Date: Sun, 18 Aug 2002 19:00:45 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 118

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, on with Season 7.

***Lance***

"Are you sure you're ok for this?" Lance asked as they sat in the limo,
driving to the arena. They still had a half hour before sound checks, and
Lance had told the others by phone that they would meet them there for the
sound checks and dinner.

They hadn't seen any of the others all day. Lance had called them all about
breakfast, and then after noon when Justin finally woke up he didn't want
to eat anything, so Lance had called the others and told them they were
going to skip lunch, too. Chris, JC, and Jack had asked if they could come
over to see Justin, but Lance told them he didn't think it was a good idea
after he asked Justin, and Justin just shook his head, lying in bed and
holding Junior against his chest. After he got off the phone, and ordered a
couple subs from room service, Lance came in and sat on the bed, not too
close, but near enough for Justin to reach him if he wanted to.

"Justin?" Lance asked. Justin looked up at him, his face blank, his blue
eyes wide and empty. "Do you need anything?"

"No," Justin answered. He blinked, realizing that he was being a little
rude to Lance, who cared about him. "No, thank you. Lance, I feel tired,
really tired."

"Is it the pill, Justin?" Lance asked, knowing that they left him kind of
dazed.

"I don't know," Justin answered. "I just, I feel so tired. Can I stay in
bed today? Please?  Is that ok?"

"Justin, whatever you want is ok," Lance said, watching him. He'd only seen
Justin like this once before. After Lance had gone to get help, and the
guys had all found out about everything, there had been a time when no one
talked to Justin, or even acknowledged that he was there, and Justin was
just this frightening blank that followed them all around.  He took up
space, but he was like a closed system, a good painting of a human being,
with nothing underneath. "Do you want to talk about anything? Do you need
to?"

"No," Justin said, shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" Lance asked, petting Junior, putting his hand near
Justin's.  Justin didn't take it, but he didn't move his hand,
either. "It's not good to hold it inside, Justin."

"I'm not holding it inside," Justin said, not moving. "I just don't have
anything to talk about. He was there. He found me, and he touched me, and
it was real. I'm never going to be safe, never. He's always going to come
back, and he's always going to find me, and he'll do it again. It doesn't
matter what we do. I'm not safe."

His voice was so flat, and matter of fact, that chills went down Lance's
spine. Justin really thought he was never going to be safe from Nick, and
Lance realized why Justin didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to do
anything. Justin was giving up. Justin was going to lay in bed and wait for
Nick to come back, and then Justin was just going to surrender.

"Don't do this, Justin," Lance said, hearing his voice tremble. "Please
don't do this.  Don't let him win. You have to fight, Justin. You have to
fight your way back from this.  You're stronger than he is."

"Why?" Justin asked. He turned his head, looking up at Lance. His bright
blue eyes were huge and glassy beneath his thin blond eyebrows, but the
rest of his face was empty. "I'm tired, Lance, I'm so tired. It's so hard
to fall asleep, and to get up. It's so hard to fight, to get out of bed, to
do anything, it's so hard, and it doesn't matter. He's going to be there,
he's always going to be there. It doesn't matter if I fight."

"It does matter!" Lance said sharply. "It matters to me! It matters to all
of us. We care about you, Justin, and we want you to be the way you were,
the way you used to be. We want you to be strong, and beautiful. We want
you to be Justin, damn it. We want you to be our baby boy again, and not
just for us. We want it for you. We want you to be happy again, and
strong. You told me the other night that you didn't want him to win, that
you didn't want him to take everything."

"That was before," Justin said, sitting up. His shoulders were slumped, his
head down.  "Before he came back. Before he found me."

"But he didn't hurt you, Justin," Lance pointed out. "He found you, but he
didn't do anything."

"Because you saved me," Justin said softly, his face melting a little, the
features softening. Justin reached out, his hand shaking, and brushed the
side of Lance's face.  "You saved me. You all saved me. You protected me."

"We always will, Justin," Lance said, letting Justin touch him, letting
Justin reach out for whatever he needed. "We'll always protect you. I'll
always protect you, just like I promised."

Justin's eyes finally watered, tears spilling over, and he pinched them
closed as he grabbed Lance and wrapped his arms around him, burying his
face in the space where Lance's neck met his shoulder. Lance curled his
arms around him, holding him tightly, feeling him finally release as Justin
shook and sobbed beneath him.

