of anything else to say, and I was trying to keep my mind
occupied.  He, of course, assured me that he was as good as was to be
expected.

	When I parked in the lot of the building, we both fell silent and climbed
out of the car.  A question occurred to me as we approached the door,
though.  "So, do you know this doctor?"

	Matt looked at me, and it was obvious that he hadn't heard the question.
It didn't really matter, though, because it was obvious that he knew Dr.
North from the moment we walked through the door.

	"I was hoping that you were on your way back, Matt," he smiled from his
seat on the reception desk.  Everyone in the room turned to look at us, and
the doctor laughed and directed us back into the inner office.  He sat back
down on top of his desk this time, and indicated chairs for Matt and I.
"Bobby North," he said with a smile, offering me his hand.

	"Nate Healy," I responded, shaking it with a smile of my own, though it was
forced.

	"The author?"  That definitely shook me.  I hadn't really realised just how
well the book was selling, I suppose, but it seemed to always surprise me
when I was recognised.  Especially when I introduced myself as Nate rather
than Nathaniel.  I managed to nod through my surprise.  "I'm impressed.
Matt's apparently broadened his social horisons."  Matt shot him a look at
that.  "In all seriousness, I'm a big fan of your work, and I look forward
to reading your next book."

	"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. North," I said, summoning up another
smile.

	"Please, call me Bobby."

	I nodded, though I knew that I wouldn't be talking much at all during my
stay in the office.  Dr. North seemed very nice, and he was actually pretty
good looking as well, but the fact remained that he was a doctor, and there
was just no getting around that for me.  Outside of the office, maybe, but
definitely not here.  I was petrified of doctors, hospitals, and pretty much
everything medical.  I thought I was doing a pretty good job of covering,
and I was determined not to let Matt know what it took for me to be sitting
there with him.  That was the last thing he needed.

	"We're gonna be talking about quite a bit," the doctor said, and I was sort
of relieved that he wasn't talking to me.  "Your friend might be more
comfortable in the waiting room."  I took the hint and started to stand, but
Matt grabbed me and made me sit down again.  At the same time, I cursed him
for making me stay, and felt glad that he would want me there with him.

	The doctor nodded his agreement, and then picked up a folder from the desk
beside him.  "These are your lab and radiology results," he said, and then
went into what sounded like a reproach for Matt's having circumvented the
normal procedure.  I was trying to pay attention to what was going on, but
it sounded like greek to me, basically, and involved other people that I
didn't know anything about.  Plus, I was concentrating on keeping my heart
from exploding out of my chest.  I reached up and wiped a little sweat from
my forehead.

	I came back around to the conversation in time to hear that Matt's
Hodgkin's Disease was at least back to stage IIIB, and possibly stage IV,
but that didn't really tell me much.  "How bad is that?" I asked, mentally
preparing for the answer.

	At least, I thought I was prepared.  Matt, oddly, smiled back at me.  "On
the plus side, there's no stage V."  I tried to keep the expression on my
face neutral, but I failed miserably, and Matt turned back to the doctor.
They instantly fell back into the medical speak, and I was lost with my
thoughts again.  At the moment, I wanted nothing more than to be back
outside.  I was even willing to brave the interstate again if it meant not
being in that office.  Even the smell was starting to get to me.

	The only thing that I caught before Matt stood up from his chair was that
whatever treatment they had decided on, they were going to start it within
two weeks, possibly much sooner.  I wondered how JC would be taking the
news.  I stood up with Matt, shook the doctor's hand again and hoped that he
wouldn't notice that my palms were sweating.  Or, if he did, he would
mistake it as nervousness over Matt's condition.

	Back in the car on the way home, neither of us said anything.  I didn't
honestly know what to say to Matt, and I was still trying to calm myself
down as well.  I was jerked back to reality when Matt suddenly spoke.  "He's
cute, huh?"

	I gave him a blank look, having no idea what he was talking about.  "Who?"

	"The doctor."

	"Bobby?"  I had to force myself to call him by name.

	"Yeah, Bobby," Matt grinned.

	"I guess," I responded, then turned my eyes back to the road.  I stopped
myself from adding 'for a doctor'.  Most people would kill to be involved
with a doctor, but for me, it was very close to my concept of hell.

	Matt must have read something in my face or voice that told him to let it
drop, because he fell silent again for a few minutes.  I felt bad about not
doing more to cheer him up, but it hadn't exactly been an easy trip for my
psyche either, and I couldn't think of anything.

	"Let's go back to the house," he suggested.  "We've got well over an hour
before the guys get done, so you can get some work done and I can grab a
power nap."

	I hadn't heard a better idea in a long time.  I needed some time to pull
myself together before Brian came back, or he'd see the tension immediately.
  I knew that Matt could use some time to recoup as well, or JC would be
worried as soon as he laid eyes on him.  "Sounds good," I said with a nod.
I was beginning to look forward to getting back to the house when the
thought occurred to me suddenly that Matt needed a lot more than a nap
before he would be okay again, and my mood sank once more.

	My face must have betrayed at least part of my thoughts.  "Go ahead and say
what's on your mind," Matt said, watching me.  I opened my mouth, but there
was just no way to actually make myself say what I was thinking.  "Let me
see if I can fill in the blanks.  You're wondering what my chances are."

	His bluntness shocked me, as did the fact that he was smiling a little bit
when I looked over at him.  "Yeah, I guess I am," I stammered.  "I was kind
of surprised that he didn't tell you."  I had thought that it was because of
my presence in the room, but Matt corrected that for me.

	"First off, don't be sorry," he said with that same odd smile.  "Secondly,
he didn't tell me because he knew that he didn't have to.  If it's stage III
again, my five-year survivability is maybe fifty percent."

	Matt had never seemed so much like a medical professional than he did at
that moment, speaking in that roundabout way that they did to sugar coat
things a little bit.  Luckily, I knew him well enough that his sudden foray
into med-speak didn't freak me out as much as it might have.  "Five-year
survivability?" I asked, letting him know that I would appreciate a
dumbed-down version.

