Desert Rose

The young man sighed with relief as the large building loomed up before him at the crest of the hill. He shouldered his backpack, stretched his neck a bit, and continued walking. As the building got closer, he saw a few smaller buildings on the perimeter of the yard. A shed, a large garage, and some sort of picnic pavilion. All three were in various states of disrepair. He allowed himself a brief smile. This was looking good already.

"Lonnie! Door!" A voice yelled from the front parlor.

"Some people seem to think I'm DEAF!" The large black man yelled as he headed for the door. "I heard the door, Timberlake."

"Just trying to help!" Came the sweet reply.

Lonnie sighed and opened the front door. He looked the ragged figure over, smiling with amusement. "Yes?"

"Is this, the, uh..." The blond man on the front porch blushed deeply.

"Yes, it is, if it's making you blush like that. We're not open yet, though...and I doubt we have what you're looking for."

"Oh, I, uh..." The man blushed even darker. "No! I'm not interested in, well, THAT. I thought I might work here." The black man laughed heartily. "NO! Not as one of THOSE! I just...I do repairs. Handiwork. I thought I might earn my keep for a few weeks."

"Oh. You don't do THAT, huh?" Lonnie couldn't stop chuckling. "Well, come on in outta the dust and sit there." Lonnie pointed to a chair in the foyer. "I'll get the owner."

The young man obediently sat down and Lonnie went up the stairs, still laughing to himself. The man looked around at the tastefully furnished hallway. He figured that the art alone would be enough to feed him for a week. He looked up in surprise as someone leaned in a doorway. "Hello," the boy said as he munched on an apple. He looked to be in his early twenties, with unruly blondish-brown curls and inquisitive blue eyes. His body was long and lean, and he lounged arrogantly, obviously comfortable in the fact that he was quite attractive. "Who're you?"

"Um, Lance," the man on the chair replied softly.

"Hi, Lance. I'm Justin." Justin gave a smile that reminded Lance of the sun. "You here for a good time? I'm the best one...though I'm expensive."

"I'm, uh, sure, you're, uh, good," Lance mumbled. "But I'm here to work."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "YOU?"

"Outside," Lance all but snapped. "I work with my hands."

Justin smirked. "Who says I don't work with MY hands?"

Lance looked down at his knees, picking at a hole in his jeans. This boy unnerved him. He was sexy and alluring, and he knew it. "I do repairs," Lance said sullenly.

"You got any money?" Justin asked, tossing his apple core into a trashcan. "I could give ya something quick. You like boys, dontcha, Lance the Handyman?" Lance's blush was all the answer Justin needed. "You're so cute!" Justin declared.

"Justin, don't you have somewhere to be?" A bearded man asked, slowly walking down the long staircase. Lance nervously stood.

"I was just being friendly, Joe," Justin said.

"Well, go be friendly somewhere else." The man named Joe smiled at Lance. "Hi, there. Joey Fatone. I own this place."

"Lance Bass," Lance said, nervously shaking Joey's hand.

"Let's go into my office," Joey said, leading the way down the hallway.

"Bye, Lance," Justin said, bestowing the sunny grin once more.

"Don't mind Justin. He likes to tease, but he's really a good kid. Friendly and considerate," Joey said. "He's just a little full of himself." Lance nodded and sat where Joey pointed. "Lonnie says you're looking for work?"

"Yes, sir. I do any kind of repairs...I do carpentry and can do some auto maintenance."

"You don't LOOK like a man who works outside," Joey observed.

"I know. My skin refuses to tan unless I'm outside like twenty hours a day," Lance replied. "But I'm a hard worker, and I know my way around tools. Looks like your shed and garage could use some work...house could use some paint..."

"The desert does some serious damage to buildings," Joey admitted. "But why here?"

"I figured you probably don't get many offers to do work on your place," Lance said quietly.

"So you know what we do here?" Joey asked.

"Yes, sir. I know you're a legal house of prostitution, and that you cater to, well, men who like men, sir," Lance whispered. "I don't care about that. In fact, I think I'd be very comfortable working here."

Joey stared at him admiringly. "You are something else, Bass. You seem like a little Southern belle, but seems like you got some steel under that fair skin. I like you. And you're right, we need a lot done here. Most people don't care what the place looks like on the outside, as long as they get what they want inside. But it can't hurt." Joey leaned back in his chair. "I can't pay much, just a little cash and room and board."

"That's wonderful," Lance said. "That's great."

"Okay. I have a room on the third floor you can bunk in, and I'll get Lonnie to show you around." Joey stood and Lance followed. They shook hands. "And just ignore Justin. After a while he'll get tired of playing with you and become your friend. Or are you interested in what Justin might offer you?"

"I...he..." Lance stammered.

"I don't care if the help samples the wares here, but you still have to pay. Understand?" Joey said, and Lance nodded quickly. Joey smiled. "But I think we won't have too much of a problem with you, Bass. Go on out in the hall, and I'll get Lonnie."

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