For Richer or Poorer
by Karen and LB
© 2002
Lance still could not believe it happened. They'd gone over the numbers again and again at Lance's insistence but they didn't magically change. There was no mistake. He was broke. Between the movie and the stock market, he'd lost just about everything he'd saved. He had been banking on the movie being a big success and never expected it to tank the way it did. The tour wouldn't start up for months, and in the meantime Lance would have to be careful, not just about his spending habits but about not letting the guys find out.
JC notices that Lance is less and less likely to do something with the rest of them. And that's not like Lance. He loves clubbing; he loves going places like Busch Gardens. But lately, there's always an excuse. JC is getting worried about his friend. So one afternoon he decides to drop by.
"JC," Lance states, surprised to see his friend at the door. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, you see, I used to know the guy who lived here. He used to go out with his friends and have fun. Do you know him by any chance?"
Embarrassed, Lance looks down and tries to go along with the joke. "He's on vacation, I think. I can leave him a message if you want."
"I've left him messages. He doesn't return my calls."
That's cause he's trying to cut down on his phone bill, Lance thinks, but doesn't say. "He must have forgotten."
"Lance, dude," JC says, dropping the joking tone. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine. Why do you ask?" They're still at the door, Lance holding it open just enough.
"Because no one's seen you? You've practically disappeared from the face of the earth."
"I'm still here. I've been busy."
"We miss you. We all miss you."
Lance feels a lump form in his throat and he pushes it down. Not now. He's not gonna break down now. "Aw, you see me all the time."
"When? You losing track of time, dude?"
"You see me at group meetings and stuff."
"That's not the same. The rest of the time you're, like, totally withdrawn."
So JC noticed. Lance decides he'll have to be more careful, and go out at least once or twice. He'll just have to watch what he spends. Right now, he wishes he were a girl so when he went out people would buy him drinks. "I am? I guess I didn't realize I've been doing that. I guess I just have stuff on my mind."
JC is feeling out of his depth. He's heard about people who are thinking about, like, doing something to themselves getting all withdrawn. Stuff on his mind? "I, um, Lance. You know you can--I mean, if you need to talk--you can talk to me."
Genuinely touched by JC's concern but not at all surprised--after all, this is the guy who cried like a baby during "You've Got Mail"-- Lance sighs. "I know. But really, it's nothing. I-I'm working on stuff. Movie stuff. And Free Lance." (Which I don't have the money to keep going at this rate.) "And I do appreciate your concern."
"All the time? Come on. Come out with us tonight."
Lance brings his nails to his mouth. He can't put them off forever. "Okay. For a little while."
JC smiles and bounces on the balls of his feet. "Cool. I'll pick you up, okay? And no sneaking out the back."
Shit. If JC picks him up, Lance will be at his mercy for a ride home and will have to stay as long as JC wants. That means buying lots of drinks. "Okay, whatever you say." He still feels awkward about not inviting JC in, but he doesn't want JC to see the mess that's been piling up since he stopped the cleaning service last week.
"Cool," JC says, then unwittingly homes right in on the problem. "I'll buy you a drink. To celebrate the return of Party Lance."
"Party Lance?" Lance repeats, making a face. "That's me. Woo hoo!" And he does a little dance, hoping JC will be convinced he's okay. "I'll see you tonight. Gotta get some beauty rest."
"Yeah, see you, Lance." JC walks back to his truck, pondering Lance's last remark. Don't people who are depressed sometimes sleep a lot? Not that he's one to talk or anything. Still, he feels a little ashamed at having left Lance to his own devices for so long, and promises himself to make more of an effort from now on.
If Lance was going to be honest, which he hasn't been much of lately- at least to his friends--he'd have to admit it feels good to be out. As promised, JC did buy him his first drink, but now it's time for the next round and both Joey and JC followed him to the bar to help him carry everything. He orders for his friends, then orders a vodka tonic for himself--the house vodka, hoping no one notices.
The guys can't really hear what Lance orders, but JC, watching the bartender concoct the drink, notices that he reached for the cheaper vodka. "Dude, he's trying to rip you off," he informs Lance.
"Uh, it's okay. It all tastes the same."
"Since when? You're usually more finicky than Morris the Cat."
"It won't kill me this one time." Lance nervously takes the drink and pays the bartender, noticing how thin his wallet is becoming. He quickly stuffs the evidence back in his pocket and hands JC his drink.
