Secret Song

by Karen and LB
© 2002

It felt so good. That's why he did it, plain and simple. He knew the other guys wouldn't understand, so he never shared it with them. This was private. This was for himself. He couldn't even bring himself to share it with JC. JC wouldn't get it. He didn't need it. Not like Lance did. Once he tried it, he just couldn't seem to stop. He didn't think he had a problem; it never interfered with the group, so what was the harm? He tells himself this every time he returns home, the house dark and quiet, JC asleep in bed. But he can't seem to hide his smile as he crawls under the covers, the cigarette smoke still lingering in his hair.

JC, oddly enough, is awake. And scared. Lance has been out every night for he's not sure how long. He won't tell JC where he goes or why. Lance seems happier, more confident. And all JC knows is that he's not the one making him that way.

The next day, Lance breezes through the new choreography. The fatigue he felt this morning is long gone, in anticipation of the night to come.

Later that night, Lance changes into his favorite jeans and a silk button-down and checks his hair once more in the mirror.

"Going out again?" JC asks, his pleasant tone masking his confusion.

"Uh, yeah. What are you doing tonight?"

"I was hoping maybe we could do something."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Have dinner? Catch a movie?"

Lance checks his watch. He supposes he could have dinner with JC, throw him off-track. But he doesn't want to be late either. "I . . . can't. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"

"I have studio time tomorrow."

"I could pick you up after."

"Okay. Have, um, have fun tonight."

"Thanks. You too." As he walks to the car, Lance feels that familiar stab of guilt, but he knows it won't last long. Not while he's . . . he can't even admit it to himself. Has it gotten that bad?

JC stares at the closed door for a long time. This isn't what he thought it was going to be like, living with his boyfriend. He never expected to be this alone.

Again, Lance returns home at the wee hours of the morning, and again he crawls into bed with a big smile on his face. He rolls over and wraps his arm around his sleeping boyfriend and falls fast asleep.

The next day, JC bounces through rehearsals as if he could make the time go faster. He's his usual focused self in the studio, though, and the time does pass very quickly. He's so intent on getting a particular passage exactly right that he doesn't even notice that the time has come when Lance should be arriving to pick him up.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Lance asks as he strolls in.

JC looks up, a smile brightening his face. "Great. Let me just finish this one thing and I'll be ready to go."

C'mon, JC. Let's go. If we finish early enough, I'll still have time to make it . . . Lance bounces on his feet and starts fidgeting with a nerf ball someone left on the couch.

JC listens to the playback one more time, and satisfied, labels his tape and turns to Lance. "Ready."

"Let's go." Lance grabs JC's arm and practically drags him out of the studio to the waiting truck.

"Gee, you must be really hungry," JC says affectionately as he climbs in.

"Yeah, aren't you?" he asks, leaning his elbow on the window frame and chewing his nail.

"Oh, um, yeah. I think I forgot to eat today."

"You always forget when you get busy." Lance pulls the car into the lot of a burger place he knows JC likes.

"Yeah. I need like a food alarm clock." JC glances at the restaurant with distaste. He likes it okay, but he'd hoped for something a little more romantic tonight.

The service is fast here--that's one thing Lance knows he can count on. A quick bite, then he can head home, park JC in front of the TV, and he'll be out before JC realizes Lance is gone.

They're seated quickly and a waitress is taking their order practically before they're settled in their seats. "How are things going for you?" JC asks. "I feel like I never see you to talk to. What's up with Happy Place?"

"You know, scripts, deals, you know." Lance's eyes drift to the waitress as he anxiously awaits the arrival of their food.

"Yeah? Anything interesting?" JC tries to keep the conversation going.

"Um, a couple of things. You already know about Mama's Boy. And some other stuff, maybe an action movie."

"Any good scripts yet for the action thing?"

"Yeah, maybe--this one Wendy and I are looking at looks good." C'mon, where's the food? Let's get moving, here. His leg begins bouncing anxiously under the table.

"Are you, like, in a hurry?"

"No, no. Where else would I be?" WHY IS IT TAKING SO LONG?

"I don't know. But your head's spinning like the exorcist kid looking for the waitress."

