DISCLAIMER: The character, while based on real people, are only figments of my imagination and does not imply anything about their real lives. All events are fiction; this is for entertainment purposes only and should not be read by anyone for any reason without laces in their shoes. This story contains homosexual aspects as well as violence and minor drug use. Please do not remove from this archive without first obtaining permission from the author. That said, sit back and enjoy the fictional account of Gabriel and members of Nsync as they continue their revolution.
Author notes: Revolution Calling (RC) is a continuation of Blind Revolution (BR) and the further adventures of Gabriel Foster (AKA Tommy Cain) and his ongoing evolution. I've had several requests to continue this story and after some prodding from my editor, Ann, and several pitchers of beer, I finally agreed. All that I ask if for you to overlook the obvious flaw in ages and timelines as you read. I've taken real events and fit them in the story as I saw fit, not bothering to make the story actual or even plausible. After all, I'm the creator of this world and can do just about anything I want without bothering with rules and/or reality. Other than that, I hope you enjoy the second installment of my Revolution series and that this story entertains you as well as the first.
I would like to dedicate this chapter to Ian, who convinced me to put that wild hair back in my ass. Thanks, Josh.
PROLOGUE: THERE'S A GROWING FEELING
For a price I'd do about anything Except pull the trigger For that I'd need a pretty good cause Then I heard of Dr. X The man with the cure Just watch the television Yeah, you'll see there's something going on Got no love for politicians Or that crazy scene in D.C. It's just a power mad town But time is ripe for changes There's a growing feeling That taking a chance on a new kind of vision is due...Tate/Wilton
James Lance Bass lay on his side, his head resting lightly on one hand while the other caressed his lover's cheek tenderly. The morning chill caused him to shiver slightly but he ignored it as a small smile played across his lips. In the busy life of being Lance Bass, Nsyncer, actor, producer and entrepreneur, afforded him precious little time to enjoy some of life's simplest pleasures. The greatest one, watching Joshua Scott Chasez sleeping peacefully beside him. Or Jc as the whole world knew him.
Shaking his head, he chuckled at the thought. The name Jc was a prop, a carefully contrived persona that existed only in stadiums and the hearts of millions of fans around the world. Exactly like his own persona, Lance didn't exist either. For a time, he had forgotten that. But that all changed six months earlier in a small town in Pennsylvania. For the millionth time, he thanked whatever god was responsible for his changing fortune.
`Has it only been six months?' He wondered silently, still gently caressing Josh's face softly. `Feels like a lifetime.'
But a perfect lifetime. Who would have thought that he, Lance, the biggest slut in show business, would find true love? Much less be blissfully happy by the prospect. As each day passed, he realized that his life revolved around the slender brunet. His center of the universe, the one place that kept him grounded in the glitzy world of Hollywood. The one person that could keep him monogamous and satisfied when others could not. He couldn't--wouldn't imagine a life without Josh in it, the center.
Josh stirred in his sleep, whimpering softly as he buried his head deeper into the pillow. From experience, James knew it was just the beginning of the slow arduous process of waking up. Never in his life had he met another person that loved his sleep as much as the brunet. Just the mere mentioning of going to bed caused Josh's eyes to light up and a smile to his face. If left to his own devices, Josh would sleep an easy twelve hours daily. As much as he wanted his lover awake, the pleasure of watching him sleep far outweighed the other.
Leaning down, he pressed his lips gently on the smooth cheek, whispering softly, "I love you."
In his half-awake state, Josh smiled, one hand reaching back to James, who grabbed it possessively. Josh drug his lover closer to him till James was spooned up tightly behind him, one hand wrapped around the slender body tightly.
"That's better." Josh mumbled, sighing slightly as he pressed back closer to James's warm body.
He kissed the back of Josh's neck, breathing deeply the aroma that was part soap, part shampoo, part natural odor, all Josh. Having always been prone to associating things with smells, the smell of his lover enforced the reality that he was finally home. That this wasn't some twisted dream but he really was home and Josh was really in his arms. `Yep, perfect life.'
