Notes: title again from the Holy Childhood. Thanks to Lily again!


NARRAGANSETT NIGHT LIFE


The interviewer for the teenie mag crosses her legs so she can show Lance, Joey and Chris her thighs as her skirt hikes up. Lance leans back in the chair and looks at the rug. The interviewer is blond and she can't be more than two years older than Lance. She leans over with a smile and taps Lance on the knee. He looks at her shoes so it won't be obvious how little he cares about her cleavage. "You must be seeing someone, Lance," she says. "You've got a happy glow about you."

Lance laughs and waves her off. He imagines, for a moment, telling the truth. "I am, actually, Kimberly or whatever your name is. I've been seeing this great guy for the last two months. Maybe you'd recognize the name? Justin Timberlake?" He shakes his head. He doesn't even want to say it, but it's funny to think about it. Joey makes a lame joke about not seeing anyone since he lost his glasses and the interview starts in earnest. Lance smiles the interview smile, answers the stock answers and it's over.



After the show, Lance leans against the concrete wall back stage, sweating and breathing fast. Justin comes past him and grabs his arm. Justin is smiling the beautiful smile. He drags Lance away from the wall, grinning and saying, "Dude. That was phat, wasn't it? Wasn't it?" Lance grips Justin's bicep and agrees that the show was good and everything was good. Justin squeezes his forearm and it's I love you, I want you in one simple gesture.

The next morning, Justin stands up in the lounge of the bus and says, "I'm breaking up with Britney." Lance looks up, surprised.

Joey looks at Justin, wearing one of Lance's t-shirts stretched tight across his taller frame and boxers, a small hickey on his neck. "Really? I'm shocked. You two seem so close."

Justin gives him the finger. "No, you know what I mean. I'm gonna break up with her in public. Not a big public fight, I mean, like end it so everyone knows."

Chris looks up from his Sports Illustrated. "You told her that yet?"

He shrugs. "It'll be okay."

Joey shakes his head. "That's cold, bro."

"I don't know, man." Chris flips through the magazine again. "She's got a hot piece of pussy waiting for her at home. I wouldn't be too broken up about it."

Joey laughs. "Chris, you wouldn't know what to do with a hot piece of pussy if it fell in your lap."

"If it was already in my lap, dude," Chris sneers.

Justin sits next to Lance and Lance leans closer. "What are you going to do?"

"I got tickets to Elvis Costello."

"Elvis who?" Joey turns around and looks at them.

"Turn on the fucking Playstation and shut up already." Justin looks back at Lance. "So we're gonna go and then it's gonna happen."

"Just like that?"

"And then she'll want to leave and I can come home early." Justin winks. "Win/win."

Lance laughs. "Okay. Still seems a little cold."

Justin closes his eyes and leans back on the couch. "Dude. She's got Tina. She knows we need to break up. We have broken up. It's just a matter of this stupid thing not being something everyone else expects of us. She doesn't even want me anymore."

Lance stares at Justin, trying to figure out if Justin regrets anything. But Justin's head is tilted back and all Lance can see is Justin's neck and his face in repose. Lance bites his lip and says, "Okay."

Two days later, Justin leaves for the concert with a jaunty wave. "Off to not hurt anyone!" He calls with a laugh. "Off to end this charade! See y'all later!" He winks at Lance again.

Lance tries to read emails, tries to understand business figures. He gives up after an hour and flops on the couch. JC and Chris are watching a movie, JC sitting in Chris's lap while Chris rubs JC's shoulders. Chris looks at Lance and sneers. "He'll be home soon, Lanceykins. Don't you worry."

Lance thinks he has every reason to worry. Lance knows as well as anyone that Justin still calls Britney every other day. He knows Justin enjoys the bright flashes and column inches he gets from doing things with Britney. He watches the movie. Then he says, "I'm not worried." He knows he's lying.

Lance waits until midnight, and then goes out with Joey. They do the usual Joey thing involving strippers and alcohol. Lance doesn't care about the naked girls, but after four mai tais, he pays fifty bucks for a lap dance.

