JC
Dwelling on it-the whole Shelby thing, where he couldn't stop thinking about her and really wanted to just call her but knew she'd push him away-- would only drive him crazy, so he tried his best to put it out of his mind. His days were full of enough distractions to ensure he was too busy to be consumed with her. The nights were the worst, laying there staring at the ceiling fan turning around and around, willing himself to call her. She hardly slept, she was probably up. Maybe see how she was doing. Say hi. Something. He never did, though. She made it clear, early on, that she wasn't in it for that.
So life droned on, busy but dull, when it lacked a dimpled cheek or a sultry laugh from deep in the throat or just the simple way she said, ‘hello'. JC just went through the motions until one day he woke up and it was Tuesday.
Not just any Tuesday, though. Drop day. He remembered Tuesdays, from back in the day. New singles, new full length albums, soundtracks, anything music related released on Tuesdays. Weekly statistics-- sales, spins (the amount of times a radio station played the song), and charting details-- were released on Tuesdays. The most important day in any musician's life, if they were signed to a major (or even not so major) label, was Tuesday.
The new single from Rod Phillips Band, Can't Get Enough, had been released to radio and was on sale in stores. It was a proud moment for JC, to have something he wrote and produced on the shelves again, but there wasn't much time to stop and stare at the cover art and grin madly to himself. JC and the whole clan-Band, Producer/Music Director, and the man himself were scheduled to make the media rounds, starting with a TV morning show interview and a full day of press. The good news was that press was being done at a ritzy downtown hotel, and all outlets were coming to them. The bad news was that it was a posh, comfy venue to answer the same questions over and over, some of them having nothing to do with the new album and everything to do with his personal life.
How was this experience different from working with ‘Nsync? It was 10 years ago, with different people, doing different music and they had a Music Director of their own.
Did he miss Kim? No.
Had he talked to Kim? Hardly thought of her, since meeting Shelby.
Was he dating, now? No. The schedule didn't allow for much of a relationship. At least that's what he told the press. He'd love to call what he and Shelby were doing ‘dating' but it was obviously just an arrangement. He was supposed to be having fun and taking it easy.
By noon, he was rolling his eyes internally and ready for a long break. Who wrote their questions? 12 year olds?
Lunch was served in a private banquet room off of the lobby. He had a choice of chicken or fish and he loved seafood so he chose fish, and a side of fire grilled vegetables and rice pilaf. He listened to random conversations around him, joining in every once in awhile, but kept to himself, mostly. Fingering his phone in his pocket. Thinking maybe he would send Shelby a text. See how she was doing. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and under the guise of checking important email, sent her a short message.
muzicman: How are you doing?
Casual. Easygoing. He hoped. Shelby was skittish about sending text messages, ever since Rod found her message to him about the night in the backyard. The private addresses were set up after that incident, addresses no one could get into without intricate code words that only each of them knew about. Even so, they rarely texted with each other anymore, except to say ‘I'm running late' or ‘pick up some wine', which was what made last Thursday so hot. He was almost flush, just thinking about it. He shouldn't have saved the chat, but he did. He didn't even think she would answer.
"I think it's completely jarring and really unnecessary, I gotta say."
"And I disagree, it totally wakes you up when the tempo changes. It takes you to someplace otherworldly for a minute, then drops you back on earth and you're like whoa... you know? JC, what do you think?"
JC was preoccupied with the phone buzzing in his pocket. Stuck between Cole and Rod, it wasn't like he could just whip it out and check it. Not without at least one of them being nosy enough to lean over and take a peek. "What are we talking about?"
"Cole here is being a whiny ass about the tempo change in Believe in Me. He likes everything boring, status quo. We like to shake it up a little, don't we, C?" Rod grinned, jabbing at JC with his elbow. He'd been trying hard, the past few weeks, to get back on JC's good side. It hadn't quite completely worked.
"You know I'm all for that. Anything different that catches the ear." He turned to Cole, who leaned onto the table with one elbow, his blond hair woven into shoulder length twists. "What's wrong with Believe in Me?"
"Nothing," said Cole, rolling his eyes, red from lack of sleep. He sipped on piping hot black coffee and seemed to withdraw into himself.
"We still have time to change it, if it doesn't work for you. Why don't you say anything in rehearsal, if you don't like it? Everyone has a voice."
"I dunno," Cole mumbled, shrugging a shoulder, staring into his coffee cup.