Some time later, he awoke. The covers were pulled snuggly up to his chin and in his arms was the very pillow that Josh had been using earlier. Yawning loudly, he looked around the room somewhat in a daze. The clothes he had worn last night were gone, probably in the hamper inside the bathroom, along with his discarded luggage. In his haste to sleep with his lover, he had dumped his bags on the floor and stripped his clothes off, not caring where they landed or the mess they caused.
Rolling over, he blinked several times before throwing off the covers. Standing up, he stretched, another yawn escaping from his lips as he made little grunting noises. Shuffling over to the closet, he grabbed a pair of track pants and slipped on a pair of fur lined slippers before heading into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he decided to skip the shower and head downstairs where the strong aroma of coffee originated.
Padding down the carpeted hallway, he briefly peeked inside the music room, in the happenstance that Josh was busy working on something. Seeing the light off, he continued down the hallway. As he descended the stairs, he could hear the faint sounds of the radio emanating from the kitchen. Making sure he made no noise, he slowly opened the kitchen door and peeked inside.
What he saw made him chuckle but he quickly stifled it by holding his hand over his mouth. There stood Josh in all his glory, dancing slowly as he sang along with the radio. The bar in the kitchen blocked his view but he could see the tops of Josh's buttocks tense every time his body shifted to the music. Along with the smooth contour of his well-muscled back, the skin pulled taunt by his exertion. His long brown hair was wild, sticking up in every direction like he hadn't combed it in weeks. The smell of eggs and bacon caused his stomach to rumble in anticipation of the feast Josh was preparing.
Dishes were laid out side by side on the breakfast bar, a steaming pot of coffee in the center. Along with bacon and eggs, Josh had made enough food for an army. Pancakes, waffles, bagels, an overflowing bowl of fresh fruit and a plate of wheat toast surrounding the dishes, all laid out symmetrically. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, testifying to the care Josh put into making breakfast. This entire spectacle he took in a single glance before settling his gaze back on the naked form of his lover.
Still singing, Josh grabbed the pan in his hand and turned around. His eyes lighting up when he saw him. Dishing out the eggs, he continued his dancing. Tossing the pan into the sink with the other dirty dishes, he poured orange juice into two glasses and beckoned Lance to sit.
"I feel a bit over dressed." James muttered, his eyes twinkling as he walked over to the stool.
In a flash, Josh was standing next to him, his arms wrapped tightly around him as he kissed him deeply. Breaking the kiss, he stated mischievously, "We'll have to do something about that won't we."
In a fluid movement, his pants were pushed down and he stepped out of them. Leaning in, he devoured Josh's mouth hungrily, savoring the taste of his lover as they gripped one another tightly. Long forgotten was the food, all he could think about was Josh and an animal lust that swept him away in his urgency.
Purring in the back of his throat, Josh broke the kiss and smiled at him before leading him to the stool. After pushing him down, Josh started to pour the coffee saying, "We have lots of time for that. But for now I'm hungry."
"So am I." James growled, reaching out, grabbing Josh's aroused member. "And I know just what I want too."
Smacking his hand away, Josh laughed. "Wasn't last night enough for you?"
"I never get enough when it comes to you." He pouted, though he did settled on the stool and reached for the coffee. His stomach growled again, reminding him just how hungry he really was.
"First we eat." Josh stated, kissing him briefly on the lips. "Then we do whatever you want."
"Whatever?" James asked with grin, reaching for his fork.
Josh replied breathlessly, "Whatever you want. We have all day just in case you can't make up your mind."
"I love you." He stated simply.
"How much?" Josh teased, blowing on his coffee.
"More than I love my own life." James stated fiercely.
"Good answer." Josh cooed, taking a slice of bacon and putting it between his teeth. Leaning closer to his boyfriend, he offered the piece to him. James took the piece of bacon in his mouth, continuing till he felt Josh's lips.
"I could get use to this." James said through his chewing.
"What?" Josh asked. "Kissing me or eating breakfast with me?"
"Both. Kissing you while eating breakfast." He replied, deciding on waffles instead of pancakes.
Josh smiled his most dazzling smile before asking, "How was the trip?"
Shrugging, James answered, "Good. It went as well as could be expected, considering."
"Considering their asking for triple what the screenplay is worth." Josh finished the statement; his frown matching James's perfectly.
"And still maintain all creative rights to the story along with ten percent of the proceeds and my heart on a silver platter."