"I'm, um . . . thirsty." It never takes this long. As though she could hear Lance, the waitress strolls over with their plates of food. "Can I get some water, please?" No alcohol right now.

JC raises an eyebrow and orders a beer. "What do you think about the new choreography?" he asks before taking a bite of his burger.

"Wade's crazy! No, it's good. It's fun, challenging. You look good out there." For the first time in days, maybe weeks, Lance realizes he's just paid JC a compliment. Has it really been that long since he paid any attention to his boyfriend?

"Thanks," JC says, surprised. "I think it's going to look really cool onstage."

"Especially The Game Is Over. That's dope," Lance manages, between bites.

"Yeah. Cool concept." JC puts down his burger and takes a sip of his beer.

EAT FASTER!!! Usually, JC is the one scarfing his food and he has to wait forever for Lance to finish. Now, the tables are turned and Lance watches in agony as JC leisurely drinks his beer. He's already planning his strategy. "Man, I am full," he announces.

"You? After the workout we had today?"

Lance pats his stomach. "Yeah. I guess all that adrenaline just went to my stomach."

JC picks up another french fry. "You had all the time I was in the studio to wind down."

"I was reading. I guess I got involved in my scripts. You know, thinking about the characters."

"Cool. Anything you really want to play?"

"There's this one about, you know, an FBI agent. I've never seen you eat that slow before."

"You've complained about how fast I eat for years." JC finally pushes his plate away. "I'm finally doing what you said."

Lance signals for the waitress and pulls his wallet out. "I got this."

JC's hands fall back into his lap. "Thanks."

Lance waits impatiently as the waitress clears the plates, then hands her several bills and tells her to keep the change. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." JC follows Lance out of the restaurant and out to the truck. "So, what do you want to see?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We were going to see a movie, dork."

"Oh, we were? Gee, I must have forgot. I promised Joey I'd swing by to, um, help him with this movie he's going to audition for."

"We planned an evening together for the first time in weeks and you FORGOT?"

"I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you. This weekend. I promise. Joey really needs my help."

"This is not cool. Lance. Not cool at all."

Lance felt shame wash over him. He's turning into the kind of person he always despised--a liar, a fraud. But he couldn't stop. No matter what. Not now. "I-I'm sorry. I WILL make this up to you. I promise."

"I thought that's what tonight was supposed to be."

"It'll just be another night," Lance stammers as he extracts his keys and unlocks the truck. This is the hard part. Dealing with JC.

"You're piling up a lot of shit to make up for."

"I'll pay up. I promise." Lance pulls into the driveway but doesn't turn off the engine. "I'll try not to be home too late."

Without a word, JC gets out of the truck and walks to the door.

Lance pauses before pulling out, then drives off. In a few hours the sadness will be gone.

JC wanders around the house, unable to settle anywhere. He can't stop the thoughts that keep running through his head. Lance is tired of him. Lance doesn't want him anymore. Lance is cheat-- His thoughts are interrupted when the phone rings. He runs for the nearest phone, peering at the Caller ID. Joey. Joey? "Hello?"

"Hey, dude, what's shaking?"

"Not much. What's up?"

"Is Lance around?"

JC sits down, hard. "Isn't he with you?"

"No, man. Why would he be? I was just calling to see if you guys wanted to catch a movie or something."

"He told me he needed to help you with some audition. Joey?" JC's voice is very small. "I think he's cheating on me."

"No way, dude. No way. Not Lance. You KNOW better, JC. You KNOW better, man. He loves you. He'd never, ever cheat on you."

"He goes out every night, Joey. EVERY night. He doesn't want me with him. He won't tell me where he goes. And now he's lying about it." JC goes on to tell the story of tonight's aborted date. "He couldn't even stand to be around me for more than an hour. What am I supposed to think?"

"I can't believe Lance would do that to you. He's never . . . have you thought about, maybe, following him?"

"No. That would be . . . wrong."

"So what else are you gonna do? Don't you want to know for sure?"

"I . . . yes. But I want him to tell me the truth, not have to go sneaking around."

"IF he is cheating, do you think he's gonna tell you?"

"If I didn't want to be with him anymore, I'd tell him."

"But Lance isn't you. You know he keeps a lot to himself."

