WANNABES
"Wannabes" are scenes that originally were written for "Sucker" but were deleted or rewritten along the way, shown here in their original form.
Since
these scenes are not part of "Sucker" and were in fact deliberately removed from
"Sucker," please do not take any of the plot points or expressed opinions as
actual "Sucker" canon. Whatever the guys say or think here in these scenes
is irrelevant to the overall "Sucker" plot.
"Sucker" (copyright 2002-2006 by Matthew Haldeman-Time) is rated NC-17 for
graphic male-male sex. The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC,
and O-Town are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described,
nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life.
This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.
8.) Lance, JC, AJ, random hot male jeweler ("Sucker" 71)
Lance comes to visit JC.
JC was restoring order to the bears on his bed when the doorbell rang. He knew better than to hope for Nick, but a pulse of “I hope that’s Howie” flashed through his mind. Setting aside a panda, he went to the front door, pulling it open.
“Hey.” Lance gave him a tentative smile. “Can I come in?”
Shit. The flowers. He could keep Lance out of his bedroom, but there was no way to keep Lance from seeing his living room. He could lie about where the flowers were from, but Lance would know. But he didn’t want to turn Lance away from his door. That wouldn’t do their friendship any good.
Lance’s gaze flickered. “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” JC said. “No, it’s fine.
Come in. I just… Erik just left and I’m a little disoriented. It can be
disconcerting, finding your feet again after living in the wrong reality all
afternoon.”
“I actually came over to talk about him.” Lance came into the house, then stopped.
JC looked elsewhere, giving
Lance a moment. The silence stretched out for too long. Finally, JC said, “I’m
sorry.”
“What are they for?” Lance’s voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. A stranger.
“Erik delivered them. They’re Howie’s version of trying to win me back.” He glanced at Lance’s face and wished that he hadn’t. “I was going to call a hospital and donate-”
“No.”
“No?” What?
“No. Howie wants you to have them. Have them. Keep them. Keep the damned things!” Red-faced, Lance finally turned and met his eyes. “Put them all over the house! Press them between the pages of your diary! Use them to cover my damned grave!”
Shit! “Lance, I didn’t-”
“I came here to ask you about Estrada. I came here because I knew that you could confirm for me that I don’t have shit to worry about with him.” Lance shook his head, backing up to the door already. “And I don’t, do I? The person I have to worry about is you.”
“No, no, you don’t,” JC insisted. “Stop - - stop and listen to me! Howie doesn’t-”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Lance shouted. “I’m sick of not knowing who to listen to and not knowing who’s telling which truth and not knowing who to trust! I’m sick of lies and innuendo and bullshit!”
“Howie doesn’t care about me! This is for Erik! This is the lie!” JC exclaimed, pointing to the flowers.
“What else has he given you?” Lance demanded. “What else?!”
“Things,” JC said. “Things that don’t mean anything. These flowers, some-”
“This?” Lance asked, grabbing his necklace in one hand.
God, this was out of control. “It doesn’t mean anything,” JC said, trying to stay calm, trying to keep his voice even. “It’s just for Erik, to make him think-”
“To make him think that Howie cares about you,” Lance said. “Because it’s all illusion with Howie, it’s all what he can make you think he feels. None of it’s real. His feelings aren’t real. He isn’t real. His love isn’t real. This necklace-”
JC winced as Lance ripped the necklace away from him, snapping the chain.
“-isn’t real.” Lance threw it
across the room, fire in his eyes. “Did that hurt?”
“Lance-”
“It always does,” Lance said. “Pain is the only thing that’s real anymore, isn’t it? The pain, the betrayal, the suspicion, the fear. I’m afraid every fucking day of my life now. What about you?” Lance shoved him; he fell back a step. Lance advanced, eyes snapping. “Are you scared?”
Oh, god, “I’m terrified,” JC confessed. “I’m afraid of losing you and I’m afraid of never being with Nick again and I’m afraid of what I feel for Howie and I’m afraid of what I’m turning into and I’m so scared for you and Chris and Justin and Joey.”
Lance stared at him, breathing angrily.