"I guess with every studio bidding on it, they can get away with it." Josh said between sips of orange juice. "After all, FreeLance isn't one of the big boys yet."
"Yeah." James said dejectedly. "I just really wanted to do that movie. I didn't get to go to space and this is like the next best thing you know."
Patting him gently on the shoulder, Josh said, "I know baby. But what can do. You tried at least."
Shaking his head, James smiled, "That's true. That just means I'll have more time to spend here with you."
"Another good answer." Josh said with a grin, leaning into James slightly. "It's not like you don't have enough to do with keeping me happy along with the ten artists already signed to FreeLance."
"And if they were half as easy as you are my life would be perfect."
"Are you calling me easy?" Josh asked playfully, grabbing the bacon from James's fork quickly.
"Of course." Came the reply, as he speared another piece of bacon. "We all know that."
"Not any more." James said with a laugh. "I'm a one queen man now. Thanks to you finally getting your head out of your ass."
"Here's to Justin." Josh said dramatically, raising his glass high.
"For with out him," James said, clinking his glass with Josh's. "We'd still be putting each other through hell."
After they drank, Josh asked, "Did you get to see him while you were there?"
Frowning, James replied, "Yeah. I'm worried about him."
Picking up on his demenor, Josh asked, "Why?"
"He just seemed--different." James paused to find the right words. "I mean, he was happy but something wasn't right. He seemed more withdrawn, pensive, like he was hiding something."
"You know how Justin gets when he's working." Josh said dismissing James's concerns. "After all, this is his first solo album. He has a lot riding on it."
Shaking his head in disagreement, James argued, "I don't think so. I mean, it's probably part of it but he was acting weird. Weirder than normal."
"Do you think I should call him?" Josh asked, pushing his plate away.
"Maybe." James countered. "Or maybe we should go and see him. You know, like a visit."
"Is he seeing anyone?"
"I don't think so, well nothing steady." James stated, his face betraying the disgust he felt. "From what I hear, he's playing the part of pop star to the hilt. Lonnie says he's playing around with a few people at the moment."
"Boys or girls?"
"Both." James answered. "He went through most of the celebrities in town. If he keeps up this pace, he'll have to start in on the groupies next."
Josh smiled, remembering his boyfriend's foray into the seamy world of celebrity sex. "You really can't judge him for that can you?"
James shook his head in disagreement, "Sure I can. It wasn't right for me then and it's not right for him now." Exhaling loudly, he said softly, "Sometimes I wish things would have been different with Gabriel. They were good together."
Josh raised his eyebrows and asked, "Have you gotten that whole story out of him yet? I still don't know what happened there."
"No one does, except maybe Lonnie and you know how tightlipped that motherfucker can be." James snorted.
"He did always seem to work for Justin alone. It doesn't surprise me that Justin kept him his staff. From what I hear, Lonnie works directly for Justin now, not Jive." Josh informed his lover.
Pouring himself another cup of coffee, James wondered aloud, "I still want to know what happened there. I liked Gabriel."
"So did Justin. I know that has to be part of his problem. I think he fell in love with him." Josh ventured a guess.
"What about Joey?" James asked. "Did he get that part in Rent?"
"Oh yeah, he called yesterday. He's also going to be in a movie."
"Really." James shook his head, remembering his own foray into acting, what a disaster that was. "Which one?"
"Some independent film called My Big Fat Greek Wedding. He swears it's fucking funny." Josh said with a grin.
"We'll see." James said with a laugh. "And Chris?"
"Haven't heard anything for a few weeks. But you know Chris, he's probably enjoying the break, eating too much and pissing off his family."
Chuckling, James stated, "His parents always did love it when he went on tour. They must be going crazy."
Josh's face suddenly lit up and he smacked his hand down on the bar loudly, "I know how we can check up on Justin without looking like we're checking up on him."
"Oh boy." James said rolling his eyes. "You have that look in your eyes again."
"Since we haven't seen anyone in months." Josh said excitedly. "We can arrange to have everyone come here for a weekend. You know catch up on everything."
James smiled as Josh crossed his arms with a smug look on his face, saying, "Probably. After all, we love them and it's perfectly natural for us to want to hang out with them."