JC made a concerted effort at not appearing irritated. Rather, he tapped Cole on the arm and gestured for him to continue. "It's just, it seems like every song has a trick. Like, a gag. I don't think we need those. I don't think we need to..." He brought his fingers up in air quotes, then. "...catch ears. Rod's voice is like... it's enough. More than enough. With him on guitar, and Duke on bass, then you backing up vocals. It's good. I just hate tricks."
JC nodded, contemplating. Maybe the songs lately were overly complicated. "Tell you what. We go back to rehearsal, what... Tomorrow? We'll sit down with it, take out the up-tempo parts, and try it without. See which one we like best. I offered that to Duke, and I'll offer it to anyone."
Cole seemed embarrassed, even a little shy, tucking a thick tangle of blonde strands behind his ear. He nodded, suddenly reanimated, leaning around JC to give a thumbs up to Rod. "Sound good?"
Rod simply shrugged, already bored with the conversation. "He's the boss."
"I'm not... I'm not the boss, Rod. I run the music but this is your band" The two gave each other a few seconds of glare before uncomfortably turning away. "Everything is always open to suggestion. We haven't recorded that one yet. We've got time."
"Yeah...well...we nail down the tour, soon. And the rest of the album. Let's not keep changing things so we don't have everything committed to memory."
"And I agree with that. One change won't hurt our progress, though." His attention returned to Cole. "Come early, a little. We'll go over it. Even if you don't like it now, you might like it better than running it straight through, even tempo. We'll duke it out. Alright?"
Cole stood, giving JC an agreeable nod and headed toward the tables at the back of the room, still laden with enough food to feed an army. Rod soon followed, hovering over the dessert tray piled with pastries. His phone buzzed in his pocket, again. 20 minutes had passed. Hopefully, she wasn't pissed.
shelbyj: Whoa. Hey, handsome.
shelbyj: I'm fine. You?
muzicman: Yeah, thought I'd say hi. See if you're okay.
muzicman: Doing okay. Long day, today.
muzicman: Press till like, 9. Then rehearsal.
muzicman: Concert tomorrow night. Wanna go?
shelbyj: I'm fine. Concert? Maybe...who's playing?
muzicman: Me. : )
muzicman: Well, and the band.
It was a low-key thing, a show at some out of the way club, just to get some performances under their belts, see how the new songs were working out. Since only half the albums was finished, it would be a short set, but they had enough material to do at least an hour, more like an hour and a half. He thought about inviting her, but then things got weird and he never got the chance. Then he figured she would decline. Something made him ask her. She would probably say no, but at least he asked.
shelbyj: Oooohhhhh... but is it gonna be a huge deal, with cameras and stuff?
muzicman: Don't think so. It's at Canyon Ridge, this club out on the edge of town.
muzicman: Kind of a short show, an hour or so. We just need to hear the music outside of the studio.
shelbyj: Hmmm...would be cool to see you at work...
shelbyj: Have a shift tomorrow night, though. What time?
muzicman: Around 9. Probably offstage by 10, worst case 10:30.
shelbyj: aww...covering dinner, 7-10. : (
shelbyj: If I can get out early, I will sneak by. If not, kick ass, okay?
muzicman: I will. I probably won't see you but I'll put your name on the list. And if you make it, let me know you were there. I hope you can make it.
muzicman: We still on for Thursday?
JC wasn't sure what made him ask that, except for maybe how weird their last date ended. He didn't want a night full of awkwardness, and if she was going to ditch him, he wanted to know so he didn't have to go to work early and take off early, only to end up sitting at home alone. He could also already see that the busier the schedule got, the more likelihood there was that he was going to miss some Thursdays. He needed to stockpile them now, for the future.
shelbyj: Yes.
He let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in. Relieved, he smiled at the phone.
shelbyj: Let's go see a movie. We can sit in the back.
shelbyj: Grope each other like teenagers in heat. : )
Shelby was back, sexy Shelby. He laughed, and then looked up and realized the room was watching him. His face was hot with embarrassment. He almost didn't care, he was so happy to "see" the same old Shelby.
"My mom," he said, jiggling the phone at them. "Asking weird questions about the show tomorrow." The room laughed and went back to their conversations.
muzicman: Got me in trouble, Shelby woman. I better go.
muzicman: I have more stuff to do today and I can't sneak off like last time.
muzicman: Have a good day. See you Thursday.
