Either way, he was taking it back.

And Justin could find himself a new sidekick.

-::-

Chris loved Halloween. And everything that went with it. Like pumpkins and candy and ghost-on-a-rope. But it had never been one of their group things. At that time of year, they were either on the road or had stolen a few days to go home. The Halloween party in LA had been his idea. It had been a very hard sell.

“With three people? I don’t think so.”

Chris heard a hollow laugh.

“Don’t be a dick, Justin. It’s a party. C’mon. What do you say?”

Chris waited for the trademark sniffle. When it came, he knew there was hope.

“Talk to JC and call me back.”

Chris set his jaw. There would be a party this year. And both of them would show up. Or there would be hell to pay.

-::-

The summer had seemed all wrong. Not nearly as hot. Not nearly as rowdy as years past. Because something had been missing. That something was now standing on his doorstep in levis and a wrinkled shirt that looked like it belonged to JC. Chris could not stop smiling.

“What happened to your body?”

He reached for the duffel bag Lance was holding, then turned him around and whistled softly.

“Jesus, who’s gonna carry on the booty tradition? Where is your ass, Bass?”

Lance protested, but the smile in his eyes gave him away.

“Can I come in or do I have to stand out here all day while you measure me for new pants?”

Chris blushed suddenly. Lance smiled, then winked.

“C’mon. I've got stories about Christina and some limey that you can add to your repertoire.”

“Nobody says limey any more, Lance.”

“They don’t?”

“Not since the second world war.”

Lance shook his head and smiled.

“Do you know how good it is to be home? If I had to meet one more new person and try to understand what they were saying, I'd shoot myself. You want to know how bad it was? I was even glad to see Justin.”

Chris pulled him into a warm hug.

“Nobody’s glad to see Justin. C’mon in. I’ll get you a drink.”

-::-

For the past seven years, every night had been Halloween. They had changed into costumes, becoming someone else for a few hours. So Chris was surprised by how excited he was about the whole thing. And how excited JC was.

That was the best part.

The old JC was back. The one who dragged them to every amusement park within a fifty mile radius of a concert. Who hid Justin’s bandana every night of the NSA Tour just to hear him complain. Who wrote people secret notes and hid them in their gear. The kind of thing your mom would have put in your lunch box in the third grade. About having fun. And being neat. And remembering how special you were. The notes had stopped a long time ago. And the JC who'd written them had disappeared. Chris had missed him.

At just that moment, JC turned to Chris with determination.

“I want to be a cowboy. Like Woody in ‘Toy Story’. That kind.”

Chris followed him around a rack of neon-colored zoot suits, a puzzled look on his face.

“I thought you were gonna be Robin.”

“Robin who? Robin Hood? No way, I’m not wearing tights. Besides, I want to be comfortable. C'mon, help me find Woody.”

He flashed a smile and continued down the aisle, humming a tune Chris hadn’t heard before. He looked like he’d lost another ten pounds. But he also looked happy. So Chris was happy.

And more than a little confused.

-::-

Justin’s message had been long and rambling. Like the ones he used to leave when they first met. The tape would run out and he'd still be talking. High on some idea he had for a song or describing a car he’d seen in a parking lot somewhere.

He was coming to the party. And he wanted to be Batman. No one else. There was some-thing about childhood and blue boots. A story Chris had never heard before. And there were pictures. He'd email them later. Right now he just wanted the costume. And for Chris to get it for him.

Joey’s call had been even stranger.

He wasn’t coming. But he still wanted a costume. So he wouldn’t feel left out. And he wanted to be a pirate. But not a cartoon one. A swashbuckler. Chris listened to the message a second time. Old Joey would have wanted to be Captain Hook. Broadway Joe wanted to be dashing and adventurous.

So that was it. Joey would be Long John Silver via 'The Pirates of Penzance'. Justin would be the Caped Crusader. And he, Chris Kirkpatrick, would be Robin, Boy Wonder.


Justin’s next call sent Chris back to the costume shop.

“So what did he say?”

“Hey Chris. How ya doin’ man?”

“Fuck off, Chris. Is he coming?”

“Who?“

“Jesus. Did you get the suits?”

“Suits?”

“Batman and Robin. Did you guys get 'em?”

Chris hesitated. Suddenly there were three 'guys' and only two ‘suits’.

“You want JC to be Robin?”