"Of course." Josh replied, giggling. "And if we get some covert snooping done in the process, then it's a win win situation."
"I'll call them and arrange everything." James said, standing up.
"But first." Josh said slyly, standing up. Walking out of the kitchen, he called out over his shoulder, "I'm going to get a shower."
James watched him walk out of the room, admiring the toned body. Through the door, he heard Josh ask, "Coming?"
He jumped up so fast the stool went flying across the kitchen. "You bet your ass I'm coming." He ran after Josh as the brunet took the stairs two at a time, laughing all the while. Plans could be dealt with later. For the moment, he was going to finish what Josh started in the kitchen. Life with Josh really was perfect.
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Special Agent Timothy Cain jotted down notes as his eyes studied the email, rereading it again and again. It seems that another body had been discovered on an ocean liner in the Mediterranean Sea. No cause of death could be determined, for all apparent reasons, the body just ceased functioning. In the stateroom, authorities found equipment, pictures, blueprints and other items that all pointed to an assassin. His target, a Sheik on vacation, told authorities he had no reason to suspect that he had been targeted for an assassination attempt and was highly concerned for his safety. After questioning the passengers, the authorities turned over the investigation to the NSA for review.
Rubbing his tired eyes, Timothy leaned back in the chair, absently chewing on the end of his pen. This made the body count to twelve. In a span of six months, twelve well-known assassins had been discovered dead, apparently stopped before they were allowed to fulfill their contracts. All signs pointed to unrest inside the ranks of Mehment's organization. Popular belief inside the NSA theorized a power struggle inside Mehment's organization and once settled, things would settle down back to normal. He on the other hand knew better. The sheer genius of the murders, the complex execution of flawless plans, pointed fingers to one man. A man that his superiors believed dead. A man for years known only as Robert, a man that he knew to be his twin brother, Tommy Cain. A man that promised Robert was truly dead. Now, sooner or later, someone would put two and two together and come up with four. He had to find his brother before they did. Or even worse, before Mehment and his mercenaries got up with the renegade assassin.
After he closed the case on Robert, identifying Tom Pavone as the elusive assassin, he had been promoted to lead a task force who's sole mission was to find and apprehend the contractor known only as Mehment. He had gathered the brightest and best of the intelligence community, sooner or later they would find out his deception and expose him for collaboration with the enemy. Brother or not, he would at best serve life in prison, worse, disappear never to be seen again. He needed to find his brother and fast. Things were quickly getting out of hand, especially if his brother continued his one-man war against Mehment. All these unsolvable crimes were starting to get attention from higher-ups; the heat was on the task force to put an end to the violence.
For months now he had debated the best way to achieve contact with his brother. Trying to follow the trails he left behind was pointless. The only way he tracked him to Hershey was sheer luck, something that would never happen again. His brother was too good to make the same mistake twice, to experienced in the art of disguise, to fearless to lay low, to angry to stop, and way to pissed off at Mehment.
As he finally ran out of options, Timothy reached for the phone and dialed. After arranging a flight to Orlando Florida, he headed towards the barn, a huge warehouse that harbored the latest equipment, disguises, and technology of the intelligence community. He had supplies to get and a brother to catch. He only hoped that Tommy would understand his motives towards Justin. It was the only way he could think of to lure the elusive assassin from where ever he had been hiding. Justin was the link, the only one Tommy AKA Gabriel Foster, had any attachment too. Knowing Gabriel enough to know that he had someone watching the popular singer, make contact with Justin, Gabriel was sure to follow.
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Scott Nevison glanced nervously at his watch as he paced back and forth across the hotel room floor. His expensive suit was rumpled and stained, having spent most of the night peering into his laptop. In one hand, a half-smoked Marlboro, the other, a lukewarm cup of coffee. The chubby hacker was definitely not the hands on type of guy, he preferred to be the man behind the scenes. Gratefully allowing others to assume the risks of working in the forefront. He preferred the safety of anonymity, reveling in the fact that he was a ghost, a non-person. As he paced, every few minutes, he would let loose with a string of curses. Mostly the curses were directed at his employer, Gabriel for roping him into this mess. The others, at the low level scum sucker that was three hours late.