"Thanks," JC says, taking his own drink and reaching out with his other hand to take another to carry back to the table. "I knew you'd feel better if you got out."
"I was feeling fine, JC. You're worse than my mom."
"Okay, let me rephrase. I knew you'd have fun."
"I am. I--"
"Lance!" Joey yells, throwing his arm around his friend. "Dude, you gotta get in on this bet. Chris thinks he can convince that chick by the bar that he's Kevin Richardson. Ten bucks, you're in."
Laughing, Lance pushes Joey off. "Get out of here, dude. No way."
"C'mon, dude, you gotta be part of this. It's gonna be hilarious."
"No, I think I'll pass on this. But it really WILL be funny to watch."
"Lance, you GOTTA."
"No, no, I'm just gonna sit over there and watch."
"Nah ah, you're not getting off that easy. C'mon--"
"I said NO, Joey."
The silence that hangs in the air is as palpable as the cigarette smoke swirling around them. "Okay, Lance, you don't have to get all huffy," Joey remarks, shrugs, and heads back to the bar.
"So, you wanna tell me again how nothing's wrong?" JC says shaking his head.
Lance gulps down his drink. "Nothing is. I just don't feel like going in on some stupid bet."
JC drags Lance over to the less crowded end of the bar and signals for more drinks. "I've never seen you go off on someone like that, is all."
"Maybe I did snap at him. He'll be okay, though, right?" Lance once again feels a pang of guilt when he sees JC reach for his wallet.
"You know Joey can't stay mad. He'll have forgotten by tomorrow."
"I hope so." Lance looks over his shoulder at the man in question, who does indeed seem to be once again laughing and carrying on as usual. In fact, many drinks later, Joey finds himself at Lance's booth.
"We've decided to have the group meeting at your house tomorrow, dude."
"My house? Why not at Johnny's place?"
"We don't need Johnny tomorrow, and he's busy with some new group. We're just gonna work on the songs anyway."
"And you have the best pool," Chris adds.
"And bar," Joey throws in.
Lance finishes his drink. "Um, okay, I guess." He finishes his drink. "I guess I should get going now."
"Why, you gonna bake us a cake?" Chris quips, and the whole table erupts in laughter.
"Now I'm not."
"See what you did, Chris?" JC gives Lance a companionable clap on the back. "Don't listen to him, dude."
Lance smiles shyly. For some reason, he likes the attention JC is paying him. But he still wants to leave before someone suggests going someplace else. "I really better go."
JC pulls out his keys. "Your limo awaits, sir."
"You don't have to leave. I can . . . " What, take the bus?
JC grins. "Past my bedtime anyways."
Lance smiles back. "One of these days you're going to see the sunrise, JC."
"You gonna make me?"
Blushing at the implication, Lance thrusts his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I'll kidnap you and take you to a club and make you stay there."
"You and what army, dude?"
"You don't think I could take you on?"
"Nope."
"You wanna take this outside?" Lance jokes, punching JC playfully on the arm.
"Yeah, come on." JC leads the way out, waving goodbye to the other guys.
Lance is silent on the ride home, wondering how long he can keep up this charade. When they reach his house, all Lance can manage is a simple "Thanks for the ride. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Sorry they just dumped the meeting on you. They didn't ask me. But, hey, do you want me to pick up anything on the way over? Munchies and stuff like that? It would save you some time."
"No, um, I can run to the store in the morning. But thanks." Lance gives JC his best reassuring smile before leaving the car. He sleeps restlessly, worried that he'll leave some telltale sign. In the morning, he tries his best to clean and hide any evidence of his financial decline. He decides to barbecue since he can buy bulk meat pretty cheap and picks up generic brand chips--if he puts them out before the guys arrive they'll never know the difference.
*****
"Dude, what's with your toilet paper?" Joey whines, emerging through the patio doors to the pool area.
"What's wrong with it?" Lance, busy at the grill, looks at Joey quizzically.
"It's all scratchy."
"I didn't know your ass was so delicate," chimes in Chris.
"Wouldn't you like to find out," Joey states flatly, tossing Chris a nerf ball that was lying by the side of the pool.
"Not if you paid me, Joe."
"When are we eating?" Justin demands, tired of conversations in which he's not included.
"Soon, dude. The burgers are almost done. Oh, I forgot the ketchup. Can someone run in and get it?"
"Sure." JC jumps up. "No problem."
"Thanks." Lance returns his attention to the grill. So far, so good.
