NOTES & DISCLAIMERS: Way made up for entertainment only. Quote from Pretty Woman for the obvious reasons. Because I couldn't keep reading and re-reading Synchronik's So, This and Fairytale and Em's Stay the Night as much as I loved and adored all three stories. Thanks to Sandy the Younger and Tiffany Rawlins. Tiff contributed two and a half scenes, and more than two scenes of Tiff's writing is up at I Think We're Alone Now.

The whores hustle and the hustlers whore
Too many people out of love - PJ Harvey

This, Lance thought, was the fucking life. JC tapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "Look, Lance, genuine Hollywood hookers."

Lance looked over at the four guys in leather pants lounging against one of the couches. "Them?" He said, gesturing with his eyebrows.

"No, no, those are just actors. I meant, never mind." JC grinned. JC'd had a lot to drink.

"There are hookers here, really?" Lance tried not to sound like the hick he was. He'd been so lucky to have been hired by the firm, just dumb luck, really. Well, that and Lance had been managing his friends' band from Orlando since he was seventeen. And now, life in the fast lane. Hollywood. Actual hookers. Lance wondered if there were boy hookers at the party, and then he thought, Hollywood. There would be boys.

JC took another sip of his drink. "Of course there are hookers. Whatshisface probably arranged for a few to entertain people. You know," JC said, nudging Lance, "entertain."

Lance nodded. "How do I tell a hooker hired to entertain me from, you know, just some guy who wants to blow me?"

JC finished his drink. His cheeks were a bright pink. He said, "I used to hustle, you know." Lance swallowed his drink too fast and coughed. JC said, "Just for a year when I first came out here to LA. And then I started helping out at a club and ended up here at the firm and yeah."

Lance said, "Okay." Hollywood indeed.

JC said, "Yeah. Anyway. Uh. So, man, if some guy blows you or something, just ask for his number. The hookers'll give you their pimp's pager number and the non-hooker people will, uh, give you a card or something." Lance nodded. He finished his drink and snagged another one.

"So, uh, you were a prostitute?" Lance tried to sound casual. But something about that sentence wouldn't really come out right.

JC nodded, bobbing his head. "Yeah, I mean, lots of people have done it. I wasn't -- I knew some fucked up people who did it. But it's just sex and I dunno, man. Anyway, don't tell, okay?"

Lance nodded again. Lots of nodding tonight, he thought. He had to pee, so he clapped JC on the shoulder, and said, "Your secret's safe with me. And now I have to pee."

The bathroom was pretty, even bathrooms were pretty in Hollywood. Lance turned to the sink and saw a guy leaning against the wall. Pretty, pretty, bandanna, lean, leather pants and Lance kinda hoped the guy was a hooker. Lance said, "Hi," and smiled.

The guy smiled and said, "Hi." He raised an eyebrow and Lance grinned. Almost definitely a hooker and Lance said a silent prayer of gratitude that he'd offered to manage his friend Joey's struggling band back when he was seventeen and whatever other good things he'd done that brought him here.

Lance said, "uh," but the almost probably hooker grabbed Lance's hand and pulled him into a stall. Lance bit his lip as the guy sunk to his knees and started opening Lance's pants. And, oh, yes. Warm wet lips and strong nimble fingers and yes, yes. This made up for everything, for the crummy fifty person venues and club owners who called Lance a fag and tiny vans and yes. Suck, suck, and Lance ran his hands over the cotton bandanna and grinned. Lance came with a grunt and the guy wiped his mouth and leaned back.

Lance said, "That was great. Do you want me to, uh, I should maybe, uh?" The guy waved him off and stood up, still smiling. Lance remembered what JC had told him so Lance said, "Can I get your number?"

The guy said, "Give me your card."

Lance pulled out his brand new platinum card case and pulled out a card. The guy had a pen and he wrote something on the back. He slipped the card into Lance's blazer pocket. He said, "Give me a call sometime," and then kissed Lance on the cheek, lips still wet. Lance walked out happy.

When Lance got home to his spiffy new condo he pulled out the card as he hung up his blazer. On the back was written "JT" and a number. Lance put the card in his wallet. Genuine Hollywood rentboys slipping him cards, this was the life.

Three weeks later he was back in LA and he pulled out the card. Chris and Joey got hookers, sometimes, and, really, he didn't know anyone and he could afford it. Lance could afford it and the guy had been hot. JT. Lance pulled out the card and dialed the number. Two rings and then that nice sexy voice with the faint twang saying, "JT. Whattaya want?"

Lance had a moment of panic and thought, what if the guy wasn't a hooker? What if he was just easy or something? So Lance said, "I met you three weeks ago, at that party. And uh, you said to call."

JT said, "Oh, oh. Right. Bathroom?"

Lance said, "Yeah. And I wondered, uh, tonight? Could I see you tonight?"

JT said, "Yeah. Sure." Lance gave him the address and wondered again if he was getting a date or an appointment. Then JT said, "Let's go over the rates now, okay?" Which was a complete relief. Lance could pay, was happy to pay. Hollywood, hooray for Hollywood and hot rentboys and this was the fucking life.

The doorman buzzed and then JT was walking in. Still hot and pretty, blue eyes, and long legs and man, LA had everything. Lance smiled and said, "Uh. Yeah. Let's uh, yeah." He couldn't help laughing.

JT said, "Let's get to it? Sure. But, uh, first, what's your name?"

"Right," Lance said. "Lance. I'm Lance." He held out his hand and felt ridiculous.

JT shook his hand and grinned. "Call me Justin." And then they got to it. Lance was probably a little boring, but he just wanted vanilla. Head and getting fucked, that's all he asked for.

They did it on the couch, another great blowjob from Justin and then Lance flipped over onto his stomach. Lance looked over his shoulder and said, "Condom. Right?"

Justin nodded. He pulled down his pants and he was hard. Lance wondered if that was a compliment or just a job skill. Didn't much matter, Lance thought, as Justin eased a finger inside him. So fucking wonderful. The screwing just rocked and Lance came again, all over his new couch. He didn't care at all, he could afford a new one. Justin stretched out next to him and Lance pulled off the bandanna, ran his hands through Justin's curly hair.

Justin rested his head against Lance's chest. He said, "You're pretty young to be this rich. What do you do?"

Lance smiled. "I manage a rock band. It's actually kinda funny. See, when I was seventeen, my friend Joey is in this great band. Him and his friend Chris. And Chris is trying to do too many things at once, and they're getting hosed left and right. So I offer to manage 'em. And things start going well, so I skip college and go with them on the road and I'm the manager, you know? So, I manage them out of this stupid contract they signed over my objections, get them signed to a major label and we have a hit. A genuine hit. So I get hired by this big-ass firm and my only client right now is the same one I've had since I was seventeen. And that was way more information than you wanted, right?"

Justin smiled and kissed his jaw. "It's fine. Do you want something else or is it okay if I go?"

Lance was plumb tuckered out. He pushed off the couch and counted out the money for Justin. And this was so the life, watching Justin pull on his pants and Lance standing there naked with the money in his hand. Hollywood, Lance thought, grinning. Justin kissed him on the cheek as he left and said, "Call me again, if you want."

Lance called again. And again. Why the hell not, after all. When they weren't out on the road, promoting the tour and the album and then the second single, Lance was in LA with more money than he could spend on hookers if Justin came over every night for the next year. And, sure. Lotta cute guys in Hollywood. But Lance was sick of dating. Lance was on a five-year, no-boyfriends plan.

Justin was pretty, he fit into the plan and Lance had never been opposed to paying for good work. Justin certainly worked it. He kept his nails short and his skin soft and he was either naturally really fucking skinny or put all the money he made toward clothes or something. He showed up one night in white vinyl pants with a belt buckle that said "Rent Me" and just quirked up a lip when Lance laughed and laughed. Lance was a big fan of getting what you paid for, and finally he gathered Justin up and slid to his knees, licking the smooth metal of Justin's buckle. They did it on the floor that night.

*

Justin had thirteen scars, Lance counted one night while he licked and felt his way all over Justin's body. He decided not to ask about any of them. Lance licked the underside of Justin's cock and stopped. He looked up at Justin and said, "Do you have, um, rules about these sorts of things? I mean, I really like blowing guys, so. But, yeah, rules?"

Justin looked at the ceiling. "There's not. See, there's no whore union or something so I think we all decide these things ourselves. It's not like I'm not charging you for it." Lance licked again and squeezed Justin's thighs.

Lance said, "So do you have rules?"

Justin shuddered a little as Lance went back to licking and sucking. He really did enjoy giving blowjobs and he had an increasing affection for Justin's dick. Justin said, breathlessly, "I have some rules. Yeah. But they're mostly for me and," Justin paused and bit his lip. "Don't worry about it, okay?" Lance didn't ask again.

*

It went like this: Lance called Justin when he got to LA, once from the airport, more than once from the cab. At first he got Justin's cell, like the first time, then the number he had was suddenly just Justin's pager. Justin called him back, usually within a half hour, sometimes in an hour, once a day later. Justin always came to Lance's condo. At the beginning, Justin dressed in leather and vinyl, tight designer shirts. Around the time Justin's number became just a pager Justin would occasionally appear in plain jeans and faded, plain t-shirts. Lance didn't care, since the clothes came off either way.

