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I sigh softly around a cigarette, eyes combing the room. It’s full of kids who probably don’t even know who I am but are going to pretend they do because it’s cool to go up to the old guy with the crinkly eyes and tell him that he’s great.
I know that the majority of it is pure bullshit but I almost don’t care. It’s been almost a year out of the spotlight, letting myself slide back into the shadows where I can be daddy and not him.
Even though I haven’t been him for a long time. I’m just good at pretending.
A flick of the wrist and I dispose of the ash at the end of the cigarette, turning to smile at someone else and laugh about music and the good old days when I was famous.
I’m still famous in a lot of ways but not always for the music anymore. For acting, for my Internet ventures, even for my art. But not so much for the music anymore.
I wish that Trent was here, someone who did actually respect me for the music. Someone I could laugh with and smoke cigarettes and bitch about the kids around us.
Instead of Trent though there’s this long-limbed kid, licking his lips nervously and talking to a friend of his. He’s looking at me, almost star-struck it seems. A look I haven’t gotten in a long time.
His friend, another tall kid with a shaved head, smiles and pushes him in the general direction of me. The other kid runs a hand through long, floppy hair that reminds me a little of what I’ve sported many, many times before.
He shuffles over and stutters when he holds out a shaking hand to me. With a genuine smile, I shake his hand and try to remember why I should know who he is.
And then he goes and says something that shocks me.
“In Cygnet Committee, you use descending thirds. I think that was a fantastic choice for that song and I really love that you had the balls to do that when no one was doing that.”
Now I’m the one that stuttering and blushing a little. I’m suddenly not that upset that Trent isn’t here because there’s this kid with long, floppy hair who knows two things that shock me.
One. He knows Cygnet Committee.
And two. He knows what descending thirds are.
Later in the evening, after three shots of whiskey each and a pack of cigarettes between us, we’re outside in the night talking about music.
He introduced himself as Josh and I just go with it. After the second shot though, I realize who he actually is but don’t call attention to it.
He is one of the front men of the current biggest band in the world. I’ve never totally been in his place. Even when I was huge, I didn’t have the status he had. I could still go out to the grocery store and movies.
Of course. I was never JC Chasez.
And he is.
At some point, I laugh and just look at him. He looks back with a puzzled expression, his hand holding the cigarette poised inches from his lips.
“My son is older than all five of you.”
He laughs at that and takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Joe’s not that much older then me. Five years. And he’s only a year older then Chris.”
I look at him quizzically. “You a fan?”
He looks back at me. “Are you?”
Touché. I give him a little smile and shake my head. “I know who you are obviously. Am I a fan? No. Your turn to answer me.”
“Hell yeah,” He takes another long drag on the cigarette. “You take chances and break the rules and do everything that I would love to do and can’t do with music. Some of the stuff you’ve done just blows me away.”
I smirk a little and put my arm around the kid, squeezing a little. “Thanks,” I gesture towards the inside. “I don’t do shit like this much anymore. Gets so damn fake. I’ve been doing this for so damn long now that I just don’t need the hassle of kissing people’s asses.”
He grins and moves a little closer to me. The night air is chilly. I think nothing of it. I notice he smells like oranges and vanilla.
“I still have a long time to do this so I’m good at the whole ass-kissing thing. You should have seen the way I smooth-talked Mariah Carey earlier.”
I snort at that. “What? Did you offer to let her blow you?”
“Ouch,” he makes a face. “And no. I tend not to let girls near my dick.”
I nod knowingly. “I kind of guessed that about you.”
“I already knew that about you.”
I shake my head with a small smile. “Not anymore, kid. I’m married. I have a baby.”
“How is she doing?” He asks me while taking another drag on his cigarette, not even caring that I pretty much just turned him down.
I smile at that. “She’s fantastic. I didn’t really get to be a daddy the first time around. I was too young, too famous at the time. I actually enjoy changing her dirty diapers.”
“Joey, one of our guys, just had a baby in March,” he flicks ash away, looking a little sad at that. “A lot of things have changed because of that.”
“Babies will do that.” I squeeze JC’s shoulders again, sensing that there was something more he wanted to say but wasn’t going to say.
