The Time---1934
Cast of Characters----(in order of appearance)
Christopher (Babyface) Kirkpatrick
"Fat Lou" Perlman
Juju (Mad Dog) Timberlake
JC (Twinkletoes) Chasez
Joey (Muscles) Fatone
Lance Bass, Cub Reporter
...and a supporting cast of thousands. Well, dozens. Actually, let's just see how this all plays out, shall we?
* * * * * * * *
Jimmy nervously placed the menus on the table, and murmured something about sending their waiter over immediately. He tried to give Chris an evil, warning stare, but Chris wouldn't meet his eyes. That's because Chris was staring down at his hands in his lap. He was trying very hard to be good.
"So. You work here," Lou was saying.
"Yep." Chris allowed himself to answer. "Yep."
Mad Dog broke the silence with one of his insane giggles.
"Does he always laugh like that?" Chris asked Lou.
"Always," Lou said solemnly. "Unless something's funny. Then he don't."
"Ah," Chris said, and nodded wisely. "Well, then."
Lou leaned in suddenly. "Let's cut the crap. Are you for sale?"
"Juh! What?" Chris jumped. "Am I---? Am I for SALE?"
Lou looked uncertain. "That is---I apologize if I misunderstood."
"Am I for SALE?" Chris repeated. "I should say not." After a beat, he went on, "for rent, certainly, but never for SALE. Sheesh."
Lou beamed. "You hear that, Mad Dog? The little pretty man is for rent."
Chris looked across the table at Timberlake, who was tearing the cloth napkins into strips, and braiding them into little ropes. Chris cleared his throat. "That ain't no two-for-one deal, neither. One per customer, you know. You understand me, Mr. Perlman?"
"Call me Lou."
"Okay, Lou. Nutsy here stays downstairs, and you and I go UPstairs, and bounce around on Cloud Nine for awhile, and everybody's happy, right?"
Lou tried to look regretful "Oh, I AM sorry, Mr. Kirkpatrick. But a man in my position makes many enemies. I find that I simply must keep my body- guard near me at all times. At all times. At all times."
Chris leaned back, and gave him a look. "At ALL times?"
"At all times." Lou stood up, and said to their waiter who had just appeared, "We'll be back down shortly. Will you save our table, and prepare, oh, I don't know, whatever is the house special, and have it waiting for us. I'm sure I'll have worked up an appetite by then." And Lou favored Chris with a very special sort of grin. Chris favored him in return, by not throwing up.
On his way to the staircase, Chris caught the eye of Mario, one of the larger waiters. He jerked his head slightly, and Mario nodded. Chris had a deal with Mario. Whenever Chris had an "iffy" sort of customer, Mario would take a break from serving eggplant parmisian, and relax in the room next to Chris'. The walls were so thin, Mario could hear even a muffled cry for help, and in theory at least, bust in the door, and rescue his partner. For this service, Chris would split whatever he made from the new customer, with Mario. It was a bit steep, Chris reckoned, but peace of mind was worth it.
"So," Lou was panting, as he climbed the staircase, "you like your work, do you?"
Chris rolled his eyes. A talker. Great. And he didn't even have to turn around to know there'd be a slimy leer plastered on his mug, too.
"Yeah, whatever. Like Daffy Duck says, 'it's a living' "
"Oh, " Lou wheezed, "you like the cartoons, at the movie house?"
Chris turned the key in his lock, and nearly got trampled by Fat Lou on his heels. "Watch it!" he said. Chris nervously noted that Timberlake went straight to the only chair in the room, in the far corner, where he smoothly sat down, his fedora held primly on his lap. He looked too demure by half.
"Uh!" Chris grunted, as Lou shoved him back onto his bed. Lou raised an eyebrow by way of foreplay, and fell upon Chris, and began slobbering all over his neck.
"OH---" Chris began cursing with a brilliance unequaled even by himself. He managed to push Lou off balance just enough to wriggle off the bed. He stood, and panting, began, "Okay, okay, let's just clear up a few things---this ain't no full service shop! I--I--don't do the hokey-pokey, okay? I just make Mr. Happy stand up and sing, get me?"
Lou stood there in such genuine befuddlement, that Chris *almost* felt sorry for him. "What I mean to say is, " he began again, "I will give you the best blow-job of your life, but that's all. That's as far as I go, see?" And he looked over to see if Juju was still minding his manners. Timberlake was carefully blowing dust molecules off his immaculate fedora, apparently un- aware of his boss' difficulties.