Justin always said, "What do you want?" and Lance usually just grinned. Lance had had kinky and all that in the back of the van, in South Beach when the guys were recording and he knew what he liked. He liked making out and giving head and getting head and being fucked. He and Justin would kiss on the couch or the floor, kiss for a while. Justin would rub Lance's neck and then his ribs and work his hands under Lance's shirt. Lance rubbed Justin's thighs.

When Lance was hot and bothered sufficiently, done with the kissing, if he wanted Justin to blow him, he would rub Justin's neck, and push just a little. Justin would undo Lance's pants while they kissed, and then pull off Lance's shirt. Justin kissed his way down Lance's chest and then wrapped those wonderful lips around Lance's dick. Justin gave great head. After the first few times, he did it slow, drawing it out, long licks and teasing touches. Justin swallowed every time.

If Lance wanted to blow Justin, he would break off the kiss and tug Justin's pants off. He would sink to his knees in front of Justin and pause, enjoy the view. Lance loved having Justin's dick full in his mouth, breathing through his nose, his hands busy around Justin's hips and balls. Lance always swallowed, too.

Then they'd fuck. Lance knew guys who weren't into that at all, liked to do everything else but, and Lance was not one of them. If he'd gone down on Justin, then Justin would take his time stripping Lance, lingering, sometimes going down on Lance and bringing him right to the brink and then stopping. If Justin had gone down on Lance, he'd give Lance a few seconds at most to recover before turning him over or pushing at Lance's hips until Lance moved to where he wanted to be. They did it in a lot of different positions, Lance didn't have much of a preference. It was always hot. Justin fucked him slow and hard and sometimes Lance saw spots when he came, it was so good. He had no idea if it was as good for Justin as it always was for him.

After Justin would lay next to Lance for a few minutes, curling around him and resting his hand on Lance's chest. And courteous service helped guarantee repeat business, Lance thought, because Justin usually asked him about his day, wanted to hear what he was doing back in LA. Lance had offered Justin the use of his shower, and Justin only took him up on it once in a while. After a shower, or usually, after a few moments lying there, Justin would quote his price. Lance sometimes tried to guess, but Justin's prices were based on a flat hourly rate and then extras over top. Plus cab fare. And while the total varied, it was never outrageous. Lance paid happily. Justin would always kiss Lance's cheek at the door and say, "See you later."

*

JC took him to another big party with more pretty boys and Lance wound up in the bathroom with this cute Latino guy who gave decent head but nothing like Justin. Lance didn't ask for his number, and when he sat down and JC asked how things were, Lance said, "Good to know I've been getting my money's worth."

JC said, "Oh. So you're still."

Lance shrugged. "Dating sucks. I have a fuckload of money. And I don't have to spend any time wondering if I said the wrong thing or should have sent, like, I don't know. Flowers."

"You send flowers?" JC asked.

"No, see. I don't know. You're supposed to send flowers?"

"I think you're supposed to want to," JC said.

Lance finished his drink and stood up. "Yeah," he said. "I fucking love Hollywood, did I say?"

Lance and JC took a cab back to Lance's condo and JC poked him in the cab and said, "Hey. Hey, um."

Lance shimmied a little in the backseat and said, "I am so getting well and truly laid tonight."

JC grinned. "You know for sure?"

Lance smiled and tapped his cellphone. "Called Justin from the party. Meeting me at the condo."

JC looked out the window and said, "Oh," very quietly.

Lance tapped his watch. "And he'll be there when we get there. I love this town." Lance looked over at JC, still staring out the window. "Hey, buck up, little camper." JC turned back to Lance and smiled.

JC was giggling and tugging at Lance's jacket, singing "Hooray for Hollywood" when they got to his door. Justin was sitting by the door, resting his head on his knees. Justin looked up and for a moment he looked so sad. Then Justin blinked and his expression was carefully blank. Justin looked at JC and then at Lance as he stood up.

Lance swallowed and rubbed his eyes. "Justin, baby, I'm not that late, right? Traffic, and, yeah, you haven't been waiting long, right?"

Justin shook his head. He said, "No. It's fine. I got here a little early, and you're only, like, ten minutes late." Justin looked at JC again. "Did you," Justin said tentatively. Justin rubbed his hands on his jeans. "Here I am."

Lance smiled and opened the door. "JC, you are so not driving tonight. Come in, dude."

Justin and JC followed Lance in and Lance went to the closet to get a blanket for JC. He turned around and slapped his forehead. "I am being very rude. Justin, JC, JC, Justin. JC and I work together, etc." JC shook Justin's hand and sat on the couch.

Justin smirked and stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "And me? You called."

Lance put the blankets on the end of the couch and kissed JC's cheek. "Sleep. Sleep." Lance grabbed Justin's belt loop as he walked by and said, "You will not be sleeping. Back to the bedroom." Justin giggled as he followed Lance.

Justin started stripping as soon as Lance closed the door. He said, "What do you want?"

Lance sat down on the bed and pulled Justin to him so Justin was standing between Lance's legs. Lance kissed Justin's perfect abs and thought, hooray for Hollywood, hooray for scotch, hooray for money. Lance said, "I want you."

Justin went down on Lance with a certain vigor Lance hadn't noticed before and Lance came with a shout. He laughed and thought he would so need to apologize to JC in the morning. Justin flipped him over and pulled off Lance's pants the rest of the way. Justin laughed and twisted his fingers a little inside Lance. Justin said, "You have fun tonight?"

Lance meant to laugh and moaned instead. "Not as much as right now," he said. Justin thrust in and Lance pushed back to meet him. Sometimes they were slow and languid but this time it was nasty and quick and Lance pulled Justin onto the bed after Justin threw out the condom. "You rock," Lance said. He ran his hand through Justin's hair and kissed Justin's forehead.

Justin kissed Lance's hand and sat up. "I gotta go. I have things, okay?"

Lance looked at the clock. "At 3 a.m.?" He watched Justin pulling on his pants. "You can stay, if you want. Does that cost more?" Justin never stayed and Lance never asked but it was later than normal and Lance was drunk and Justin looked so cute.

Justin turned around and grabbed his shirt. "I really can't. I have things. And, yeah, it does cost more." Justin turned back to Lance and smiled. "Next time, maybe."

Lance got up and found his wallet. He gave Justin his money and put on sweatpants. He walked Justin out and kissed him on the cheek at the door. When he turned around, he saw that JC was awake. Lance rubbed his stomach and said, "Sorry. If we were loud."

JC said, "You were. Kinda. It's okay." JC shifted so he was lying on his back and looking at the ceiling. "That was Justin, huh? He's young."

"He's twenty. Swear to God, I checked his driver's license." Lance leaned against the door.

JC sighed. "How long has he been doing this?"

"He's been doing me for five months," Lance said, laughing. JC sighed again. Lance said, "I think, Justin said for two or three years. Look, JC..."

JC sighed again. "Look, whatever. But, Lance, nobody does that without being a little fucked up. And most of 'em are pretty fucked up. So, you know, I don't wanna ruin your good time. But."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Justin seems pretty together. You're pretty together. I know, I know, it's illegal, it's wrong, but, come on, JC."

JC said, "I only did it for a year." JC was quiet for a little while and Lance walked back to his room. He was standing in the doorway when he heard JC say, "I'm sure you're not being mean, he just seemed a little, um, skittish. But you're right, I'm sure it's all fine. Thanks for letting me stay here."

Lance said, "No problem," and went to bed. He lay awake for a little while and kept thinking about Justin's sad face when they first showed up. He only saw Justin when Justin was working, so he didn't really know the things that might have upset him.

*

Jason, the fifth bassist, quit because he couldn't handle the road, because his girlfriend complained, because, in general, Jason was a dork. They held auditions, quietly announced in the trades, for a new one. Lance sat in the back behind Chris and Joey.

Justin was the fifth guy they heard and Lance sat forward in his chair and tried to hide behind Joey. He wondered if he'd ever mentioned the name of the group he managed to Justin and then he wondered if Justin was any good.

Joey smiled politely at Justin's obvious nerves and Chris scowled. Good cop, bad cop, Lance thought. Justin had a cheap bass guitar, and he was the worst player they'd heard all day. Merely adequate, but Jason had been great and he hadn't worked out at all. But they needed someone who could sing, too, so Joey said, "Sing something, kid." So Justin opened his mouth and clinched the audition with sixteen bars of Losing My Religion.

Chris held up his hand and said, "Kid. What's your name again?" And then Chris asked some more questions about Justin's almost complete lack of experience, his musical influences and his willingness to haul ass around the country.

Then Joey said, "Wait here," to Justin, and dragged Lance and Chris into the hallway. Lance looked back and saw Justin's look of surprise and fear when he recognized Lance. In the hallway, Joey said, "He's the guy. Fucking great voice and I can tell, he's a trooper."

Chris said, "Joey can't tell shit, really, but he's completely right here."

Lance rubbed his chin and didn't say anything. Joey looked at him and said, "You don't think so, Lance?"

Lance bit his lip. He didn't really have anything to add, no extra information of note. He said, "You guys decide, I am not music person here. Completely your decision."

So they went back in and Chris said, "You got the job."