JC heads into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, looking for that horrible green ketchup Lance for some reason beyond JC's understanding, likes. Seeing nothing in that vibrant hue, he looks again. Not a difficult task, since Lance's fridge is practically empty. And no Mike's, which is when JC knows something is really wrong.
JC starts looking at the few labels there are. Generic Cola? Generic ketchup? He opens a couple of cabinets. Not a name brand to be found. Not like Lance. At all.
In another cabinet, JC locates a bowl, into which he dumps the ketchup. Bringing it outside he places it on the table. As he passes Lance, he gives him a puzzled look, but says only, "The bottle was, um, leaky."
Forgetting that he had bought the no-name ketchup, Lance freezes. "Oh, yeah, I, um, must have bought a bad bottle or something. They were out of the good kind. Sorry about that." It's amazing to Lance how easily the lies roll off his tongue.
"No way!" Chris says. "I'm on to your game. You're keeping the good stuff for your IMPORTANT friends."
"Yeah, that's it. All those Hollywood types. Only the best for them. The rest of you get the cheap stuff." Jokes are good. Jokes will keep everyone occupied.
JC laughs with everyone else, but silently promises himself a talk with Lance later.
The afternoon passes quickly as they eat and work, well into the night. Joey decides he wants to see a movie so they start to gather their things, when Lance announces he'll pass.
"What? Why, dude?"
"I'm tired. I'm just gonna stay in, make some calls and stuff."
"I'm gonna help Lance clean up," JC announces.
"You don't have to."
"Yeah, C, that's what the maid is for," Chris adds.
"It's the maid's day off, isn't it, Lance?"
"Um, yeah. Actually, she's on vacation so I'll just do it myself." Why is JC covering for him? What does he know?
"See? Lance is practically a saint for letting you slobs come to his house with the maid away," JC says solemnly. "But you better take off before we make YOU help clean," he finishes with a smile.
We? Lance is filled with gratitude for JC's quick save, but he's still not sure why his friend is being so generous. When the other boys leave, Lance gathers empty cups and plates and dumps them in a trash bag. "Thanks for helping."
"Hey, we invaded you. It's the least I can do."
"I like having people over."
"Even now?"
Lance stops what he's doing and looks at JC quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"Something's wrong, Lance. I know it. You know it. Whatever it is, I wanna help. So you might as well spill."
Lance sinks onto a deck chair. "Okay, you got me. I'm having a bad hair day."
"That's because you're using Suave, dude."
"How'd you know?"
"I'm brilliant. Actually, I guessed from what's in your kitchen."
"My shampoo is in my kitchen?"
"No, but your generic caramel-colored-cola-flavored-soft-drink- beverage is."
"Oh, sorry about that. They were out of Coke."
"Lance. This is me you're talking to. I KNOW there's something wrong. Please, please tell me."
Lance wishes he could just pour it all out to JC. But the last thing he wants is pity, or worse, derision for having been so foolish with his investments. JC is always so careful with his money that he'd think Lance was irresponsible with the way he handled his finances. And he couldn't bear to see disappointment in JC's eyes. "It's nothing, really. Hey, you want to take some of this food home?"
JC bites back an angry retort. Whatever's bothering Lance, JC doesn't want to push him away. "No, thank you. I'll leave it with you. You want me to take the trash on my way out?"
"Would you? Thanks." Lance starts to move, to say something more, but stops himself. Finally, all he can manage is, "Thanks for coming." Thanks for being my friend, even though I'm a big loser.
"You know if you need to talk, you can call me any time, day or night, right?"
"Yeah, sure. I will." How he wishes he could. Too bad he can't afford the phone bill.
JC grabs the large trash bag. "Any time, Lance. I mean it."
Long after JC leaves, Lance lies awake, thinking about how kind JC has been lately. Not just lately--always, since the day Lance met him. He realizes he's been thinking about JC a lot, when he's not worrying about his financial situation.
*****
"JC, I need to talk to you about something. Can you meet me for lunch?" Melinda's concern is evident in the tone of her voice. "Sure? What's up?"
"I'll tell you over lunch."
They meet at a quiet restaurant near the WEG compound and after ordering Melinda gets right to the point. "I didn't know who else to talk to about this--you're usually pretty sensitive about issues concerning the group. One of our interns was surfing the web yesterday and found something of Lance's on eBay. It's one of his Lucille Ball autographs. I don't know how this person got it, but he put it up for auction. I didn't want to tell Lance just yet--I don't want to upset him, but I don't know what I should do about it."