In the room with the chair and the silky walls, Lance isn't supposed to touch her, but she lets him because he's in *N Sync and he's "just so adorable." She guides his fingers into her g-string and he kisses her deeply. In the parking lot, Joey licks his thumb and wipes the lipstick from Lance's cheek, and shakes his head as Lance leaves.

They stumble loudly up the steps into the bus, knocking over the beer can pyramid by the television. JC comes out of his bunk wrapped in a sheet and hisses at them to be quiet.

"Be polite, Joshua." Lance struggles to keep a straight face. "Can't you see we've got company?"

"Hi." The stripper extends her hand. "I'm Sapphyre."

JC looks at her hand and sneers. "Just keep it the fuck down."

"What's with him?" Sapphyre asks as she pulls Lance onto the couch.

Lance licks her breasts with a heavy tongue. "Maybe he's tired of taking it up the ass all the time."

Sapphyre pulls off Lance's shirt and works on his zipper while Lance pushes her skirt up. He places his hands on the back of the couch and straddles her, their mouths meeting and sometimes not. Lance looks at the black window while he's moving in her and he doesn't notice Justin standing in the doorway until he's finished.

Lance moves off her and throws the condom into a trashcan by the couch. He pulls up his boxers and zips up his pants. Justin is still standing in the doorway. Lance pulls Sapphyre up and tugs down her skirt. "Okay, baby, time for you to go." He pushes her towards the door and she's stupid enough to just giggle and walk out. Lance waves goodbye and stands by the door saying, "Well, isn't this a moment for the Behind the Music!"

He walks back into the lounge. Justin is still standing there and Lance can't see his face. Lance starts talking, hearing how drunk he is in the strength of his accent. "Lance Bass, all around good guy -- all around fucking wimp who always gets screwed -- Lance Bass finally getting some. From a whore. Which isn't much of a change from Lance's usual piece of ass." Lance is hissing out every word.

Then Justin walks slowly into the lounge. Justin is swallowing over and over again and his eyes are red. Lance can't breathe. "I broke up with her, Lance." Justin turns around and locks himself in the bathroom. Lance throws up in the trashcan, mai tais and buffalo wings coming back up and spilling over the condom and more trash. He passes out on the couch without even taking off his shoes.

Lance wakes up two hours later and can't open his eyes. Sunlight is starting to trickle in between the blinds in thin streams of pink and yellow. His stomach pushes up into his chest, but he's got nothing left to throw up except bile. He wretches into the trashcan again but nothing really comes up. When he's finished, he takes a bottle of water from the refrigerator with a shaky hand and walks outside.

He sees Joey sitting at a park bench next to the buses. He sips slowly from the water bottle and walks over to him.

"Fucking Christ, dude." Joey stubs his cigarette out into the grass.

"I'm just gonna lie down behind that bus. Will you get in and back over me five or ten times?"

"Let me find the keys." He fishes another cigarette from his pocket and lights it. "You want one?"

"Why not?" Joey lights one, then hands it to Lance. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Joey runs a hand through his hair. "Dude, let me tell you about my night."

Lance inhales slowly. It makes him dizzy, but it doesn't make him nauseous. He exhales, and then takes another drag. "Go."

"This chick, right? From the strip club? Bro, she had the biggest tits I've ever seen and she went down on me in the park four times."

Lance hears the words "strip club" and contemplates putting the cigarette out in his eye. "Oh, fuck."

"I'm telling you, dude, girl had a mouth on her. I should have gotten her name for the next time we're here."

"Oh, fuck, fuck." Lance leans forward and rests his head on the cool wood of the bench. Underneath the smoke and the vomit, he can taste Sapphyre on his teeth.

Joey chuckles. "Do you want me to get you some aspirin, dude?"

Lance's world is sideways and spinning, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Justin stepping out of the bus. Justin walks over to them. He stands by Joey and says, "Joey? Give us a moment, dude?"

Joey frowns and looks at Justin's calm face. "Oh -- okay." Joey walks back to the bus but stands in the doorway.