Justin nodded and smiled, a nervous flick of his eyes back to Lance and then to Chris and Joey. Justin cleared his throat and said, "Great. But, uh, I have two things I think you should know. Cause, I don't want to screw anything up. First is, I'm gay."

Joey snorted. "So's our manager. Silent blond guy leaning against the wall? Gay, gay, gay. We don't care."

Justin blushed and looked down. He said, "Right. That's your manager, not someone up on stage."

Chris leaned back and said, "Michael Stipe, Bob Mould, Stephin Merritt. Those are just the ones I like and can name this early in the day. We don't care, Justin. This is rock, we're not selling your face on WB's new Tuesday."

Justin nodded. "Okay, good. And, uh, the second thing is I kinda used to be a hooker." Used to as of two nights ago, Lance thought. So Justin had quit yesterday?

Joey made a noise and Lance couldn't see his face. Joey said, "Well, uh, that's a job you can leave behind when we get back on the road, right?"

Justin grinned and then suddenly went back to being nervous. "Well, I quit, like, three or four months ago, and I've only. I have, like, one or two regulars I'm still seeing, 'cause it's hard to find work, but really, I quit, like I said, three or four months ago."

Chris looked back over his shoulder at Lance and Lance blushed before he realized Chris couldn't know. Lance put on a blank face. Chris turned back to Justin and said, "That's fine. We think you're the one, kid, we don't care what you did before. You're okay, right? Clean and healthy, no drugs?"

Justin nodded vigorously. "Clean, all that. Healthy as a horse." Justin looked over at Lance and then back to the guys. "I'm not the greatest bass player, you know."

"You're perfect for us," Joey said. And that was that.

Joey and Chris decided they should all have dinner together, and Lance sent Joey and Chris onto the restaurant and grabbed Justin's arm. "Um, hi?"

Justin sighed. "Hi. I didn't know you were, I didn't come here thinking you'd be here."

Lance smirked. "Well, good, because I didn't have anything to do with you getting this job. It's all Chris and Joey, okay? I can't do anything for you."

"I know," Justin said. "I don't want you to. And I won't, uh, I won't say anything about you to them."

Lance said, "Good." And then he thought about what Justin had said. "You quit four months ago?" Two months after Lance had first called him.

Justin shrugged. "Basically. I had, I told my guy --"

"Your pimp?"

Justin shrugged again and looked at the floor. "Yeah, I quit. But. See, he's the guy that set me up at that party where I met you. And I should've given you his number, but I gave you mine, so yeah. I cut him in the first two times and then I stopped, so when I quit, you were still calling. And, well, two nights with you covered a month's rent on my new place. And more than that would help with food. I kinda decided suddenly to quit and I've never been one for savings accounts. Yeah, plus, you're not unattractive and you're pretty vanilla."

Lance rubbed his forehead. He'd been keeping Justin, basically, supporting him without even knowing it. And now Justin would be in the group and Lance wouldn't be able to call him again. But Justin could really sing, and Chris and Joey wanted him in the group. They were the ones who decided those things. Lance sighed and thought Hollywood could be cruel.

*

Justin learned the songs quick and Chris and Joey practically adopted him. Lance got all the contracts worked out and went out with the guys for the first two weeks of the second leg of the tour and Justin's first two weeks. The first night, Joey and Chris took Justin out for dinner. "You were great, Justin," Joey crowed. "That was definitely better than, uh, your old job, right?"

Justin laughed and downed his beer. "It was great. I'm glad you think I'm doing okay."

"You're doing great," Chris said and hugged Justin. Lance smiled and paid for the beer and didn't think about blowjobs and fucking. This was better for Justin, anyway.

Lance was in the hotel bar two nights later, drinking a scotch on the rocks after the show. Not a great hotel, but a sure sight better than Motel 8s and sleeping in the van. Lance was thinking of maybe asking JC out or getting the number of Justin's old pimp when Justin sat down across from him. Lance blushed and said, "Hey, you."

Justin smiled. "Hey, you. I'm, uh. Okay. Show was good tonight, right?"

Lance nodded. "It was great, you're good. Better'n Jason, I tell you."

"I guess Jason was a better bass player, right? I'm working on it, I swear." Justin was wringing his hands.

"You're fine. You've got a great voice, Justin. You're doing fine."

Justin put his hands flat on the table. He looked up at Lance and smiled shyly. "So, I was wondering. I, uh, I don't know, maybe you've got a boyfriend or something but if you don't, the thing is, I do like you and you're uh, well --"

"Not unattractive. I remember." Lance paused. "Justin, I can't fire you or help you, I swear. You don't have to. You really shouldn't. It's really, it's a bad idea to be sleeping with the manager, or your manager, you see?"

Justin nodded and kept looking up at Lance, fucking pretty boy and completely hot. Bad idea, bad idea, Lance thought. Also, ex-hooker. Ex-john. Bad idea on many levels. Justin put his hand on Lance's hands and licked his lips. "Dude," Justin said. "I know all this. But Chris and Joey are my bosses, and I'm, you know, consenting adult. Consenting horny adult." Justin bumped his knee against Lance's leg. Fuck, fuck. Justin licked his lips again and smiled.

Lance stood up and threw a twenty on the table. "Fine, you talked me into it." Lance tugged Justin up and they walked back to Lance's room. Justin was beaming and as soon as the door was closed he pushed Lance against the wall and kissed him. As good as ever, Lance thought.

He woke up when someone pounded on his door. Chris, Lance thought. Chris, Lance thought, and got out of the bed. Sore, no fun walking, and Lance looked over his shoulder as he reached the door. Justin. Naked Justin face down on his bed and Lance smiled. They never used to do that, so that was better than before. Lance thought, flowers, and opened the door.

"Bass, nice to see you, put on some damn pants," Chris said as he pushed past Lance into the room. Joey followed him in and then they both stopped in the middle of the room and stared at the bed.

Lance pulled on his pants and said, "I said. I told him that he didn't have to and stuff. It wasn't, you know."

Chris turned around and hissed at him. "Dude, it's Justin."

Justin lifted his head and said, "Me Justin. He tried to talk me out of it, but he's just too hot." Justin put his head back down on the pillow and fell back asleep.

Joey looked at Lance and poked him in the chest. "You be fucking careful, Lance," he said quietly. "This is Justin, man. We like him."

*

Lance was careful. He tried very hard not to feel like a stud, given that he was so hot he was getting for free what he'd paid thousands of dollars for over the last six months. And really, he wasn't so much a stud as a chump because he'd paid thousands of dollars for what he was now getting for free. And with this arrangement he only got laid when he was on the road with the guys and not when he was in LA. He pointed all this out to JC one night in a bar and JC said, "Huh."

"What? Complete thought, JC, articulate it." Lance watched two Latino guys necking on the dance floor.

JC sighed. "See, I thought he was a little skittish. That one time I met him. Maybe he thinks he needs to be doing this, you know, for the job."

Lance turned around to glare at JC. "I made it very clear to him. I said, I have said, Chris and Joey are in charge here. Not me. Chris and Joey have said it. He has acknowledged that not only did I say it but that it is true. He says he's sleeping with me because I'm hot."

JC said, "And you can always trust a whore to tell the truth."

Lance said, "He's not a whore anymore. He's a musician. So, actually, he's still a whore, but not the kind that gets arrested for doing it. He's all legal." Lance giggled. Fuck it, at least he was getting laid by a hot guy. And saving money.

"Lance," JC paused.

"Wanna go home with me?" Lance grinned.

JC stared at him for a long minute. "What about Justin?"

Lance frowned. "Okay, you're right." Lance rubbed his forehead. "I'm being an asshole, I'm sorry."

JC shrugged. "It's okay. If you'd asked sooner maybe, but, yeah, no."

Lance said, "Sorry. I'm sorry." JC just shrugged again. Lance bought him a drink and they talked about work until JC was laughing and seemed to have forgotten what they were talking about. Lance felt like an ass, still. A chump and an ass.

*

Justin was doing good, though. He weathered the road better than Jason and he played hard. They were doing well and the third single was still on the charts. When Lance went out to see them, the crowds were good and Chris and Joey were a hundred times happier than in the bad old Jason days. And then Justin would smile at Lance and they'd end up in bed and hot, sweaty sex like the old days. Lance enjoyed the falling asleep next to Justin part so that was better than the old days.

Joey acted like Justin was just another regular guy, gay like Lance, but he was careful not to make jokes or say things about hookers and whoring that would might make Justin feel uncomfortable. Chris never skipped over the subject but he dealt with it with alternating bursts of humor and deadly seriousness.

The last show of the tour was in LA and Justin invited some of his friends to the show and backstage. Lance raised an eyebrow at the two who were clearly altered and not just on pot and Justin shrugged sheepishly. Lance walked over to Justin, sitting with a short girl. "Hey, Justin," he said.

Justin smiled at him and poked the girl. "Miranda, this is Lance."

Miranda's eyes widened. "Lance! THE Lance?" She giggled and leaned against Justin. "You ARE hot, I see that." She licked her lips and said, "Vanilla."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "THE Lance?"