Shelby
"I wish I could quit you," she whined at the phone as she slid it away. Shelby had just tentatively committed herself to seeing him the following night. On a non-Thursday, which was going to be weird, as much as she secretly longed to see him more. She was almost sure she could get out of Antigua early. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.
Their last date had been... strange. Really out of place and very emotional and she almost wanted to write it off as an anomaly. They hadn't talked about it. And she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but talking about it definitely wasn't it. She expected him to be freaked out, and standoffish, or even more demanding about getting information from her, but he wasn't. It was business as usual, for JC. Maybe he had given up his quest for knowledge about her. He must have been so confused, twisting in the wind that the tornado of her thoughts had become, just hanging on for dear life.
Shelby had a lot of thinking to do. A ton of thinking to do and some decisions to make. Either she was going to break it off with JC-- because she just couldn't bear to hurt another man the way she had hurt Lucas, dragging him along in her little game until he was too far gone, and was willing to give her the world, if she would stay.
Or she would bare her soul to JC and spill everything, and give in to having feelings for him, of the more-than-friends-with-benefits kind and hope that his feelings for her weren't diminished when he found the information he had been hounding her for, that had been unwilling to give, for fear he would hate how evil and conniving she was. Used to be.
The following evening, her mind would not let her rest if she didn't see him, at least for a few minutes. She wanted to hear the new music he talked nonstop about. See the Band he had been working with. Witness him in action, on a stage. He seemed excited, and that excited her, and attracted her. More than attracted her. Made her think about him in ways that would make him blush, if she ever told him.
Dammit, she had it bad, for him.
At 9:30, Shelby was pulling into the parking lot at Canyon Ridge. Run down and out of the way did nothing to describe this desolate strip of land with nothing around it but a Chevron station and an old rusty combine. The grayish colored paint on the building was peeling. The sign above the door had more letters missing than were there-she only knew it was Canyon Ridge by the sign off of the highway and the address on the building.
She gave her name at the door, guarded by a burly man whose beard had been groomed to a point at the center of his chest. ‘Very Grateful Dead,' she thought, brushing past him, clutching her arm band through the door he opened for her.
Despite the low rent look, there was a considerable crowd in the place. Every major radio station in the area was running ads for this show, so the size of the crowd shouldn't have been much of a surprise, despite the very basic room and simple stage that the facility provided. Canyon Ridge was a standing room only venue where the ceilings were high and the stage was large and the sound was great, evenly dispersed throughout the room. She could hear just as well at the bar as she could in the middle of the floor.
The music was already pumping through the speakers mounted throughout the building. Rod was out in front, center stage, shaking that head of dark brown luscious hair, sweating buckets and growling into a microphone, still attached to the stand, his guitar around his neck and poised for play. The girls, at least, were enjoying it, all out in front, hands raised and singing along to the mid-tempo ballad with a driving beat.
A few of her buddies at her old club in Miami had developed a rudimentary scale by which they used to rate the crowd every night. They called it ‘Grizz Factor', measured by the amount of rough-and-tumble people that were in the place. Long beards and leather jackets and big heavy boots meant a high grizz factor. Preppy boys in brightly colored shirts carrying drinks that matched their shirts out of cosmopolitan glasses factored so low that they were a negative grizz factor. The atmosphere at Canyon Ridge was about a 7 at the highest. The people weren't preppy or frilly, but not hardcore rockers either.
"Lemme get a beer," Shelby said to the bartender, who dug a dark glass bottle out of the cooler and uncapped it. He slid it across the bar to her, wrapped in a napkin. Shelby gulped down a few swallows, taking in the place while she looked around. If it was one thing she'd learned from her Bartending mentor, it was to not drink while on shift. Like any recipe, alcoholic drinks could be varied, but not too much. A tipsy hand was a loose one-more alcohol was poured than paid for, and the quality of drinks suffered. By the time Shelby found the club and made it inside, she was long overdue for a drink.
JC was easy to spot, on keyboards, eyes closed, his silky voice falling into the verses behind Rod's. Sweat glistened on his forehead and soaked the collar and arm pit of the shirt he wore. His head bobbed wildly to the beat, fingers flying over the keyboard. Every once in awhile he would stop playing and turn to the bass player, pointing and clapping with the crowd, huge smile on his face through the solo. And then attention would shift to the sax player, who had a microphone clipped to his instrument. He threw to the drummer, who slammed out the most amazing drum solo she'd heard in a long time. Everyone had their chance in the spotlight. The crowd was loving it, singing along, clapping and dancing to the beat.