"He was there," Justin sobbed. "He put his hand on me, and he was there."

"I know, Justin," Lance whispered, holding onto him again, hoping Justin
was comforted by how familiar this was. "I know. Just let it out, ok? Let
it out."

Justin did, sobbing softly, clutching Lance's back. When he finally started
to level off, Lance tilted his head up carefully with one hand.

"Justin, why don't you get up and take a shower?" Lance asked, glancing at
the clock.  "It'll make you feel better, and it'll relax you. I have some
sandwiches coming, and we can just stay in today, and rest, if that's what
you want."

"OK," Justin whispered, nodding. "Can Junior come in the bathroom with me?"

"That's fine," Lance said, smiling. He watched Justin climb out of bed,
rubbing at his shoulder. Lance knew the bite couldn't really hurt, since it
was healed, but sometimes when Justin was upset Lance caught him
unconsciously rubbing at it. He didn't ever say anything about it, but
every time he saw Justin reach up there, he wanted to find Nick and hurt
him. "I'll be right here if you need me, ok?"

Justin paused at the bathroom door.

"Lance, you said yesterday that you were going to lunch with Chad today,"
he began.  "You didn't have to stay in for me."

"Yes I did," Lance said, shrugging. "You're more important."

"No, I'm not," Justin answered. "Not really."

Lance wondered what that meant as Justin closed the door. He thought about
asking Justin about it when he came out of the bathroom, but realized that
they had to talk about something else. He had to tell Justin about Joey,
and what he had said. When Justin finished showering, he left the bathroom
for Lance, and Lance washed up while Justin got dressed. When Lance walked
out of the bathroom, wrapped in his towel, Justin was laying on the bed,
fully dressed, petting Junior.

"Justin, I have to get dressed now," Lance said, expecting him to get up.

"I'll shut my eyes," Justin said quietly. Lance raised an eyebrow, but
Justin didn't see it.  His eyes weren't squeezed closed, but they were
shut, and Lance figured whatever Justin wanted was fine. As he got dressed,
he glanced over, or looked in the mirror, but Justin kept his eyes closed
the entire time, and Lance wondered if he'd fallen asleep. He saw Justin
tense when room service knocked at the door, but Justin had relaxed again
by the time Lance pushed the little cart into the bedroom.

"Justin, I got you a turkey sandwich," Lance said, sitting down on the bed.
Justin, lying on his side, didn't move, but Junior eyed the cart in joyous
anticipation, waiting for a handout.

"I don't want any food," Justin said neutrally, not opening his eyes. "I'm
not hungry."

"Do you want to cancel the show tonight?" Lance asked bluntly. He wasn't
going to let Justin pull inside like this. He didn't know why Justin was
suddenly pulling away from him, but it needed to stop.

"No," Justin answered. "I don't want to cancel. The fans."

"The fans aren't going to enjoy it if you collapse onstage in the middle,"
Lance said, unwrapping Justin's sub. "You threw up before the party last
night, Justin, and you haven't eaten today. If you don't eat something,
you're not going to have enough energy to do the show."

"OK," Justin said, sitting up. "Junior, get down."

The dog hopped to the floor and sat between Justin's feet, waiting
patiently. Justin might pretend like he wasn't going to feed him, but
Junior knew Justin always did.  Lance might not, but that was why Junior
wasn't sitting by him. Sooner or later Justin would hand him something, and
it was usually a lot more interesting than dog food. All he had to do was
wait, and roll his eyes.

"Justin, I need to talk to you before we go see the other guys later,"
Lance began, not sure of how to ease into this. He watched Justin bite the
sub and mechanically chew, his cheeks bulging a little as he watched Lance
with his bright blue eyes. He waited until Justin swallowed, so that he
wouldn't accidentally choke him. "Joey stopped by while you were sleeping."

"What did he want?" Justin asked neutrally, taking another bite.

"He wanted to talk to us," Lance answered. "He wanted to say that he was
sorry for all the things he's said, and the way he's been acting, and he
wanted to apologize to you for what he said in the bathroom last night."

Justin thought about it for a minute.