	Matt explained that it was how they measured the success rate of the
treatment, and that it meant that a patient was considered to be cancer-free
if there wasn't a recurrence of the cancer within a five-year period.

	"But hasn't it already been longer than that for you?"

	"Yeah, but then again, I always have been a slow learner."

	It amased me that he could be so glib about it, and I actually had to keep
myself from smiling at his comment.  "What if it's stage IV?" I asked,
already mentally wincing at the answer.

	"Ten to twenty percent."  There was little or no inflection in his voice as
he said it, and I decided that I wasn't going to push for any more details.
If they were needed, they were going to have to come later, and at someone
else's insistence.

	Summoning up what little voice I had left, I said the only thing that I
could think of.  I apologised.

	"The same rules apply for you as for Kevin," He told me seriously.  "No
more apologies.  This sure as hell wasn't something that you're responsible
for."

	Which was, of course, true, but it didn't make it any better.  "I know," I
said with a sigh.  "But I can't help but feel bad that there's nothign that
I can do."  I was also feeling very guilty for letting myself fall victim to
my own insecurities regarding the medical profession, and not paying more
attention to Matt's situation.

	He surprised me yet again by actually laughing a little bit.  "Welcome to
my world.  I'm going to start my treatments in the next week or so.  That's
all I can do.  You, on the other hand, are here for me, and that's exactly
what I need you to do.  I do want to ask something else of you, though."

	"Name it."  Despite my orders, my mind insisted on adding 'as long as it
doesn't involve any more doctors'.

	"Don't mention anything to the guys about what happened this morning,
especially to JC."

	"Mention what?" I said immediately, glad that there was at least this much
that I could do to help him.  Matt nodded his understanding as we pulled
into the driveway and he killed the engine.  I followed him as he unlocked
the door and led us both inside.

	Tossing his keys on the table where they always seemed to land, Matt urged
me back to work, then went to take care of the somewhat annoying beeping
sound coming from the answering machine.

	I wandered back into the living room, where the radio was still on, and
they were still talking.  It had been on in the background of the car while
we were driving, but neither one of us had really been listening.
Considering that they were really doing just bits of interview around the
songs being played, I didn't think that we had really missed much.  Nothing
we didn't already know, anyway.

	I picked up the pad of paper and the pencil that I had been using earlier
before I had risen to get a drink and found Matt outside in the car.
Looking it over, I paused for a moment while Brian spoke, talking about the
tour delay, and how they would be making it up to the fans in the affected
cities, then I went back to work on it.

	A little over an hour later, Matt came wandering back into the room and I
looked up at him with a smile.  "Hey, you.  Is it time to go and get the
guys?"

	Matt returned my smile.  He definitely looked better after his nap.  "I'll
go and get them.  You seem in the middle of something, so why don't you keep
doing what you're doing?"

	I looked from his face to the sketch in front of me, and then back up at
him.  "Are you sure?"

	"Positive.  I'll be fine."

	He looked like this was something that he wanted to do on his own, and I
thought maybe he had a point there.  Depending on someone else when you
needed it was one thing, but I knew from personal experience that it was one
of those things that most people wanted to avoid if they could help it.  I
merely nodded and gave him another smile, then turned my eyes back to the
page in front of me as he went toward the kitchen.  I heard him leave a few
minutes later, though it barely registered in my head.


	PART 87

	Matt got back with the guys a little while later.  Just how long, I wasn't
sure.  I was still sitting in the living room, engrossed in the picture in
front of me.  I had the notepad sitting on my lap, and I was gnawing on my
pencil as I thought about what I wanted to do.  I had come closer, but I was
still not satisfied with my version of Nana.

	"Hey," Brian said, surprising me.

	"Oh!  Hey pookie."  I smiled as he leaned in for a kiss.

	"You hear it?" he asked, indicating the radio.

	"Yep.  I got some work done, then talked to Andy for a few minutes, then
turned it on.  I missed some of it, but I caught the rest."

	"Looks like you had other things on your mind."  Brian lifted the pad from
my knee and looked at it as he took a seat beside me on the couch.  "This
one is going to be better than the others."

	I nodded.  It *was* going to be better than what I had done earlier, but it
still wasn't what I wanted.  I still couldn't transfer the image in my brain
onto the paper.  "I guess.  It's still not right, but I'm taking more time
with this one than the others.  They were just quick sketches, really."

	"Looks good to me," Kevin commented, walking around behind the couch and
looking over Brian's shoulder.  Matt and JC came into the room and sat down
as well.  "How come I've never seen you draw before?"

	"I haven't done it in a long time," I told him.  "Not like this anyway.  I
sometimes do a little sketch of a character when I'm thinking about a story,
like the one that you saw this morning," I said, looking over at JC, who
nodded.  "But I don't usually sit down and try anything big."

	"So who's this?"

	I turned back to Kevin.  "That's Nana.  She taught me to draw.  She taught
me a lot of things."

	"May I see it?" JC asked, pointing at the pad of paper that Brian was still
holding.

	"Don't see why not," I smiled, taking it and handing it to him.  "But it's
not done yet."

	In fact, it was really barely even begun.  I had sketched in the basics of
Nana's face and head, but there wasn't much detail at all yet.  I had spent
most of the time so far on her eyes, getting them as close to perfect as I
could.

	Nana's eyes had always been so expressive.  You could judge her mood in a
second just by one glance into her eyes.  When she had been drawing, they
had looked both focussed and expansive at the same time, like she was trying
to take everything in while simultaneously trying to narrow her vision to a
single detail.  In those moments, she had looked almost wild, and if the
woman hadn't exuded love and comfort, I would probably have been a little
frightened of that look.

	And so I had been concentrating on her eyes when everyone came back to the
house.  So far, my drawing consisted of a roughly circular patch of actual
drawing that was about three inches in diameter, with her eyes in the centre
of that patch.  The rest of the paper was covered in rough lines outlining
the rest of Nana's face, hair, and neck.

	"This is really good," Matt commented when he saw it.  JC agreed, looked it
over again, then handed it back to me.