Lou shook his head. "But that won't do. That won't do at all."
"Well, that's all you're gettin'. Take it or leave it." Chris had regained his breath and composure, and was now standing straight, and looking, he hoped, like a man of business; haggling was beneath him.
"But I LIKE the hokey-pokey. If by that, you mean what I THINK you mean."
"I do."
"Then yes, I like the hokey-pokey very much, and I'm afraid I must insist--" Lou snapped his fingers, and Mad Dog snapped to attention instantly. Chris reflexively took a step back, but before he knew what was happening, Mad Dog had grabbed him, and thrown him on the bed.
Chris bit his tongue, as his head bounced from the force of impact. He was dimly aware of Timberlake's frighteningly strong hands gripping his wrists, and winding the twisted-napkin rope around them. He felt Fat Lou's hands at his waistband, fumbling with, and almost ripping the buttons off. For a horrifying moment, he thought his mouth, suddenly dry, was unable to utter a sound, but then, a desperate yell surprised them all---"M-A-R-I-O !!"
"Mario! Mario!" Chris kept yelling. Mad Dog and Lou looked at him. As the moments crept by, and no one, especially no one named Mario, appeared, Lou relaxed, then shrugged, and Timberlake even giggled. "Mario," he said, as if he liked the sound of the name. "Mar-rr-rio-ohh," he said.
Chris struggled, as Timberlake began to fasten the other end of the napkin-braided rope to the headboard of the bed.
"No, no," Lou fussed. "You have to turn him over first. On his belly."
That inspired Chris to start yelling again, "Mario! Mario! So help me, Mario, I am gonna cut out your LIVER and feed it to the DOGS, if you don't wake UP, and get your ass IN here!"
This being delivered at the top of Chris' lungs, it should'nt have been a surprise that the door was abruptly kicked open. Chris' head whipped around, in a blend of relief and fury. But it wasn't Mario. It was some stick- thin guy with an angular face, and piercing blue eyes. "Aw, hell," Chris said, in disappointment.
The newcomer took in the tableau before him---small, dark guy on the bed, struggling mightily against unfair odds. Some storklike being with a mop of wild curls, and scary eyes at the head of the bed. Some bearlike being with a gleaming bald head and glassy eyes at the foot of the bed.
"You need some help?" he addressed Chris. "Or would you rather wait for *Mario*?"
Chris bit back a 'what the hell could YOU do anyway?' and simply nodded. "If you're not too busy, or anything."
"I can work it in," the man said. He addressed Lou: "You want to let go of his legs? and zip him back up, while you're at it."
"And you!" he said to Timberlake. "Let go of his hands--just untie that rope thing. Ya hear me?"
The partners in crime exchanged a disbelieving look. Lou snorted. "I don't know who you THINK you're talking to, slim, but you have just made one of the biggest mistakes of your life. You can still save yourself, if you just turn around right now, and walk out that door. Do you hear ME?"
"Yeah, I hear ya," the newcomer said calmly. "I just don't take direction very well. Hope you do."
"There's two of us, and only one of you," Lou said in a low, even tone. "You better be packin' the difference."
"Oddly enough, I AM," the man smiled, and pulled out the biggest gun Chris had ever seen. "Now. Do I really have to repeat myself?"
Lou blanched. He turned trembling hands to Chris' trousers, and re- buttoned, and re-zipped him, and even gave a nice little pat for good measure. Mad Dog squinted, and softly laughed, "Mario? Mario?"
"Call him off, Perlman," the slender man said.
"Mad Dog! Let him go!"
Just like that, Mad Dog untwisted the ropes from the head board, and unwound the cords from around Chris' wrists. "Mario," he snickered to himself, as if enjoying a private joke.
"So you do know who I am," Perlman frowned. "You don't even have the excuse of ignorance."
"Just get out, Perlman, and take your Doberman with you."
Chris shivered, as the pair hurriedly exited the room, and Lou stopped to level one last threatening look at the two of them. SLAM.
"My name's Chasez," the man said, and stuck out his hand to Chris. "JC Chasez."
"Twinkletoes Chasez?" Chris asked. "I'm Chris Kirkpatrick."
"Babyface Kirkpatrick?"
"Okay," Chris said. "I won't call you Twinkletoes, if you don't call me Babyface."
"Deal," JC agreed, and his smile was really very attractive.