"Do you believe him?" Justin asked, pulling a scrap of turkey out of his
sandwich and tossing it down to Junior. Lance was a little startled by the
matter of fact way that Justin asked.

"I think so," Lance answered finally, turning it over in his mind. "I mean,
Joey hasn't ever lied to me."

"He looked sorry last night," Justin said, and for a second Lance thought
he was joking.  He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I looked at his
face. He didn't want to say that to me, and he didn't like it."

"He shouldn't have said it," Lance said, his tone shifting a little. "He
had no right to talk to you that way."

"Maybe he had to say it," Justin said. His voice was still completely flat.
"When he talked to me, when he said that, it cut through everything,
Lance. I wasn't thinking about anything. All I wanted to do was hold onto
you, and be safe, and I wasn't listening to anyone. I didn't even hear
Josh, not really, but when Joey said that, I heard him. Maybe he knew
that."

"That's actually kind of what he said," Lance said.

"Then what's wrong?" Justin asked. Lance glanced at him again. "You're
still upset about something. If you believe Joey, why are you still
unhappy?"

"Because he's been a jackass, Justin," Lance said, surprised that Justin
wasn't angrier. "I mean, he's just going to come and say sorry, after what
he did? After the way he treated you?"

"I said I was sorry after the things I did," Justin said. "I apologized
after the way I treated you, and you listened to me. Why don't you want to
listen to Joey?"

"It's different," Lance said, a little annoyed by the way that Justin just
kept eating. "He betrayed me, betrayed our friendship."

"I betrayed you and our friendship," Justin said, talking with his mouth
full. Lance bit back an urge to correct him.

"It's not the same, Justin," Lance said. "You had reasons for what you did.
You're not like Joey."

"Maybe Joey had reasons for what he did, too," Justin said, tossing Junior
the last couple of scraps of his sandwich as he finished it. He stood, and
walked toward the bathroom.  "Maybe I'm a lot more like Joey than you
think, and you just don't want to see it. I have to brush my teeth now."

Justin closed the bathroom door behind him. Lance, sitting on the bed,
stared at the door in shock, wondering what that had been all about. Justin
was nothing like Joey, couldn't be, not Justin. In the bathroom, Justin
looked at his shaking hands and breathed a sigh of relief, certain that
he'd been convincing. He was still hurt by Joey, still a little afraid of
him, but he had to push Lance away. It was the best thing for Lance, and if
that meant he had to let Joey be near him, had to let Joey be his friend,
then he would do it, if that's what it took to keep Lance from making a
horrible mistake. As much as he needed Lance, needed to feel Lance's
strength and comfort, he needed Lance to do what was best for him, and that
meant he had to push him away. Lance's needs were more important than his
own.

After that, they'd hung out in the suite, doing their own thing. They
didn't talk any more about last night, but they left the television off,
both of them avoiding encountering any coverage. They fielded a few phone
calls from Johnny, and from Justin's mother, assuring them that he was ok,
and that it had just been a passing bout of illness from something Justin
ate. Justin assured both of them that the concert would go on tonight, and
that he would be fine, but as it got closer and closer to go time, when
they had to ride over to the venue and start their sound checks, he felt
himself getting more and more nervous. What if Nick came to the concert?
What if he looked out from the stage, and Nick was there? What if Nick was
here, now, in the hotel? They said he was safe, that everything here would
be ok, but they said that last night, too, and it hadn't been.

Lance watched Justin throughout the afternoon, and tried to figure out why
Justin was trying to play it off, to pretend that nothing was bothering
him. After weeks of being together, of spending every minute with each
other, more or less, Justin was shutting him off, blocking him out, and he
didn't know why. Lance knew that Justin was nervous, and he knew that
Justin was feeling unsettled. As it got closer and closer to go time,
Justin got jumpier. His hands shook a little, and he twisted them nervously
in his lap, almost unconsciously, as he paged through a clothing
catalog. Junior, feeding off of Justin's nervousness, paced relentlessly
around the suite, but Justin seemed too distracted to play with
him. Finally Justin went to the bathroom, and when he was there for several
minutes without coming out, Lance went and tapped at the door.

"Justin?" Lance asked.

"Lance," Justin answered weakly, and Lance pushed open the door. Justin was
sitting on the floor, by the toilet, holding a cold washcloth on his
head. When he looked at Lance, his eyes looked sunken, and he was very
pale, stark white under the strong lights in there.  "Lance, I feel sick. I
think I have to throw up."