Miranda said, "I've heard so much about you and --"

Justin put his hand over Miranda's mouth and said, "Miranda and I are going to go talk, okay? Catch you in a minute, Lance." Lance watched Justin pull Miranda into a corner and the two of them had a quick conversation punctuated with lots of gestures on Miranda's part. Lance wondered what Justin had said about him. But it made sense, Lance used to talk about the people he met at work all the time and in that sense he'd known Justin from work for eight months now. Miranda hugged Justin and walked over to talk to Chris. Justin came back to Lance and said, "She's pushy. And loud."

"Your best friend?" Lance smiled.

"One of two women I've actually had sex with. And yeah, my best friend. "

"You had sex with her?"

Justin leaned against Lance and grinned. "Well, yeah, once. We were both pretty drunk. Cause she doesn't like guys much. But yeah, she's great." Justin picked at Lance's shirt and kissed his earlobe. "In general, women were a kink I didn't do even when I did everything for money. Let's go back to your place and fuck."

Lance put his beer down. He said, "Wait a sec. What did you say about me to Miranda? And also, she doesn't much like guys? I thought she was, uh, a prostitute?"

Justin pressed against Lance's hip, hard and his hands were smoothing down Lance's shirt with evil intent. Justin said, "You were my only john for four months and she was my room-mate. I said little things. And yeah, lots of hookers are mostly dykes in their own time. Like Miranda. She's not really fond of dick."

Lance said, "Oh." Justin was teasing Lance's nipples through his shirt.

Justin said, "I, on the other hand, very fond of dick. Especially yours. Now." Lance waved to the guys and let Justin drag him out of the club.

*

They had a band meeting and Joey made sure Justin was there. "Home to record," Joey said.

Justin pulled at his shirt and looked down. Chris poked Justin in the shoulder. "And Justin should come. For the recording."

Justin kept his eyes on the floor. "In Orlando? For how long?"

Lance looked at the table and thought. He knew Justin was still paying rent on the place he'd had with Miranda, his way of helping her out. He also sent money to his mother. Lance knew because Justin hadn't even had a bank account when he'd started working for the band. Lance had helped him set it up that first week and Justin had mentioned in passing that he'd still need to get money orders for those two. So, Justin couldn't really afford to rent another place in Orlando, not with what they were paying him. Lance looked up and said, "I have a condo in Orlando and I won't be there half the time. Justin should just stay there so he's not blowing money on rent on two places."

Chris nodded. "We need Justin."

Joey nodded. Justin looked up and almost smiled. "Seriously?"

Joey said, "Seriously." Justin grinned.

The first night in Orlando, Lance made up the guest room in his condo and sat on the bed. Justin came in and said, "Uh. Is something wrong?"

"Just making up the room for you." Lance tapped on the cover.

Justin's face fell. "Oh. Did I do something? Cause I thought."

"I just." Lance sighed. "I don't want you to think it's some form of rent. Or something. So, I thought, options."

Justin snarled, "I'm clear, okay? Okay? God. We're, we're sleeping together. No damned strings attached. Stop coddling me. I'm sleeping in your bed. I'm sleeping with you when you're here. Okay?"

Lance nodded. He tapped the bed again. "Just trying to be nice or something."

Justin grabbed Lance's hand and pulled him out of the room. "Stop being nice to me like this."

Lance went out drinking with Chris and Joey and they ended up back to Joey's place. Justin had said he was tired and was asleep, presumably, at Lance's condo. Lance rubbed his eyes. He was definitely drunk. He said, "Guys, I have a thing."

Joey said, "A thing?"

Lance thought he must have drunk too much to be seriously considering what he was thinking about saying. He rubbed his eyes again. "This is my thing. I knew Justin before."

Chris looked up and glared. "You evil fuck."

Joey blinked. "Huh? Before? Before what?"

"Before. Before this. I, you know. Justin's old job. Me."

Joey rubbed his beard. "Me. Lost."

Chris slammed his bottle down on the table. "Joey, you dumb fuck. Lance paid Justin for sex. Back when Justin was a whore." Chris glared at Lance and leaned over the table a little. "How often, Lance?"

Lance played with his beer bottle. "Well, you know, a lot. Remember what Justin said about still seeing one of his regulars even after he quit? That would be me."

Joey said, "That's just wrong. Man, you're not. You're still sleeping with him."

"I'm not paying him anymore. He wants to be with me. Trust me, I keep telling him he doesn't have to." Lance was never having scotch again.

Chris threw a bottle against the door and Lance jumped up. Chris said, "You fuck. It's fucking wrong and Justin's not some fucking toy and you shouldn't have done it."

Joey said, "Is it like, are you in love with him? Like some hot stripper?"

Chris smacked his hand against the tabletop. "No, Joey, Lance is not in love with Justin. That's not even close to the situation."

Lance backed away from the table and leaned against the wall. "What's so fucking bad about it? You guys have both gotten hookers. I was, I was vanilla. I didn't want anything kinky and I didn't hurt him. He hit on me, he was the one dragging me into bed when he started working for y'all. So." Lance paused and watched Chris calming down. "I just wanted to get laid. Okay? And I wanted you guys to know now. Because I'm stupid drunk." Lance called a cab and went home.

Joey and Chris were pissed at him for a few days, and Lance saw Joey pull Justin aside and then Chris do the same ten minutes later. Justin flopped down next to Lance on the couch after talking with Chris and said, "So you told 'em about our sordid past, huh?"

Lance nodded. Justin kissed his cheek and said, "Dude. Don't sweat it."

They were rehearsing still and one night over dinner, Chris said, "See, I think it would be easier for girls, for girl hookers. Cause how do you get hard if the guy's all skanky?"

Justin shrugged. "Well, you don't need to get hard a lot of the time, anyway. Not for just a blowjob and getting fucked."

Chris said, "But when you needed to be turned-on? Like guys who wanted to be fucked or something? And they were all skanky?"

Justin shrugged again. "It's not that hard." Justin grinned a little and rolled his eyes. "I had a very active fantasy life and I am only twenty, man. I'd just picture someone else. Or think about the money. Sometimes I'd pretend it was my boyfriend, my mythical boyfriend, and we'd just got home from a movie or something." Justin looked down and played with laces on his shoes. "But mostly, you just picture someone else." Lance wondered if Justin had been picturing someone else all those times with him, and then thought probably not.

*

They had a meeting right before the rehearsal and studio time were about to start, and Joey requested that Justin not be there. JC did come, because Lance wanted to bring him on to help with the managing, and he wanted to clear that with the guys. JC was staying with Lance and he started telling Lance a story about how when JC got up, Justin had been in the kitchen, some story about Justin stretching and showing off a hickey from Lance. JC had tried to be nice, and Lance wasn't really listening at all. He looked up from the papers in front of him and smiled at JC and JC said, "You're not paying attention."

Lance said sorry but then Joey and Chris came in. They were fine with JC coming on, Chris seemed to really like JC so that was good. Lance mentioned that he might be helping out with some other bands but that Joey and Chris would always come first and that was okay, too.

Joey and Chris wanted to bring Justin into the band. Not salaried player, but part of the band, one-third partner, the whole kit and kaboodle. Lance argued with them, because that was his job. He pointed out that this would reduce their royalties, that they'd only know Justin a few months. Chris and Joey held firm and Lance was glad, really. It would be nice, actually, because then Justin would be in a position to fire him, and no one could say Lance was exploiting him.

Lance got home to the condo and found Justin face-down on his bed, asleep. He kissed Justin's cheek and went back to the living room to make notes on all the contracts and things they'd need to do in the next few days to get everything finalized. Chris and Joey had said they didn't want to start recording until Justin was officially in and Lance wanted the recording to start as soon as possible.

Joey, Chris and JC came over and asked if Lance had told Justin yet about what they wanted. Lance was going on about how of course, he hadn't told Justin, he was waiting for all of them and this was just one of those awkward times when sleeping with Justin and working with Justin collided, when he heard Justin saying, "What the fuck is going on? What haven't you told me?"

Justin stood in the doorway of the bedroom, hair rumpled, his hand in his front pocket. Lance was pretty sure Justin was clutching his switchblade. Justin carried his knife everywhere and Lance had had no idea until right after Justin had been hired and they'd all gone to the airport to fly out to Chicago for the first show. Justin had looked at the security and said, "They're serious about this shit, huh?" Lance had said an emphatic yes and Justin had taken the knife out of his pocket and put it in one of the bags to be checked. As soon as they got their bags in Chicago, he'd opened the bag and pocketed the knife again. Lance couldn't always spot the thing, but he was sure Justin always had it. And Justin stood in the doorway, playing with it in his pocket staring at all of them with narrow eyes and a snarl on his face.

JC said quietly, "Calm down, Justin. It's good news. Chris and Joey wanted to be the ones to tell you."

Joey walked over and hugged Justin hard, grinning, like Justin wasn't a hairsbreadth away from knifing them all, and said, "Justin, we want you in the band. All the way, not on salary, part of the band. One-third partner, the whole shebang. We weren't gonna let Lance tell you that, man."

Justin grinned and said, "Really?" Chris hugged him, too, and Justin said, "I just woke up and y'all were talking about telling me something and I knew you had a meeting without me because JC told me." Justin paused. "That's really fucking cool."