Lance leans heavily on the bench and stands up. "Justin. Look --" is as far as he gets before Justin punches him hard in the stomach. Lance collapses on the grass, rolling in pain, trying to throw up and nothing coming out. Lance closes his eyes. "Justin, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He's mumbling and he has no idea if Justin can hear him.

"Okay, fucker. We're okay now." Justin spits out each word. "We're over. But we're okay for everything else." Justin pants for a second. Lance forces his eyes open and looks up. Justin covers his mouth with his hand and glares at him. Justin drops his hand and Lance can see him clenching his hands into fists. "You fucking asshole," Justin says, looking at him. He stalks back into the bus.

Joey walks over to Lance and helps him up. "Dude. I wouldn't have thought Juju could throw a solid punch like that."

Lance spends ten minutes brushing his teeth until he can't taste the cigarette and Sapphyre. He had hoped when he cleaned off everything else, he'd find some layer of Justin inside him, still there. But all he can taste is toothpaste.

For a week, Justin ignores him. The press goes crazy over the break-up and the bodyguards have to hustle Justin in some formation everywhere he goes to protect him from the trailing paparazzi. Britney doesn't call at all. Or so Chris tells Lance. Justin only speaks to him when he has to, and only smiles at him when the cameras are rolling.

At the end of the week, Chris finds JC in a dressing room with a roadie and then Joey and Chris aren't pissed at Lance anymore. Joey explains why he and Chris hate JC more by saying, "JC had no reason, man. No reason at all." Lance doesn't think he had very good reasons, but he's happy to be back in at least Joey's and Chris's good graces.

Lance punches the wrong code into his cell phone a few days later and ends up retrieving Chris's messages. He's halfway into the first message, one from Chris's mother, before he realizes his mistake, but he keeps listening. The second is from Wade, but he doesn't recognize the voice in the third until the caller identifies himself. "It's Bobby ... uh. I work for Creed ... we met at the benefit today and I just...uh, wanted to tell you that I'm looking forward to seeing you. I definitely want to get with you tonight." Lance laughs and plays the message again, then saves it as new so Chris will get it. He looks across the bus at Chris and wonders if he'll call Bobby.

He carries his bags into the hotel instead of letting a bellhop do it and rides the elevator by himself. When the doors open, he sees Justin at the end of the hall, but Justin looks away and walks into his room before Lance can speak.

Lance swallows hard and walks up to Justin's room. He knocks on the door. He hears Justin's voice, muffled but close to the door. "Lance. Fuck. Please go away."

"No."

Justin is silent. Lance has no idea what he's doing but he leans against the door and starts babbling. "Justin. I'm an idiot. Justin. I thought you wouldn't do it. I thought you'd chicken out. You have to understand. I just remembered all those times you and her ... Look. Justin, please let me in. Just talk to me." Lance isn't sure how long he stands there, his bags against legs, leaning against the door. After some interminable period of time, Justin opens the door.

Lance walks in slowly. Justin's face is cold. He's wearing jeans and a wife beater and with the buzz cut he looks like a skinhead. An angry skinhead. Justin looks at Lance's bags. "Don't think you're staying here," he says and sits down on the bed. Justin reaches for a beer and takes a long swig. He doesn't offer one to Lance. "So. It's all my fault. That's great, Lance. Just great. You were completely justified in ... in what you said 'cause I screwed around on you -- once - and so it's okay that you just. Whatever, Lance. Fuck you."

"That's not what I meant." Lance swallows and looks down.

"Yeah." Justin lies down on the bed. "I never heard Elvis Costello before. He's good, you know? I wanted to hear the songs." Justin starts singing softly, "Alison ... I know this world is killing you."

"We should go," Lance says suddenly.

Justin looks at the beer. "Go where?"

"To see him."

"I'm not going anywhere with your ass."

Lance digs through his bags until he finds his laptop. He plugs it in and turns it on, and after a few keystrokes, he looks up at Justin. "He's doing a show twenty miles away."

"You go, man. Take JC. You can pick up girls in glasses."

"I can get tickets." Lance closes the laptop and winds the cord around it. "I'm getting tickets."

