The Fog

The Fog
by Scotty

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Justin stretched his back as he watched the pump mark off the gallons. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. Something as simple as stopping for gas, hitting the head, then buying some worthless junk to eat in the car. The last thought put a smile on his face. Snickers, corn nuts, and orange soda. He would have bet his life on it.

He knew him that well.

Sunlight glinted off the door as it pushed open. JC stood with his back against the glass, head bobbing up and down. Someone inside had made a joke and he was making sure they enjoyed every minute of it. He lifted one arm in an abbreviated salute and smiled openly. His foot kicked the door closed and he turned toward the car.

It could have been 1992 instead of a decade later. Thin as a rail, unruly hair loose on his his forehead, a weathered t-shirt. Joshua Chasez looked all of 17.

Justin felt a sudden sadness wash over him. They would never have another day like this. That was, after all, what this trip was about. A chance for them to say good-bye.

-::-

Chris held one finger up as he listened, concentrating on the voice on the phone. He had at one point closed his eyes and breathed deeply causing others in the room to knot their faces in pain. He turned his back, rocking rhythmically to some unheard sound.

For all intents and purposes, time had stopped three hours ago. When they’d officially been reported missing. Six hours overdue at their destination. Johnny Wright had promised to call every thirty minutes whether he had new information or not. This was call number six.

Somewhere on a fog-bound highway in Central California, singers Justin Timberlake and Joshua Chasez had simply disappeared.

-::-

Lance had begged off first. Nobody had really expected him to make the trip anyway. The last to join and the first to separate himself, Lance had always acted like singing was a temporary thing. A means to an end. So when Justin had presented his plan, Lance‘s only comment was that he’d already been to camp.

No one could blame Chris. If his clothing venture was to survive, it had to sell on the strength of his personality alone. And the decision to become an internet-only outlet had to be made before the tour began. Disconnecting, even for a week, would have been financial suicide.

At that point the decision was moot for Joey Fatone. A week alone with Justin and JC would serve no purpose. They had not spoken a civil word off-camera in almost a year. And Joey could not see himself as referee. Fatherhood was a convenient excuse. He used it.

Tonight the three that stayed behind huddled together in Joey’s den. And prayed.

-::-

Highway 58 wound through Kern County, headed north. In summer, the Tule River brought white water rafting enthusiasts and fishermen this way. In the fall, bird watchers and hunters shared the blinds along its banks. By January, it was just another empty, winding road.

Justin leaned out over the steering wheel, peering at the massive oaks that yellowed the sky and hid most of the river from view.

JC shifted onto his left hip and gave Justin a lazy smile that meant he was listening. They’d both lost interest in the radio at about the same time and it had been quiet until now.

The bank was a little steeper than they'd expected, the ground soft and slick. At the headwaters of the lower creek, JC pulled himself onto a large, flat rock and kicked at the mud clots clinging to his hiking boots. The ones he'd insisted on buying before they left home.

Justin gave him a playful wink and sank down on the other edge. Ten years had passed since that first fish. So for all practical purposes, this was a brand new experience for both both of them. The rural surroundings were familiar, an impression of a memory clouded by time. He looked again at JC who had plucked a sprig of dried grass and begun shredding it with his teeth. Nine years had passed since their first meeting. And the JC he once knew was also a faded memory. No more real than the striped bass he'd landed with such joy in a past that seemed to have never really existed. This probably wasn't the time to talk about that either. The fish story seemed safer.

"There was a place near my house called Myers' Dam. I mean I'd seen it before but only from the front seat of the car. You went across a wooden bridge and on one side was a waterfall. Like a real waterfall. Not high though. But it looked high. And on the other side was this pond. With lilypads and bullrushes."

There was a look of amazement on JC's face. Like some long-missing piece of a puzzle had been found and fit securely into place.