JC ponders. Lance never mentioned a break-in. And he wouldn't have gotten rid of something like that. Or would he? "I'll deal with it," JC says decisively.
"Are you sure? You think we should check this out?"
"That's just what I'm gonna do."
*****
A few days later, they're wrapping up a photo shoot. Lance scurries up to the stylist, holding out the shirt he wore. "Hey, Zoe, is it okay if I keep this?"
Zoe eyes the shirt, then Lance's eager face. "Sure, it looks good on you."
"Thanks, Zoe." Good, one less thing to buy.
*****
JC has been keeping an eye on the auction for days, and now it's time for action. He places a sizable bid and watches carefully for the final few minutes to make sure he's not outbid. And he isn't. "Now we'll find out what's going on," he mutters to the screen, eager for an email from the seller.
JC doesn't have to wait long. "Thank you for bidding on Item #34818294. Please send a money order for the amount shown to the address below." There's a PO Box number and the seller ID-- catinthehat.
JC stares at the screen, stunned. Lance. Lance's eBay ID. Why would he be selling one of his most prized possessions? JC needs answers. Now. He grabs his keys and within minutes is standing once again on Lance's front doorstep.
Lance rubs his eyes as he answers the door. Another sleepless night. "JC?" he asks, confused.
"Hey. Thought you might like cash instead of a money order."
"What are you talking about?" But Lance feels the color drain from his face.
JC pushes by Lance, uninvited. "I'm jazzlvr76. You're catinthehat. I believe we have a deal."
Lance fights to keep his voice even. "H-How did you find out?"
"I recognized your screen name. Lance, it's one of your treasures. Why? Why would you be selling it?"
Shit. Lance goes over to the couch and moves a stack of files-- financial records he'd been going over--and sits, running a hand through his bed-messed hair. "I need the money," he mumbles.
"You WHAT? How?"
"It's nothing. It's not as bad as it sounds." No, it's worse.
"Lance, whatever it is, I wanna help. I'm not going to tell anyone, I'm not gonna make fun of you. You're my friend. I care about you."
A stab of anger at being put in this position hits Lance, but also something else: shame. He never wanted, of all people, for JC to find out. JC, who's so careful with his money, who never makes a big show of being wealthy. "The movie . . . didn't do as well as I hoped," he confesses.
"Yeah?" JC says, sympathetically. "The promotion, well, sucked. You worked your butt off, but they really didn't support you. Anything else?"
Lance sighs. "It was a bad quarter--my investments . . . " Lance holds up one of the folders.
"Well, yeah, everyone took a big hit. It's rough, but you'll bounce back."
"Yeah, I guess. See, so no problem."
"There obviously is a problem if you're selling off stuff you care about."
"It's only stuff," Lance mutters, chewing on a nail.
"Lance," JC says softly. "How bad is it?"
Lance rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the floor. "Bad. Really bad. But it's nothing for you to worry about. I got myself into this mess."
"You're going to lose your house bad? You can't pay your creditors bad? No, let me guess. Knowing you, you took care of your responsibilities and there's nothing left for you to live on, am I right? Till next quarter, right?" JC sighs. "And you won't ask for an advance from Johnny or Jive because you're too proud. Am I close?"
Angry that JC was able to figure it all out so fast, Lance throws the folder across the room. "Just please leave."
"Lance," JC says softly, not reacting to the outburst at all. "Haven't you been dealing with this alone too long?"
Lance struggles to keep the tears at bay. He's angry, he's tired, he's very, very ashamed, and now his best friend is confronting him and making him tell all. "I don't want anyone's pity. And I can't tell my parents. I just can't." He turns blazing eyes toward JC. "And YOU can't tell anyone either."
"I told you at the beginning of this conversation that I wouldn't tell anyone," JC replies, struggling to keep calm. "And I won't. Lance, I'm sorry I pried. But I was scared it was something . . . worse. You were withdrawing from us and it seemed like you didn't care about yourself anymore. And you were getting rid of possessions. I though you . . . maybe were . . . um . . . thinking about, about, well . . . " The words finally pour out in a stream. "I thought you were depressed and thinking about suicide."
"Suicide?" Lance glares at JC. "I'm not gonna kill myself over this, JC. Although at this point I probably should so my parents could collect the insurance."