	I leaned forward and put it on the coffee table.  "Thanks.  I don't know
how Nana would have felt about being the subject, though.  She would never
let me draw her when she was alive.  She told me one time that, with all of
the beautiful things in the world and in my imagination, I shouldn't limit
myself to a withered old crone.  I don't know if she knew how beautiful she
was and just wasn't comfortable being the model rather than the artist, or
whether she really saw herself that way."

	"And Papa didn't step in and defend her from herself?"

	I smiled at Brian, then laughed at the answer to his question.  "No, he
agreed with her.  Then he told me how lucky I was to have been born, since
he never would have married Nana if he had known how wrinkly she was going
to get.  That was the only time I ever saw Nana give anyone the finger."

	They all laughed, seeing from the expression on my face that my
grandparents had just been weird, not uncaring.  JC looked like he was about
to make a comment, but my phone ringing made him stop before he even got
started.  Before I could reach to pick it up off of the coffee table where I
had left when I sat down, Brian had scooped it.

	"Nate's phone... Oh, hi!... Yeah, he is.  Just a sec."  Brian looked
confused as he held the phone out to me.  "It's Carrie."

	I took the phone and put it to my ear.  "Hey, Carrie."

	"Don't hate me."

	"Don't give me reason to," I sighed, knowing that she was about to do it
anyway.

	"This isn't coming from me, Nate.  It's not really even coming from
Denise."

	"They want more than the revisions, don't they?"

	"Yeah, they do.  As much as you can get done, as soon as you can get it
done."

	"Why the sudden rush?"  I knew that I had been a little lax with the work
ethic, but I didn't think that it warranted the attention it was getting.

	"You know how the revisions were such a big deal because of what happened
with you and Pete?"

	"They wanted to make sure that you and I were getting along better."

	"That's right.  Well, something happened yesterday that focussed a bit more
attention on you.  I didn't hear about it until I talked to Denise.  Pete
was fired this morning, Nate.  Because of the way writers were leaving him,
and because of the noise I made over his involvement in the tabloid thing
with Nick."

	"Good."  The bitterness in my tone garnered attention from everyone in the
room, and I stood from the couch, heading into the hall and toward the
dining room.

	"That's what I think, too.  But his getting fired brought you to the
attention of the big guys here.  After seeing sales figures for 'Blue Sky',
they decided to take a closer look at both of us.  They called Denise in,
and had her bring in what you've sent so far."

	"And they were less than impressed."

	"To say the least.  They bitched at Denise, and Denise just got finished
bitching at me for letting you slide.  There's no two ways about it, Nate.
You've got to start putting in some serious time writing.  I know that
you're on vacation, and that you're heading up to your friend's cabin next
week, but I can't be as lenient on this as I was.  Denise threatened to
reassign me if we didn't start getting a lot more from you."

	Do you think it would help if I called Denise and told her that my
production levels have been my fault?  I don't want her yelling at you for
something that's my fault."

	"I don't think it would matter, Nate.  She got yelled at herself, and I
think that the only thing she's interested in is more new pages.  Besides,
it would look like I had you fighting my battles for me.  Like I had put you
up to it."

	"Okay," I sighed.  "But if they reassign you without my permission, I'll
definitely not be signing a new contract with them."

	"I'll pass that along, but I don't think it would come to that.
Bottom-line is keeping you happy.  The problem is that that only holds true
as long as you're producing enough to keep them happy."

	"And I'm not doing that now."

	"They made that abundantly clear.  I'm sorry, Nate."

	"Don't be.  It's not your fault.  I haven't been holding up my end of the
bargain, and you've been dragged into it for helping me.  I'm the one who
needs to be apologising."

	"You've had other things on your mind lately."

	"But I also have a job to do.  I should be doing it.  I'll tell you what,
Carrie.  I'll knuckle down and get you some new stuff, and I'll get those
revisions finished right away.  They should be done by tomorrow.  I could
probably get them done in a few hours, but I don't want to promise and then
not have them done."

	"As long as they're in my inbox on Saturday morning when I get to the
office.  I'll be working Saturday so that I have as light a load as possible
for the week Kevin's here.  And since I'll basically be on vacation for that
week, you can wait until next Monday to send in the new pages.  Just make
sure that there's enough to show them that you're working on it."

	"Sounds good, Carrie.  Well, no, not good.  Sounds acceptable.  I'll be
sure to get it done, and I'll try to impress them, too.  If I'm going to be
going for quantity, I'll just get as much done as I can and we'll worry
about quality on the revisions."

	"Thanks, Nate.  And I really am sorry about this."

	"Not your fault.  I've been slacking and it's catching up to me."

	"The slacking has been for good reasons, though.  But I guess I'll just let
you go.  Good luck on the revisions, and try to enjoy as much time with
Brian as you can."

	"Count on it.  I'll talk to you probably early in the week, and let you
know how everything is coming along."

	"Okay."

	"You wanna talk to Kev?"

	"Is he right there handy?"

	I had been walking as we finished up, and now I was back in the living
room, looking at Kevin.  "Well, he's right here, but I don't know how handy
he is."

	"Stop picking on him and put him on," she laughed.  "And tell Brian that I
said hello."

	"Sure thing.  So I'll talk to you next week?"

	"I'll be away from the office as much as humanly possible, so use my cell
number."

	"No problem.  I'll let you talk to tall, dark and handsome now."

	"Okay, bye."

	"Bye."  With a smile, I bypassed Kevin's outstretched hand and gave the
phone to a bewildered Matt instead.  He gave me a confused look, then put it
to his ear and said hello.

	"I said 'tall, dark and handsome', not 'tall, dark and gruesome'," I said
with a smile at Kevin's apparent need for an explanation.  He didn't say
anything, but he rolled his eyes and shook his head, then turned his
attention back to Matt, who was still talking to Carrie.  Finally, he
laughed and handed the phone to Kevin, who took it and wandered from the
room.

	"Bad news?" Brian asked me as I sat back against the back of the couch with
a sigh.