"He managed to tell me he loved me. How hard can it be to tell me he doesn't anymore?"

" 'Cause maybe it's not true. And maybe there's only one way to find out."

"You really think? I mean, yeah. I need to know the truth. And if he won't tell me . . . "

"Have you tried flat-out asking him to see his reaction?"

"No. Well, some of it. I've asked him where he goes. I . . . until you called tonight . . . I never really thought he could be cheating on me." JC takes a deep breath. "Joey, can I come stay there tonight? Would Kelly mind?"

"What happens when Lance comes home and you're not there?"

"You think he'll even notice?"

"Yeah, I do. He loves you, man. Whatever's going on has to be something else. I mean, I've seen him at rehearsal and stuff. He seems really happy."

"That's just it. He IS really happy. But it has nothing to do with me. Are you telling me I can't come over?"

"I'm telling you that you should work it out with Lance. You know you're always welcome here, but if you come here then Lance will know YOU know he lied."

"I'm telling you I can't BE here. And he should know. He should know."

"Dude, I'm not saying he shouldn't know. But I really don't want to get in the middle of this. Talk to him, man."

"You didn't mind being in the middle when you were telling me to follow him. Fine. I'll get a hotel room. Thanks a lot, Joey." Then JC remembers. "Shit. My car isn't here."

Joeys sigh loudly into the phone. "Where's your car? Fine, you can stay here tonight, but you guys are gonna have to work this out, okay? And at least leave him a note so he knows where you are."

"I left it at the studio," JC says in a small voice. "Thanks Joey. I WILL talk to him. I just can't . . . yet."

When Lance returns home later that night, the house is deathly quiet. He can sense that he's alone the minute he steps in the door. There's none of JC's "presence" anywhere. In the bedroom, he sees the note on the bed and his stomach churns. Busted. It was a stupid lie and he should have thought of something better. No, he shouldn't have lied at all, he knows. It's late and Lance knows Brianna is asleep so he decides to wait until morning to deal with this. As he undresses, he plots what he'll tell JC.

The next morning, JC is uncharacteristically the last one to arrive at rehearsal. By the time Joey got going, and dropped him off at the studio to retrieve his car, and by the time JC found sufficient quantities of coffee, he was late. And for once he doesn't care. Everyone's already warming up. He finds an isolated corner and starts stretching.

Lance is bouncing around with Joey, singing silly songs and trying to keep his energy up. He suspects he'll need it later when he has The Talk with JC.

The day feels endless. JC keeps to himself--even when they break, he retreats to his corner to sip water.

"What's with C?" Justin asks Lance.

Lance shrugs. "He's tired. Didn't sleep well last night."

Joey stares in stunned silence, amazed at how easily the lies roll off Lance's tongue. But he stays true to his conviction not to get involved and ignores the statement.

Finally, rehearsal is over. JC gathers his things as quickly as possible and heads for his car. He has no idea where he's going--he can't go home and he knows Joey isn't really comfortable with him there. Maybe he'll just drive around for a while until he goes to park on his own street and watch for Lance to leave for wherever it is he goes.

Lance never had a chance. JC flew out of there faster than the Tazmanian Devil on speed. Tonight is going to have to be the night when he comes clean, no matter how JC takes it. It's better to get the truth out there than to sneak around any longer. The guilt has becoming stifling. Every time Lance looks at JC he sees the anger and hurt that he, Lance, caused. He never meant for it to go this far. All along he wished he could share this with JC, but he figured his friend wouldn't understand. Whatever the consequences, he has to tell him. But when Lance arrives home, JC is once again not there. He knows he didn't go to Joey's because he left before Joey. For a moment he sits on the couch, biting his nails, thinking about what to do. Then he feels the pull, that familiar wave of anticipation building inside and he knows that for now, escape is what he needs. He'll deal with JC after.

JC sits in his parked car a short distance from their house. This spy thing--it would almost be fun if he weren't so upset. He sees Lance come out of the house, looking distracted. Looking adorable. For one moment, JC considers getting out of his car and running to Lance. But he needs to know the truth. So he watches as Lance gets into his car and drives away. JC pulls out and follows, not too closely.