Justin gave no indication that he'd even heard the question.

“Trace wants in. And Nick. I told them they’re on their own for suits, but they can bunk with me. No surprises, right?”

Chris didn’t answer. His sizable brain handled mathematical calculations easily. Emotional equations, however, always slowed things down. Right now it was frustration. To the third power.

No surprises meant Brit. That much he understood. But JC, as Robin? That didn't compute. Not any more.

Chris blinked when Justin repeated himself.

“I said no surprises. Right?”

Chris grunted, then hung up. He pressed the phone to his cheek and tapped it mindlessly. Then added another name to the guest list. The party had just gotten more interesting.

-::-

Lance pushed the small box across the table at JC and smiled.

“I missed your birthday. First time.”

JC lifted the box and turned it so that he could see the tiny figure inside. Strummin’ and Singin’ Woody from 'Toy Story 2'.

“His hat’s on the inside.”

Lance pointed at the corner of the box and JC smacked his hand away.

“It’s my Woody. Don’t touch.”

He looked at Lance, startled. Then they both started laughing. Lance had to wipe tears from his eyes.

“Chris said you were happy.”

JC looked back at the plastic cowboy and his equally ridiculous plastic guitar.

“I still need a black and white vest. With those cow spots on it. For Halloween.”

He touched the tiny figure with his finger. Gently. Lance touched his arm.

“That wasn't an answer.”

JC continued to study the details of the costume. He looked up briefly and then back at the toy figure, untwisting the plastic tie that held it in place.

“Let’s get him out of here. He looks uncomfortable.”

Lance pulled out his keys and offered the small swiss army that dangled beside them. JC met his gaze. This time his eyes looked blurry, like he needed to blink.

“Thanks. And thanks for remembering. It means a lot.”

An hour later, as he was leaving, Lance turned around to find JC back at the table, putting Woody’s tiny hat on his head.

-::-

Justin stared at the rain peppering the window of the SUV. The weather in London had gone from mild overcast to downpour in the blink of an eye.

It was that time of year.

Three years ago, they’d been sitting in a law office in DC listening to what amounted to a death sentence. In less than a month, they would be a footnote in music history. Everything they had worked for, gone.

Both he and JC had cried. But they had made the decision. Together.

And then they had called their parents. To say that they were okay and that everything would be allright. And somehow it was. They still observed the tradition to this day. No matter where they were or who they were with at the time, they called home. To say everything was okay.

Today was October 11th.

Justin picked up the phone, but he did not call Tennessee.



The release party had been uneventful. Until Christina arrived.

She'd already had plenty to drink and was in the mood to be adored. For her body, not her mind. Loosely translated, she was ready to make some nice man sweat. Lance had spent the last hour fending her off. She'd opened her blouse, to show off her nipple ring. Then pulled her breast completely out, saying the room was hot.

That's when Lance had called for back-up.

Justin found him red-faced and apologetic. And very anxious to be excused.

Justin got the other Christina. The one who wanted to talk music and drop names. Justin had a few of his own to drop, but he never got to them. It wasn't skin that stopped him. Or the mention of Dallas Austin and JC in the same sentence. It was a name much more familiar. And more threatening.

Few people got to Justin Timberlake anymore, but Tony Lucca was one of them. Christina was talking about him now, but Justin was remembering another night instead.

A night when Chris had been wrong.

It didn’t happen a lot. It was something Chris took pride in, having inside information. Justin knew that. And that Chris used that information to his own advantage. He still hadn’t figured out the angle on this one. Why he had told Justin about it. But it didn’t matter now. Because it hadn’t happened.

Lucca's set had been mercifully short. The same songs Justin had heard on tour last spring. Twenty minutes start to finish. During 'Hollywood Chain Gang', Justin had turned to leave. Two girls who’d been leaning against the wall, moved out of his way. One looked at him briefly, but there was no flicker of recognition. He shouldn’t have cared. This wasn’t his crowd. They were here to see Mark Anthony, not Justin Timberlake. But something about it had bothered him anyway.

He was almost to the door when he felt the change in the crowd. A sense of anticipation that hadn’t been there before. Whispering. And rows of people suddenly stepping up on their seats. Justin turned back in time to see him cross the stage. He was smiling. The black sweater, familiar. His lean body at ease with the response of the crowd as he turned toward them.