Shelby left the bar with her bottle and found a wall to lean against, in a corner of shadows and listened to the sound, the entire sound, from drums to Rod to the keyboard to the guitars. The beat was catchy, as was the melody, and before long she was tapping her toe and singing along. She was so proud of all of them, JC especially. Rod Phillips, the man, wasn't exactly her cup of tea, but Rod Phillips, the musician was magic on two legs. Rod was who she thought she was getting, when she met JC. She wouldn't exchange them for the world.
Two more songs passed, and then an encore, and then JC and the band were onstage, in a line, taking their bows to thundering applause and ear piercing screams. All of them were dripping sweat, shirts soaked through, skin red and ruddy from the heat in the building, the lights overhead, and the action on the stage, but all of them were grinning ear to ear. JC looked happy, trying to catch his breath, big smile on his face. He was looking for her. His eyes combed the crowd right to left. That warmed Shelby's heart like nothing else.
She didn't want to talk to him. Just see him. She would, for sure, find a way to tell him that she was there and he kicked ass. She'd try to leave off the part where she was falling in love with him and didn't want to, and wanted to spill everything and have everything out in the open but was afraid it would freak him out and he wouldn't want anything more to do with her. Not that it mattered. She was going to have to let him go soon, anyway.
JC
His first live show in... forever, actually was orgasmic. Like a dream come true. Every time he got on a stage and let loose, it was like a religious experience, like being transported to another planet, another time, another place, where music was the law of the land. The beat was the sheriff and the lyrics were the deputies and if the music said to rock, you rocked. JC liked that. He lived by that law.
But now the show was over, and it was time to get back to the real world. The world where the performance that night had highlighted areas where the band needed work. Songs that needed refinement. He had his work cut out for him. But first, some fun.
"I'll meet you guys at Shorty's," JC called over his shoulder to the rowdy group of men crunching through the parking lot of rocks and sand and gravel, headed toward a passenger van. "I want to run home and shower. I feel gross."
"See you in awhile, man," Duke called back. "Great show. Sounded good, tonight."
"Thank you. Pat yourself on the back, too. You guys did great. We'll go over the tape tomorrow."
JC nodded and smiled and ducked into his car. The Band had a tradition of gathering at a local dive bar after a show. They'd down some drinks, eat some wings, tie one on, reliving the entire performance from the first song to the second or third or however many encores they had. Since this was JC's first real performance with the Band, it was his first invitation to Shorty's. He was really starting to feel like he belonged there. Like he was making a difference and pushing himself and stretching himself, musically. This was a challenge. This was hard work. This was making him happy.
JC cranked the engine and as he watched the passenger van pull out onto the road, noticed something stuck under a windshield wiper. He got out again and yanked the folded sheet of notebook paper from under it, got back in the car and clicked on the interior light. He recognized that pretty cursive loop, so he knew it was from her before he even opened it.
I caught the last half hour or so of the show. I loved it! I really enjoyed myself. Rod Phillips Band is HOT, especially that sexy ass keyboard player. Can you introduce me? : )
All kidding aside, you guys did really, really well. I can't wait to see a full show and for the album to be out.
And I can't wait to see you Thursday.
Shelby
He read it three, four, six, seven times, sitting there in the parking lot, then folded it and slid it into the front pocket of his satchel. No amount of drinks or wings or reveling at a dive bar was going to make feel as good as those few lines made him feel. She was there. She saw him work. She liked the show. And it wasn't a Thursday, and he didn't get to see her, but he was okay with that. He could still call it a good night.
~ ~ ~
Thursday came too slowly. And dragged by, the hours noticeably ticking away. He always started the day early, so he could take off between 6 and 8:00, but sometimes he didn't make it out of the studio until 9:00. A busy day helped to keep his mind off of their dates. 9pm didn't seem early, but compared to the usual 4am quitting time, it may as well be noon.
He liked her suggestion of a movie, so they made plans to see a late show that didn't start until 10:30. He had just enough time to head home, shower and change and head back to Orlando to the theater. Shelby would meet him there and save seats for them in the back. It was a trick he had been using for a long time so they got good seats, but he could wait until the lights were already low to go in. They'd slip out before the lights came up, so no one would see him leave.