Lance can barely remember the drive here, he was so lost in thought. But here he is, in what are now very familiar surroundings. He's greeted immediately and clapped on the back, a bottle of water tossed to him as he prepares to do his thing. JC walks into the bar, confused. He definitely saw Lance come in here, but it's certainly not the kind of place Lance usually favors. It's the kind of place that you could drive by a dozen times without noticing. The kind of place that doesn't need their usual refuge, the VIP room, because no one here is likely to recognize them. Lance is nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, JC walks up to the bar and orders a beer.

It's not long before the crowd starts cheering, "Ted! Ted! Ted!" Lance blushes, makes a vain attempt to shush them, then hops on stage and grabs the mic. He punches in a number and soon the loud guitar riff of "I Love Rock and Roll" is blasting through the speakers and everyone is jumping to the beat as Lance belts out the song made famous by Joan Jett.

JC wonders momentarily if the beer hitting his empty stomach has given him hallucinations. He stares unabashedly. The guy next to him at the bar turns to him and asks, "Great, isn't he? We keep telling him he should enter one of those big-money karaoke competitions, but he says no."

"Um, yeah," JC says, rising. "He's great." He walks forward a few steps, then pauses, swaying slightly with beer and confusion.

Lance spins. He thrusts. He drops to his knees. He lets the freedom of the stage and the song take over him. As the end of the song draws near, he sees a figure moving through the crowd, tall and lean and sexy and- -JC. JC must have followed him here. He finishes the song and quickly jumps down to the floor, ignoring the cheers and shouts of "do another!"

"JC!" Lance yells.

JC turns back, gives Lance a hard look, then keeps walking.

"JC! Wait, I can explain!"

JC stops but doesn't turn, standing stiff and straight.

Lance approaches, now unsure of what to say. Every explanation sounds so stupid. It's fun. I feel good when I do it. I can forget everything for a while. "I needed something for me. I came here one night with Beth--you were busy in the studio. We had a good time, so I came back. It felt so good to be up there, just singing anything, anything I wanted. So I kept coming. And no one knows me here. Here, I'm Ted. Ted, the karaoke guy. Ted who gets up there by himself and sings, not because someone is paying him to but because he likes to."

"And you thought it was better to let me think that you were cheating on me, to let me think you didn't love me anymore, than to tell me."

"I didn't know that's what you thought. I thought you'd laugh at me if I told you."

"When have I ever laughed at you? And what was I supposed to think? You're out all the time, we haven't made love in weeks, you're lying about where you are and it practically killed you to spend an hour with me last night."

"I am SO sorry, JC. I never meant for this to get out of control. Will you give me another chance? Please? What can I do? Please tell me what to do."

"I don't know, Lance. I'm just so . . . You showed me that I'm not a necessary part of your life. There's not much that can make up for that."

"I didn't mean to . . . I-I need you, JC."

"You do? You seemed pretty darned happy without me."

"This has nothing to do with us."

"Doesn't it? Doesn't the fact that you were going around with a big smile on your face and it had nothing to do with me have anything to do with us?"

Lance starts to speak, then stops. He has no words. He can't stand to see the anger in JC's eyes.

JC's shoulders slump. "That's what I thought. I'll let you get back to your . . . public."

"Wait--" But JC is already working his way through the crowd. Lance watches as he nears the door, then looks over at the stage, then back at the door. He runs back to the stage and pleads with the next performer to give him the mic. The pleading isn't necessary, since he is, after all, Ted. He cues the music, then starts to sing:

"Who knows how long I've loved you?
You know I love you still
Will I wait a lonely lifetime?
If you want me to, I will . . . "

JC stops, drinking in the voice he loves before the words even start to register. Lance takes a breath and continues:

"For if I ever saw you
I didn't catch your name
But it never really mattered
I will always feel the same . . . "

JC turns as if on the puppet strings they'd used onstage, and fastens his eyes on the figure on the small stage. Lance grips the microphone:

"Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we're together
Love you when we're apart . . . "

JC takes a few steps toward the stage, mesmerized. Lance locks eyes with JC:

"And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do endear you to me
Oh, you know I will . . . "

There's a hush in the room, then:

"I will . . . "

And the crowd erupts. Among the clapping, cheering crowd, JC stands as a single quiet, still being. Only his eyes are alive, filled with awe. Lance remains on the stage, breathing heavily, until at last he hands off the mic and jumps down. JC finally wakes up from his trance-like state, shaking his head wonderingly.