“Sit down,” JC said, softly. “Please.”
Lance inhaled slowly, then breathed in again. “Sorry. I can’t.” He turned away from the flowers. “I can’t. I’ll-”
“Lance, if we don’t-”
“Later,” Lance said. “We can - - later. I can’t - - I’ll see you later.” Lance left.
JC sighed. Found his broken necklace on the floor. Sat down and felt like shit. Tossed the necklace back across the room without any real energy.
He’d give Howie to Lance in a heartbeat, if it were in his power to do so.
But it wasn’t.
Was anything in his power anymore?
The doorbell rang.
Getting up, finding the necklace and pocketing it, JC opened the door. Now, this he hadn’t expected.
“Hey. I know, I should’ve called first. Howie said you might need some help.”
“Hi,” JC said, trying to
remember ever having AJ on his doorstep before. “Come in. Is that video
equipment?”
“The finest in personal surveillance.” Handing him a box, AJ entered the house, bringing in a few more. “Let’s get this puppy working.”
JC had to admit that AJ seemed to know what he was doing. Personally, JC might not have been quite as efficient.
As AJ set everything up, he explained what he was doing, enlisting JC’s help as an extra pair of hands. In the middle of that, he also carried on regular conversation; JC found himself relating most of his recent conversation with Erik.
They wired the living room and the bedroom. AJ gave both the flowers and the bears a derisive snort, then worked around them as if they weren’t in the way.
JC liked AJ’s company. AJ’s energy. It kept his attention. While AJ was rigging everything up, JC’s gaze wandered his lean, muscular form. That scene with Dan came to mind. The animal passion. The untamed fire.
When everything was finished, AJ said, “Looks like you’re good to go. Everything should record. He’ll never suspect a thing. If Estrada ever finds a cord, a wire, a mike, or anything, tell him that it’s part of your home security system. Tell him that it’s state-of-the-art. He won’t know any better.”
JC nodded. “Thanks a lot for your help. I had no idea what to do.”
“No problem.” AJ’s gaze caught
on something; AJ’s hand came around his forearm, lifting his wrist. “This is
from D.?”
“Yeah.” He liked the feel of AJ’s fingers on his skin. Liked AJ’s nearness. “It’s a great piece.”
“It really is,” AJ agreed. “Seems perfect for you.” AJ’s hand dropped; AJ stepped back. “I have to get back to Justin. See you later?”
“See you later,” JC said, walking him to the door. “Thanks for coming.”
“My pleasure.” A brief flash of a smile, and AJ left.
JC looked around the living room.
He couldn’t see the cameras, but he knew where they were.
He was being recorded.
He was being watched.
Alone, in his own home.
Wanting to get away from the cameras, away from the flowers and bears, away from thoughts of Nick and Howie and Lance and Erik and everything else, JC decided to do something useful.
He went to the jeweler’s to get the clasp fixed on his necklace. If he didn’t wear it, Erik would ask about it.
While he waited, he called Lance. No answer.
He couldn’t do anything about Lance. About Nick. About Howie. About Erik. He was helpless, powerless.
The cameras weren’t actually on. He wouldn’t turn them on unless Erik was in the house. But he still felt like if he went home and got in bed, he’d be watched. Spied on. Taped.
When had the control been taken away from him? When had someone else taken over? Was Howie to blame? Had JC ever gotten control back from Nick?
The jeweler returned, stepping behind the glass case and passing the necklace back to JC in a box. “Good as new.”
“Thanks.” JC lifted it from the box, examining it. “This looks great.” He gave the guy a smile. “Thanks for staying open for me.”
“Anything for a good customer.” Neatly taking the necklace from his hand, the jeweler returned his smile. “May I?”
JC took quick inventory, made a quick judgment, and leaned forward, lowering his head, sweeping his hair from his nape with one hand, his forehead almost brushing the jeweler’s shoulder. “Please do,” he murmured, and breathed gently against the guy’s neck.
Slipping back into his clothes, JC left the jeweler’s.
He felt more in control. More confident.
There was nothing like rocking someone’s whole fucking world to make him feel like he was back in charge.