If only he knew where Gabriel was, he always felt better having the blonde close by in case of emergencies. What he wouldn't give to see Gabriel's scarred face. What he wouldn't give to be out of Washington D.C. He hated this town, with all its political bullshit and constant maneuvering for power. Greed he could understand, after all, he stayed with Gabriel all these years for the millions of dollars tucked safely away in numerous accounts worldwide. But those who played in D.C. cared more about the power than the money. The money was only a way to keep score, a secondary benefit to those who tried to shape the world.
And ever since the incident in Hershey Pennsylvania six months earlier, Gabriel had changed and with that change, Scott had come to respect him all the more. No longer a paid assassin, Gabriel now hunted the hunters. For some reason, he took Mehment's attempts to kill him personally and had started a personal vendetta against his former employer. Scott had lost track of the body count since Hershey as Gabriel slowly but methodically eliminated all of Mehment's assassin's. Trying in vain to flush out the elusive Mehment, becoming such a thorn in hopes of luring him out of the shadows. The loss of contracts alone had cost Mehment tens of millions of dollars and had made the two of them rich beyond their wildest dreams.
Where as this made Scott happy, Gabriel seemed to have lost all interest in money. Seemingly only focused on destroying Mehment's empire, Gabriel neither desired nor cared for money. Professing his only desire was to finish the game Mehment started six months earlier. But no matter what he professed, Scott knew better. Gabriel's only driving force was a curly haired singer somewhere on a tour bus in somewhere America doing who knows what with who knows who. No matter what he denied.
He had learned the hard way to never bring up the name Justin Timberlake. Rubbing his jaw absently, he smiled at the memory of Gabriel punching him when he accused him of being in love with the popular singer. After Gabriel threatened him with bodily harm, Scott kept his opinions to himself.
Lighting another cigarette with the stub in his hand, Scott glanced at his watch and cursed Gabriel for making him stay in this cesspool of a town. After this, Gabriel owed him big time. Maybe a nice vacation on some tropical beach somewhere where he could drink beer and buy love by the hour and forget about everything for a while.
A timid knock on the door interrupted his musing. With a quickness that surprised most people, a stainless steel 9mm suddenly appeared in his fist. Walking quickly over to the door, he peered out the security hole, his gun steady in his hand.
Seeing a smallish man in a blue suit glancing about nervously, he opened the door a crack and asked, "May I help you?"
A deep voice replied softly, "I'm here about drapes."
Breathing out heavily, Scott opened the door and stared at the man for a moment before saying, "Come in."
The man hurriedly entered the suite carrying a briefcase. The moment he past Scott, Scott pushed him against the wall and jabbed his gun in the small of the man's back. "Excuse me but this will only take a second."
"What the..." The man started to say but Scott cut him off, "Just making sure." With a professionalism that surprised him, Scott quickly checked him for weapons and any listening devices that might be hidden on the man. When he was satisfied the man was clean, Scott ordered, "Sit down."
"Are you always this suspicious?" The man demanded, his eyes darting around the room quickly.
"Always." Scott replied with a smile. "Now open the case slowly."
The man eyed him briefly before flipping the case open. Scott moved around the papers and saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Okay, now what can I do for you?"
Apparently the man felt somewhat in control of this line of questioning cause he sat up straighter and said mysteriously, "It's not what you can do for me but what I can do for you. Or your employer rather."
"Go on." Scott said, taking a seat across from the man. The man was dressed in an expensive tailored suit, maybe five foot five and about one hundred and thirty pounds. His nails were freshly manicured, a practice Scott despise. His soft brown hair was most definitely a wig, albeit a good one. And when the man moved his arms, Scott could see gold cufflinks. All this he took in a glance as he waited for the man to continued.
"My name is..."
"No names." Scott stated blandly. "At least not till I hear you out."
"Okay." The man said somewhat taken aback. "I represent some influential people who are interested in hiring your employer for shall we say a delicate matter."
"You want him to kill someone." Scott said with an evil grin.
The man's eyes widened and he shifted nervously in his seat. "I wouldn't quite say it like that."
"I find its better to call a spade a spade." Scott explained. "It saves time in the long run believe."
"My employers have been following your boss's recent exploits and have realized our goals are similar and wanted to know if you would be interested in pooling our resources. Scratch our back and we'd return the favor so to speak."