"What's wrong?" Lance asked, sitting down next to him. "Talk to me, please,
Justin, don't shut me out."

"I'm scared, Lance," Justin answered finally. "I'm scared, and I'm tired of
it. I'm tired of being afraid, but what if he's there tonight? What if he
comes to the show?  What if I'm in the middle of a song, and I look up, and
I see him? I can't do it, Lance, I just can't. I'm just so afraid. When I
see him, it happens again, Lance."

"I'm sorry, Justin," Lance said, not touching him. He set his hand down
near Justin's, and Justin took it. When he felt Lance squeeze it, he laid
his head on Lance's shoulder.  "Justin, we don't have to do this
tonight. We can call it off, and refund everybody."

"No, we can't," Justin said, shaking his head. "It's not fair to the fans.
They came to see us, and to see the show, and we shouldn't cheat them out
of that because I'm so, I'm so fucking weak."

Justin's hand flew up to his eyes at that, trying to swat his tears away,
and Lance cradled him tightly. Justin's shoulders shook with the effort not
to cry, his lips pulled back from his teeth as he tried to hold it inside.

"You're not weak, Justin," Lance said, stroking his back and his forehead.
"You're strong."

"I'm not," Justin said, shaking against him. His face was red now, and
tears continued to slide slowly down his cheeks. "I'm not strong, Lance. I
thought I was. I thought I could do anything. I thought I'd always win,
because I was Justin Timberlake, and I didn't. I didn't stop him. I tried,
Lance, I tried so hard. I yelled at him, and I tried to get away, but he
held me down, I tried to fight, and I couldn't stop him. I was weak, and I
let him do that to me. And then, last night, I let him touch me again. I
wanted to stop him, but when I saw him, I couldn't. I could fight, and I
couldn't do anything. I was just too scared, and too weak, and I don't want
to be anymore, Lance. I don't want to be."

"You didn't let him do anything, Justin," Lance said, holding him. "You
tried to fight, and you are strong, Justin, you are. You're strong inside,
and when you're not, you can fall back on us, on all of us."

"Even Joey," Justin said quietly, his face pressed to Lance's chest now.
Lance sighed.

"Yes, even Joey," he grudgingly admitted. "We're all here for you, and
we'll all be strong with you, Justin, you know that. Now, what can I do?
Right now, what can I do for you?"

"Be my friend," Justin answered quietly. "Please, tell me you're my friend.
Tell me I'm not trash, and that I should have friends. Tell me I'm a good
person, and I'm not, not bad.  Tell me I'm not like him."

"You'll never be like him, Justin," Lance said, cradling him. Justin held
tightly to Lance, not wanting to look at him, hoping everything he said was
true. "Now, do you want to do the show tonight?"

"Yes," Justin answered finally.

"Why?" Lance asked.

"Because I can," Justin answered, wiping his face. He looked at Lance, his
eyes still wet, but his jaw was tell. He was psyching himself up, and Lance
was part of it.  Lance knew his role, and they were shifting into it
now. "Because I can do this."

"You can do this, Justin," Lance said, nodding. "You can."

When it was time to go, the two of them made sure Junior had food and
water, and a pad down on the bathroom floor, and then they went down and
got into the car.  The others would be coming from wherever they went
during the day, JC and Jack probably from some long afternoon together, and
Chris and Vlada as well. Lance wasn't sure what Joey did, although, since
they were in New York, he was probably out visiting old friends or
something. They would all meet at the arena for sound checks, and then have
dinner together. On the way over, Justin still looked a little shaken,
which is why Lance asked again if he was all right, and if he wanted to do
this.

"I'm ok," Justin answered. He swallowed, taking another pull off of the
water bottle in his hand. "I couldn't do this without you, Lance. I,
you're, you know."

"Yeah," Lance answered, squeezing Justin's hand. He was what, exactly? "I
know."