JC's jaw tightened and he glared at Justin. At least Justin thought he was glaring. Even in January, the California sun made glasses as common as a watch and keys. And, just for a moment, JC looked combative, almost ready to fight. But he simply shook his head slowly and turned back toward the river.

The air was silent. But so full of dark murmurings that Justin could almost see them. Floating in the air like random specks of dust. Or the coronas of light that obstruct your view when you've looked too long at the sun.

Justin cocked his head slightly and they were gone. At least no longer visible. When he spoke, it was with the voice of a storyteller. As if the air was clear and bright . And JC had not stopped listening.

"I always wanted to go down there. To fish, you know. But there was this barbed wire, to keep the cows from getting too close to the Myers' house. And it hung low in the grass, so it was hard to see. You could get hurt real bad if you weren't looking for it. .And there were snakes. Water mocassins. We used to see 'em hanging on the wire fence when we walked home from school. Some hunter put 'em up as a warning. So my mom wouldn't let me go. She even made up some story that there were gorillas down there so I would stay away. Pretty stupid, huh?"

JC had no response, obviously distracted. He leaned down to tie his boots. Then he stretched. And stood up suddenly. Like he'd just finished working something out in his head and wanted to get started on it.

Justin nodded then pitched the rock he'd been holding into the water and followed him up the hill. As JC slid into the driver's seat, Justin slammed his door forcefully. When there was no reaction, he made idle conversation. The kind that worked with Chris. And Joey Fatone.

"If god was really paying attention, he'd have put some fine women on those rocks down there. Topless, you know. Sunbathing or something."

JC pulled out onto the road without comment. Touching the sun visor and the rear view mirror , once each. They drove for a few miles in silence and then Justin spoke again. His fleeting sense of loss turned bitter.

"You know that's the story of our lives. Nothing fucking bothers me and everything fucking bothers you. I think it even pisses you off that nothing bothers me."

There was just the slightest hesitation and then Justin pulled his backpack onto his lap, tugging at the zipper as he spoke.

"You know what, why don't we find some fucking music to listen to. I'm tired of talking."

"You don't have to jump down my throat, Joe. I'm just saying, suppose they checked in at home? This could all be for nothing."

Joey followed him across the room to the refrigerator where he pulled out a beer, twisting the top as he spoke.

"A place called, " Chris checked the paper in his hand, "Zingo's Cafe Truck Stop. One of the waitresses remembers them because they were arguing."

"It was them. The description fits. And she said they were," he held up the page again trying to read his own scribbled writing, "polite and friendly for boys that age." He skimmed the page again and laughed sadly. "One ordered T-bone steak and eggs. The other had coffee. Black."

When Chris looked back up, he shrugged. There were tears in his eyes. The phone rang and Joey motioned for Lance to pick it up.

Lance ended the conversation quickly but paused before turning around. The hesitation got Joey's attention.

"Hey?" He nodded toward the phone. Lance avoided his gaze and spoke directly to Chris.

"Listen, does that paper say what time? At the truck stop, I mean. When they were there?"

Chris shook his head, unable to speak. Joey looked at a Lance suddenly gone pale.

"There was a pretty bad accident, a chain reaction thing. In the fog near Bakersfield. That's all they've got right now. Johnny's going to make some calls."

"If they were at the truck stop before nine, they're okay. They'd be past it. The pile-up, I mean."

"I know, but we're not even sure they went that way. Or even what they were driving."

It had felt almost good to argue. To get it out of the way early. So they could relax and be themselves.

They sat now in the parking lot of the Dairy Queen, licking cones of soft ice cream and checking the map. JC had insisted they stop. Road trips had rituals, he said. Even in January.

Justin nodded and started the engine. He looked again at the map spread across JC's lap.

He smiled at Justin as he settled back into the seat. Justin laughed and pulled out onto the highway.

He could always tell when JC was really asleep and not just pretending. He pretended a lot, just to grab some quiet time when there wasn't enough to go around. He was sleeping now and Justin turned down the radio, the sound of his breathing enough company for the time being.