Two days later they had the contracts signed and all the hard work was done. Lance had even sent Justin to another lawyer, a guy who hated Lance with a passion, to have the contract checked over so Justin knew for sure he was getting an okay deal. Signed, sealed, finished. They went to some club downtown to celebrate, a club owned by a boyband singer whom Lance had met a couple of times.

Lance, JC and Justin were standing against a wall, watching the dance floor and Justin was saying, "I'm a gold star fag, man, no interest in girls at all, ever," when the owner, Howie, walked over and frowned at Lance.

"Lance, this is not kosher, not at all." Howie looked over at Justin, who was tense and staring at his shoes intently.

Howie pulled Lance a few feet away while Lance said, "What the fuck, Howie? Excuse me?"

Howie said quietly, "Look, Lance, I know who that guy is. I know what he does and we've had the cops in here the last few nights, you can't bring someone like that here."

Lance raised an eyebrow and stood up straight so he loomed a little over Howie. He said, "The only way you'd know what Justin USED TO DO is if you hired him, Howie --"

Howie said, "It wasn't me. It was one of the other guys and damnit --"

"Look," Lance said. "We're here tonight to celebrate Justin getting into the band, we just signed him up permanently, he doesn't do his old job anymore, he does this. And this is bullshit, are the Orlando cops so familiar with retired LA hookers that you need to come over here and bug us?"

Howie sighed. "He's retired? Cause, really, we have had the cops a lot lately. This is a clean club, Lance."

Lance looked over at Justin, standing with slumped shoulders and nervous eyes in his tight jeans and thin black button-down shirt. JC was petting Justin's shoulder and looking more nervous than Justin and Justin actually knew what was going down. Lance snarled, "He doesn't even look like a hooker, Howie, this is crap. You're making your patrons very uncomfortable and we're not doing shit."

"I saw him do drugs when he was working, I don't want drugs here. You say he's retired, I say good. I'm sorry I bothered you." Howie patted Lance on the shoulder. Lance didn't bat his hand away. Howie retreated into the crowd and Lance went back to Justin and JC.

Justin said, "He kicking me out?"

Lance said, "Nobody's kicking you out. Fuckers." He grabbed Justin's hand and pulled him to the dance floor. "Let's dance."

Justin was tense even as Lance gripped his waist, kissed his neck. Lance raised his head a little and said in Justin's ear, "Baby." Justin relaxed against Lance.

At dinner on the third day in the studio, Chris said to Justin, "Did you ever fuck any celebrities?"

Justin shrugged. "Not really. I mean, towards the end of my time on the job, Put, my guy, he was moving into more of that high-end shit."

Joey looked up from his beer. "Your pimp was named Put? Put the pimp?"

Justin smiled a little. "His name was Putnam, and he wanted us to call him our 'guy,' cause he thought Put the Pimp sounded stupid. So yeah, Put the pimp. Put knew a guy at the place where y'all," Justin waved at Lance and JC sitting across from him, "worked. And he knew some chick at SKG, too, so he was trying to be the preferred guy for stars looking for guys to bang, but he'd just started on that. So. I did a boybander once." Justin glanced over at Lance. "Mouthy blond kid. Kept me in his fucking hotel room for two days and never once got me food, just gave me coke and booze. Fucker. I broke into the mini-bar for crackers after the first day."

Chris looked serious. "He kept you in his hotel room?"

"Not like prisoner, just, he kept saying, 'stay, stay.' Shit, Put made me charge the kid by the hour, I wasn't complaining. Would have been nice if the brat had ordered room service for me, though." Justin rubbed his chin. "Oh, and a rapper. Some studio execs. A soap opera actor. Some sitcom guy. But mostly nobodies."

*

The recording was going well, really well. Justin wrote with Joey and Chris and some by himself and they had great songs. Fucking hits, Lance was sure. The A&R guy from the label came by and nodded happily. Tyler, the A&R guy, looked at Justin and smiled wide. "We should have pictures of the band on the album, okay?"

Lance nodded. "Sure."

Tyler watched Justin playing an acoustic bass and making obscene remarks to Chris. Justin laughed easily with Chris and Joey. Tyler said, "And pictures of him especially."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "He's gay."

Tyler smirked and said, "Okay." Tyler looked at Lance. "Does he have a boyfriend?"

Lance looked at Justin behind the screen. Tyler was a complete ass. Lance said, "He's seeing someone."

*

The album was good, best they'd ever done. Chris and Joey had always sounded good, but this was a whole new level. Lance was excited, the A&R guys were excited, even the record company didn't seem to be completely lying when they said they were excited.

They made a video, with an expensive director. Justin sat and waited and looked bored. The assistant director looked over at Justin and smiled lewdly. Justin looked down at his lap and played with his jeans. Lance walked over and sat down next to Justin. "What's up, Just?"

"I know that guy. Like, like I used to know you." Justin didn't look up.

Lance blinked. "Justin, anyone who recognizes you, it's cause they hired you. You feel free to wink and remind him of that. Stupid fucker. You're the goddamned talent, Justin, you can get his horny ass fired."

Justin finally looked up and smiled. "Seriously?"

"Well, I wouldn't go so far to have him fired. But, you're the talent, Justin, don't you forget it. Who wrote this song we're making the video for?" Lance raised an eyebrow.

"Joey." Justin paused. "Me, a little." Lance tapped Justin's knee. Justin said, "Me, 50%."

Lance stood up and looked at the assistant director. "I'm gonna go hassle that little fuck. Works for you?"

Justin said, "You won't let him screw with me?" Justin had a small smile on his face.

Lance said, "No one fucks with the talent, Justin." Justin winced for a split second and then smiled again. Lance said, "No one fucks with my talent," and Justin smirked. Lance walked over and made the assistant director cry.

*
Carson picked the single as his bonus video for TRL, and Lance laughed at those three guys getting the teenybopper treatment but made sure everybody was clean and relatively sober for the afternoon show.

Coming back the countdown, Britney Spears and a silver chair like a pole dancer, Joey's tongue half down to the floor and Carson slugged Joey's arm, said, "Not bad, huh?" and Joey nodded.

Carson raised his eyebrows at Justin, clearly looking for a second opinion. The kids in the audience weren't too quiet and outside every other second there was a whoosh of screaming and Justin shrugged and laughed and said, "Not bad for a girl." Carson did a double-take and Lance stood in the greenroom with sweaty palms because there was out and then there was out and they'd all known, sooner or later, but Jesus, they finally got some MTV play and now there was this.

"For a girl?" Carson said, carefully, but with a joking lilt in his voice. Fucker had the joking thing down like Barbara Walters and her empathy and it worked every damn time, Lance thought.

"Nuthin' against Britney," Justin said, "I just like them a little. Uh, manlier." And Chris laughed hard, the sound echoing over the hushed crowd.

Carson looked into the camera. "Girls and boys, welcome to live television." They went to commercial and Chris leaned in to whisper in Justin's ear and Joey slapped Carson on the back.

*

The record company flipped out and screamed but then flipped again to happy when they saw the press. Everyone thought it was so cute. They got blurbs in all the music press and the gossip mags and requests for in-depth interviews. Lance and JC sorted through everything and they had a long meeting, even inviting one of the record company fucks, to figure out what to take and what to ignore. The album climbed into the top ten for two weeks, and the video was all over TRL.

The night after the meeting, Justin lay next to Lance and said quietly, "I've been arrested five times. And, um, one was dropped and two were when I was a minor, but yeah. I have a record."

And wasn't that a prime little of fuck-up of Lance's to have never asked before. He hadn't thought Justin would ever be getting the kind of press attention where anyone would look up his record. But after TRL. Lance said, "Well, we can work it out."

"I can just, you know, that Rolling Stone thing. I'll just tell 'em. Look at, uh, Rupert Everett."

"He made an incredibly bad movie with Madonna." Lance sighed. Probably spin it. Maybe cover it up, Lance wasn't sure.

"He met Madonna, though, that's pretty cool." Justin laughed. "Look, whatever, it was just a job. People do things. I don't do it now. I was a whore, blah, blah, blah. I'm not proud, but I'm not. People have done worse. Mike Tyson is a rapist. Michael Jackson molested kids."

"He denies that, both of them, you know?" Lance rubbed Justin's head and sighed again. This could potentially suck big time. Lance said, "Justin, if you decide you want to do this, you should, uh, you should feel free to include me in that story. Like, it's okay. To say I used to, you know, be a john."

Justin kissed Lance. "You're sweet. And I do want to do this. They'll find out anyway."

They would find out anyway. It only took Lance two phone calls posing as a reporter from the Advocate to get Justin's arrest record. They had a band meeting and Justin told the guys of his intentions. Chris nodded and said, "Whatever you think you need to do, kid."

Lance told the record company. He sat in a room that was bigger than some of the clubs they'd played years ago and told them their new favorite bass player and media darling was a former hustler who would be saying just that to Rolling Stone in a week. One of the execs said, "Can we fire him?"

Lance took a long drink of water. "No, he's in the band. He's part of the group, permanently."

"Can we fire him anyway? People are gonna freak. He'll never be on TRL again." This from a younger A&R guy.