"Don't even joke about that!" JC shouts, then adds more quietly. "Okay, fine, it was stupid. I should leave the amateur psychology to Chris. Like I said, I was scared. I didn't know it was something like this. I didn't know anything. All I know is I saw a friend hurting, and I needed to know why so I could try to help."
"You can't help. Look, I appreciate you coming over, but there's nothing you can do."
"You need to know that it's not just me that knows something's up. Melinda called me when her intern found the listing on eBay. If you're going to keep this quiet, you need someone on your side. You need me."
Lance's eyes grow wide. "Melinda knows it's me?"
"No. And maybe if you trust me, we can keep it that way. I'm the only one who knows, and she's not gonna find out from me. But she is gonna ask me about it, and we need to come up with a reasonable story."
"We? Why do you want to get involved?"
"I already am. Melinda involved me when she called me. And besides, what would you be doing if I was in trouble?"
"Helping you. No doubt. But JC, this isn't like the time I got sick. This is my fault."
"Is it your fault Miramax didn't support your movie? Is it your fault the stock market crashed? Dude, I'm not blaming you and I'm not pitying you. I'm just . . . " JC pauses. "Trying to be your friend," he finishes simply.
"I know you are. But there's no way I'm gonna take your money. I'm just so tired."
"So, come stay with me. Tell the guys you're having your house, I don't know, fumigated or something. That'll cut way down on your expenses."
"I can't take your charity, JC."
"It's not charity, Lance. When my house wasn't ready and I had to be out of my other place and you let me stay with you, was that charity?"
"No, but you weren't broke. You just needed a place to stay."
"You are SO stubborn."
"Am I?" Lance rubs his eyes with one hand. "No, I'm just stupid. I made some bad decisions."
"More like you had some bad circumstances. Now, will you PLEASE come stay with me? I'm really lonely."
"You are? What about . . . um . . . you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. Dork."
"That's broke dork, to you." Lance pushes himself off the couch and shuffles to the stairs. "Let me just get a few things, okay?"
"Of course. Bring as much as you want."
"I'm not moving in with you--this is just a few days. Till I can figure this all out." But when Lance starts packing, he finds himself taking more than he intended. As he brings the bags downstairs, he remembers one very important thing. "Um, JC, do you mind if . . . I mean, I can't leave Jackson by himself."
"Are you kidding? He's the one I really want. And HE'll let me spoil him."
"You're in for it now--he'll hold you to that." As though he heard JC's words, Jackson scampers in, bouncing eagerly around JC's feet.
JC scoops up the excited puppy, whispering promises of treats and toys.
Lance shoulders his bags and grabs his keys. Giving one more sad look around, he leads them out the front door. "Not too many, now. He's gonna get a big head."
"Then you'll have to let me spoil you, too, to take the pressure off him."
Realizing he's never going to win this argument, Lance groans, "What- ever."
"It's easier to just let me have my way."
"Fine. And you say I'M stubborn?" And so goes the ride to JC's house. Lance is still uncomfortable with the whole thing, not because he doesn't like JC, because he does. He just doesn't like this sense that he's somehow less of a man for agreeing to this.
JC gets Lance established in the guest room and throws open the door to the guest bath. "You want a bath while I get dinner going? I bet you could use some relaxation."
Lance rubs his shoulder. "Um, yeah. But you don't have to. I could do it."
"You soak. I'll cook. We'll talk over dinner. Okay?"
"Okay." Lance looks forward to the bath but dreads the talk. He knows JC won't lecture him, but he fears the probing. Once JC leaves, Lance strips off his clothes and puts on the bathrobe he finds hanging in the closet. In the bathroom, he fills the tub with hot water and some bubbles. Leave it to JC to supply his guests with bubbles. He smiles, content, as he lowers himself into the tub and reclines, drawing his knees up. If only things hadn't gotten so bad. After a few minutes, though, he actually begins to relax. JC's generosity warms his heart as much as the bathwater warms his body. He's genuinely touched that JC would open his house so unflinchingly, though Lance shouldn't be surprised. JC has never turned down a friend in need and never asks for anything in return. Before long, Lance closes his eyes and drifts off.
JC chops vegetables for a salad, and boils water for pasta. He makes a light sauce and adds chicken and steamed broccoli. When everything's ready, he knock on the bathroom door. "Lance? It's ready when you are."