It might have been the sign near the truck stop that morning. Fresno State University. Or maybe it was his birthday. At 21 most people were looking at graduation and the start of a whole new life. But they'd begun talking about college. The not-going part of it.

JC had been philosophical. Wondering again if they'd missed something significant. Some mile marker in life by not going to school. That without it, they weren't much different than the punks they'd seen at the Dairy Queen. Whose footprints in the cement there marked some small town rite of passage they would never know.

It was never a big deal. The whole college thing. Just the subject of drunken rambling every once in a while. When one of them ran up against that black hole in an otherwise perfect universe and been ashamed of it. Justin had felt the same knot in his stomach he always did. Then without Chris on hand to make snide remarks, the discussion had turned serious. They'd both grown quiet. And now JC slept.

Justin looked to where he nodded against the window. His breath an arc of steam on the glass. Hair a mass of curls. Justin's mouth felt suddenly dry and he licked his lips in response. Had there been anyone else to drive, he would have crawled into the space beside him without a second thought. Sharing the wedge of winter sun that spilled across his face.

JC shifted in the seat, then settled again, peacefully. A rolled sweatshirt for a pillow. Justin couldn't remember the last time they'd shared a quiet moment like this. Asleep on a plane. In front of the TV. It had been a very, very long time.

He kneaded the steering wheel, nodding sadly to himself. He'd said they were different. But it wasn't true.

It was, in fact, something he'd always taken for granted. Counted on. That they were the same. No more like people their own age than a cobra was like a garter snake. Outside of their own unique environment, they were a curiousity. Worldly yet immature. An odd blend of all they had done. And all they had missed.

Justin nodded, so he smiled crookedly and tucked his face back against his shoulder. Justin watched his body fold up again in sleep.

Lance had taken the first shift of sleep. A shower and clean clothes had cleared his mind. He was all business as he came through the front door waving a manila folder.

"Travel said they rented a Dodge van in Burbank. A hippie van, she called it. They're checking the plates now."

Chris looked up as if what Lance had just said made perfect sense. Joey nodded in agreement. Lance plugged in his laptop and sat down at the desk near the french doors.

"The National Weather Service said that the fog stretches all the way up to the Bay Area."

Both men looked at him with weary faces and red eyes. His voice was strong. Determined.

"Yeah, I know. And these fucking people can get out of bed and do their jobs like they're supposed to."

"Let's get some sleep. I want to be wide awake when they walk through that door, so I can tell 'em both off ."

He'd let JC sleep longer than they'd agreed to. Hypnotized by his rhythmic breathing and the sameness of the countryside. But the landscape had changed dramatically in what seemed like a matter of minutes. Maybe not so much changed as completely disappeared.

Justin reached across and brushed the sleeping face with his hand. Needing assurance that he was still there. That something was there.

He'd slowed the van to a crawl. Afraid to pull off the road into an unseen levee. The fog had rendered the air as dark as murky water. Like they'd been swallowed. Tree after row of trees faded back into its drape. A wet grey blanket tossed over the world.

JC reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a flashlight and the map. He shined the light on his watch and then through the window out into the empty space beyond.

Justin's face knotted with confusion. He was leaning up over the steering wheel, using his sleeve to clear the windshield.

JC rolled down his window and was out of his seat. Up on his knees. He leaned out into the darkness, listening for the sound of other cars. Justin glanced quickly to his right meaning to look back right away. But a sliver of pale skin stopped his breath and he jerked the wheel without thinking.

Here in Plant City, during the first seven days of January the daily mean temperature averaged out 4.7 degrees above normal. In central Florida we are moving into the heart of the Tule fog season now, with zero to near zero visibility occurring nightly and lingering into the early afternoon in inland areas as well as west coastal areas experiencing in some cases round the clock fog.

