Eleven
JC
blindly ran out of the club and out towards the street, hailing a taxi as soon
as he saw one. He barely stuttered out the name of the hotel, grateful that he
had asked Lance earlier what the name translated to. It was the only thing that
kept the name straight in his mind.
He
had to get home. That was all there was to it. He needed to get away from Lance
and AJ and this world that he knew nothing about. All of the things that Lance
had said…JC shook his head. Telling JC that he was “different” around him, that
he made Lance feel special and normal all at once. Getting all possessive of
him at the museum. What a laugh Lance and AJ must've had behind JC's back.
JC managed to count out the right amount of
money, thankful that he had exchanged his meager amount of cash for the native
money when they had arrived in France. He skipped the elevator and ran up to
their suite. He knew Lance wouldn't be far behind him. He packed his art
supplies and the small bag he had brought for the weekend. The rest of the
things that were at the country house could be burned for all he cared.
JC
patiently listened to the phone ring, running his phone card through the
scratches on the pay phone. “Hello?”
“J?”
JC leaned his head on the phone booth, willing back the tears. Now was NOT the
time to act like a little girl.
“Jayce?
Hey, baby! What time is it there?”
“Uh,
late…two, maybe?” JC said vaguely. “I just wanted you to know I was catching a
four-thirty flight.”
“Did
Lance have something come up back at home?” Justin wondered.
“No…he's,
uh, he's not coming.”
“Jayce…”
“Don't
ask me, okay, Justin? Just pick me up at the airport?” JC gave him the flight
information. “I called the airline as soon as I got here. I'm at the airport
now.”
“Jayce,
are you okay?”
“No,” JC said finally, and hung up.
Lance
shoved AJ away. “Josh, wait!” He yelled, but the sound of his voice was smashed
by the music.
“Let
him go,” AJ said, putting a hand on Lance's shoulder.
“You
made him think…” Lance said angrily. “You're a dick.”
“You're
the one who was letting me whisper sweet nothings in your ear,” AJ reminded
him.
“As
I stood here politely, waited for you to finish, and then planned on belting
you in the gut and telling you to leave me the fuck alone,” Lance snapped. “I
have to go find him.”
“Suit yourself,” AJ called after him,
grinning.
Lance
burst into the suite, calling JC's name. But, of course, he wasn't there.
Either were his clothes or supplies. Lance went to the telephone and called the
front desk, asking if Mr. Chasez had checked out. The desk clerk said he didn't
know who that was, and Lance realized that everything was in his name. Lance
then asked for the hotel manager, who had spoken with both he and JC on various
occasions.
“No,
Monsieur Bass, I do not know where Monsieur Chasez went,” the man said. “I'm
sorry I can't be of more help. I did see him leaving the hotel with his bags,
though.”
“Thank you,” Lance sighed, hanging up. He
thought for a moment, then went back out of the suite.
JC
munched on a croissant stuffed with cheese, but he tasted none of it. It was
simply something to keep his stomach from growling. He knew he should find a
corner to sleep in, but the idea of sleep was a joke. He also didn't want Lance
to come looking for him and actually find him sleeping somewhere. Lance WOULD
come looking, and JC didn't want to be found. He thanked his lucky stars that
all of the ticket counters were closed, and that Lance couldn't legally get
information out of them, anyway.
JC
looked up at the ceiling as he heard his voice announced over the intercom. The
message was in English, asking him to pick up a courtesy phone. JC shouldered
his bags and headed for the closest corner to hide in.