"I don't give a shit what you do." Justin takes another long drink from the bottle and holds the door open. "Just get out of here."

Lance stands in the doorway. He puts his hand on Justin's arm and says, "I'm sorry. Please, come with me to the show?"

Justin looks at Lance's hand. He mumbles no and half pushes Lance out the door. Lance walks slowly to his room.

Half an hour before they have to leave, Lance goes to Justin's room and knocks on the door. "Justin?"

Justin throws open the door and the smell of cigarettes and beer washes over Lance. Justin sags against the door. "What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want."

"Let's go see Elvis Costello." Lance forces himself to smile.

Justin takes a drag off a cigarette. Lance can see it's a Virginia Slim and he almost smiles, thinking of Britney and her purple bag and Justin kissing him in the bathroom. He remembers that it's not a good memory and bites his lip. Justin looks down at him and laughs. "Fine. Fine. You fucking asshole, let's go." Justin grabs his keys and wallet and slams the door shut. He's still smoking the cigarette. As they wait by the elevators, Lance can smell the sour sweat and alcohol coming off Justin.

They meet their bodyguards in the lobby and Justin just walks on by, standing outside waiting for a cab. They're quiet on the way to the club. Lance studies Justin from the corner of his eye then turns and stares outright, but Justin ignores him.

Inside, they get drinks and settle at a table. It's dark and the crowd is mellow, and the bodyguards give them space.

"Jay."

"I'm not talking to you, man." Justin looks straight at the stage and continues to do so when the music starts, even though Lance is certain he's not familiar with it. Lance isn't familiar with it either because it's not his thing, but he doesn't mind it. Elvis reminds him vaguely of Chris, though he's not sure why, and he wonders if Chris listened to his messages.

The new bodyguard, the one who smells like cheese, puts his hand on Lance's shoulder and asks if Lance wants him to secure the bathroom. Lance shakes him off. When he starts listening again, he hears, "The sky was just a purple bruise/The ground was iron/And you fell all around the town/Until you looked the same." Lance watches Justin lean forward just a little in his seat and he wonders of Elvis played this song at the other show. "The same eyes/The same lips/The same lie from your tongue trips/Deep dark/Deep dark truthful mirror." Lance blinks against unexpected tears, but they splotch onto his hands and his jeans. Justin looks back at him and Lance isn't sure if he can see them in the darkness, but Justin looks away.

They don't talk at all the whole evening and Justin passes out in the car on the way home. The bodyguards help Lance carry Justin to bed. Lance looks down at Justin, sprawled in the bed and wonders if Justin would hurt him if he stayed the night. He shakes his head and carefully removes Justin's shoes and belt and tucks him in. He wakes up in his own bed alone, clutching the stupid stuffed dog Justin bought him.

Two days later the Enquirer runs a picture of Lance and the bodyguards carrying Justin into the hotel with a headline about Justin's heartbreak without Britney. On the next page, there's pictures of Britney and Carson Daly kissing somewhere in New York. Lance sighs as Johnny hands the advance copy around. Justin just looks down and rubs his eyes. Johnny points out they have to be on TRL that afternoon.

"Dude," Joey says, carefully not looking at Justin. "This seems like the ideal time for me to confess to all the bad things I did years ago. I mean, really, now that they've cracked Justin's raging alcoholism, my mis-spent youth has to be next. TRL is the place for me to come clean. I was a teenage crack whore!" Chris looks down and can't suppress the giggling. Justin just snorts.

JC says, "Justin's not an alcoholic. He just got really drunk. Did they say that in the article? That's so lame."

Justin shoots JC an evil glare. "Thanks, JC. Joey was, you know, joking."

They break up the meeting and decide to meet back in an hour, when, in Johnny's words, calmer heads can prevail. Lance follows Justin out. They ride up in the elevator and Justin's still clutching printouts of the articles.

"Justin." Lance tentatively rubs Justin's shoulder. Justin suddenly falls against him, pressing him against the wall. Justin kisses him hard. Lance hugs him. Justin breaks off the kiss and says quietly, "I just want to fuck, okay?" Lance just nods.