At 10:40, he was lurking in the shadows of the dark theater, climbing the stairs up the right side of the stadium seating. Shelby was three seats in, on the very last row, and had saved the outside seat for him. He settled in and lifted the arm rest up, so she could sit closer to him. She snuggled up against him, where she fit so well. She smelled good, like that shower gel she used that he liked, and when she tipped her head up and pressed her lips to his neck, he had a hard time not moaning out loud.
She made him happy. There was no denying it. He would have liked to deny it. He would have liked to be more suspicious and maybe more demanding, and maybe have a little more self control and stop seeing her. The prospect of that-not seeing her-was impossibility. He was too far gone.
JC had a hard time being patient. It had been a long time since a girl made him wait for anything. Not that he was being cocky-it was just a fact. Sometimes a man got used to the way things went and that became the norm. Anything outside the norm that required more work or attention was usually avoided. Why he couldn't just avoid this... her... his feelings... was beyond him. He felt powerless to resist, and more than that, he didn't really want to resist. Maybe he was blind, but he couldn't see why there couldn't be more between them. They were sitting in a movie theater, watching a movie together. He didn't even ask what movie they were seeing. He knew she'd pick something they both liked. They liked the same kinds of food. They both liked chocolate cake and sweet red wine. They liked the same kinds of music, mostly. She fit him like a glove, in more ways than one, but if she wouldn't let him in, and let him get close, he wasn't sure how long he could hold on. He promised he would make it work as long as he could, and he was trying, but coming close to the end of his rope, with her. If she wasn't ever going to move things forward, maybe it would be better if he moved things back.
The thought made his heart sink. He definitely didn't want that, but he'd done enough pining over Kim, a woman who had been long gone. Longing for a woman that was already there seemed so much worse. And so much more lonely.
He couldn't think about those things now, though. Not in the middle of a sci-fi action flick. Certainly not while Shelby nonchalantly tossed the famous hoodie into his lap, and then slid her hand up under it. Not while he felt the zipper of his jeans being tugged down, ever so slowly and then a hand inside them, and then inside the flap of his briefs. He squirmed, trying not to breathe funny or groan or draw attention to what she was doing. She squeezed him, her bare hand on his bare skin, and began stroking him with her fingers. Light, airy, barely-there touches.
He glanced over at her, finding it hard to believe she was actually doing it. Her face was expressionless, her eyes on the movie, but a tug on him told him she knew what she was doing. She glanced at him for a flash of a few seconds, managed to wink at him, and then turned her head back to the screen. His arm around her dropped to her waist, poking under her blouse and past the band of her jeans, gripping the ample cheek hugged tightly by crisp denim. It kind of wasn't fair that she was making it hard to concentrate on the movie and he couldn't do the same to her.
He would just have to repay the favor, later.
Shelby's warm hand, and what she was doing with it, distracted him for the majority of the film. The credits were rolling before he realized the movie was over-- they should have already left the theater by that point. JC rushed to zip up before the lights came up, then grabbed Shelby's hand and led her out of the dark room, down the stairs, and out of the double doors through the sound of the booming film score. Out of the theater, through the lobby, to the parking lot they went. Straight through with hardly a nod, head down, dragging Shelby behind him he rushed out, trying to beat the crowd pouring out of the theatre.
"Hey JaayyyCeee! Whatdja seeee?"
The voice. He knew it. That inappropriately loud voice accompanied by the most annoying laugh he'd ever heard. It instantly grated on his nerves and set his heart beat to double time. Rod lived at least an hour away. What was he doing on this end of town? At midnight?
"Hey man! I know you hear me! Slow down!"
Uttering thousands of curse words inside, JC stopped, gripping Shelby's hand tightly and pulling her behind him. As he turned, he was blinded by a bright flash. And then another and another, a click and a whir of cameras and a lot of noise as he and Shelby were surrounded.
"Hey, man," JC called to Rod, who was rapidly approaching, one hand up, waiting to slap it into JC's hand in one of those manly ‘handshake-into-hug' gestures. The hand hung in the air until the exchange became uncomfortable and he dropped it.
"Hey, bro. Out to a movie with one of my girls." He nodded toward a small pack of girls that looked almost exactly alike. Tall, blonde, thin. Short skirts, high heels, big boobs. Most of them looked like they'd had work done. "Okay, a few of my girls. My main chick lives over this way, so... seeing it here. Gonna catch Space Junkie. Is that what you saw? Did you like it?