"We can't fire him anyway and we won't. Look," Lance paused and sipped his water again. Show no fear to the assholes around you, he thought. "People will freak for a minute. But, come on. Rupert Everett used to be a whore. Jewel used to be homeless. Rob Thomas, too. How many rappers you got on this label who practically boast about being drug dealers in the past? Or gangsters? Justin used to be a whore. How many musicians, period, you got on your label who've boasted about hiring a hooker?" Lance sighed. "He used to be a whore, he isn't anymore." Lance, on the other hand, Lance still was and he finished his glass of water and poured himself another.

The only female executive in the room said, "Before, he was a cute boy. A cute gay boy. Now he's a dirty hooker. He had sex. People like gay people unthreatening, sexless and cute. Like Will Truman. People are gonna freak, he used to fuck people for money. Did he, it's not even a cute Pretty Woman thing is it?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "He worked the streets for two years, in Nashville and then in Los Angeles. He started when he was sixteen, okay? He ran away to be a star and he ended up doing whatever to get food. After that he was working appointments. I have no idea what you mean by cute Pretty Woman thing -- I don't think he ever fucked Richard Gere."

They bitched at him for thirty minutes. They called Lance a lousy manager for letting Justin into the group, they threatened to drop all promo for the album and there were nasty noises made about recoupables. Lance bitched back and it ended in a draw. There wouldn't be a third single from the new album unless the record sales and concert ticket sales stayed strong after the interview went public. Lance bit back the impulse to say, "And this is different from your old plan how?"

He told the guys the record company took the news well.

When the Rolling Stone reporter came, Lance sat in on the interview with Justin. When the guy asked about Justin's background, Justin sighed and then bit his lip. Justin launched into a very truncated version of the story. The reporter boggled a bit, lit a cigarette. Then he went over it, again and again. After the third round of questions, Lance drew the reporter aside and started the spin. He set up an interview with Miranda, to make Justin look more pitiful, maybe, something so it came off the way they needed. Whatever that was.

The factchecker called them three weeks later, and the two weeks after that the story was leaked. Gossipy news aplenty and they were dropped all around. From nearly every TV thing they had scheduled and all the radio shit was suddenly from shock jock assholes. People made jokes.

MTV made the same noises that meant no as everyone else. One of the producers said to Lance, "What are we gonna do? Have him on talking to Carson while six year old Backstreet fans are asking mommy what a rentboy is?" Lance didn't repeat any of that crap to the guys but Justin made a face when Lance noted that the Tonight Show had moved from maybe to definitely not. Justin said, "Do they think I'm gonna come out and give the viewers all the best whore tips for getting your man off quickly?"

Lance blushed and said, "It's fine. We could use a little cooling off period and we'll be fine for the next album."

*

Besides the gay press, the only other thing they were offered was one MTV thing, two weeks after the shit had hit the fan. One of their True Life documentaries about teenage prostitutes. Justin sighed and put his head down on the table. Lance rubbed the back of Justin's neck and said, "They guaranteed me that they would also film the soundcheck and part of the show and that it would be in the final cut. So it would be publicity for everyone."

Joey said, "Man, you don't have to. We're doing fine. You don't have to, Justin."

Chris said, "Completely your decision, man."

Justin looked up and said, "It's fine. I'll do it."

The producer interviewed Justin in a sterile little room crowded with the camera people and sound guys. Lance stood behind the director and smiled at Justin when Justin looked up. Justin talked about growing up dirt poor and running away to Nashville when he was sixteen to try and be a singer. Justin said, "And I'd been basically homeless for two months when I met this guy. And he said he could get me into parties and shit, and I'd meet people. I was pretty sure I knew what he meant and I was right. But I had enough money to buy food for once and it wasn't that hard."

After six months in Nashville, Justin had taken a ride with a john to Los Angeles. Justin looked down at his hands and said, "I tried a few auditions, but I didn't have any money again and the kids I was staying with, they knew someone. So, you know, standing on a corner waiting around. And I did that for a year or so and then my guy -- I moved up to appointments and parties and shit like that." Lance kept picturing Justin on MTV, words beeped out every other minute and sighed.

The producer said, "It must have been scary."

Justin looked up and glared. "Sure, but you know, I could take care of myself. There were scary parts and I have all the bad stories you'd think I would." Justin inhaled sharply and lit a cigarette.

The producer made a sympathetic noise and said, "And then you quit?"

Justin took a drag off his cigarette. He relaxed a little and said, "I quit. Which was not easy, in the sense of it's not the easiest job to walk away from. It took, like, a week to recover from that." Lance flinched and thought he hadn't even noticed. He'd been on the road, he was sure, because he wouldn't have done anything if Justin had seemed off. He was fairly sure of that. Justin said, "So I told myself, I promised myself I would go on fifty auditions, really do it and if it didn't work out then, I would, I dunno, work at McDonalds. And the one I got, the job I finally got, that was my thirty-ninth audition in four months."

Lance smiled because Justin looked up, looked past the cameraman to find him. Justin fiddled with his cigarette and the producer asked him if he told people about his old job. Justin grinned. "I don't really have to now, do I? It's the only thing most people know about me these days." Justin paused and said, "My boyfriend was telling me once he was a telemarketer and that's pretty socially frowned-upon, too. It's probably more looked down on than whoring, so, it could be worse."

Lance tugged at the cuffs of his shirt and thought Chris would probably kill him if he ever found out that Lance's first thought had been 'who's the boyfriend.' He wondered how long Justin had been thinking Lance was his boyfriend. Lance felt like a complete asshole.

The producer leaned forward and said, "Your boyfriend? Was it hard, how did you tell him?"

Justin smiled for the first time since they had sat down and Lance wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. Justin said, "We, uh. I first met him when I was working a party, so he knew before we ever hooked up. He's totally cool with everything." Lance shoved his hands in his pocket and decided he would tell Chris so Chris would give him the ass-kicking he deserved.

The producer asked more questions and Justin stopped smiling. After two hours they were finally done with the interview. The producer wanted shots of Justin down on the street where he used to work. Justin rolled his eyes and said, "Fine." He looked belligerent but when Lance put his hand on Justin's back as they walked to the cars, Justin trembled and sighed. Lance thought he was proving to be a pretty shitty boyfriend.

The producers had looked up Justin's arrest record and wanted to film Justin on the street where he'd been picked up by the cops when he was eighteen. Justin pressed his lips together and looked around. Lunchtime for the rest of the world, Lance thought, and he wanted to take Justin to out to a fancy restaurant and pay for everything. Justin sighed and squared his shoulders. He said, "Should I look tortured or pensive?" as he lit another cigarette. The producer launched into some explanation about not just using static shots and they could maybe go somewhere else. Justin cut her off and said, "I'll walk over here, right?"

Justin grabbed his hand as they got back into the cars to go to the soundcheck. Justin just looked out the window and held Lance's hand. Lance talked on the phone to JC about some new band JC had found. Four girls, played their own instruments, "Like the Donnas," JC said, "only not so punk. Power-pop."

"With an edge," Lance said lightly. He squeezed Justin's hand and Justin just kept staring out the window. Lance said, "They're good? Gonna last, you think?" Justin squeezed Lance's hand but he still just stared blankly out the window.

JC breezed into the soundcheck and sat down next to Lance. He passed Lance the demo for the girl group and grinned at the camera crew. JC said, "Justin didn't enjoy this morning one bit, did he?"

Justin was playing with his head down while the cameraman milled around. Lance sighed. "Fuckers. But we get this on film, too, so."

When the soundcheck was done, Chris sat down next to JC and dragged Justin into his lap. "Justinbaby, we should buy you a new bass guitar," Chris said. Justin giggled a little and tried to push off. JC grabbed one of Justin's legs to keep him pinned to Chris and Chris smiled. "You saying you don't want a new pretty bass? We could get you one that's orange, a bright orange like a fireball."

Justin said, "You're weird." He wriggled away and leaned against Lance. "Cute, but weird."

JC said, "I find Chris pretty normal. Maybe I hang with a weird crowd." Justin actually laughed and Lance grabbed Justin's hand. The show was mostly fine, the cameras were around for the first few songs and filmed the performance of the next single. Lance sat and talked to the producer after the camera crew and sound people had left and didn't snarl about the stupid street scene to make sure the happy ending got on the damn documentary.

They were in LA and Justin just got into Lance's car as they left because, well, of course, he would. Lance suddenly thought as he was driving home that maybe he should have got a hotel room or something. He wondered if it would be weird or yucky for Justin to be back in the condo after the day Justin had had. Lance felt like an asshole all over again because he'd never thought of that the last ten times he'd brought Justin back to his place.

When they got inside Justin just walked straight back to the bedroom and stripped before getting in bed. When Lance got under the covers, Justin rolled over to lay half on top on Lance. Lance said, "What do you wanna --"

Justin said, "Whatever you want. I'm kinda tired, but."

Lance said, "No, no. I just, well, we've done it a lot of times the way I want, when you factor in back when I was, uh, paying, so I wanted to. What you want, okay?"

Justin was quiet for a long minute. He wrapped himself more around Lance and said, "This is good. It's not, okay, I like sex fine, I like sex with you, but sometimes I just wanna get to this part."

Justin shifted a little and Lance moved his arm to rest his hand on Justin's head. Justin sighed and said, "And it's just. Fuckers. Like, to begin with, everyone pays for sex. In some ways. Porn, models, strippers, whatever. And everyone's so fucked up about sex and what I did is illegal and fucked up and pitiable, but not so much since I'm a guy but some porn actress gets to be a trophy girlfriend and shit. There should be some kind of fucking whore union, because then you wouldn't be so worried about all the fucking creeps."