He just nods and puts out his cigarette, looking at me for a moment. “I saw you perform once. Last year at the Roseland Ballroom in New York City. You did three shows, two for Bowienet members only. I saw the first show but I was too afraid to introduce myself to you.”
I tilt my head a little in his direction. “You were afraid of me?”
He nods, looking a little ashamed almost. “I’m just such a little fan boy sometimes. There are some people that get to me. You’re one of them.”
“If I scare you so much, why did you talk to me tonight?”
“Justin made me,” he smiles a little, the curve of his lips catching my eye. He’s beautiful, I think before I can stop myself. “He said that I would be kicking myself again if I didn’t say hi this time.”
“So I have Justin to thank for a pleasant evening?” I am staring at him openly now and he seems to know it.
“I’m making it a pleasant evening?” He even manages to blush, obviously pleased that I said that.
“Well, you’re no Trent Reznor,” I tease, giving him a fond smile so he knows I’m joking. “But you talk music good.”
He leans closer to me, those perfect lips parted slightly. I wonder if he knows what he’s doing to me right now.
“David!”
I almost jump backwards, looking in the direction where the familiar voice came from. I sigh and wave to my wife before looking back at JC. He gives me a small smile and just nods.
“Get in touch with me,” I say to him softly. “I’d like to do this again sometime.”
“How will I find you?”
I chuckle and slide a thumb across a perfect cheekbone before ruffling his hair.
“You will.”
“Who was that?” asks my wife in her soft, lilting accent.
I look back at JC who’s staring off into space.
“A little fan boy.”
“Hello?”
I try and grab Alex at the same time as I speak but she toddles past me and I have to chase her down.
“David?”
The voice is tentative but familiar. I grab Alex and set her back in her playpen, giving her a pacifier to placate her.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Josh..um..I mean JC,” he sounds flustered and I can’t help but smile. “We met a few months ago.”
I chuckle and lean against the wall. “You finally got in touch with me. Took you long enough, kid.”
I could hear him breath a sigh of relief. “Things have been a little crazy back here lately. Touring and all that stuff.”
“I suppose you are finished with that now since you are calling.” I watch as Alex throws her toys out of the playpen like usual.
“Actually, no,” JC chuckles a little. “We just happen to be touring in your area of the world right now.”
“Yes I believe I did hear something about this pop group coming to town,” I’m grinning like an idiot but it’s good to hear from him. “Sadly, I don’t have tickets.”
“That’s a shame,” JC’s voice is just as teasing as mine is. “I happen to know a few of the guys in the band. I just might be able to get you and your daughter some tickets.”
I almost laugh at that because Alex has finished throwing everything out of her playpen and is trying to take off her diaper.
“I think she might be a little young for a concert, JC.”
“So you’re turning me down?” His voice was soft and sad.
I’m quiet, watching Alex again. “No,” I smile because I can hear a sigh of relief on his end. “I just said that she might be a little young. Me, I might be a little old for one of your shows.”
“I don’t think so personally. But what do I know.”
“When is this show anyway?” I’m working it out in my head. Iman is out of town for a few days but I could have my son watch Alex for me.
“Tomorrow night,” I could hear JC moving around and another whispered voice. “Will you come?”
I sigh a little softly. “How about this? If I can get someone to watch Alex, I’ll come to the show. Give me your number.”
JC tells me his number and I scribble it on a scrap of paper, shoving it in my pocket so I don’t lose it like everything else.
I hear JC hiss at someone to get out of the room and then laughter. I wonder a little what they are laughing at but I don’t ask.
“I have to go, David,” JC’s voice is regretful. “Call me. Please.”
I smile, one of my hands resting on my stomach. “I will, JC. I promise.”
“Bye.”
I hang up on him, still smiling. Alex laughs and throws her diaper out of the playpen.
I narrow my eyes a little, watching the show more critically then I should be. I just can’t help it sometimes. The soundbooth is small and crowded and there are way too many people around that seem to think that I’m someone’s father.
I step out of the soundbooth, my pass hanging around my neck, and head for an open area in the guest section. My eyes follow JC the whole time. I can’t seem to look away from him while he’s onstage.
He’s just so sexual right now. I wonder if he invited me here just so I would know that about him. I don’t think I would put it past him.
I manage to work my way close to the stage, standing next to a young woman with long, brown hair and a necklace with JC’s picture around her neck. I watch her for a moment and then look back at the stage.