JC glared at Rod, surrounded by cameras, and turned away, shaking his head. "It was okay. Gotta get outta here. See you tomorrow."
"What, are the cameras bugging you? I don't even notice them anymore. We travel in packs, now." Rod laughed, that horridly annoying cackling hyena call ringing out for cameras and audio to catch. Shelby's movements behind him seemed to catch his eye and he dove around JC. "Hey, is this that girl? I heard about you!"
A photog followed Rod, dipping behind JC's back as well, bright lights shining, shutters clicking, flash popping. Shelby yelped and tried to wrench her hand out of his grip. No doubt to run away. He didn't blame her, and planned on joining her.
"Hey, come on, man. We don't want to be on camera!" JC set his jaw and narrowed his eyes at Rod, sending him a mental ‘fuck off'. Hoping he got the message.
Rod let them pass him by, turning to shrug and grin at the group of followers lugging heavy cameras, lights, and video equipment. The cameras got every shot they could as he and Shelby retreated into the darkness.
She didn't say anything as they marched through the parking lot and toward their cars. Her heels clicked against the pavement in a hard staccato rhythm and she had her arms crossed and her head down. He could guess how she was feeling.
"Shelby, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about that, I know that sucks. I swear I didn't know he would be there."
"Whatever, JC," she tossed over her shoulder, headed for her car.
"You're mad at me? I didn't have anything to do with that."
"I'm not saying you did," she snapped.
His temper flared, and he snapped back, "Then what is your fucking problem?"
Shelby whipped around, then hands on her hips, fire in her eyes. "My fuckingproblem is that I don't want my face plastered all over TV and magazine covers, JC."
"And I get that, Shelby. But I'm not the one you should be mad at. I didn't bring them here.
"Then how did Rod find out we would be here? He lives nowhere near here.
"I don't know! I didn't tell him we were coming. I hardly talked to him at all, today. Did it ever occur to you that this is the only theater premiering the Space Junkie? What do you want me to do, Shelby? Undo this?"
"Nothing. Just... nothing. Don't do anything." She turned around again and stomped away, reached her car and then slowed, and stopped. He was parked a few cars away from her in the same row, so he stood in front of a car that was halfway between them.
"So, what now?" She leaned up against the car, arms crossed. "What do you want to do?"
"Well, I want to talk for a minute. Say hi to you. Kiss you, or something."
After a few long stretches of stony silence, she uncrossed her arms and opened them. He almost ran to her, almost threw his arms around her. Almost. Instead, he made himself move slowly, sauntering across the parking lot, standing in front of her stepping closer and closer until he was pressed up against her, her body between him and the car. Shelby hugged him, then let him kiss her, then held him against her as they stood together in the parking lot, leaned up against the driver side door.
"I'm sorry about the cameras, Shelby. I didn't plan that. I didn't tell Rod we were coming here. I promise that."
"I know," she said quietly. "You wouldn't do that. I know. Do you think they got me? They were all up in my face."
JC sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know," he said. "I was blind before I even knew they were there. This part of my life sucks. You really never get used to it. Orlando tends to be real low key about press like that, but Rod eats that shit up. I wouldn't be surprised if he called them and suggested they follow him around to see what kind of trouble he gets into. I know you value your privacy. And I'm sorry. Again."
After a long, quiet moment, Shelby tipped her head up, smile on her lips. "Stop apologizing," she said, her face illuminated in the distant light of passing cars. She didn't look pissed at least. Not anymore. His eyes settled on plump, cherry red lips. He just wanted to kiss them, to set his lips on top of hers and leave them there, for a long time. "Well hi, there, old friend," she said, grinning as moved her hips against him, still hard from the attention during the movie. "I feel you."
"You should. You did it." He felt, then heard her low, lusty laugh. Yeah, that was the stuff. "So, you asked what I wanted to do. Do you really have to ask? Didn't you figure I'd want you to finish what you started?"
She laughed, tipping her head back. He jumped at the chance to nibble at her neck, at her ears. "Not really, I can guess that part. But what do you want to dobefore that? I'm hungry. Do you want to go eat? Do you want to pick something up? Order in?"
"Let's go to your house. Order something in. Since you're closer."
"What, you mean because we get to my subdivision, before we get to yours?" She pushed him away and dug into her purse for her keys. When she found them, she unlocked the door with a press of a button. "Are you following me, then?"