Lance shakes himself awake, causing a little splash of water. "Oh, um, thanks, I'll be right down." He stretches, more relaxed than he'd felt in days, and rises from the tub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He dresses quickly and enters the kitchen, the delicious aromas hitting him before he reaches the doorway. "Wow, that smells so good."
"Thanks. There's wine. Why don't you go ahead and pour and I'll get this on the table."
Lance takes the bottle and the corkscrew and pours the wine. It's a fine vintage; JC has acquired quite a collection and it never ceases to impress Lance. "You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble, but thanks. It really does look delicious."
"Don't be too flattered. I would have made this even if you weren't here." JC takes a sip of his wine, then looks at Lance. "Look, I'm just going to say this. While you're here, you're not a guest, you're family. Whatever I have is yours. And this isn't charity. You can pay me back when you're back on your feet, if it matters to you. It doesn't to me, but you do what feels right to you. Okay?"
"Okay. So no more cooking for me. We cook, we cook together. Or you let me cook for you, since I'm staying in your house."
"Sounds fair." They eat for a few minutes in companionable silence. "What do you think I should tell Melinda?"
Lance stops chewing and swallows, hard. "Do you have to tell her anything? Tell her it was a mistake. It was someone selling something identical to what I have."
"Yeah, that should work. And only if she asks."
Lance fidgets with his fork. "You know, technically it's yours."
"Not it's not. I didn't pay you."
"So you don't want it?"
"No. Are you gonna give me bad feedback, now?"
"Not after you cooked me dinner." Lance's smile fades. "I guess I owe you one."
"Lance, when I bid I had no idea it was you. I--Melinda and I-- thought maybe someone had ripped you off or something. If it wasn't you, I would have given it back to you anyways."
"I'll think of some way to repay you, JC. I don't know how yet, but I will."
"I know you will. I have absolutely no fears about that."
They eat the rest of the meal in silence, and when they're done Lance gathers the dishes. "At least let me clean up."
"All yours. I'm gonna play with Jackson."
"There's a bag of toys in the TV room." Lance loads up the dishwater and wipes down the counters, then retreats to the TV room, where he stands quietly in the doorway watching JC play tug of war with Jackson and an old sock.
JC lets the puppy win, again, defeated by brown puppy-dog eyes. He spots Lance in the doorway and grins sheepishly. "I haven't had a puppy around in a long time."
"I can tell. Careful, you keep that up and he'll take over this place."
"I think he already has." JC coos, looking down at Jackson, who has brought the sock back to JC and is patiently waiting for another game.
Lance stretches out on his stomach, reaching for the sock himself. Jackson backs away, over to JC, then backs away from him and crouches between the two boys, wagging his tail and waiting.
JC pulls back a little to watch the interaction between Lance and Jackson. He's glad to see the lines easing out of Lance's face, and he realizes it's the first time he's seen his friend really relax in weeks. He knows now that, in spite of any resistance on Lance's part, he did the right thing in pressing Lance to come here, and that he'll do whatever it takes to help Lance get his life straightened out.
After a while, even Jackson gets worn out. He trots over to Lance, climbs on Lance's stomach, yawns, and puts his head down. "I think someone's ready for bed," Lance announces.
"Aw, can't I stay up longer?" JC entreats. "Oh, you meant Jackson."
Lance laughs, for the first time in weeks. "You want me to tuck you in, too?" Lance teases, making his voice high.
"And a story," JC demands.
Lance is about to answer when the phone rings; Lance shrugs.
JC pulls himself up from the floor, stooping again to pat Jackson's sleepy head as he passes. He grabs the phone on the third ring. "Hello?"
"What up, C? Me and Steve are going to Tabu. We tried to call Lance but he's not answering."
"Oh, hey Joey. Yeah, Lance is here. He had, like, plumbing problems in his house, so he's staying here while it gets fixed." JC shrugs elaborately at Lance. "You wanna talk to him?"
Lance makes a face, then smiles. "Nice save," he mouths.
"Nah, just grab him and get over there."
"Hang on." JC covers the receiver. "They want us to go clubbing. You up for it?"
"Yeah, I guess. I just won't drink much."
"Yeah, Joe, "JC says into the receiver. "We'll see you in a while."
Joey quizzes Lance when they first arrive but lets it drop, believing the story about the plumbing. Lance has a few drinks, but soon he's ready to leave. He's just not into it tonight. They have photo shoots and recording sessions in the next few days, so before long he's ready to head home. But then he remembers he's not heading home. He's heading to his friend's home. He stares sadly at his nearly empty glass and sighs.