From experience, I know that he really can’t see the people in the crowd. When he’s real close to someone, yes, he can see them but for the most part they are just faceless blobs.
I don’t know if I want him to see me right now.
He’s beautiful onstage, I can’t help but think over and over again. I want to stop thinking this but I can’t because he’s right in front of me and he’s looking at me and he’s giving me a wide, open smile.
I feel his hand connect with mine and he squeezes tightly, a thumb passing over the underside of my wrist briefly before he’s gone and moving again.
The girl standing next to me gives me an angry look, like JC was supposed to be touching her and not me.
I give her a little smile and turn so she can see my pass before I leave.
Okay, so maybe I am glad that JC saw me.
I flick ash from the tip of my cigarette, a bored expression on my face even though inside I’m shaking for some reason. I have been directed to a room backstage by some unknown woman who didn’t know anymore about me than the fact my name was on her list.
I’m leaning against a wall and smoking because that’s what I’m comfortable with. There are other people in the room, people I sort of recognize actually. They don’t recognize me though.
JC had told me when we were talking last night who was supposed to be here; girlfriends, family, management. And me. The faded rock star standing in the corner waiting for the young kid to come rescue him.
I hadn’t expected to be on the phone with JC for almost three hours the night before but I had been. We just started talking and the next time I moved was when Alex started to cry.
I am a little confused by what is happening between us. If there is something happening between us. I don’t even know.
I put my cigarette out and make my way towards the center of the small room, picking up a glass of something from the table. I smile at a pretty girl with blonde hair and a familiar smile. I know that I should know who she is. But I don’t remember.
“You’re JC’s guest, right?”
She’s got a soft, Southern drawl to go along with her sweet smile. I nod a little, taking a drink.
“He told me to keep you company until he got back here,” she pats the seat next to her. “I’m Britney.”
I sit down next to her and give her a warm smile, totally fake but hers is as well. She’s one of many of this generation with the same face, the same body, the same smile, even the same sound. I try to push those thoughts out of my mind when I think about JC, because really, he isn’t from this generation inside. He belongs back in the 60s and 70s with me.
“I’m...”
She cuts me off before I can finish. “David Bowie. I know.” And this time her smile is real.
I raise an eyebrow as I look at her and she laughs, a soft sound in the noisy room. “Don’t look so surprised. Even if JC hadn’t told us all five million times that you were coming tonight, I would have recognized you.”
“You know who I am?” I realize after I say it that it sounds completely stupid and moronic of me to ask that question.
Britney nods again. “One of my favourite movies as a child, and actually still is, was Labyrinth. You really don’t look much different. It’s hard to believe it’s been sixteen years since the movie came out when I look at you.”
I take that as a compliment even though it could mean I looked as old as I do now in 1985 and not that I still look young.
“They’ll be back here shortly,” she says to me, twisting to reach her glass which was behind her. “It takes them a little time to wind down and shower.”
“Yes,” I reply even though that wasn’t something that needed an answer. “I’ve been where they are.”
“You’ve never been where they are.”
JC laughs and leans closer to me in the cool air. I don’t pull away because nothing about this moment makes me want to pull away. We had snuck away from the party an hour previous, liberating a bottle of champagne as well. Since then we have finished the bottle and are now roaringly drunk and laughing at everything that happens.
I’m regaling JC with tales from the 70s when touring didn’t used to be like this. I tell him tales of walking around town dressed up as Ziggy Stardust and getting the strangest looks.
That makes him laugh and he touches my cheek, turning my head a little to look at me.
“When was the last time you were Ziggy?”
My smile fades away and I think back to the last time I was really Ziggy Stardust. “Hammersmith,” I say to him softly. “After that night, I was never really Ziggy again. I was Aladdin Sane and then Halloween Jack for Diamond Dogs.”
“I wish I could do that,” says JC, lying back on the damp grass. It had rained earlier in the evening but he doesn’t seem to care so I decide I don’t care either and lie back next to him. “Change who I am. Be a chameleon.”
“Why on Earth do you want to change?” I ask, rolling onto my side and propping myself up with my elbow.
I watch him as he tries to form the answer in his mind before speaking. “I get tired of playing me.”
I understand that answer and all the baggage that comes with it. And I say as much, trying to let JC know that I’ve been there and he can deal with it.