Lance closed his eyes and rubbed Justin's head. He'd once read about some program where men who'd been arrested for soliciting prostitutes had had to listen to prostitutes talk about their pasts and things they'd done. Lance thought it probably worked really well. Lance was feeling pretty glad Justin didn't want to do anything tonight.

Justin said, "And you know, fine. I have all the shitty stories they want. I've been knifed and threatened with a gun and had sick little assholes who wouldn't use a fucking condom and then I'm the one sweating out a shitload of fucking tests. And it's always the assholes with STDs who are like, no, no, I don't wanna use a condom. Can't I just pay more? And, no, you can't just pay more. Asshole stalkers who are all come with me, come with me and what can you do because you call the cops and they don't give a shit and Put's all, do they pay? And well, yes, but then he keeps saying how he likes my eyes..." Justin sighed and burrowed closer to Lance. Lance wondered if he could convince Chris to maybe kill him, or just severely wound. Maybe Lance would just step in front of bus in an orgy of guilt and save Chris the trouble.

Justin said, "And mostly it's just these pathetic losers who won't admit they're gay or fucked up drunks." Justin kissed Lance's chest. "Present company excluded, obviously."

Lance sighed. Justin was quiet for a moment and then said, "And you know what? Survival is a skill. Like, I survived all of it. So it's not like I don't have skills." Justin kissed Lance's chest again and said, "Now. Now, I'm gonna fucking go to sleep and this day will finally be over."

Lance stared at the ceiling for a long time. The next two weeks he had a lot of traveling to do, New York, LA, the tour, and he didn't so much avoid Justin as not spend time with him. It wasn't intentional, really, it was more that Lance had suddenly discovered he had a boyfriend and that prostitution wasn't all hot boys who came at any hour of the night. And he should have realized both things a lot sooner than he did, so Lance slept alone and stared at whatever ceiling loomed above him.

Lance had been home for an hour when he heard a knock at the door. He opened the door and Justin came in. He immediately pushed Lance against the wall.

"We need to get something clear," Justin said. Justin unbuttoned Lance's pants and rubbed his hand against Lance's dick. Lance shuddered. Justin said, "My list of top 100 traumatic moments does not include you."

"Top 100," Lance said. Justin licked Lance's neck. "Why would I think that? And you probably have a long list, though. Longer than mine."

Justin said, "You don't even make the top 400."

Lance said, "Are you sure?"

Justin sighed. He moved his hand slowly over Lance's dick and pulled down Lance's pants with his other hand. "I'm sure," Justin said. "And why aren't you wearing underwear?"

Lance said, "Okay. Point taken. I guess it kinda sucks not to make it with your boyfriend for two weeks, right?" Justin tensed when Lance said it. Lance put his hands around Justin's waist. Lance said, "Do you wanna do this here?"

Justin relaxed and kissed Lance. Justin said, "This is what I want to do. Let's do this now."

*

Lance watched the charts. He looked over Soundscan like it was a Bible, moreso than usual. The album dipped a bit and then stayed solid at twenty thousand a week sold. Good sales. The shows continued to nearly sell out, and in some places they were able to add a second show.

He walked into the rehearsal room for the girl group JC had signed to the management firm and found the bass player and the drummer making out. They broke apart and the drummer covered her mouth. "Shit," the bass player said. "Is this gonna fuck things up?"

Lance said without thinking, "Fuck, my boyfriend used to be a hooker, I don't think this is gonna be a dealbreaker."

He was wrapped up in the moment of hearing himself say boyfriend and he didn't quite hear the drummer say, "You're dating JC?"

He stared for a second. Then he said, "Does he tell everyone that? And, wait, JC's not my boyfriend. Justin, I'm dating Justin Timberlake." That felt weird to say. But good. Okay, good.

The drummer said, "He didn't tell us, I overheard him on the phone. To someone named Chris?"

*

Lance and JC stood backstage watching Chris tune his guitar. Lance grinned and whispered to JC, "You know, he's bi."

JC blushed and looked at his feet. "Really?" His voice squeaked. "He has an ex-girlfriend."

"An ex-girlfriend, an ex-boyfriend. He's got some of both. He's, you know, very flexible. Love knows no gender, etc." Lance nudged JC. "So, you know, if you wanted to stop looking and say something."

"Am I that obvious, man?" JC was still blushing.

"Well, once I figured out that you spilling about your job that you have in common with Justin was part of your weird way of flirting." JC shuffled his feet and giggled. Lance said, "It's cute and weird. You're perfect for him."

*

Now it was like this: Lance would fly out to wherever and see the show. Then he'd get on the bus with the guys or go back to the hotel with them. On the bus, he'd sleep in Justin's bunk and in hotels he and Justin shared a room. Justin liked foreplay, lots of foreplay and taking things slow. He liked to kiss for a long time and slowly undress.

When they were on the bus, they never fucked. Justin liked to do it, but he hated the confined space of the bunk and trying to get into a decent position. On the bus it was usually just blowjobs and handjobs and humping. Lance sometimes worried that Justin liked the bus sex best because Justin loved handjobs. He arched into Lance's hand, grabbed at Lance's neck to kiss him, Justin's whole body quivering right before he came. Justin would go down on Lance or finger him and give him a handjob.

In hotel rooms, they'd fuck. Justin almost never wanted to bottom, which worked out perfectly. When Justin wanted it, he was always on his back, clawing at Lance's shoulder and panting, "Careful, careful," while Lance moved his fingers inside Justin. Justin would say "okay" when he was ready and he never liked it hard and fast. When Justin fucked Lance, it was about the same as it had been.

After, Justin would wrap himself around Lance. He'd fall asleep that way and Lance would sometimes wake up and have to move a little so his arm or leg wouldn't fall off from cut-off circulation. Even in his sleep, Justin would shift closer to Lance. It was nice, Lance thought, sleeping with Justin, warm and connected when he woke up.

*

The girl group was signed to Dreamworks for an almost decent contract, and JC and Lance made sure to have a party. Lance leaned against the bar and started counting. Six months he'd known Justin as a whore, two months as a hired hand, three months of recording the album and now the album had been out seven months. So, really, they'd been together as an actual sort of couple for a year now. They had an anniversary. Lance could check his old planner, he remembered which city they'd been in when Justin had come on to him, just not the date.

JC came over and smiled at him. "It's a good party."

"You know it." Lance grinned at JC. "Who were you on the phone with back there?"

JC looked away, pretending to look at potted plants in the corner of the restaurant. "No one."

"No one named Chris, maybe?" Lance smirked.

JC laughed and blushed. "You found me out."

"Chris is great. He likes you, I swear." Lance ordered another drink with a wave of his fingers.

"He does like me," JC said, still smiling. "He told me."

"He out and out said it?" Lance raised an eyebrow and paid the bartender without looking.

"No, that wouldn't be very Chris. But he, uh, he bought me a CD for no reason. He made sure there was nice wine at the place we went to eat, when I was out there with them for the Atlanta show? Instead of the burrito place Justin and Joey wanted. So, I'm sure he likes me." JC waved to someone and pushed off the bar. "I'm sure." Lance grinned and sipped his drink.

He checked his old planner when he got back to his condo. Taking that first night on the road as their anniversary, it would be a year in two days. And Lance would be in LA and Justin probably hadn't even noticed. Lance ordered flowers anyway, went online, and chose a Happy Anniversary bouquet.

He looked around his condo. Still the same furniture and everything he'd gotten when he moved in two years ago, when he first got the job with the firm and he was only twenty-one. Pictures of his parents, two more of his mom, one of Stacy and Ford, a few of Chris and Joey from long ago and the first platinum album presentation. One of JC and Lance at a party from a trade magazine and one group shot from a few months ago that included Justin.

It seemed wrong, somehow. Lance found an empty picture frame from a few months ago, still in the wrapping, a gift from someone back when ornate picture frames were all the vogue for gifts. Lance dug through his old Rolling Stones to find the right issue and he knew which one he wanted. Two months ago, in Random Notes, a picture of the guys and Lance backstage. Lance ripped out the page and found his scissors. He trimmed out Chris and Joey and slipped the truncated picture into the frame. Justin had his arm around Lance's waist in the picture, and Lance was smiling, cheeks flushed. Lance remembered that he'd had a few beers before the picture was taken. Lance placed the picture with the ones of his family and the old ones of Chris and Joey. Because that's where he could find space, he thought. And it looked nice there. It fit.

Lance made a note in his planner to get an actual print of the photo and not just a magazine page.

*

He took a redeye to Des Moines and couldn't sleep on the flight. One year and three weeks, he thought, he and Justin had been together, sort of, for fifty-five weeks. He got in damned early, and the cab driver wanted to talk about his twenty kids and Lance was pissed off by the time he got to the hotel. He picked up a key to Justin's room and went upstairs. Justin was face down on the bed, still dressed and wearing a rumpled bandanna on his head. Lance sighed and sat down next to Justin. His beloved passed-out boyfriend.

"Justin," he said quietly. Lance ran his hand down Justin's neck.

