Chapter Four
Three hours together and JC was two minutes away from killing Justin. They had cleaned out their bank accounts and were now on the road in JC's jeep, heading for Texas. They had four more hours and JC didn't think that they'd make it, because surely he would kill Justin before then. Or maybe just throw his collection of rap CD's out the window.
Finally, the Jay-Z CD ended, and JC saw Justin reach for Eminem, he stopped him. "Please, no. Can't we listen to some real music now?"
Justin smirked. "Are you saying that hip hop isn't real music? Cause I'm sure that there's been a documentary or two done to refute that." He saw JC roll his eyes. "So, what do you listen to? Jazz? Classical?"
"Sometimes." JC answered, picking a piece of lint off his sweatpants. "But I'm also a huge fan of R&B. Not that trite stuff that's made now, but you know, people like Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye. You know."
To his surprise, Justin started singing. "If it's magic/Then why can't it be everlasting
Like the sun that always shines/Like the poets in this rhyme/Like the galaxies in time. If it's pleasing.../Then why can't it be never leaving/Like the day that never fails/Like on seashores there are shells/Like the time that always tells."
JC smiled and began to sing the next part. "It holds the key to every heart/Throughout the universe/It fills you up without a bite/And quenches every thirst/So…" they looked at each other curiously. "It seems I underestimated you. You do know good music."
Justin grinned sheepishly. "I was raised on Stevie Wonder. When I was sixteen, I was convinced that my girlfriend was leaving me for the quarterback of the football team, so I blasted 'Lately' outside of her bedroom window at two in the morning. She wasn't pleased."
At that, both of them began laughing. When they finally quieted, Justin turned to JC. "You know, you have a really great voice."
JC blushed. "Thanks, so do you."
Justin shrugged. "You really should see me dance. If I hadn't been a programming super-genius, I'd be a dancer. I studied for years."
"Really? I'd have never guessed that. Well, I would've been a concert pianist. At Berkeley, I was a computer science and music double major. I still play when I can."
Justin grabbed JC 's hand and inspected it. "Yeah, I can tell. The long fingers…you have pianist hands. Strong but elegant." He then realized that he was holding JC's hand and dropped it, a blush coloring his face. He turned his attention back to the CD player. "How about a compromise?" he asked as he slid in a Lauryn Hill CD. JC just nodded, trying to figure out why it seemed that the air between them had shifted.
_ _ _
They finally reached Justin's friend's house that was actually a horse farm in the middle of nowhere. Justin explained that his friend Chris used to be a CIA agent, but the stress of the job got to him, so when his grandfather died and left him his ranch, he left the agency and became a rancher.
JC didn't know what he was expecting when he saw Chris, but it wasn't this short elf-like man with the high-pitched voice. Still, despite his appearance, he had dark piercing eyes that seemed to see everything, and a rough demeanor that JC was sure was indicative of his years with the CIA.
"So, you fuckers found yourself sleeping with a couple of KGB agents, huh? Dumb asses." Chris chuckled after Justin had relayed the story to him. They were sitting in Chris's kitchen, eating some stew that Chris had fixed.
"KGB? Do they still even exist? Plus, Wade was Australian. And for the life of me, I can't see Australia having menacing secret agents." Justin scoffed. Chris laughed uproarisly at that one. "Yes, I can see them now, using the Crocodile Hunter and that dude that played Crocodile Dundee to learn important government secrets." He shook his head. "Wade might be from Australia, but that doesn't mean he doesn't work for another government. It's called recruiting. And just because the U.S.S.R. fell, doesn't mean that KGB is now defunct."
"So, can you help us?" JC asked.
Chris thought a minute. "I have a friend at the Department of Justice. Good guy, named Joey Fatone. I'll give you one of my cars since they probably know what yours looks like and are looking for it."
"We need clothes." Justin announced from a mouthful of stew.
"I'll go to Wal-Mart and get you some stuff. Don't whine, Justin, now is not the time to care about how stylish you are. I'll need your sizes," he points to Josh, "and J, I already know yours. I don't want either of you taking one step outside until I contact Joe and you're on your way to D.C."
_ _ _
That night, Justin and Chris played video games while JC slept. Chris paused their game of Tekken 4, and turned to Justin. "Now that he's sleep, tell me about all this UST between you and the wild haired boy?"
Justin looked at him, eyebrow raised. "UST?" he asked.
Chris rolled his eyes. "Unresolved sexual tension." he sighed, as if Justin should already know that.
Justin burst out laughing. "Unresolved sexual tension? JC and me? We hate each other. The only reason we're here together is because people want us dead. Anything less drastic and we'd be staying as far away as possible."
Chris snorted. "Keep telling yourself that. I know you. You want to get in his pants, and he wants you to get in his pants. You forget that I used to observe people for a living. Lust is easy enough to see."
Justin rolled his eyes and unpaused the game. "Shut up with your stupid assed theories and play. I'm trying to kick your ass here."
"Clever evasion technique. I'm telling you, you two will be clawing at each other like animals soon. I'd put money on it."
"Shut up." Justin growled again, as his character landed a combination of hits to Chris's character. All seemed to be forgotten as they immersed themselves in the game.