	"Good and bad, actually."  I told them about Pete getting the axe - pausing
to explain to Matt and JC both who Pete was and why he deserved the axe -
and then explained about my not only needing to get the revisions done, but
to get my ass in gear on some new pages as well before they busted Carrie
for my lack of production.

	"There goes the nice, relaxed vacation," Brian sighed.

	"Not entirely.  I have to get down to work, but I'm not about to sacrifice
all of my free time to them.  In the end, they get the stuff when I give it
to them.  They can't pry it out of my brain."

	"And if you don't give them what they want?"  Matt asked.

	"If it gets really out of hand, there are monetary penalties that they can
resort to, but I doubt that they would go that far unless I completely
stopped writing.  This book fulfills my contract with them, and they'd be
wary of doing anything that might send me to another company."

	"Well, let's not test that theory," Brian said, patting my knee.

	"I was thinking the same thing.  If you guys think that you can keep my
pookie here entertained for a while, I'm going to get a little bit more work
done on those revisions."  I smiled at Matt and JC.

	"I think we can handle your pookie for you," Matt assured me, returning my
smile.

	"Good."  I stood back up after giving Brian a quick kiss.  "And try to keep
the threesomes to a minimum, okay?"

	"Just go," Brian laughed, kicking my leg.

	I smiled at the three of them again, then went to the dining room, where
Kevin was sitting and still talking on the phone.  I waved at him, telling
him to stay seated, then picked up my computer and folder and headed for the
bedroom to get to work.

	Brian popped his head in a few minutes later to let me know that they were
going to be going to McDonalds, and that he would bring me back lunch.  I
agreed, then smiled as he blew me a kiss across the room and disappeared
again.

	By the time they got back, I was completely done with the revisions, and
had gotten a few pages written before I came to a crossroads and decided to
think about it before I tried forcing the story down a path that it didn't
want to go down.  Hearing the front door open, I shut down the computer and
stood from the desk, stretching and groaning from the tension in my back.

	When I got to the living room, Brian gave me a kiss and a mostly-eaten box
of fries.  His only explanation was a smile and another kiss.  At least he
had managed not to eat my two Big Macs.  I had only asked for one, but
without the fries to fill me up, I found I had the room for both.  I had to
wonder if that was Brian's plan all along.

	He fell onto the couch next to me as I flipped through the channels on the
TV.  I finally settled on The Rosie O'Donnell Show, turning my grin on Brian
and finding it mirrored on his face.  I saw Matt and Kevin looking at us as
well.  JC, apparently unaware of what the show meant to Brian and I, was
watching the screen.

	"You get some stuff written?"

	I looked over and smiled at Matt, then nodded.  "Yeah, a bit.  I'm at a
point where there are about four different things that I *want* to happen,
but I can't decide between them."

	"You know," Brian laughed, looking over at me and taking my hand.  "If you
were to, say, let someone read the story, they might be able to give you
their very sweet and loving opinion."

	"Not yet, pookie," I told him, sticking out my tongue.  "I'll figure it
out."

	"Suit yourself."  Brian slid his leg around me and sat behind me, wedged
between my back and the couch.  His legs came around my waist, and his hands
settled on my shoulders.  Giving them a slight squeeze, he whistled and put
his head next to mine.

	"You're really tense, sweetie.  Everything okay?"

	"Yeah," I nodded.  "I'm fine.  Don't stop though."

	Brian laughed and continued to knead my shoulders for a few more minutes
before removing his hands and placing them around me instead.  "You know
what I bet would help relax you?"

	I heard Matt snicker as Brian's hands worked their way under my shirt and
came to rest on my stomach, but I ignored him, giving Brian my full
attention.  "What would that be, pookie?"

	"A nice, hot shower.  And, of course, I would have to come along and keep
the backrub going."

	"Of course," Kevin said dryly, making us all laugh.

	"Don't listen to him," Brian cooed in my ear.  "So do we have a deal?" his
lips found my earlobe, sucking on it briefly before settling on the spot
behind my ear.

	I shivered and nodded, getting up so abruptly that I managed to cause
Brian, who had been leaning against me, to fall off of the couch.  I held my
hand out to him as he regained his balance, and then I pulled him to his
feet.  "We'll be back."

	"Thanks for the warning," JC grinned.

	Brian and I ignored him, and I led us to the bathroom.  He took all of five
seconds or so to get out of his clothes, then started helping me with mine.
He started to laugh as he got my shirt off and saw my back.  "Boy, your
back's greener than Kermit's."

	"Shut up!" I grinned.  "Maybe if my boyfriend hadn't been trying to
actually drive me *into* the ground last night, it wouldn't be."  I moaned
softly as his hands went to work on my back again.

	"I wasn't too rough, was I?"

	"Not at all.  You couldn't be too rough," I assured him.  "It was perfect."

	"I thought so too."

	Brian and I fell quiet again for a few more minutes as he worked on the
larger of the knots.  I had a feeling that we were both thinking about just
how perfect the night before had been.  The ending, at least.

	"You sure you're okay?  You're not upset about something?"  He asked
finally, releasing me and turning me back around to face him.  "Your back
was totally clenched."

	"I'm fine.  It's just..."

	"Just what?"

	"I'm afraid of doctors," I said, feeling completely foolish.  "Ever since I
was little, hospitals and pretty much anything to do with doctors and
medicine have terrified me.  Going with Matt today was a little rough on me,
I guess."  There was, of course, more to my tension than just going to the
doctor, but Matt didn't want me saying anything, so I wasn't going to.  I
did, however, feel more than a little guilty saying that the trip was rough
on me, knowing what it had done to Matt.

	"You're afraid of the doctor?  That's so cute," Brian laughed.

	"It's not cute," I said, a little harsher than I meant to.  Brian's smile
vanished.  "It's stupid.  I know that, but it doesn't make it any less
scary. Just the thought of having to go starts my heart beating faster."
And indeed, simply talking about it with Brian had sped my heart up
considerably.