And he smiles and that makes me feel like I’ve done a little good. “You’re staying tonight, aren’t you?”
I am taken aback and just look at him, a little surprised. “Staying?”
“Here. With me,” JC doesn’t even look embarrassed to be outright asking me this which makes me think that maybe, just maybe he isn’t asking exactly what I think he’s asking. “I don’t think you should drive home drunk like this.”
I smile and laugh. “Oh you’re worrying about the old man now?”
JC shakes his head. “No, I’m worrying about you.”
And for some reason that simple statement makes me kiss him. I can feel him smile against my lips and I realize that he’s wanted this all along. It was just up to me to realize it.
I wake up, my brain fuzzy and my mouth dry. There’s a warm, heavy weight against my back and it takes me a few moments to realize that I’m naked and JC is wrapped around me from behind, his long body draping across me and his nose nuzzling into my hair.
It only takes a fraction of a second to realize that he’s naked as well.
I don’t remember having sex with him. I don’t think that I did but I really need to wake him up and ask so I turn to face him and he’s still fast asleep and his hair is all tight and curly and mussed up and his lips are kiss-bitten red. I look down at his body, at the firm muscles and the chest sprinkled with dark hair.
And I turn back over, wrap JC around me again and go back to sleep.
We laugh over coffee after the whole sex thing has been cleared up, both of us wearing fluffy hotel bathrobes and sitting across from each other at the small table in his room.
I’ve kissed him three times since we woke up. All three of them sweet and light and innocent. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m keeping the kisses at that, responding appropriately and kissing back just as delicately and innocently. Part of my mind keeps screaming to just push him back on the bed and fuck him until he screams my name.
But that will wait.
“I think that you should stay with me today,” says JC, popping a piece of cantaloupe into his mouth and smiling at me.
I laugh and shake my head, sipping my coffee. “I think you’re delusional, my dear.”
JC laughs as well. “I had to toss the option out there. I guess I’ll see you the next time I’m in town or you’re in the States.”
I look at him and shake my head. “We’ll see each other before then.”
JC doesn’t say anything, his gaze slightly wary but he nods and gives me another warm smile that makes me feel like the sun is shining on me despite the look in his eyes. He sips his coffee and puts the mug back on the table.
“Well then,” His voice takes on a teasing tone again. “I better give you my cell phone number and a key to my house.”
I’m slightly taken aback but I just nod in response. “And I’ll give you my cell number. The key to my house is another story.”
“Your wife will love me,” JC laughs. “C’mon. How could she not?”
I can’t answer that so I just change the subject and the morning moves on until it’s time for me to leave and I have to say goodbye to JC again.
At least this time I know there’s more to come.
I hold his hand firmly as I laugh at something that Chris says. I find myself having a good time with JC and his friends. They don’t look at me as an old man which is something I never realized how much I could appreciate until now.
We don’t see each other as often as we would like, maybe once or twice a month depending on our schedules.
We’re open about the fact that when we do see each other, we want to be left alone or we will spend time with others on our terms. And our terms mean not often in public because we go so long without getting to touch each other, we want to be able to the whole time we’re together.
So tonight we’re sitting in a club, someplace that Joey swears is safe and none of us will get recognized.
Turns out that Joey is wrong and one of the first things that happens is the bouncer looks at me and almost squeals with happiness. Then asks me what I’m doing with a bunch of kids and attempts to card Justin and Britney.
So I sign a few autographs and Justin and Britney get to slide by and into the club with the rest of us. Joey apologizes profusely and then disappears into the crowd of people, searching for a dance partner. His girlfriend, Kelly just laughs and sits down with the rest of us.
I notice that JC is uncomfortable around Kelly but I don’t ask him about it. Not now. Not in public. Later when we are alone together and sleepy and sated, I’ll ask him why he gets a sad look in his eyes when he looks at Joey, and Kelly makes him tense.
I am pretty sure I already know the answer and hope that someday he doesn’t get the same look in his eyes when he looks at me and my wife.
So Justin and Britney go off and dance together, being the beautiful couple they are. Chris and Lance sit with us, both of them arguing with each other but enjoying every moment of it. JC and I sit in the back of the booth and whisper quietly to each other. I kiss him lightly and fleetingly and that makes him smile and almost forget that Kelly is sitting with us.