Justin drags him into his room and strips him before pushing him onto the bed. Lance plucks at Justin's clothes, but Justin waves his hand away and takes everything off himself. They're naked, pressed together and Justin is kissing him again. Everything's so familiar about this, Lance thinks, for a moment. He hadn't thought that it would take only two and a half months for Justin's body to become something Lance knew like multiplication tables and scales. He just wants to feast on everything laid out before him, but Justin lies on his back and pulls up his legs. "Lance," he says with a catch in his voice.

Lance enters Justin and closes his eyes. It must be some form of blasphemy that he thanks God as he comes. When Lance turns back to the bed from the bathroom, Justin's sitting up, with his head down, still tangled in the sheets. Lance gets into the bed and rubs Justin's back, kissing his neck.

Justin giggles, a weirdly harsh sound. "So, that kinda made me feel better."

Lance kisses him again. "I'm sorry. For all this crap. I shouldn't have done what I did. I had no excuse. I forgot -- I didn't let myself realize that you've changed and stuff."

Justin sighs. He says very quietly, "You really think I'm a whore, don't you?"

"I don't. I don't, Justin. I was drunk and I was feeling sorry for myself." Lance closes his eyes and tries to think of anything he can do right now, short of ripping his own heart out that would make Justin sound more cheerful. He thinks about the heart-ripping thing for a second and abandons it. "You’re not a whore, Justin. I don’t think that at all.” Justin relaxes under Lance’s hands. “You know what? We need a shower."

Justin laughs. "Mr. Fucking Clean. Fine." He stands up and walks to the bathroom. They shower together, quickly, with no furtive gropes or tender moments. As Lance is pulling on his pants, Justin says, "You know, it actually works out pretty well. 'Cause, really, I'm off drowning my sorrows because of you, but everyone will think it was Britney. I mean, that's funny. Funnier than Joey's crack whore plan. I should say that." Justin rubs his own short hair, ruffling what's still there of his hair. "Well, Carson," he says with a twisted smile, "I hope you like her, cause, seriously, she's fucking one of her girl dancers. And I wasn't getting my underage ass wasted because of her, I was drinking to forget Lance's yelling at me. So, I hope everyone calls in and pushes our video up to number 1 today, cause if they do, I'll blow Lance right here on camera."

They both start laughing and Justin leans against the door, giggling. Lance says, "You know, you're more popular. I should give you a blowjob on TRL, they'd be much happier to see your dick than mine." They're still giggling about it when they get to the meeting.

The fans are crazy at the studio and it's over so quickly that no one has time to notice that Lance is standing awfully close to Justin and that Justin isn't glaring at Carson. There's only one uncomfortable moment, when JC's clowning around and throws his arms wide, smacking Chris, who yells and glares. Joey pretends to hold Chris back and the others play along, and it's fine until they leave the studio.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" JC asks in the limo.

"Me? Seriously, you're asking me a question?"

Joey shakes his head and looks out the window. "You guys should go into therapy."

"Hey, fuck you, Fatone." JC points a finger at Joey, who rolls his eyes.

Lance leans against the seat and feels Justin's arm come down around his shoulders. Chris looks at them, and then makes a big show out of dialing a number on his cell phone. He says the name "Bobby" at least ten times during the call, making eye contact with JC as he does so.

When they get back to the bus, JC disappears. Lance and Justin are watching a movie on the couch when he gets back. Lance notices that JC's eyes are red and his hair is still in place. JC ignores them both.

Justin's fingers tickle Lance's knee. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"Sleep late. Get Chinese. Fuck."

"That's not a bad plan." He rests his head on Lance's shoulder.

"As opposed to, you know, getting up in," Lance consults his watch, "three hours and shooting a video."

"We can still get Chinese, though."

"Okay."

Justin's lips move along Lance's jaw line. "And the other."

Lance moves quickly and pins Justin's hands above his head. They both laugh as their mouths meet, and when they're finished, they curl together until the sun comes up.

THE END

Onto the sequel The Shaker Aesthetic



Back to Stories

Send feedback to Sandy.