Justin stirred and muttered, "Really motherfuckin' hungover. Like, kill me now."

"Good to see you." Lance smiled and leaned down. He kissed Justin on the cheek. Justin smelled like sweat and stale cigarettes and alcohol. Lance sat up and patted the bed. "I'm gonna go bug the other guys."

"S'okay. See you later," Justin muttered.

Lance had made sure to get a key for Joey and Chris's room, too, so he just went in. Both of them were awake and JC was there, too. Drunk off their asses and the room smelled like Justin, only worse. Lance sighed and leaned against the door. "Y'all need to get some sleep. Seriously."

Joey said, "Lance. Lance. Man. I should tell you --"

JC said, "No, Joey, you should not. Stop now."

Chris looked up from the cards he had spread on the bed and said nothing. Joey said, "Justin loves you. Like, wow, loves you. It's kinda scary."

JC said, "Shut up now, Joey."

Lance sighed again and rubbed his forehead. "That's great, Joey."

"Dude, seriously. He said he'd been in love with you since, like, the second time you hired him. Which is kinda sick when you think about it. Like, back when he was a whore. He loved you back then and he said he quit that whoring thing because of you and that's how much he loves you. Like, you're his knight in shining armor, or something," Joey said, rambling on as he wandered around the room.

Lance looked at his shoes. Jesus fuck.

JC said, "He was really drunk. Lance, he was really drunk. He didn't mean it."

Lance opened the door and slammed it as he walked back to his room. Justin's room. When he opened the door, Justin was standing by the window, rubbing his eyes. "Justin," Lance said.

Justin kept rubbing his eyes. "I'm up, I'm up. I feel like shit, man, I'm so fucking hungover."

"Justin." Lance stared at him. Justin turned around and looked at him. Justin bit his lip. Lance said, "I was talking to Joey and he said you said. Something about me. You uh."

Justin stared. He rubbed his face and said, "You're gonna break up with me now, aren't you?"

Lance started to say no, he was frowning and confused and then Justin burst into tears. Lance had never seen Justin cry and he had no idea what to do. Justin pushed past Lance and ran out of the room. Lance sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. Fuck, he thought. Justin was crying and he couldn't think straight.

He heard a noise from the hallway, banging, and he ran out the open door. He heard more banging coming from Joey and Chris's room. When he opened the door, he saw Chris leaning against the wall, looking scared. Things were broken and shattered on the floor, a lamp, some glasses. Then he stepped into the room and saw that Justin had Joey pushed against the wall. Justin had Joey pinned with his forearm against Joey's neck, in his other hand he had his knife out and open.

"Justin," JC said calmly. "Justin, it's okay."

Justin shuddered and sobbed. He pushed harder against Joey's neck and Joey made little coughing noises. "You weren't supposed to fucking tell him. He's gonna fucking dump me. You stupid fucker."

Lance said, as calmly as he could manage, "Justin, put the knife down."

Justin whirled around and put his hand to his face. "Fine, fine, just take it." Justin shoved the open knife in Lance's outstretched hand and ran out.

Lance closed his hand around the knife, felt the blade against his palm and sat down on the bed. Joey was still coughing and sitting against the wall. Chris came over and put his arm around Lance and Lance dropped the knife on the floor. "Jesus fuck," Lance said. He stared at the thin red line on his palm.

JC said, "I'm gonna go look. Look for Justin, okay?" Lance nodded.

Chris said, "It's not your fault, Lance. He just wigged out. You know, touring does that."

Joey laughed and then started coughing again. After a few moments he said, "Remember when Chris slammed my hand against the van cause I wouldn't give him five bucks for a pack of smokes? In, uh, Nebraska, right?"

Chris laughed. "Nebraska. Man." Chris stood up and found cigarettes on the bureau. He stepped carefully over the broken glass on the floor. He lit two and handed one to Lance.

They smoked in silence for a while. Lance watched the blood on his hand form into beads and drip on the carpet. Chris looked over and said, "Man. Hello. Let's get you some bandages or something."

Lance kept smoking as Chris cleaned the cut and put on antibiotic and wrapped Lance's hand in a bandage from some first aid kit Chris had found in the bathroom.

JC came back in and pushed his hair back. Like Hugh Grant, Lance thought. Hugh Grant and his hooker. Lance sighed. JC said, "I couldn't find him."

Lance stood up and said, "I'll look for him. JC, can you, uh?" Lance waved at the mess in the room. JC nodded. Lance went out to the hallway and looked around. Left and right and to the right was a doorway to stairs or something. He went through the door and saw stairs up and stairs down. He went up and found Justin on the roof, staring out over the edge.

"Justin," he said.

Justin turned around and squatted on his heels. He looked up at Lance and Lance could see he'd been crying. Was still crying, tears leaking from his eyes, his nose running and his face was red and blotchy. Justin looked like hell. Lance said, "Justin, I'm not --"

"Look," Justin said. "Maybe I was in love with you. I was in love with you. I love you and I used to maybe imagine that when I went over there, like we'd been on a date or something and it was easy because you liked to make out and fuck, almost like we were boyfriends or something. So it was easy to pretend. I'm stupid, I know, okay. Like, what kind of dumbfuck whore falls in love with a john just because he's nice to you?"

"I wasn't nice --" Lance said.

"You were nice, you just paid me and didn't want anything kinky and you weren't all weird or mean and you didn't pretend to care and bug me with questions. You were totally nice." Lance thought that was a completely fucked-up definition of the word.

Justin sniffled and wiped his nose with his t-shirt. He said, "And I knew it was, like, time to quit. Like, when you're so completely stupid and fall in love with a fucking john, it's time to go. So it wasn't like Joey made it sound, however he made it sound, okay? I'm not psycho."

Lance said, "Justin. I'm. Let's go back to the room, okay?" He put his arm around Justin and pulled him gently down the stairs. Justin was still crying a little and Lance felt incredibly old. He made sure Justin was sitting on the bed and went to the mini-bar to find crackers. "Eat this, okay?"

Justin sniffled again and ate the crackers. He wiped his mouth and rubbed his face again with his dirty t-shirt. "Lance?"

"Justin, you should, why don't you lie down and sleep?"

"Am I fired?" Justin looked at his hands.

Lance sighed. He rubbed Justin's back and pushed him down a little, until he was lying on the bed. "You're not fired, just get some sleep. We can't fire you, remember? You signed contracts." Justin made a mewling noise and closed his eyes.

Justin still smelled sweaty and hungover, and his t-shirt had wet streaks where he'd blown his nose. Lance rubbed Justin's hip until Justin fell asleep, or something close to it. JC, Chris and Joey came in and hovered around the bed.

Chris said, "Is he, uh, man, he should maybe."

"Now you're even talking like JC, man," Joey said.

Lance snorted and shook his head. "Look, guys? Seriously, get out. I know you're all concerned, but he's my boyfriend, I love him and I can actually take care of him, so scoot." Lance paused. "Also, I'm the manager here, you're the talent. Okay? We'll meet later."

JC put his arm around Chris to lead him out. Joey poked his head back in and said, "You love him?"

Lance glared at him. "Yes, now get out." Lance stretched out next to Justin and watched him sleep. A few minutes after Joey left, Justin opened his eyes. Lance said, "Go back to sleep."

Justin whispered, "You love me?"

Lance smiled. "You, yeah. I'm not gonna be, I won't be saying it a lot. But I do, I love you. Sleep?"

"I kinda wigged out." Justin blinked and kept staring at Lance.

"Yup. It's not the end of the world. People get tour crazy and shit. Chris once sprained Joey's hand over a pack of cigarettes. You should apologize. And we'll, we're so going to meet and talk about it. Cause you know, you can't wig out like this. But, Justin. Later. Now, sleep." Lance wrapped his hand around Justin's hand.

Justin said, "You love me."

Lance said, "That doesn't fix things."

Justin smiled. "It makes me happy, though."

"Yeah. But, Justin, I'm not. I can't save anybody, I can't save you, I'm not, like, special or your savior or anything right? I just wanna be your boyfriend." Lance tried not to frown.

"Right. No, it's fine. I mean, I saved myself." Justin grinned.

"You have survival skills."

Justin intertwined his hand with Lance's. He said, "I saved myself. I just wanna be your boyfriend, too. And you love me."

"Yeah." Lance squeezed Justin's hand. "I do love you. But, um, also, I didn't. I fell in love with you after, like, after you were in the band. Not when you were hooking."

Justin closed his eyes. "That's good, that's perfect. That's what I wanted. I wanted, I had this dream, you know? That I'd get out and we'd be equals and then we'd fall in love. That was my dream." Justin giggled and shuffled closer to Lance. "Remember that part, from Pretty Woman? 'Welcome to Hollywood. Everybody comes to Hollywood got a dream. What's your dream?' The dream was you and me, but we were equals and no one saved anybody. Hollywood." Justin leaned his head against Lance's.

"We're in Des Moines." Lance almost laughed.

"But we've got a little slice of Hollywood, you and me. I mean, we're a Hollywood love story. So." Justin's voice trailed off as he fell asleep.

Lance said, "Sleep." This, he thought, is life. Hollywood or Des Moines. Justin made a little noise and shifted closer to Lance. This is the life, Lance thought, and kissed Justin's cheek.

THE END.

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