We make an odd looking couple. He’s young and beautiful and so desirable to millions. I’m old and weathered and I laugh at the wrong times and don’t really know what’s going on with his generation. Sometimes I see the looks that I’m given when I sit next to JC quietly, holding his hand and just listening to them.
I often want to ask what his friends think of me, whether they see me as a dirty, old man or an aging queen getting his last fling on with today’s star.
But I never ask and I just sit there with JC’s hand in mine and remember why I am doing this to myself.
Because with him, I don’t feel like an old man.
JC nuzzles my neck, laughing a little. His fingers trail down my bare stomach and rest there lightly. He is going to leave in a few hours but for now it’s just the two of us in his big bed in his room where the curtains are open and a warm breeze wafts in. It smells like oranges and vanilla in the room, a combination of the smells that make JC so JC to me.
We’ve learned to ignore the fact his brother is wandering the house, talking loudly to JC’s pets. We’ve learned to ignore the phone ringing unless it’s my cell phone and it’s my wife.
We’ve learned to hold on to the time we have.
“Where are you going to be next month?” I ask him, breaking the silence in the room.
“I don’t know,” JC stretches and moves, letting go of me and walking naked over to his dresser. I watch him twist a finger in a ringlet of hair as he picks up the small book Lance made him get to know their schedule. “Chicago, Los Angeles, and here. Why?”
“I’m doing a club show,” I sit up, crossing my legs and resting my elbows on my knees. “In New York.”
JC turns and looks at me in surprise. “You’re kidding?” I shake my head and I swear he squeals, running back over and jumping on the bed. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me.
“Can I come?”
I laugh at that. “Nope. I just told you to torture you.”
JC pouts and kisses me again, his lips straying against my jaw. “I can make it worth your while.”
I swallow and laugh. “Oh really. How do you plan to do that?”
I feel long graceful fingers slide down my side to my lap, curving over my hip and down my thigh before tracing back up my inner thigh.
“I’ll think of a way.”
There’s never really an announcement anymore when I do a show, especially something small and intimate like this. But despite no advertising, shows like this sell out in about an hour. Word of mouth spreads through the real fans and I get the crowds I want, people who know and respect me for the music.
Tonight is not what I wanted it to be though. JC is here, with the rest of the members of *Nsync and their dates. But my wife is also here so I can’t see JC after the show like I want to.
It’s been awhile since I’ve been onstage but everything comes back immediately, the feeling of power over a crowd of people, the rush when you realize that they are all here to see you.
Gail and Reeves both agreed to do the show with me even though they both are doing their own things these days. It’s like a small reunion onstage for us. We haven’t played together since Glastonbury last year.
The lights go down one more time, our final encore over. I grab the acoustic guitar and walk back onstage, the lights rising just slightly to focus on me sitting on a stool, the guitar on my lap.
I light a cigarette, holding it between my thumb and forefinger, looking out on the crowd. I don’t know where JC is and I don’t know where my wife is but I’m hoping that they aren’t near each other.
I exhale, knowing that the smoke is twisting up into the air and mingling with the lights and the background. I smile and finger the guitar lightly.
The crowd is screaming.
“I haven’t done this song in a very, very long time,” I say, my voice slightly rough from a long night of singing but still smooth enough to make it sound good. “So forgive me if I mess it up any.”
The crowd laughs and someone shouts ‘We love you, David!’
“Thank you,” I murmur into the microphone, setting the cigarette in the ashtray. “This is for you.”
I know I don’t have to say anymore than that because he knows I mean him. I close my eyes and start to strum the guitar.
By the time I sing the first line, the crowd is screaming their approval. I open my eyes for the last chorus, added in by myself at the last moment because I don’t want to stop singing.
The crowd is swaying along with me and suddenly I can see JC perfectly. His eyes are locked with mine as I sing, the crowd and JC singing along with me.
Staying back in your memory...
are the movies in the past...
how you moved is all it takes...
to sing a song of when I loved....
the prettiest star...
And the lights come down and the connection is severed between JC and myself. In the darkness onstage, I feel alone.
I pick up my cigarette and my guitar and walk offstage.
She walks into the room like she always does, her long strides covering the distance between us quickly.