He was looking back and forth between something on his laptop and a map in his hand. He tapped the map once and looked up.

"They could have gotten off on the 43. It's an easy mistake to make in bad weather. Allensworth's out that way. Some historical park." Then he shook his head and sighed. "No. They would have hit civilization by now." He dropped the map in frustration and turned back to the computer.

Over the last few hours, they'd begun a subtle division of labor. Chris had taken over the TV, making use of Joey's 300 satellite channels to check on news and weather reports. Lance was following a hunch, that truck drivers who knew the central valley and the fog that settled there were their best source of real information. Joey had phone duty.

The last call was just ending. Chris took a deep breath, stretching his back and rolling his shoulder blades against the tension that sat between them.

"Okay. I guess that whole stretch of road we've been looking at? That valley? It's nothin' but meth labs. Pockets of 'em hidden away. A fucking honeycomb. And get this. Fresno is second only to Miami in stolen cars. Nice place to live."

The pinched look reached his eyes. And he stopped for a moment then turned to look out the paned glass window. The carefully manicured lawn beyond. There the cool afternoon sun reflected off a pool where they'd spent too few weekends. Literally growing up on the road and coming home to find that they were no longer boys. That part of their lives somehow given away. He blinked at the memory then cleared his throat to go on.

"Anyway when the fog is bad, like it is now, everybody just kind of hunkers down. The good guys and the bad guys. The cops just sorta let it all go."

For the second time in twelve hours, Lance cursed aloud. Chris looked up. His face pale. Haunted.

"Call him back, Joe and tell him we're ready to talk to the press. We're gonna need help."

JC nodded and pushed out of his door, looking quickly right and left like he was trying to cross a busy street. The fog hung heavy and he could just make out the water where it flowed alongside the road. A sharp, damp wind was coming off the creek, whipping his jacket against his jeans.

In less time that it takes to advance a frame of film, JC leaned toward him, brushing the edge of his mouth with a kiss. He smiled slightly then adjusted the rearview mirror and put the van in gear.

"Look out the window, will you. Let me know when we're back up on the road completely. Off the shoulder."

Justin looked at him and nodded wordlessly. His heart pumping color to his face. He turned away quickly hoping to hide the smile that followed.

It went unnoticed. JC's eyes now fixed on the road ahead. Or what had been a road, lost somewhere in a shroud of mist.

The buildings were waist deep in fog, but they were the first real things they'd seen besides each other in over an hour. And they looked beautiful. Justin undid his seatbelt, stretching his long legs as far as the floor space would allow.

"No. I've been waiting for just the right clump of bushes." Justin pushed him playfully and ducked out of the van. "Where do you think we are?"

"Some state park or rest area. But there're ten or twenty of them. We could be anywhere."

His voice had a cautionary tone that made Justin pause. The flashlight beam brought JC to his side.

"We should stay together. I think there's like mountain lions around here. And snakes."

Justin laughed then cuffed his arm, pulling him across the blacktop. An opening under the trees seemed to lead to the rest area. JC swiped at the spider webs that veiled the entrance to the darkened pathway. The ground was thick with leaves and littered with loose rocks. And the air was absolutely still.

JC dropped the beam of light to the ground, again hiding their faces in darkness. But Justin had seen him smile. And something else, even darker, in his eyes.

When he awoke it was pitch black, so dark that JC could not see where the van ended and the fog outside began. He shifted slightly and became aware of breathing not his own. Of Justin huddled against him, the warmth of their bodies making the damp night bearable. JC felt him stir. Then Justin spoke. His voice low, drugged with sleep.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, JC could see the outline of Justin's lean frame. A hooded sweatshirt pulled over his head. The tip now a corner bent awkwardly downward. Justin had molded to his body so perfectly that nothing else was visible. Filling the hollow spot between chest and thigh as if he had once been part of it.