Justin swallowed and felt his breath quicken. When he heard the voice, and the unfamiliar song, he'd closed his eyes. Shutting out everything but the sound.

He had felt out of place there. Like he didn’t belong.

But Tony Lucca had belonged.

Tony Lucca and JC.

Justin had left the party in London at 4:00. By 5:00 am, Chris Kirkpatrick had himself a Halloween party.

-::-

Lance was picking at the last of the chocolate chip cookies they’d found at the mall. And watching Chris wipe the same spot on the counter for the third time.

“JC said I should be Buzz Lightyear. Since there was that thing I did. You know? In Russia. On the kibbutz.”

Chris turned with a raised eyebrow.

“So you were listening. Listening and pouting. Very good.”

The last comment seemed to strike a nerve.

“I'm not pouting. Who cares about a stupid costume?”

Lance didn’t answer. Just sat quietly, pressing his fingertip on cookie crumbs and transferring them to his mouth. He had just finished cleaning his thumb when he looked up.

Chris was staring at him.

“I’m not on his side, if that’s what you think. Justin, I mean. I’m on yours. And JC’s. Are you allright?”

Chris nodded, then looked back and started wiping the counter again. This time in a completely different spot.

-::-

Pumpkin City was a square acre of hay bales and corn stalks that made Chris's allergies kick into high gear.

"Maybe I never had a childhood. I don't remember sneezing my way through Halloween."

JC swept a finger through his pocket and came up with two quarters.

"Let's go see the turkey."

He walked toward a coin-operated feed stall and Chris followed after him, rubbing his eyes and sniffling.

"How do you know there's a turkey?"

"There's always a turkey. C'mon."



JC broke off a piece of the soft pretzel he'd been carrying around and tossed it at the chickens gathered nearby. Chris leaned against the fence, looking past him to the carousel.

"You could call him, you know. Play a song for him. Ask to hear one of his. The whole thing would be over."

JC's voice was quiet. Distant.

"There was a place just like this in Germany. Do you remember it? Just across the Italian border. Justin had seen it from the train. It was Oktoberfest and there were pumpkins everywhere. We walked over from the hotel. It was really crowded and we were starving, but we had hardly any money, so we had to choose between eating and drinking. We went into the beer hall and each of us had, I think, two mugs. It doesn't seem like much, but it was pretty strong stuff and we hadn't eaten. When we came out, we could hardly walk. And there were these roosters, two of them. They just looked mean. I don't know how it happened, but one of them came over and pecked at Justin's shoe and you know, he kicked at it. To get it away. And it came after him. I mean, like it chased him all the way down this main street. Pecking at his heels. It would not give up. By the time we got to the hotel, we were both so freaked out, security thought something had happened to us. He was too embarrassed to say a banty rooster, maybe a foot and a half high, was after him, so he made up some story about a pickpocket taking his money. When we got to the room, Justin started yelling at me. He was really mad. I still thought it was funny until he started having nightmares about it. I didn't realize until it was too late that he was really scared. I should have done something, but I thought he could handle it."

His voice trailed off. Chris waited for him to go on, but he just kept peeling off pieces of pretzel and tossing it into the noisy crowd at their feet.

"That was a long time ago, JC. He's a big boy now."

JC bobbed his head slowly.

"He was with me, you know. We were together then."

Chris nodded, like it was old news. But it wasn't. He tried to keep his voice calm.

"They use those for cock fights, you know? The little fuckers. They don't know when to quit."

JC kicked at the dirt at his feet and the chickens scattered.

"Did Lance take my advice?"

Chris hesitated for a moment, then let JC change the subject.

"About the costume?"

"Yeah."

"Not yet. I think he's had enough space for a while."

JC balanced one of the pumpkins on his hip and started for the parking lot.

"Maybe he could be Robin."

Chris caught up with him at the car.

"You knew?"

JC looked at him and shrugged. "Tony took the message. It was no big deal."

Chris slammed the trunk and walked around the car.

"You know, I could be Buzz Lightyear."

"And Lance would be Robin?"

Chris smiled proudly.

"No. Lance is his own man now. Not somebody's sidekick."

JC looked at him for a long minute, then ducked into the car. Chris wanted to kick himself, but he took a deep breath and slid behind the wheel.

"He's a kid, C. He still hasn't figured it out."