	"Oh sweetie," Brian said, giving me a hug.  "It's not stupid at all.  Lots
of people are afraid of the doctor, and everyone's afraid of something.  I
can't stand flying.  Kevin hates bees, and Nick doesn't like spiders.  I
still say it's cute.  Just like everything else about you.  Now, I think
you're relaxed enough for that shower I promised."  He released me and
started the water running, climbing into the shower.  "Get your ass out of
those shorts and into this shower so that I can scrub your back."

	Dropping my shorts, I stepped out of them and into the shower behind Brian.
  I stood back so that I could watch him and enjoy the view as the hot water
cascaded over his head and down his back.  He eventually noticed how quiet I
was being and turned around with a smile.

	"What are you doing?"

	"Enjoying the view," I told him, looking him up and down.  Watching the
water flowing down his front was just as nice as watching it flow down his
back.

	"What are you, some kind of Peeping Nate?"

	"Maybe.  What are you going to do about it?"

	"Well, tough guy," Brian smiled, stepping forward out of the spray.  "Maybe
I'll push you around a little."  He reached out and pushed me back against
the wall of the shower, his hands staying on my chest to hold me there.
"And read you your rights."  He pressed himself against me, putting his lips
beside my ear.  "You have the right to remain silent..."

	"I choose to waive that right," I laughed.  "LALALALALALA!"

	"Keep it up and I'll have to get out my baton."

	"If you tell me to assume the position, I'm outta here," I laughed, earning
a nudge in the ribs.

	"You'll do as I say."

	"Is that so?"

	"Yep.  And I say you kiss me.  Now, dirtbag."

	"How romantic."  I brought my hand up his body until I could grab a handful
of his hair.  Pulling back on it, I brought his head back from my ear and
planted my lips to his.  When he finally saw fit to give me my tongue back,
I broke the kiss and smiled at him.  "How was that?"

	"Not bad.  For a dirtbag."

	"You're lucky you're so physically daunting, or I'd take a round out of
you."

	"You talking back to me?"

	"Maybe I am.  You got a problem with that?"

	"Not as long as you're willing to accept the proper punishment."

	"I'll take my chances," I said smugly, reaching up to flick him in the
shoulder.

	"That's it," Brian returned, his smile expanding greatly.  "On your knees,
soldier."

	"Soldier?  I thought we were playing 'angry police officer'."

	"Who's in charge here?  I said on your knees, and I meant it."

	And, since I had been raised to respect the law, I stopped arguing.



	Brian and I took much longer than was strictly necessary in the shower, but
no one made mention of that fact when we emerged once more and took our
customary place on the couch, Brian behind me with his arms and legs around
me.

	We all just hung out there for a little while.  JC flicked through the
channels for a bit before finally giving up on finding anything worth
watching, and then he shut the TV off and busied himself with giving Matt a
shoulder rub which, by the look on Matt's face, was totally welcome.

	I considered taking up my pencil again, but being wrapped up in Brian was
just too nice.  I closed my eyes and sat back against him, smiling as he
nuzzled my neck.  I was just drifting off into a nap when the doorbell
buzzed, destroying my peaceful mood entirely.  I made a mental note to find
out when Matt's birthday was so that I could buy him a less-distruptive
doorbell.  Something cheesy like the Mexican Hat Dance or something.
Anything but that irritating buzzing.

	Matt tore himself from JC's hands with a slight frown as he stood up to get
the door.  I closed my eyes again and was once more drifting off when Matt
came back into the room.  "Nate?  Brian?  There's a woman here, and she's
insisting on talking to you."

	"Who is she?" Kevin asked, immediately going into business-mode.  It really
was frightening how quickly he could do that.

	"I don't know.  She says her name is Hannah Neale, and that she needs to
speak with Brian and Nate."

	"Tell her to talk to management," Kevin told him.  "They're on vacation."

	"Relax, Kev," Brian sighed, releasing me and nudging me into a sitting
position.  "It's probably just a fan who found out where we're staying.
We'll give her an autograph or whatever and she'll leave.  Otherwise, she's
bound to just get mad and tell everyone where we are."  Brian and I stood up
together, and then he pulled on Kevin as well.  "You might as well come,
too.  Let's just hope that she doesn't know that JC's here."

	Kevin sighed and stood up with a nod.  "Okay, I guess.  Sorry about the
interruption, Matt."

	"Not problem for me," Matt assured him.  "I'm just sorry that they tracked
you down."

	We all expressed our agreement with that sentiment, and then headed out
into the entranceway.  Matt tagged along, leaving JC in the living room.  He
picked up the remote again to amuse himself until we got back.

	"Ah, Mr. Littrell, Mr. Healy," the young woman said when Matt opened the
door again.  I smiled at his having her wait outside.  He was definitely on
the ball.  "It's nice to meet you both.  I'm Hannah Neale."

	Brian and I shook hands with her, both of us smiling.  Kevin reached out as
well, surprising her.  She shook his hand, but kept her eye on Brian and I.
"What can we do for you, Ms. Neale?" Brian asked, increasing his smile.
"Did you want an autograph or something?"

	"No no, nothing like that," she said quickly.  "Actually, I was hoping that
I could speak with you and Mr. Healy for a few minutes."  She looked
pointedly at Kevin and Matt before returning her eyes to us.  "In private."

	I noticed Kevin's frown starting and elbowed him slightly.  "I guess that
would be alright," I told her before he could say anything.  The last thing
that they needed was to be accused of being rude to a fan.  "Matt?  Can we
use the dining room for a couple of minutes?"

	"Sure."  There was a note of curiousity in his voice, and I shot him a
look, trying to let him know that he'd know what this was about as soon as
we both did.

	"Thanks.  Please, come with us, Ms. Neale," I said, standing away from the
door as Brian headed into the dining room after a shared look with his
cousin.  Ms. Neale went ahead of me, and I took the opportunity to give both
Matt and Kevin a shrug before I followed after her.  They both watched us
for a moment, and then turned and headed back to the living room.