"I will, literally, be right on your ass," he said, backing away toward his car.
Shelby
She was not going to let it freak her out. Not, not, not. What were the chances that some low rate tabloid would be interested enough to post pictures of a random woman hiding behind JC Chasez? Low, she hoped. For her sake, and JC's sake, and even her parent's sake. He would never understand why it mattered to her to lay low-at least not until he knew everything, and by that point it would be too late. She would have already lost him.
There was no sense in worrying about it now, she had decided. It was a ‘what if,' an arbitrary moment in a blur of moments. Maybe they wouldn't even be interested in who she was. Feeling somewhat consoled, Shelby turned her mind to her weekly date, in his car, following close behind her. Maybe she could let him help her forget her troubles for a few hours.
~ ~ ~
A large pizza box lay empty on the floor, in the middle of the den. Empty bottles of beer and still more full bottles sat in the cardboard carrier from the local convenience store littered the glass top coffee table. The TV flickered some late night programming, the volume set to low.
In front of the fireplace, there was moaning, and then whimpering and then a strangled, passionate, near scream of "Oh my... God! Fuck me!"
"Oh, you like that," a voice said, followed by a deep dark chuckle.
"Fuck yeah. Don't stop!"
The sights, the sounds, the smells of sex filled Shelby's den. The rug in front of the fireplace had never seen so much action before she started dating JC. As the temperature cooled outside, it was quickly becoming one of her favorite places to enjoy him. Watching the orange light of the flames reflect off of the sweat on his body, seeing his face cloaked in shadow, feeling the room wrapped in warmth and the scent of burning logs and greenery mixed with the musk of the sweat of two bodies-it was a perfect way to spend an evening. Work off some frustration, some fear, some anxiety.
JC was on his knees, behind Shelby, her hair gathered in a long ponytail and wrapped around one hand and pulling gently as he held her tightly with the other, working his hips like a piston inside her. Skin slapped against sweaty skin, until it was red from contact, accompanied by guttural moans from JC and yelps from Shelby.
"I'm gonna come!"
"Do it."
"Hummmmmmmmfuck!" Shelby gasped, trying hard to suck in air in the warm room as the most satisfying clench rocked her hips, sending vibrating waves through her body. And another. And another, as JC kept moving behind her, an ‘oh yeah' following each wave. "Fuck, you're trying to kill me!"
"If I was trying to kill you..." he stopped to breathe. "You wouldn't be able to walk, tomorrow."
"You shouldn't say things you can't back up."
JC yanked at her hair, to which she responded with a scream, and then moved his hand from where it had been clamped onto a breast, to her clit.
"I don't need acrobatics. You just work that little button right there and make me come until I scream, okay?"
"Whatever you say," he said, his lips on her shoulder, nipping at her skin while his fingers worked, around and around, harder and faster. Her hips moved in rhythm, working herself up and down, her cries growing louder and higher in pitch until her body shook with her climax, squeezing the last ounce of energy out of her. Only then did JC let himself fall over the edge, grunting and groaning as he pushed into her with long, hard strokes until he too collapsed, landing on top of her.
"This rug so wasn't meant for this," Shelby commented.
JC laughed and then rolled off of her, onto his back. "I shudder to think how much value it's lost just in the last few months."
"Oh well. If I have to sell it, I just won't tell the new owners what I did on it."
Wrapped in an afghan her mom had knitted for her a few Christmases ago, Shelby curled up next to JC in front of the fireplace, listening to the wood pop and hiss, watching him catch his breath, his skin glowing in the light. He pulled her closer to him, covering her mouth with his, despite the fact that he couldn't yet breathe normally.
"And if anyone is trying to kill anyone, it's you trying to kill me."
"No, I'm not," she said, laughing, but inwardly rolling her eyes at the irony. She put it out of her mind, again. It would not ruin another night. She moved close to him, molding herself to his body, laying her head on his chest, holding onto him tightly. "To quote you, welcome to my world."
"Yeah, you seemed like you were suffering a lot."
"I suffer quietly."
JC laughed at that statement, as did she. Mentally, she double checked the house to see if she'd left any windows open. Shelby could get pretty loud. No matter. If someone heard them, she hoped they were enjoying it as much as she did.