***Jack***

Josh and I stayed in for the day, ordering room service for lunch, just
lying around on the couch watching television. Now that he knew my
decision, neither one of us was quite so anxious about me leaving in the
morning. On a regular day, the two of us would spend today being a little
down, a little depressed at the thought of our impending separation, but
now it was just an extra hurdle, a little quick obstacle that we would get
through. I realized during the night, as I thought about it, that I wanted
it as much as Josh did. As much as I liked what I was doing, I didn't like
being apart from him. I didn't enjoy waking up alone, or eating meals with
Andrew, wishing I was with Josh, knowing that Josh was somewhere else,
eating with one of the guys, wishing he was with me.

We hadn't made love in the shower, a rare occasion for us both, but when we
got out, and I saw him standing on the bathmat, water coursing down his
body, dripping off all of those muscles, and his tight brown nipples, I
couldn't help myself. Dropping down to my knees in front of him, my tongue
reached out and caressed the wide, spongy head of his half-hard cock. I
tasted shower water, clean and pure, and looked up to see him staring down
at me, his lips parted, wet hair hanging down over his forehead.  Without
saying anything, I leaned forward, closer to him, and began to lap the
water from his balls, pushing them around with my tongue.

"Oh, Jack," he sighed, leaning back against the wall.

His voice was husky, breathy, just the way I like to hear it, and I felt
his cock twitching, filling with blood as it slowly climbed the side of my
face. Josh sighed again, and I felt his fingers sliding down from the wall
to caress my shoulders, rubbing at them. He tilted his head back, blue eyes
sliding closed, as I moved my mouth up the firm trunk of his cock, feeling
it throb under my lips. His sighs continued, urgent little whimpers, as I
licked my way up and down him, avoiding the head, but running my tongue
around the ridge where it met the shaft. He was fully hard now, his cock
jerking in time to his heart beat, and each time my tongue touched it he
let out another high pitched whimpering sigh, and his long, tan fingers
tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders.  Finally I let my tongue slide
up onto the head from underneath, tasting the salty traces of his slowly
leaking precum. When I did, dipping my tongue into his slit, he let out a
full, open mouthed sigh, a tightly pinched sound of urgent need, and one of
his hands slid up my neck and onto the back of my head. I looked up at him.

"Please," he whispered, staring down at me, his blue eyes half closed.

As an answer, I let my mouth drop open, and I felt the pressure of his arm
flexing as he pulled me onto his cock. His arm pulled me toward him with a
firm, smooth flex as his hips rolled forward, and his shaft slid smoothly
into my mouth. I kept my lips tightly pressed around him, knowing he liked
that, and felt his head leaving a slick trail over my tongue and across the
top of my mouth. As I looked up, I could see his whole body above me, his
slick torso, still a little wet from the shower, stretched before me. My
eyes, sliding up from his wet brown pubes, followed the rippling line of
his abs, watching them roll and change as his hips continued to slowly pump
himself into my mouth.  Above them, his pecs flexed as his arm continued to
pull me toward him, his small brown nipples pointed and hard, his
smattering of soft downy chest hair slicked down by the rest of the
water. The lines of his neck led up to the firm sketch of his jaw, the soft
curves of his mouth, and the soft prominence of his cheekbones, pressing
out from his face below those eyes, so many shades of blue overlaying each
other, that I knew so well.

"Jack, oh, God, Jack," he sighed.

We stayed like that, me kneeling before him in complete submission as he
fed me his cock, until he was done, and I felt him shooting into my
mouth. His arm flexed, biceps shaking, as he convulsively pulled me onto
him. I gagged on his cock, my hands resting on the lanky expanse of his
thighs, but I trusted him not to choke me to death. I guess it was sexy
gagging, because his eyes were clouded with lust when they finally opened,
after his cock finished pulsing and spurting in me. He let go of the back
of my head slid his hands around to my jaw, pulling me up from the floor
and plastering his mouth over mine. He jammed his tongue inside, tilting my
head back, and I sighed against him as I felt him darting and prodding
through my mouth, tasting himself, trying to follow where his cock had
been. When he finally pulled our heads apart, I slumped against him as he
stood on the wall, both of us gasping for air, and I felt my hard cock
prodding his balls.

"I love you," he whispered, jamming his tongue in my mouth again. I moaned,
feeling his hands slide down to my ass, squeezing and gripping it. They
danced around to my front, his fingers wrapping around my cock, and then he
was dropping to his knees.  "Let me help you with that, baby."

"Josh," I sighed, feeling him attack me with his usual fervent zeal. "I
love you, too."