	I didn't see any reason to waste time, though I didn't want to piss her
off, either.  I decided that blunt and to the point was probably best.
"What exactly was it that you wanted, Ms. Neale?  I don't mean to be rude or
anything, but you sort of caught us by surprise here."

	I didn't like the slight smile that came over her face at that.  "I guess
it's best not to beat around the bush, so I'll get down to it.  I'm a
reporter, gentlemen, and I wanted to talk to you both about your
relationship."

	She was watching us closely, looking for a reaction.  She didn't get one
from me, though.  I was completely frozen, and I didn't dare risk a glance
at Brian to see what he looked like.  I just kept staring back at Ms. Neale
until Brian eventually said something.

	"I'm sorry, Ms. Neale, I don't think we can help you.  Now, like Nate said,
we don't mean to be rude, but my friend and I were trying to have a vacation
with our other friends, and the press wasn't really part of the plan.  If
you would care to call our management..."

	"I think you're going to want to hear what I have to say, Mr. Littrell."

	Brian turned for the door, and I followed him.  "Like I said, Ms. Neale, if
you'd like to call management, maybe we can work something out for after we
go back on tour."

	"Mr. Healy..."

	"I'm sorry, but I have to agree with Brian.  Please, if you'd like an
interview or something, call my publisher."

	"I'm not here to threaten you."

	"And neither of us said that you did."  I turned and gave her what I hoped
looked like a normal smile, wondering if she could hear my heartbeat as
clearly as I could.  "But, we're all on vacation, and an interview is just
out of the question right now."

	"I wasn't looking for an interview."

	"Regardless, I'm afraid that I have to ask you to leave," Brian said,
indicating the doorway again.

	"I really think you'll want to hear me out, Mr. Healy," she said, looking
directly at me.  She then turned her eyes to Brian.  "You too, pookie."

	I hoped that she wasn't close enough to hear Brian's gasp.  "Ms. Neale..."
I started, not sure what I was going to say.

	"Give me two minutes."

	I glanced at Brian for a second, but there was no emotion on his face at
all.  When I looked back at our visitor, I was surprised to find her without
a smile.  She seemed almost embarrassed.

	"What do you want, Ms. Neale?"

	"I told you.  I want two minutes of your time."

	"Two minutes," Brian whispered, coming back toward the table.  "You have
two minutes."

	"Brian..."

	"Sit down, Nate," he said looking over at me.  And now there was definitely
emotion on his face.  In fact, it looked like every emotion he was capable
of was warring for supremacy.  He knew we were caught, and he had that
deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.

	I took my chair beside his and watched as Ms. Neale sat opposite us and put
her bag on top of the table.  I could see Brian's hands tremble as he
crossed his arms in front of him, and wanted nothing more to take them in my
own.  But, even with what I was sure was coming, I couldn't do it.  I hoped
that Brian understood.

	"Let me first say that I'm sorry for catching you by surprise like this,
but I knew that if I tried to get to you by the normal means, I'd not likely
ever manage to get you one-on-one."

	"If you have a point, Ms. Neale, I suggest you get to it.  You're running
out of time."  My fright at being discovered was subsiding in the face of my
anger and concern over the look on Brian's face.  I was expecting to see
tears there if things didn't take a severe turn for the better.  Our
conversation the night before in the park came back clearly and I realised
that all of that pressure that Brian had been feeling - the pressure of
having to keep us a secret and having to be in the closet, and everything
else - was threatening to crush him.

	"Mr. Healy - can I call you Nate?"

	"No."

	"Okay then."  She rooted around in her bag and came up with a thin manila
envelope.  "This is what I came to talk to you about."  Opening the
envelope, she pulled out three large photos, placing them on the table in
front of us.

	I flinched when I saw them, but Brian leaned forward a little and picked
them up off of the table, holding them up.  The first was of the two of us
in the Meditation Garden at Graceland.  I had my arms around Brian, and his
face was buried in my chest.  He flipped to the next picture.  This one was
almost the same, but Brian was kissing me on the cheek.  The third picture
was pretty unclear, but not unclear enough.  It was Brian and I, holding
hands as we walked under a streetlight.  It had, of course, been taken the
night before.

	"Jesus, lady, what the hell were you doing?  Hiding in the bushes?"

	"Actually, Mr. Healy, that's exactly what I was doing.  One of the things
that you sometimes have to do to get a story."

	"One of the things that you have to do to invade someone's privacy, you
mean."

	"Sometimes the two are one and the same."

	"How wonderfully convenient for you."  I took the pictures from Brian's
hand and threw them down on the table.  "So what exactly was it that you
wanted?"

	"Inside that envelope you'll find all of the prints for those three
pictures, and some others as well.  The three I showed you were the best
ones."

	Even my outrage at her describing the pictures she had shown us 'the best
ones' wasn't enough to get over my surprise.  From the way Brian jerked his
head up I knew it got through to him too.  "You don't have any other
copies?"

	"No, Mr. Littrell, I don't."

	"What about the negatives?"  I frowned at her, trying to figure out her
angle here.  It didn't make sense to hand over the only evidence she had.
"Giving us these is all well and good, but it's meaningless if you can make
more."

	"They're also in the envelope," she said, picking it up and holding it out.
  "Everything is in there."

	Brian took the envelope out of her hand and opened it, dumping the contents
on the table.  He looked quickly through the pictures, then held up the
negatives to the light to make sure.  "She's right."

	I was quickly getting tired of trying to get into her head.  "Again, I have
to ask that you get to the point.  I'm feeling a little bit like a fish on
the line here, and I don't like it at all."

	Ms. Neale sighed and sat back in her chair.  "I'm sorry.  I really am.  I
said I wasn't going to beat around the bush, and here I am doing it.
Gentlemen, I have no intention of printing those photos, or writing a story
about the two of you."

	If my head went in one more circle, I was liable to puke on the table.  "I
don't understand."  My, was I the king of understatement.

	"While I realise that my behaviour in getting these pictures wasn't
entirely indicative of it, I do have some integrity, Mr. Healy.  What you
two do in your personal lives is none of my business, and it's none of the
public's business either, until you decide to make it their business.  So,
I'm not going to be the one to bring it to light."