His breath was a pale ghost in the darkness. But his voice sounded young. Wistful. It was still Justin. But not the Justin of today. This Justin had seen the wonder in a wooden bridge and a waterfall and never forgotten it. He shivered suddenly and JC settled in against him.

JC made no correction. Letting the word hang in the air between them. Justin reached back, hooking JC's arm and pulled him closer.

He pulled the hand up under his sweatshirt and then covered it again. The skin there was warm and alive and JC felt the sensation radiate. Up his arm and through his body. Conducting pleasure like an electrical charge. He struggled to keep his hand still. Willing it not to betray him. Justin's breath was a whisper.

JC nodded and Justin's hips rolled slightly. A reaction to fingers unable to keep their promise. He looked back over his shoulder. There was little light, but something passed between them. When Justin lay back again, JC pressed his hardened body against him and closed his eyes.

Chris drove slowly through the expensive neighborhood where Justin had bought his first home. The houses were all dark, but the walkways and circular drives glowed with artificial light. He pulled over to the curb, letting his eyes blur with tears.

In the last year, everything had come undone. Their legendary loyalty and devotion somehow slipping away. Surrendered stubbornly by some. Discarded carelessly by others. And now two might even be lost for good.

He rubbed his fingers across his chin, distractedly. Pulling at tendrils that were part of his look for the upcoming tour. The Tour From Hell. The one that no one wanted.

They had another album left. But that was workable. The vocals could be done separately. They'd proven that with Celebrity. Only Justin and JC wanted studio time together. Still needed it.

He looked again at the large white house. Wiped his eyes, then pulled away from the curb, making a u-turn in the street.

"If you are having car trouble, turn on your hazard lights and pull off the road as far as possible to the right. Light flares, call or signal for help, and stay in your car unless it is in danger of being hit by other vehicles."

Despite the intimacy of the night before, morning had its own take on reality. They weren't just lost. They were off the beaten path far enough that no one might come this way for days. The camp sites looked abandoned. Closed for the winter. And whatever ranger station kept watch during the off-season was probably miles and miles away. Lost in the dense fog.

And Justin was acting like housekeeping had forgotten to bring fresh towels to his room.

JC avoided eye contact as he walked back toward the van, absentmindedly scratching his stomach. He was hungry and cold. And tired. Of everything.

JC made no reply, choosing instead to retrace his steps to the rest area they had discovered the night before. Anxious to put some distance between himself and the warm body he had clung to so willingly just hours ago. As he had so many times in the last year, JC thought again that he needed a life of his own, away from the group. Away from Justin Timberlake.

Last night he had let himself wonder what they might become on their own. Just the two of them. This morning, everything was different. More accurately, it was exactly the same.

When he'd insisted they leave cell phones behind, JC had been surprised. Justin and as an extension, Chris Kirkpatrick, lived on the phone. Talking loudly late into the night. Playing mindless games by day, staring for hours at digital snakes chasing dots across the face of their latest electronic toy. Justin never talked anymore. At least not on the bus which is where they spent most of their lives. And not to JC.

So he'd been thrilled by the possibilities. And today was all the more painful because of it.

When JC returned to the van, Justin was leaning back against the front seat, already half-asleep. His face peaceful, unlined. They could have been parked outside the studio on a Sunday morning waiting for security to arrive and he would have looked no different. Everything was the same to him. Everything and everyone.

Justin's tone was snide. Patronizing. Without it, JC might have bitten off his words. He didn't.

"You were right when you said we were different. In ways you could never possibly understand."

"You know what I mean. Why are we on this trip? It was supposed to be some kind of retreat, right? For the group? When everyone else bailed out, why did we still go?

The Farmers Almanac reminds us that Jupiter and Saturn won't appear this close together again for two decades, so don't miss them! Early morning risers will also see Mars high in the south, above the Tule Fog, and above the red star Antares in the constellation Scorpius.

Joey had been pushing paper plates and empty food cartons into a black plastic bag. He stopped and looked carefully at Chris. Waiting for the punch line.