When we were finally finished, an orgasm and much kissing later, Josh and I
got dressed, and spent the day cuddling and watching television. I knew he
was worried about Justin, and Lance, and after I told him what had happened
between Joey, Chris, and I, he was worried on that front, too, but we
talked about it, and agreed that we would monitor, but not intrude. We
would keep an eye on the others, and continue to offer support, but
otherwise we would wait for them to need us, and we wouldn't intrude. It
seemed like a good idea, but we both knew it would be hard. Josh just
wanted to help everyone, and, while I did, too, I was also so naturally
curious that it bothered me not to know everything that was going on.

We also discussed what we were going to do with Chad, as a large part of
his job was coordinating my engagements and schedule. If I wasn't going to
be speaking again until the tour was over, he'd have to have something else
to do. Josh and I agreed that we would keep him on to help with our
correspondence, since we would need him again once the tour was over to
manage my stuff again, and we thought that maybe the lessening of his
responsibilities would help him adapt to them better. When he stopped by
after lunch, to update me on Georgia's repealed sodomy laws and the current
movements trying to get them back into place, we explained it all to him,
and he was predictably excited until Josh dimmed his glow a little. I was
just as surprised, since Josh hadn't warned me.

"You staying on with us is provisional, Chad," Josh explained. "I know we
talked about this yesterday, but I decided that I want to formalize it a
little, because it's a serious issue for us both. Jack and I like you, but
this isn't about whether or not we're friends. It's about the job you were
hired to do, and our satisfaction with your performance so far."

"Are you firing me?" Chad asked, swallowing, his eyes wide. I wondered if
he owned any clothing that didn't cleave itself to his body like a spider
monkey on a tree.

"No," Josh said, shaking his head. "I'm taking everything we talked about,
and I'm going to put it in a letter for you, so that you understand how
important this is to us. I really believe that you can do this, Chad, and I
really want to give you a chance, but this is going to be your official
warning. If you don't improve, we're going to have to let you go."

"OK," Chad said quietly, looking away is if he might burst into tears. I
gritted my teeth, thinking that we had enough criers already.

"Do you have any questions?" Josh asked gently. "Do you need to ask
anything, or want to talk about this?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Chad said, standing. "I have to go. I'll do better, JC,
I promise. You'll see, and you won't be sorry you gave me a chance."

He hurried out, and I looked at Josh.

"Did you do that for me?" I asked.

"I did that for us," he answered, kissing me on the forehead. It was all
the answer I needed.

The sound check seemed to go ok, or at least it went typically well. The
guys walked up and down the stage, trying their microphones, chatting with
each other and with the special group of fans who got to come to
these. Vlada and I sat off to the side, Andrew a few rows behind us, and
the two of us shared a bag of popcorn, waving at our boys when they glanced
toward us. Justin seemed his usual self, and I wondered how much pep
talking Lance had to give him to get him that way. Joey looked a little
down, but once, as they passed, Justin reached out and squeezed his
shoulder. It was quick, and the audience probably thought it was just a
typical gesture of friendship between the guys, but Vlada and I both caught
it, and Joey looked at Justin with such grateful surprise that I thought he
might start crying. The others all caught it, too, Chris and Josh doing a
passable job of masking their surprise, and Lance looking so neutral that
it was obvious he wasn't pleased. As we sat in the audience, waiting for
the guys to finish so we could all have a quick dinner, my phone rang.

"Jack, it's me, Chad," he said brightly, as if I couldn't figure that out
from the caller ID.  "Kevin Richardson from the Backstreet Boys called for
you. He knows that you're going to be in Boston tomorrow, and he says he
wants to talk to you. I told him you were unavailable right now, and he
asked me to call back. What do you want me to tell him?"

"Did he say what he wanted?" I asked, knowing full well.

"No," Chad answered. "I asked, like three times, but he just said you'd
know, and that he was going to be there either way."

I sighed.

"Tell him to meet me for a late dinner somewhere," I said finally. "Call
around Boston, find us a nice, quiet restaurant close to the hotel, make us
a reservation, and then call him and tell him to meet me there, ok?"

"Sure, no problem," Chad said quickly. "I can do that."

I wished all of my problems were solved as easily as Chad seemed to think
they could be.

***

To be continued.