JC slipped on a pair of Oakley's, the kind with the reflective lens he'd been wearing lately, and began flipping through the cd's Chris carried from place to place.

"Maybe Lance should be a cowboy too. You know, the kind with the fancy shirt and the rhinestone belt."

Chris pulled out of the parking lot, letting the subject change again. As they hit the freeway onramp, he was picturing a pair of slightly tight leather chaps.

And the body that would fit into them perfectly.

-::-

The room was crowded and Chris wondered again what the hell everyone liked about LA. At least New York had character. Everyone here looked the same.

They were beautiful.

He watched as Lance waded through the crowd with two bottles of beer in each hand. He was laughing as he turned right then left, trying to find a path through the sea of bodies. He looked like he belonged there. One of the beautiful people. Chris felt suddenly chivalrous and met him halfway. Before he could speak, Lance handed him a set of bottles and mouthed a word.

Chris put one hand to his ear and shook his head. Lance leaned close to speak.

“It's Russian for 'grab ass'.”

Chris laughed, then wrinkled his brow and pretended to look angrily in the direction of the dance floor.

“You want me to kick some butt?”

Lance shook his head and smiled, then brought one of the bottles to his lips. Chris watched with unusual interest. When Lance caught him staring, he changed the subject. After all, it had worked for JC.

“I didn’t think you liked beer.”

“I didn’t think so either, but I really missed it. So I’m trying to catch up. And cheeseburgers. I can’t get enough of them now either.”

Chris nodded toward the door and Lance followed him across the floor, covering the bottles with his coat. He wasn’t sure Chris could hear him, but he asked anyway.

“Where are we going?”

Lance thought he heard the words 'In and Out’, but it was too noisy to be sure. As they reached the door, Chris turned back.

“Is that okay with you?”

“Do they have cheeseburgers?”

Chris nodded.

“And we can eat in the car?”

Lance smiled wickedly and Chris pushed him toward the valet.

“Pearls before swine, Lance. Just keep telling yourself that.”

-::-

The glass wall framed the Hollywood Hills, and Lance stood beside it, looking out into the darkness.

"Who else lives here besides Justin and his five egos?"

Chris had to smile. The Lance that walked away in April would never have said anything close to that. Especially to someone like Chris, Justin's sidekick. The image left him suddenly cold. He didn't want to be Justin's sidekick. And it had nothing to do with a costume. Not any more.

Lance was talking again.

"It would be a great haunted house. Out past the pool, the fog is so thick you can't see two feet in front of you. We could hire some people to come in and set it up. You know, the kind where you're walking along and something jumps out at you. They had one in Biloxi. There were guys with chain saws, that started up like real ones and blew hot air. The guys would come out of nowhere and chase after you. When the air hit the back of your legs? Damn, it was scary."

Chris sat at the top of the stairs watching him prowl around. It was late and Chris was tired, but he did not want to go home. Lance was a force of nature now and Chris marvelled at the change in him. He'd liked the idea of being the Rhinestone Cowboy and had been singing bits and pieces of the song. The Lance he'd known before never sang anywhere but on stage. This Lance was funny too. Chris had expected the day to be hard for him. After all, he was supposed to go into space not wander around an empty house in LA. Instead of moping, Lance had joked about being Robin, saying he'd rather make the Pow! than be the Pow! Chris had been so surprised that at first he hadn't even laughed.

-::-

Lance had wandered underneath the staircase into the room where Justin's piano sat.

"It's not just the music then, is it?"

Chris followed Lance's voice into the dimly-lit study.

"What makes you say that?"

Lance lifted up a sheaf of papers and Chris crossed the room.

"What is it?"

Lance tilted the papers into the light. Sheet music and a couple of still photos, downloaded from the internet. Chris let a soft whistle escape as he looked at the title.

"I wonder how he got his hands on that?"

Lance squared the pages on the top of the piano, putting them back exactly where he'd found them. Chris squinted again at the picture on top.

"Is that Tony Lucca?"

Lance nodded.

"I think the question is, is that JC's bracelet on Tony Lucca?"

Chris shook his head, then pushed Lance toward the door.

"Let's get out of here."

Lance smiled as they reached the threshhold.

"You have to admit it's a hell of a song title."

Chris looked back across the darkened room, then pulled the door shut behind them.

"And it's gonna be one hell of a Halloween."

Part 2

Part 3