It was one of those rare days when they were both off and home, with nothing to do and nowhere to be.
JC cherished these moments because – as they were two fifths of one of the hottest pop bands in history– they were few and far between. The group being on hiatus, well, let’s just say that had made things worse, not better, as far as seeing each other went.
First, Lance had gone off to Russia to train, and then, when he’d come back JC had been involved in his work for the Drumline soundtrack and then his own album. Sure, they’d had brief snatches of time together between then, but rarely had they had a morning just to sit, share the Sunday paper, a pot of coffee, and a brief momentary peace.
The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted that peace. Lance picked up the cordless, glanced briefly at the caller id display, and then handed the phone over to JC.
“It’s your folks.”
“Hey,” JC smiled into the phone. He’d express mailed his newly completed album to his parents yesterday, so he knew exactly what they were calling about, and couldn’t wait to hear their reaction to it.
“Joshua, would you care to explain this,” there was a brief, shuffling pause, “100 Ways song to me.”
“Uhm.”
“I mean, I managed to overlook the hand thing you did on national television to those girls, but this.”
“It’s just a song, Mom. It doesn’t really mean anything.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. Joshua, I thought that I’d taught you to treat sex with more respect than that.”
“I didn’t mean-“
“I’m talking now, Josh.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I know we’ve always expressed to you that it was good to be open about sex, but Joshua, does the whole world really need to know that much about your private life? Do I?”
JC wasn’t quite sure what – if any – answer would be the right one to that so he settled for a simple, “No, ma’am.”
“What were you thinking?”
“Well – I – uh…”
“Your younger brother and sister heard that song.”
“They’re in their twenties now, Mom. They know about stuff like that.”
“Are you trying to insinuate that Heather and Tyler have had those types of experiences, Josh?”
“Uhm-“
“Because, I don’t think they have, and you trying to push the focus off on them by saying that is wrong.”
JC glared at Lance, who, having caught the drift of the conversation sat snickering across from him.
“Joshua.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“How am I supposed to explain this to your grandparents?”
“I.” Honestly, JC hadn’t given that a thought when he’d recorded the song. “Hmmm.”
“Yes, hmmm. They’ve just now settled into you and Lance being together, and now this. And speaking of Lance, how does he feel about you putting your sexual escapades with some woman,” JC winced at that, “on a record for everyone to hear?”
Without thinking, JC replied, “100 Ways is about Lance.”
Dead silence greeted this revelation and then, “I am never eating in your kitchen again, Joshua. Not ever.”
His head hit the table with a solid thunk. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Does Diane know about this?”
JC started to say no, but then Lance bent and grinned at him. “Yeah, she does. Lance told her the other day.”
He danced out of reach when Lance went for the phone.
“You should call her and talk to her about it, Mom. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”
He ran into the living room and put the couch between himself and his suddenly irate boyfriend.
“No, Mom. I’m sure Lance won’t mind. In fact, he just gave me a thumbs up about the idea.”
JC faked right and then went left when Lance dove that way. He scurried down the hall into the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it seconds before Lance could reach it. There was a loud thump and then a muffled curse as Lance slid solidly into the door.
“I’m going to kill you, JC.”
“Everything’s fine, Mom. That was just Lance saying that you should call her now, cause she wouldn’t have left for church yet.”
JC almost giggled when he heard Lance frantically searching for his cell phone in the living room. He walked over to the dresser, picked up the coveted phone, and tossed it from hand to hand, grinning at himself in the mirror as he did.
“JC!” Lance’s bellow came clearly through the door. When he began to pound along with it, rattling the door in its frame, JC moved as far across the room as he could get.
Just in case.
“Listen, Mom, I need to go. Lance just stubbed his toe or something. Yes, ma’am, we will talk about this more later. No, ma’am. I promise I won’t record anything else like it until then. Uh huh,” JC decided that maybe the bathroom, behind another locked door, might be the best place for him when the door groaned under Lance’s onslaught. “I love you, too, Mom.”
He hung up after a saying a final goodbye. As he snuck past the bedroom door, he heard Lance mumbling something about keys, and knew he’d have time as Lance searched for the ring full of keys they kept out in the garage, and then even more as he went through the ring trying first to find the right key for the bedroom, and then bathroom doors.
Halfway through his shower he heard the knob rattle and smiled. Lance was right on schedule. Another five minutes passed and he was out of the shower and drying off, one ear tuned to his boyfriend’s mutterings, the other listening for the phone. It was sitting on the floor of the bedroom, not a foot away from where Lance was, face up so that when it rang the caller id screen would glow.
Right in Lance’s smirking face.
JC could all but see Lance stiffening when it rang less than two minutes later. His boyfriend’s quiet, ‘shit’, shortly thereafter had him pumping his fist and grinning, “Score!”
There would be hell to pay later, of that he was sure, still it didn’t stop him from wrapping a towel around his waist, before casually opening the door and strolling into the bedroom.
Lance was standing on the other side, cell phone in one hand, cordless in the other – from which JC could clearly hear Joey asking, ‘did it work?’ – grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Busted.
Unless he could – JC took a small step back, and then another – get back into the bathroom before Lance could catch him.
Lance slowly brought the phone to his ear, “I’ll have to call you back, Joey,” then clicked it off and took a step forward. “You can run,” he smiled sweetly, “you can even lock the door, but it won’t do you any good, because before I called Joey, I made sure I knew what key worked in that door.”
It was probably a bluff, but JC couldn’t be sure. Still, it would gain him a few minutes to try and think of something to get himself out of this mess. Without taking his eyes off of Lance, he reached behind him for the doorknob and almost gasped when his hand encountered…keys.
By sheer force of will he held back the smile that was dying to pop out, and looked seriously at Lance instead.
“I’m sorry.”
Lance rolled his eyes, “Please.”
“Really,” JC slowly began to wiggle the key out of the lock, “I was desperate and I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”
“Do I look stupid to you, JC?”
JC was tempted to ask if that was a trick question, but figured he’d better not push his luck.
“Because if you honestly think that I believe that, then I must look pretty stupid.” Which he must, if JC thought that he couldn’t see him working desperately to get the key out of the lock. A key that JC was paying so much attention to, he hadn’t noticed just how close Lance had gotten to him that was until Lance had a hand in JC’s towel and then it was too late. Or so Lance thought until he found himself with nothing but a handful a towel and a door slamming in his face.
“I love you, baby.”
“You are so going to pay when you come out of there, JC. You have no idea.”
The phone rang, pre-empting any reply that JC might have made.
“What!” Lance snapped into the phone, thinking that Joey was calling back for an update.
“James Lance Bass! Is that how I taught you to answer a phone?”
Lance sank to the floor and quietly groaned, “No, ma’am.” The last thing he heard before his mother began to tear into him was a snicker from behind the door at his back.
He added it to the list of things that JC was going to pay for and settled back to plan his revenge.