"It seems he is doing quite well on his own at the moment." Scott stated reaching for a cigarette. "What could your employers possibly do for him?"
Sitting back deep into the cushions, the man steepled his fingers and stated blandly, "We can give him the identity of Mehment."
Scott's eyes widened and he paused to light his cigarette. "Then I would say my employer would be happy to meet with your employer."
The door to the suite burst open, two men stormed in wearing black clothing, their faces hidden by masks. Blue suit screamed out just as they opened fire on him, striking him multiple times. That was their first mistake. That gave Scott time to bring his own pistol to bear. He squeezed off two shots before the men realized he was armed. One of the men grunted and went down, blood oozing from the hole in his chest. Scott dove to the floor as the other man turned and let loose a spray of bullets from his machine gun, peppering the couch where Scott had been just moments earlier. Crawling on the floor, Scott emptied his gun in the general direction of the attacker. He made it to the hallway and reloaded his gun. Breathing heavily, he quickly peered around the corner. A haze of gun smoke lingering in the air and the smell of death greeted him; the other shooter was no where in sight. Scrambling to his feet, he ran back into the room and gathered his laptop and few personal items. Stopping long enough to search blue suit, he threw everything the man had in his pockets inside the briefcase and headed for the door. The police would be all over the hotel in minutes, he had to get out before that happened. Again wishing Gabriel was there; he headed for the stairs. `I fucking hate this town.'
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Justin Timberlake almost dropped to his knees as the last note faded from his lips and the lights dropped. The curtain hid him from the thousands of screaming fans even as the roadies began the arduous task of ripping down the stage and lighting. His personal assistant rushed to his side and covered his head with a warm towel and shoved a bottle of water into his exhausted hands. He thanked her with a smile and drank deeply. She led him from the stage, knowing how drained he was after the two and half-hour concert. By the time he reached his dressing room, the bottle of water was empty and he had enough energy left to lock the door behind him and collapse on the couch.
He was covered in sweat; his clothes sticking to his body giving him a dirty feeling that only a long shower would rid him of. But at the moment, he just didn't have the energy to walk over and climb in. His body ached, despite the high of performing and the energy the crowd gave him. But having the responsibility of singing solo and carrying a show without his brothers drained him more than he ever imagined it would.
Though he was having the time of his life pursuing his solo career, he missed the companionship that was Nsync. He'd catch himself looking over his shoulder while he sang, looking for them. And every time he'd be disappointed, they weren't there. He was alone. But then he had been alone for a long time. His only companion was Lonnie Shepherd, a bodyguard, and a friend. His only real friend in this make-believe world of celebrity.
As close as he was to the big black man, he felt he was missing something that Lonnie could not fill. He had an ache in his soul that no amount of hot water could soothe. Ever since those four days in Hershey with Gabriel, he still couldn't think of him as Tommy Cain, he had this longing in his heart. Sometimes fate could be a cruel mistress.
Pushing those thought away, he stood up and walked over to his carry-on bag and retrieved a bottle of white pills. Pouring five into his hand, he walked over and grabbed a fresh bottle of water. Tossing the pills in his mouth, he washed them down with half the water. Stripping off his wet clothes, he walked into the bathroom and turned the water on. Stepping inside, he let the steaming water pour over him. After twenty minutes, he finally stepped out and wiped away the condensation from the mirror. Peering at his reflection, he saw the dark circles that lined his face and the dead look in his eyes. He was tired. Thank god he had one show left on this tour. He needed a break, a nice long relaxing break without any pressures or screaming fans. He needed to re-charge his batteries.
Wrapping a towel around him, he walked back into his dressing room. A smile broke across his face when he saw Lonnie sitting lazily on the couch flipping through a magazine.
"Now that's a sight to see." He stated with a chuckle. "A big black guy reading a teen magazine."
"I think its even worse that a grown man like you would even have it in his dressing room." Lonnie replied, not bothering to look at his friend.
"What a bitch." Justin said, throwing his wet towel at the man.
"You do know that isn't funny right?" Lonnie asked, dropping the towel on the floor.
Justin grabbed a pair of track pants and pulled them on, "I find it mildly amusing."