JC watches his friend sink back into sadness. "Hey, Lance," he says loudly enough for the others to hear. "We should get going. That puppy of yours isn't really trained and I don't want him alone in my house alone for too long," he says, taking the responsibility for breaking up the party firmly onto his own shoulders.
Lance's eyes flash gratitude at his friend. It was bad enough when he himself was lying, but now he's got JC doing it too. JC, who is usually not so quick but now seems a natural. Back at the house, in the dim shadows of the upstairs hallway, Lance leans against the wall. "Thanks for covering for me. I hate all this lying."
"Who's lying? You think I want your puppy peeing all over my house?"
Lance smiles shyly at the floor. He has this strange urge to throw his arms around JC but instead keeps his arms folded over his chest. "Aw, he only does that when he's excited."
"I know that. You know that. But does Joey know that?"
"No. Not yet, anyway."
"So it's all good."
"I guess. Well, I'm gonna . . . " Lance gestures to the bedroom.
"Yeah. Sleep well. And if you need anything . . . you know where everything is. Grab anything you need."
I wish. Whoa, where did that come from? Lance nods and closes the door behind him. It's the stress, he tells himself.
Days pass--photo shoots, recording sessions, so much that Lance doesn't have much time to dwell on his problems. And the more he works, the closer he can get to paying off his debts.
One morning, he decides to go for a run back to his house to pick up his car and go over some paperwork with his financial adviser. JC is sound asleep at this hour, so Lance leaves quietly, running through the crisp morning air until, exhausted, he reaches his house. The first thing he notices is that the grass has been cut. Puzzled, he unlocks the door and steps inside the empty house. The spotless, empty house. No dust, no papers scattered, no clothes lying around. He runs to his room and sees that his laundry has, indeed, been done and put away. He goes from room to room. Clean. In the kitchen, the pantry has been stocked and the refrigerator is full of his favorite foods. There's even fresh flowers on the table. He steps outside to the patio and sees that the pool has been cleaned and a new filter running. For a long while, he sits outside, puzzled. It had to be JC. But he doesn't feel anger, only this incredible sense that someone cares THAT much about him.
Inside, he picks up the phone. "Listen, Paul, I have some ideas on how we can extend my credit."
"Why? It's all been taken care of."
"What? What do you mean? I haven't paid off anything yet."
"Yes you have. The bank called yesterday. You're all set."
Lance holds the receiver in his hand long after they've disconnected. He spends the drive back to JC's house formulating what he will say.
JC wakes up and heads down to the kitchen. There's a different quality to the quiet of the house--he knows instinctively that Lance is not there. And he wonders, as he has every day, if this is going to be the day Lance finds out what he's done. And if he's ruined everything by doing it.
Lance quietly unlocks the front door and listens. He hears JC in the kitchen, so he walks quietly in that direction, pausing in the doorway. When he see JC, he remains where he is and just watches.
JC finishes making the coffee, and while it brews, he looks down at Jackson, prancing around his feet. "What's up, little one? Didn't Daddy feed you before he left?"
Jackson immediately senses his owner nearby and practically slides into Lance on the smooth kitchen tiles.
JC looks up. "Oh, hey, Lance." Then he busies himself fussing with the coffee maker.
Lance strides over to JC and throws his arms around his friend, hugging him tight. "Whoa, what's all this?" JC says, but he hugs Lance back.
"I don't know how, but I'll pay you back. I promise."
"I know that," JC says, softly. "You're . . . you're not mad?"
"I was," Lance says, pulling back but still holding JC, "but then I realized I would have done the same thing if it had been you."
"You would. Without thinking twice."
"I...," Lance gazes into JC's eyes, so filled with concern and honesty and love. Before he can stop himself, he's leaning in, until Jackson suddenly tugs at the cuff of his sweat pants. "Huh, oh my gosh," he stammers, looking down at the dog. "I-I guess I should feed this guy." He scoops up the dog and nuzzles it, turning away from JC and burying his flushed face in Jackson's soft fur.
JC drops both hands on Lance's shoulders, squeezing lightly. "Lance?"
Still, Lance doesn't turn around. "Yeah?"
JC turns Lance toward him, then lifts his downturned face. He looks right into Lance's eyes, a small smile playing over his lips.
Lance's face is burning, and he cradles Jackson to his chest tightly, hoping his puppy will cover the sound of his rapidly beating heart.