Chris propped one leg up on the couch and massaged his knee. The one that needed a brace on stage and told him when he needed more rest.

"I don't know. Like maybe they had to get lost, so they could come back. Like they used to be."

"Don't you start with that crap. Lance just got off a Numerology kick. Drove me nuts."

"Yeah. Months of it. He was all about the numbers. The good ones. The bad ones."

"Lance thinks we were never meant to go in the first place. That the trip was about them. All the crap they had to work out. We were asked, but we weren't ever supposed to go. I don't know."

Chris sat quietly. The last of the trash bags was stacked near the door when he had an afterthought.

A suspicious-looking water tank had taken most of the morning. It was dry anyway. Emptied out for the off-season. They hadn't tried to start the van. Hoping to conserve whatever gas was still in the tank. It didn't matter much now. The battery was dead. Drained by the headlights they'd left on in their first sweep of the camp. Soon it would be dark.

An eerie mist lingered over the flat fields, creating mysterious islands out of scattered trees. It floated over the ground and then rose in the distance to create a high haze that turned the air bronze and gold when they looked ahead, a pale glaze of blue when they looked back.

Justin shrugged and nodded. Fingers of fog blew across the access road leading down to the river. He hadn't remembered there being so much mud before. The mist now heavy enough to soak everything it touched.

JC had walked ahead and now stood alone, rubbing his arms to create heat. When he missed his footing and tripped, he was down before either of them could react. The soil was loose and damp, breaking off in clumps under his hands and the slickness of new boots made kicking a futile effort. It was a steep drop to the river, but not absolutely sheer. He'd been dazed by the suddenness of the fall, but his pant leg had caught on a large outcropping of rock and he grabbed at a hunk of Indian paintbrush that protruded from the bank.

Justin threw himself down and grabbed at his belt, pulling him up over the edge, on top of his own body. The two of them lay for a moment catching their breath. His own heart was racing. And JC lay so closely pressed against him that he could hear his heart pounding just as wildly.

JC was bleeding. His hands. His leg. His cheek. Still he tried to stand up. But his legs wobbled, unwilling to hold him. And he sank back on muddied knees. His clothes wet and torn. Suddenly overwelmed by what had just happened, he exploded with rage.

"C'mon. We gotta get back to the van. And get out of here. We gotta go home, C. Let's go."

He stepped behind him, slipping his arms around JC's chest. Standing him up as you would a child who had fallen and was afraid to move without help. JC shook his head when Justin tried to take his arm. The anger had left his face, but Justin was afraid to let him speak.

They crawled into the back of the van and Justin pulled the duffel bags around JC, a buffer against the cold night that lay ahead. With no food or water, and no safe way out, all they could do was again wait for morning.

It was so dark now that Justin could barely see him. He reached out blindly, like he had on the day they had started out. JC asleep in the seat beside him. The soft purr of his breathing guiding Justin's hand. There seemed no way to do that now. Fear, exhaustion, and doubt overtaking them.

As if his thoughts had been heard, Justin felt warm hands pulling him down. And he lay his head against the flannel jacket that in the darkness was more comforting than any words. It smelled like JC. He drew his long body into a cradle. Wet and cold, they pressed against against each other, eager for warmth.

He slid out of the van and felt strangely alone. Unused to doing anything now without JC beside him. He remembered little about the night except that when JC had touched his face, he had pulled the hand to his mouth, kissing each of the fingers. Then the soft swelling of the palm where the skin had been torn and shredded. Where he could still taste blood. He had pressed his mouth to it.

In the last half hour, he had poured the contents of both backpacks onto the seat of the van. CD cases and sales receipts mixed with the extra socks and gloves JC had insisted on buying. The same day the new hiking boots had come home. There was zinc oxide, a few band aids, and JC's digital voice recorder. There were sixteen entries. The music in JC's head in the palm of Justin's hand.