"I'm sorry," Lance says, once again.

"Do you really . . . feel like that?" JC nods toward the stage.

"Every word."

"Things can't stay . . . like they have been."

"They won't."

"Are you sure? I need you to be sure."

"I promise. I walk out of here, I walk out of here with you."

"Then take me out of here."

Lance puts a hand on JC's shoulder and steers him through the crowd, smiling and nodding to people as he passes but thinking of only one thing.

"You sounded wonderful," JC says as they step outside into the quiet of the night. "Really wonderful."

"Really? I, um, sang that for you."

JC smiles, feeling as if the muscles in his face are stretching after long disuse. "I know."

Out in the parking lot, in the fresh cool night air, Lance bounces his car keys in his hand. When they reach his truck, he leans against the door. "I never meant for this to go this far."

"It's not like, like I don't want you to be able to do this--I do. Just don't, you know, shut me out."

"I didn't mean to. It just sort of happened that way. It became sort of . . . exciting to sneak here and be someone else. I can't really explain it."

JC moistens his lips. "So I'm --we're not exciting any more?"

"Don't you feel like sometimes we're getting into this, you know, like rut?"

"Obviously you do."

"It's not you. I'm not, you know, tired of you."

"There's got to be a way we can get out of whatever rut you feel like we're in without leaving each other out."

"Maybe we should go away somewhere."

"It's not much time to plan anything, but Wade's away this weekend, so no rehearsals . . . "

"We could go to the Bahamas or out to your house in LA. Just the two of us. No Beth, no Tyler, no Joey."

"That would be great. We really need this."

With a heavy sigh, Lance nods. He looks wistfully back at the bar, then opens the door to his truck. "Meet you back at the house?"

"Do you want to go back in, Lance?"

"No, I want to go home."

"You look sad."

"I'm fine, really. I'll get over it."

" 'Cause we can, you know. Go back in. As long as I can come with you."

Lance looks at the bar, then back at JC, and then holds out his hand. "Only if you sing with me."

"You sure? That's YOUR thing."

"Could be our thing now."

"How about we go in and see how it goes."

"Or," Lance replies, pulling JC toward him in the shelter of the darkness behind the truck, "we could find something else to do."

"What'd you have in mind?" JC says, with exaggerated innocence.

"This." Lance captures JC's mouth before he has time to respond, his hand coming up to cup JC's cheek.

JC's eyes widen in surprise before he closes them. It feels so good to be touched, to be held after feeling so separate for so long. His arms wrap instinctively around Lance and he holds on tightly.

"Better?" Lance asks.

"Better," JC agrees, his lips still almost touching Lance's. Then they are touching, in another long, sweet kiss. Lance brushes his lips lightly against JC's then, again and again, soft puffs of breath tickling JC's face.

"Mmm. Let's go home. Now."

"Race you back."

"You got it. But put on your seatbelt."

Lance grins and gives JC a quick kiss, his hand lingering in JC's before he hops in the car and starts the engine. He waits until he sees JC safely in his own car before driving off, the pull of the karaoke bar a distant memory.

*****

JC collapses onto the bed next to Lance, breathing and heartbeat still accelerated. He gathers the younger man into his arms, happily. "Wow. Just. Wow."

Still panting, Lance extracts himself. He wipes the sweat from his forehead and stands, the familiar tug coaxing him. He looks back at the reclining figure on the bed, then walks through the darkness of the bedroom. There's no guilt this time. He thinks carefully for a few minutes, then the silence is broken by the soft click of the machine. Lance picks up the mic, turns to face JC, and begins to speak:

"I've heard people say that
Too much of anything is not good for you, baby
Oh no But I don't know about that
There's many times that we've loved
We've shared love and made love
It doesn't seem to me like it's enough
There's just not enough of it There's just not enough
Oh oh, babe . . . "

And then sings:

"My darlin' I, can't get enough of your love babe . . . "

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