	"So what was all this for?" I asked, indicating the pictures.  "Practise?
Some sort of perverse pleasure?"

	"Not at all.  When I took those pictures, I had every intention of printing
them, as well as following you around to get more, and build a story."

	"Then why aren't you?" Brian asked her.  I glanced over at him and found an
eerie sort of calm had come over him.  "What changed your mind, and why are
you here now, if not to get our reactions?"

	"Let me show you one more picture," Ms. Neale said, digging in her bag
again.  She came out with a black leather wallet.  Opening it up, she
flipped through the pictures in the little plastic sleeves until she found
the one that she wanted.  Slipping it out of the wallet, she handed it to
Brian, who took it with hands a little steadier than they had been a few
minutes before.

	Brian and I leaned in to look at it together.  It was a picture of Ms.
Neale with her arms around a young man who looked to be several years
younger than she was.  From the resemblance, I knew that they were related.

	"That's my brother, Joe," she explained.

	"And he convinced you not to go through with this?"

	"In a way."

	"We're beating around the bush again," I told her.

	"Joe's been dead for the past five years.  He was seventeen when he decided
to kill himself.  He shot himself with my father's hunting rifle."

	That got my attention, but did nothing to straighten things out in my mind.
  One look told me that Brian was just as confused as I was.  Apparently our
visitor noticed it too, because she continued without waiting for our
reaction.

	"He left a note for me.  In it, he told me that he was gay, and he couldn't
take not being able to tell anyone.  He was afraid that we wouldn't
understand.  No, he *knew* our parents wouldn't understand.  He was afraid
that I wouldn't.  Now, I don't know your stories, so I don't know if you
know what it's like to..."

	"We know," Brian said softly.

	"Okay then.  Like I said, he left me a note.  Only me.  And I've kept his
secret.  I'm the only one who knows that he was gay.  I told my parents that
the note was about something that we were supposed to do together, and that
he was just apologising for leaving us.

	"I followed the two of you as far as the park last night, and then I went
home.  As soon as I walked through the door, I saw Joe's school picture - I
keep it on the mantel - and I knew that I couldn't go through with this.  If
I couldn't bring myself to out my brother to our own parents because of
their reaction, how could I do this?"

	"Which explains why you're not going to publish these pictures." Brian
reached out and dumped them all back in the envelope.  "But it doesn't
explain why you're here trying to give us both heart attacks.  Why not just
rip up the pictures and be done with it?  Just forget everything that you
saw?"  I was happy to see Brian coming back to himself, but I knew he was
still just as scared as I was.

	"Two reasons."  She put up one finger.  "The first is that I thought you
could both use a warning.  If I could get these pictures, anyone could have.
  You're going to have to be more careful about this."

	"You've got to be kidding me," I said.  "You came over here, and scared the
hell out both of us, and now you're trying to pass it off as some sort of
altruistic motivation?"

	"I said there were two reasons, Mr. Healy.  Warning you was the first, but
I'm willing to admit that it wasn't the largest."

	"Then get to it, please.  I'm getting a little tired of all of this.  Tell
us what you want.  Is it money?"

	"No, it's not money.  I want the story."

	"Please just stop screwing with us."  Brian sounded drained.  "You say
you're not going to print the pictures, and now you're telling us that you
want to do the story.  If this is all you came here for, I think you might
as well leave and stop playing games."

	"You don't understand, Mr. Littrell.  What I meant to say was that I wanted
the story when you're willing to release it.  You have your career to think
of, and I have mine.  An exclusive interview with a Backstreet Boy and his
partner after they decide to come out of the closet would be very good for
that career."

	I sighed.  "So, in exchange for not printing these, and for not telling
anyone about us, you want to have first shot at this when it goes public?"

	"That's about the size of it, yes."

	"Do we get some time to think this over?"

	"Certainly."  She opened her wallet again and handed me a business card.
"Give me a call when you reach a decision.  Remember, I'm not trying to
blackmail you here.  Either way, I'm leaving those photos here with you, and
without them, I have no story."

	"I think we understand, Ms. Neale," Brian said, running his hands through
his hair and looking at her.  "Now please, get out."

	She surprised me by not putting up any sort of argument, or trying to say
anything else.  She simply nodded and stood from the table, putting her
wallet back in her bag and slipping the bag over her shoulders.  "I look
forward to your call."

	"Brian?" I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder as we both stood.  "Why
don't you go and get everyone together.  I'll see Ms. Neale out."

	Brian glanced up at me with a question in his eyes, but I just gave him a
nod and told him to go.  He looked from me to Ms. Neale and back again, then
nodded his agreement and left the room.

	"Mr. Healy..."

	I waited until I knew that Brian would be out of earshot, then turned to
face her again.  "Ms. Neale.  I suggest you stop talking and listen to what
I have to say."  Her eyes widened at my tone, and she closed her mouth.
"That's better.  Now, I'm sorry to hear about your brother.  I know what
it's like to be where he was, and I wish he had been able to get through
it."

	"Mr. Healy..."

	"I said shut up."

	She stopped talking again and waited for me to continue.

	"Like I said, I'm sorry about your brother, and it seems that we owe him a
debt of gratitude for his influence in your decision.  But as sorry as I am
about what happened to him, surely you realise that you could have conducted
yourself much better here today."

	From the way she lowered her eyes to the floor, it was clear that she did
indeed realise it.  "I'm assuming from the fact that your business card
simply has your name on it, and not an affiliation with any one publication,
that you're a freelance reporter?"

	She looked up again, checking to see if I was actually wanting a response.
Seeing that I was, she nodded.  "That's correct."

	"And I also assume that you know who my publishers are?"

	"I do."

	"Then I'm sure that you are aware of the combined influence that my
publishers and Brian's management have, and how many doors a few phone calls
from us could close for you.  I think I can give you pretty good odds that
you'd never work for any publication that my company is involved with, and I
can guarantee that we'd call in every favour we had to see to it that others
would follow suit."