I’m exhausted, sitting in a chair with my head down, a cigarette held loosely between my lips. I don’t look up until she slides a hand over my shoulder.
Her eyes are soft and somehow I know that she knows the song wasn’t for her. Her lips press to my forehead and I close my eyes again.
“David,” she whispers softly, her hand still stroking my shoulder. “I want to meet the prettiest star.”
And I know that I can’t say no.
JC looks at me. Iman looks at me. I look at the wall. In my defense, there is a very interesting picture on the wall of a few ships.
“David,” she says to me softly. “Please look at us.”
I turn and they are standing next to each other, both tall and proud and beautiful. JC looks slightly frightened. Iman looks slightly perturbed.
I take a deep breath, facing her. “Iman, meet JC,” I turn to face him. “JC, meet Iman.”
They turn to each other and just stare. She reaches a hand up slowly. I watch JC start to pull back, preparing himself for a slap. Instead her hand rests on his cheek, tracing the curve of his cheekbone with her finger.
“He’s just a baby, David,” she murmurs, letting her hand drop. “What are you doing with him?”
And I can’t answer her even though JC’s staring at me, his blue eyes full of pain at my non-answer. I have to look away.
JC leaves the room without saying anything to me or to her. She walks over to me, leaning in and pressing her lips to mine lightly before pulling back again.
“You better tell him that you love him or else you will lose him.”
I just nod, my eyes focusing on the picture of ships on the wall again.
The night air is cool and crisp, New York in the fall, just starting to get a little chilly at night but everything seems surprisingly clean even though it’s New York. I close my eyes and try to block out the stars winking at me from in between the skyscrapers.
I hear the flint of a lighter next to me and then the acrid scent of a cigarette burning. I know it’s him and I know that it’s now or never.
I open my eyes and look at him.
His hair is wild and curly, blowing a little in the breeze that’s wafting over us, reminding me a little of those days spent in his bedroom down in Orlando. I can’t see his eyes though and I want to. I reach out and touch his chin. He doesn’t pull away, letting me turn his face towards me.
There are too many emotions in his eyes for me to read and as he exhales, his eyes are hidden behind a cloud of smoke, obscuring them from me now.
I run my thumb across his jaw and lean in to kiss him lightly. He kisses back, those soft full lips pressing against my own. I can taste cigarettes and whiskey on his lips and I want to apologize, to say so many things but I have no voice, no words to speak of.
I break the kiss first and he just lifts the cigarette to his lips again, inhaling and looking back out at the city. I move behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head against his shoulder.
“I love you.” I whisper.
“I know,” He whispers back. “I love you too.”
I felt him turning in my arms and he looks at me, the cigarette gone now and his eyes meeting mine. I feel his hands on my face, those long, graceful fingers stroking gently, caressing the rough stubble.
“We need to end this.” His voice is no more than a whisper but I can’t hear anything else but him so it sounds like he’s shouting.
“We knew this wasn’t going to be forever.” His fingers skid across the planes of my neck, light and teasing. He slips a finger under my collar, brushing against the skin there.
“We’ll see each other again.” It’s a promise made in a soft voice I know I am going to miss hearing. His lips press up against mine once more and then he’s gone and I’m left alone leaning against the balcony railing and smoking one of his cigarettes that he left behind and smelling oranges and vanilla.
I sigh softly around a cigarette and give Trent a small shrug. Industry party like so many before now but thankfully, he’s with me this time. Someone who I can talk to and relate to. Someone who I know I’m not going to fall in love with.
It’s been a year since I first met JC at a party like this, four months since he said goodbye to me that night on a balcony in New York City. I haven’t seen him since, haven’t heard a word from him.
People have been coming up to me all night long, smiling and pretending to respect the old rock star. I’ve gotten congratulations on my new album, a few people even offering words that have to do with the music and not just ‘hey it’s good stuff.’
I wonder what JC thinks of it. I know that he would sit there and tell me what he likes and doesn’t like about every song on it.
I want that.
Across the room, I meet a pair of blue eyes and smile. I exhale off to the side so my eyes aren’t obscured.
He winks at me and smiles back, tilting his head a little. And then he disappears again and I turn my attention back to Trent who is talking about a book that both of us have read recently.
The smell of oranges and vanilla is strong in the air.
And I smile.