"I liked you better when you were this innocent kid that was scared to sleep alone in the dark." Lonnie stated blandly. "You were so much nicer then before you got jaded by fame."
Justin snorted as he pulled on a sweatshirt, "Please. Jaded I'm not."
Changing the subject, Lonnie said, "You did good tonight. Maybe one of the best performances I've ever seen you do."
"Really." Justin said, his eyes twinkling at the compliment. "I felt good tonight. Everything seemed to flow perfectly for a change."
"You look tired." Lonnie said with concern. "Maybe you should forgo tonight's entertainment and get some sleep."
"I'll sleep later." Justin said flippantly. "In a few weeks, I'll be wishing we were back on the road."
"You're never satisfied are you?" Lonnie accused.
"When I'm in the studio, I wish I was on tour. When I'm on tour I wish I was in the studio. Guess I'm fickle." Justin said with a laugh as he pulled on his shoes.
"That's putting it mildly." Lonnie said dryly. Standing up, he asked, "Are you ready?"
"Yep, let me grab my bag and we're out of here." Justin said with a yawn.
He followed Lonnie out to the hall. They walked side by side in silence; both lost in deep thoughts. When they arrived at the car, Justin asked something he rarely did, "Lonnie, do you mind riding up front with the driver? I want to be alone for a moment."
"Sure." Lonnie nodded, and after shutting Justin safely inside, he climbed in the front.
Justin leaned back in the seat and stifled a yawn. The pills were starting to kick in and all he wanted to do was ride the high for awhile. At least until they arrived at the hotel, then he would welcome the company gladly. Anything not to be alone. However brief that feeling would be.
Before he knew it, Lonnie was opening the door. As he stood up, he gripped the big mans arm and murmured, "Thank you."
Lonnie smiled weakly and escorted him through the back entrance and into the private elevator. As they rode up, Justin asked, "Did you get me something?"
"Don't look so mad." Justin said as he noticed the frown on his friend's face. "I need to release some of this built up energy."
Snorting, Lonnie ignored him and turned his face away. Rolling his eyes, Justin asked, "What?"
"I had to go through this shit with Lance already, I thought you were smarter than that." Lonnie said softly.
"Why not?" Justin demanded. "I'm young and on top of the world. Why shouldn't I enjoy my self?"
"Maybe if you were doing it for the sheer pleasure of it I would agree." Lonnie said seriously, turning to look at the singer. "But no matter how many times you fuck or how many people you fuck you'll still remember him. No amount of fucking can change that."
Anger flashed in Justin's eyes. "Fuck you Lonnie. What am I supposed to do? Sit around and hope he'll contact me. It's been six months and I don't even know if he's alive. I won't let this--I can't hope."
"He's alive." Lonnie said so softly that Justin had to ask him to repeat it. "I said he's still alive."
"How do you know?" Justin asked angrily.
"Trust me I know." Lonnie said simply. "I hear from him now and then."
The doors opened and Justin stormed down the short hallway. He tried the door and cursed loudly. "Open the fucking door Lonnie."
Lonnie pulled the key card from his pocket and stuck it in the slot. The door opened and Justin walked inside and when Lonnie tried to follow he stuck his hand on the big mans chest. "No. I can't talk to you right now."
And with that, Justin slammed the door in his face. Walking into the living area, he saw a beautiful girl sitting there, a glass of champagne in her hand. No longer in the mood, he said as nicely as he could, "I'm sorry. But I think you should leave."
"I said you should leave. I changed my mind." Justin stated as he grabbed her by the arm and led her towards the door. Opening the door, he gently pushed her out into the hallway. "I'm sorry."
For a moment, he met Lonnie's eyes. Lonnie dropped his head and escorted the girl into the waiting elevator. Justin shut the door and headed straight for the bar. Grabbing the first bottle he saw, he took a big swig. Gabriel was still alive and Lonnie had talked to him. He didn't know what he felt more; happy that Gabriel was fine or mad that Lonnie had kept this from him. Taking another drink, he decided he could feel both. Long after the bottle was empty, Justin felt.
To Be Continued
I can be reached at Wolfflyer26@Yahoo.com for any comments or questions. All emails will be answered swiftly, though I won't promise soberly.
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