The intro music for ‘Extra!' interrupted her thoughts and their post sex-in-front-of-the-fireplace quiet time. They talked off and on, listening to inane stories of celebrities being celebrities and pretending to be upset at being caught. JC snoozed, one arm stretched out across the floor, the other around her shoulder.
‘Pop stars Rod Phillips and JC Chasez took some time off from creating hits tonight, hitting a local theater for the premiere of Space Junkie, the futuristic thriller set in a postwar Los Angeles...'
Shelby shot up and scrambled around to face the TV. JC jerked awake at her sudden movement.
"What? What's wrong?"
"It's a story about tonight. If they got me, I'll be sick."
"Shelby..."
"Shhhh!"
JC sat up and joined her, craning his head around to watch the coverage. Shot after shot of JC talking to Rod, giving him the glare, and walking away flashed across the screen, followed by video of the same.
Shelby nearly screamed, her hands flying to the top of her head, her fingers buried in her hair. Blurry, too-close-for-comfort still shots of Shelby filled the screen while the perky voiced entertainment reporter speculated on who the ‘woman hiding behind JC Chasez' might be.
"Girlfriend? Lover? Friend caught in the middle? Who knows, but it looks like she wasn't pleased and didn't want to be on camera. Is this the first woman to steal JC's heart after the heartbreaking split with Kim Valentine? Only time will te-"
The TV snapped off, the image fading to black. The den was silent, except for the sounds of the fire emitting a pop every few seconds. Shelby turned around to find JC sliding the remote back onto the table.
He already had a hand up to quiet her protests. "It's not a big deal, Shelby. It's like... 1:58 am Friday morning. They put that in there for filler and probably won't run it again. By 8am it'll be old news. Trust me, okay? It'll be fine."
Shelby just stared at him. How could he be so calm? Maybe he was used to his face being plastered across the news and tabloids-she had a reason to want to keep her face hidden.
"You don't think they'll run it again?"
He reached for her, grabbing her arm and dragging her across the rug and back to him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly, then looked her in the eye. "Pretty sure they won't run it again. Relax. It's okay."
Shelby let herself be pulled across the room, and then up off of the floor and down the hall to the bed. She wanted to believe him, but had a sinking feeling about it all. She crossed her fingers that she was wrong, in hopes that no one would particularly care about ‘the girl hiding behind JC Chasez'.
JC
Shelby was obsessive, almost manic about checking the news and the internet the following morning. Not much had been said about the few minutes of coverage the night before. A few blogs and YouTube had picked it up, but blessedly, most had cut off the end. It seemed people were really only interested in Rod, and then JC, not the random woman hiding in the background. Shelby seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief.
"Told ya," JC said, munching on toast and sipping coffee at her dining room table.
"Yeah, I know. I had to see it for myself."
"Would it be really bad, if it ran a lot? I mean, I know you don't want to get into it-"
Shelby set her mug down on the table with a thunk. "I just don't want it to get back to Miami, really. I don't care what Orlando thinks."
"Who's in Miami that would care? Your ex? You think he'll come find you? Take you away, or something?"
Shelby ignored him, clicking through websites on her laptop, picking up her mug again and almost gulping down coffee. He didn't repeat the question, but he didn't move on. He finished his toast and drank his coffee, an uncomfortable silence between them. Finally, in a fit of frustration, he pushed the cover of her laptop closed.
Shelby glared at him, across the table. He shrugged a shoulder and stared back. Daring her to brush him off, again. He was getting sick of that shit.
"My ex is dead," she said quietly, plainly. "Okay? My ex fiancé? The man you're so curious about? He's dead. So no, I don't think he gives a fuck what I'm doing with pop star JC Chasez."
JC watched her get up from the table and walk down the hall and turn the corner, head down, hand over her mouth like she was about to cry. He wanted to follow her, but couldn't move. Wanted to call out to her, but he was breathless and speechless and his mind was void of any thought that made sense.
Dead? Her ex was dead?
He now had abundantly more questions than answers, but felt even more uncomfortable about asking her. Maybe this was what she meant when she said it was complicated, and he didn't want to know. Except he really did want to know. He wanted to know all of this woman's secrets.
Shelby
She already felt it happening. The beginning of the end. It was time to let him go, before things got out of control and she wrapped him up in something that wasn't his problem, and wasn't his business, and frankly, wasn't something he even wanted to know about.
Shelby only hoped she would have the strength to do it without breaking his heart. There was no chance she could do it without breaking hers.