	"Is that a threat, Mr. Healy?"

	Andy would have been proud.  "No, Ms. Neale.  I'm in no position to
threaten you.  I'm making you a promise.  I love Brian very much, and so
help me, if you *ever* screw with his emotions again like you did here
today, I won't hesitate to do everything I can to close those doors."

	"I didn't mean..."

	"You knew exactly what you were going to do to him!  To both of us!  Do you
expect me to believe that you thought you could come in here and put our
careers in danger, as well as those of the rest of the Backstreet Boys, and
we would sit calmly and discuss it?

	"You seem like a bright woman, Ms. Neale, and it seems that you have both a
heart and a conscience.  So while you're waiting for our phone call, you
might want to think about what you did to him in those few minutes between
you calling him by *my* name for him and you telling us that you weren't
going to out us to the public.  I have a feeling that it will be a good long
time before we're thinking about anything else."

	"I am sorry."

	"Yes, you are," I said, putting my hand in the small of her back and
pushing her toward the front door.  "Now if you don't mind, I think it best
that you leave."  Opening the door, I waited just long enough for her to
walk out onto the step, then I closed the door behind her without another
word.

	As an afterthought, I locked it as well.  Then I took a deep breath and
leaned against the wall while I collected myself.  With another deep breath,
I stood up again and went back into the dining room.  Picking up the
envelope with the pictures in it, I headed into the living room, where I
knew they were waiting for me.

	Brian was sitting on the couch, and Kevin was watching him with a
bewildered look on his face.  "Nate..." he started, but stopped again when I
shook my head.

	Brian looked at me.  "What do we do?"

	"I guess that's what we decide now," I said softly.

	"What's going on?" Kevin asked, looking at the two of us.  "What did that
woman want?"  I sat down beside Brian and passed Kevin the business card
that she had given us.  Brian's hand grabbed onto mine as soon as Kevin had
taken the card.  "Oh shit," Kevin said, reading the card.

	"What is it?" JC was sitting on Matt's lap in the recliner to the side of
the couch.  Kevin looked at us again, and then handed the card to him.

	"No," JC sighed, reading it.

	Matt grimaced slightly.  "Does this mean what I think it means?"

	"She brought these," I said, sliding the photos out of the envelope and
handing them to Kevin.

	The colour drained from his face as he flipped through them, passing each
one to JC as he finished looking at it.  "This can't be happening."

	"Apparently it's not," Brian told him.  "At least, not yet."

	"What?"

	"She said that she wasn't going to print those, and she wasn't going to say
anything to anyone about us.  The negatives are in the envelope as well."

	"Then what did she want?" Matt asked, passing the pictures back.  I slipped
them back into the envelope.

	"She wants us to agree to give her the exclusive story when and if we
decide to come out to the public," I supplied.  "That and to warn us that we
have to be more careful.  She said that if she could get those shots, anyone
could."

	"Does she expect a thank you?" Kevin asked sourly.

	"She better not."  Brian brought his feet up and put his free arm around
his knees.

	"We have to call management," Kevin decided.

	"What can they do about it?"

	"Brian, if we do nothing, she could go ahead and do it anyway.  She might
not have the pictures, but like she said, she could get more if she tried
hard enough.  Or even if she just hinted to the right people about what was
going on here, we'd have teams of reporters following us around.  Eventually
we'd slip up and you'd be on the front page of every magazine and
newspaper."

	"She won't do that," I said softly.  "I made it clear that it wouldn't be a
smart career move."

	"What did you tell her?"

	"The truth.  My publishers are one of the biggest names in the business,
and that they wouldn't be at all receptive to accepting stories from someone
who dragged one of their authors through the mud."

	"Jesus, Nate!  You threatened her?  There's no telling what she'll do now."

	"Kevin, with all due respect, back off.  It's been a trying day, and I've
never been on the receiving end of something like that before.  I'm telling
you, she won't make a move until she hears from us.  Either trust me or
don't, but don't push me right now."  I said it more harshly than I wanted
to, but I thought that, given what had just happened, my being on edge was
understandable.

	"Nate..."

	Brian put his hand on Kevin's arm to quiet him.  "Nate's right.  This isn't
something that you can just take charge of, as much as I'd like you to.
This is up to Nate and I.  We have to figure out what we're going to do
about this."

	"I don't mean to butt in," Matt said.

	"Feel free," I told him, finding the energy to even produce a little smile.
  "We're taking suggestions."

	"Well, it seems to me like you don't have many options.  You can either
choose not to agree to give her her story and then sit around and wait for
her to spill the beans about you for revenge, or you can agree to give her
the exclusive and breathe a little easier."

	"But she could still go ahead and talk," Kevin pointed out.

	"Then you make sure to tell her that if you're outed before you out
yourself, the deal is off."

	"And that we will do everything we can to put her career in the same kind
of trouble that she'd be putting ours in," I added.

	"Which means that we really just have the one option.  We give her what she
wants, and trust her."  Brian said it to the room, but he was looking at me.

	"I guess so."  I looked around the room and found everyone nodding.  "I'll
call her later and tell her then."

	Matt sighed.  "I'm really sorry you guys."

	I laughed a little, though there was absolutely no humour in the sound at
all, and stood from the couch.  "Me too,"  I said bitterly as I picked up
the pad of paper from the coffee table and headed for the bedroom.  "For
about five seconds there, I actually thought that we could approach a normal
relationship." I resisted the urge to look behind me as I continued down the
hall and into the bedroom.

To Be Continued...

That's it for this time, peoples. :)

First, I apparently need to apologise for the announcement that I posted a
couple of days ago.  It seems I managed to get several people excited about
a new installment, only to disappoint them. :P   Sorry, guys.  But thanks to
all of you who have emailed to let me know what you think of the Nick/Erron
thing.  I really appreciate the input, and please keep them coming. :)

Note:  Max Whitner, the author that Nate met, is entirely a creation of my
brain.  Please don't email me asking where you can get his book. ;)

So... until next time, thanks for reading!

~*D*~