He moved the socks, band aids, and gloves into a pile and pushed everything else onto the floor. The voice recorder was tucked safely into his pocket.

It was no doubt only his imagination that Justin seemed sad, almost sorry to be leaving. JC could have sworn he'd looked back longingly. As if something important had been left behind. Something they could not take with them.

And now Justin seemed to be keeping himself between JC and the river's edge. Protectively. He could find no fault with either behavior. There was so much they had not talked about. Had no words for. All of it now swallowed by a thick fog that blotted out the light and blurred the landscape.

They'd rotated jobs within the last hour and it had been Chris's first call. He would never forget it.

Lance and Joey piggy-backed responses. Almost afraid to believe what they were hearing.

Chris turned back to the phone, listening intently. When he looked up again, there was wonder on his face.

The stand of oak trees poked their heads up through the Tule fog. And they could finally see sky.

When Justin didn't answer, JC looked back to make sure that he'd been heard. Justin's eyes brimmed with tears.

Though the Sheriff's Substation was warm and well-lit, JC and Justin still huddled together. Blood from their hands staining their clothes. Their boots caked with mud. Paramedics had wanted a more thorough medical evaluation at a hospital, but their only request had been for water, a blanket, and a telephone. And then to be left alone.

River Island East had appeared like a mirage and for a moment neither of them had been willing to believe their own eyes. Gate-guarded and exclusive, it arose from the fog-laden banks of the Tule River like something out of "The Martian Chronicles". An image the alien environment had found in their memories and reproduced to confuse and confound them. Complete with golf course and swimming pool.

The young deputy who had responded to the call finished tucking a blanket around their legs. And then stood up. His eyes were soft and gentle.

"There you go. You must be pretty important people. The whole world's out looking for you."

Lance and Joey were content just to have them back again. Chris, on the other hand, had been totally unforgiving. Blaming everyone from the Governor of California to the Boy Scouts of America. His current target was Tony Lucca.

"He lends you a cabin in the middle of drug country. Gives you fucked up directions. You never even get there. And as payback, he gets an opening slot on our tour?"

Chris smiled wickedly and purred in a voice that would have made Ron Jeremy proud.

Justin rolled his eyes then took JC by the arm, crossing the patio to where a pool of reporters was waiting. They stopped behind the wall of bodyguards hovering protectively on the edge of the crowd. Justin leaned in, one hand covering his mouth. Conspiring against those who would steal words meant only for JC.

JC looked surprised. And pleased. Justin lifted his chin, no longer muffling his voice.

"We'll need a place to go fishing. You know, this summer. When the tour's over."

Before JC could respond, the wall of security parted and Johnny Wright motioned for them to step forward. Justin turned his back to the crowd.

JC smiled shyly then dropped a hand to his side, lightly brushing Justin's thigh. It was a moment before Justin could speak. When he did, his tone was intimate.

He squeezed JC's arm, digging his fingers into the weave of the sweater until he could feel warm flesh beneath it. Then turned back, raising his smile to a photographer he recognized in the crowd. Justin felt himself relax as the others filled the space behind them. The formation familiar.

Chris stuck his head in between, gamely moving them apart for pictures that might speak louder than words.

"The big scary kind. That keep you from doing something you always wanted to do."

Justin shook his head slowly in a kind of awesome wonder. And then he smiled. Chris just looked at Joey and shrugged.

The voices around them seemed suddenly louder and JC realized that a question had been asked. He raised one hand to his ear and cupped it. The reporter spoke again.

JC turned his head slightly, catching Justin out of the corner of his eye. He was already nodding. And JC let him take the question. Anxious to hear the answer for himself. When Justin finished talking, he looked to JC without fear.

Justin put his hand on JC's back. Ushering him past three open mouths. JC had already ducked into the limo when Justin turned back and smiled.

"You're gonna have to wait for the album notes, my friend. Just like everybody else."

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