"Was this what you had in mind?" JC asks, then very lightly kisses Lance's slightly parted lips.
Lance's arms go slack and Jackson wriggles out of them to the floor. Lance jerks away, checking to see that the dog is okay. Jackson is happily bouncing around at the boys' feet. "Um, oh my gosh," Lance stammers, looking from JC to the dog and back again.
"Lance?" JC asks again, still holding the younger boy lightly.
Lance's eyes finally focus on JC and he tries to smile but he's so nervous so instead he closes his eyes, and when he opens them JC is still here so he does the only thing he can do: He kisses JC.
The kiss is soft, tentative, sweet. JC's light grip becomes an embrace. When the kiss finally ends, JC gathers Lance close and they hug again.
"I, um, better feed my dog," Lance says awkwardly, releasing JC.
JC releases Lance instantly, fussing with the coffee pot again.
Lance busies himself with Jackson, then announces, "I better go shower. I, um, ran over to my house."
"Oh. Okay." JC says, turning to look at Lance with a slightly lost expression.
Lance pauses for a moment in the doorway, searching for something more to say, then goes upstairs. As he undresses, he notices he's hard--from just that one kiss his own body betrays his thoughts. In the shower, under the hot spray, as the soap glides over his body he thinks about JC some more, until the exquisite release of his bodily fluids convinces him that what he's feeling is not some mistake.
JC sits at the kitchen table, gazing absently at the wall as he sips his coffee. So lost in thought is he that he doesn't even notice Jackson's attempts to get him to play.
Lance manages to dress without further incident, but then falls back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He's afraid to go back downstairs, but he also wants to be near JC so badly now it hurts.
JC finally pushes back from the table and goes upstairs. He knocks on Lance's door and waits for a response.
Startled, Lance sits up. "Come in."
JC opens the door but doesn't make it further than the door frame. "I, um. I'm sorry. I guess I was out of line. I thought we both--I'm sorry."
"We did."
"We did? Then why . . . ?"
"I don't know. It's just confusing. We never did that before."
"I know. But you ran."
Lance fidgets. "I guess I was scared."
"I was, too. But I didn't leave you hanging down there, feeling like an idiot."
"I'm sorry. Is that how you feel?"
"A little."
"You're not an idiot. I'm the idiot for . . . um . . . kissing you like that. I mean, I wanted to kiss you. But I shouldn't have assumed you did too."
Slowly, so slowly that JC is sure Lance can see it happening, JC lets down his guard again and a little humor creeps into his eyes. "I, um, kissed you first."
"Oh yeah. It was nice."
"Yeah. Nice." JC takes a deep breath. "Can I, um, do it again?"
Lance pats a spot on the mattress next to him.
JC walks over and sits. He looks at Lance from under his eyelashes, then reaches over with one hand to tilt Lance's face upward. Then he leans in to touch his lips to Lance's.
Lance doesn't breathe; he allows JC to take the lead and accepts everything he offers. Soon, he's kissing back, closing his mouth over JC's lips and bringing one hand to JC's face to caress his bristled cheek.
JC finally breaks the kiss after several minutes, pulling back to look into Lance eyes with an expression of awe. "I have wanted to do that for SO long."
"Y-you have? How long?"
"I'm not even sure. It was like, one day I knew I wanted to kiss you and I realized that it wasn't a new feeling."
"JC, I want you to know something. I didn't do this because of what you've done for me."
"And I didn't do what I did because I wanted to do this."
"What do you want?"
"You. This. I wanna try . . . this."
"It could get really complicated."
"Or not." JC straightens up and clears his throat. "I know this is kind of late notice," he says, formally. "But would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Dinner and a movie?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?" Lance squeals in disbelief.
"Yeah. Are you accepting?"
Lance giggles. "Yeah, sure. I never got asked out before. I mean, except for prom invitations from fans."
"I'm your first?"
Blushing, Lance looks at the wall. "I guess you could say that."
"Well, then I'll have to make it special, won't I?"
"Just going on a date with you is special enough." Lance flops back on the bed and groans. "That sounded SO corny."
"That's okay. I won't tell. I'm good at keeping secrets."
From where he's laying, Lance rubs JC's back. "You are. I wouldn't trust anyone else."
"You always can. Always."
"Does that mean I have to let you pick up the check?"
"This time. And when you ask me out, you can. Okay?"
"I told you it was gonna be complicated."
"I like complicated."