HOME COOKIN' (SCENES FROM A POSSIBLE FUTURE: 3)

Ian McDuff

'OhmiGOD!'

James Lance Bass winced, then squared his shoulders and pasted on the grin. His shopping companion tried not to smirk.

'Ohmigod – it IS you – the – I – autograph –' ... it was the usual incoherency. The public persona, in full auto-bot mode, signed, smiled, was gracious, feigned shyness. The Teenies (they were an impersonal mass to him these days – and perhaps had always been) giggled, squealed, turned to flee with their prizes right there in front of God, the butcher, and everybody, when Lance cleared his throat.

'I, hmm, I don't think you recognized my friend here.... Maybe it's the hair? Or the hat?'

The Teenies stopped, looked, thought ... and then, politely, secured Howie's autograph as well, and scampered off.

'That was totally unnecessary,' D grinned.

'No.' Lance was earnest. 'No. It was NOT.'

Howie winked, and turned his attention back to the meat counter. 'Lance, look, I know –'

'Been there, D. I know how it feels.'

'But ... look at you, you're all sexified now.'

Lance groaned. 'I could STRANGLE C.'

D laughed outright, this time. 'You'd regret it later. And it's true. You and C are, like, you guys's group hotties nowadays.'

Lance shushed him, looking around exaggeratedly. 'Silence! It would go ill with us were the Inquisition to overhear that heresy!'

'"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,"' D snorted, as he hefted a pack of filets. 'What, you're afraid Timberlake has SPIES everywhere?'

'Well, the boy's got teenies ev'where. And frankly, his nose is a little out of joint about my recent popularity....'

'Bass, you ever look at your bandmate in profile? Dude's schnozz has ALWAYS been outta joint.'

'You're plumb awful,' Lance grinned. 'But seriously, I know what it's like when the fans –'

'You think this is a good cut?' D cut him off, gesturing to the Angus beef.

'"The unkindest cut of all." No, seriously, it's.... Fine. It'll be right fine. When the hell'd we become the two house-bitches, anyway?'

D tossed his hair, eyes dancing. 'Well, given that C could burn WATER....'

'Okay, I grant you that. We want to eat, you and I'd best shop and cook. What's Ha- what's Nick's excuse?' Lance was blushing at his near slip.

D punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'Mister Lead-By-God-Vocalist has to be at the STUDIO, man. And you're picking up Shazam's bad habits.' They were looking at salad greens by now.

'I am so sorry –'

'Oh, shut up. I know what C calls Nicky. I also know why. And I know you always correct him about it.'

'Dinner with Howie and Hamhock AGAIN?' Josh had rolled his eyes.

'Hon, will you stop callin' Ha- will you stop callin' Nick "Hamhock"? It's contagious. And I don't want to hurt Howie, or you to do, either.'

'Well, I don't like the way Hamhock – okay, okay, NICKY – hurt D to start with. I LIKE Howie –'

'So do I, babe, but that's all in the past, they're together, just as we are –'

'James.' Josh's eyes had become hooded and a sultry note had sounded in his voice. 'No one's as ... together ... as we are....'

James's malachite eyes had glittered. 'Nope, unh-unh, ain't gonna work, mister. Go seduce a song-muse. I've got to meet D, and us t'go shoppin', if we're to have any dinner with anybody a-tall. Go on, to the keyboard with you – GIT!'

His better half had grinned, and had then stuck his tongue out at him, childishly. 'You sound just like your Mama.'

'Hey –'

'Go on, go shop with Sweetness.' Josh had snickered, then. 'And to think you two are the TOPS in these relationships....'

That's when James had hit him with a throw pillow.

'No, seriously,' D said, casting a critical eye on the baguettes. 'I'm not mad. It's kind of nice, that you two are so protective ... especially since even JC drops his –' D punched the word, half-singing it to its bar in 'Pop' – 'an-i-mos-i-tyyyyy t'wards Nick as far as you two being protective of us, as a couple, against the rest of the world.'

'Again, D, been there, know what it's like.'

'Did we get salad dressing?' D was a master of pacific evasion. 'You want bleu cheese or peppercorn?'

'I don't wanna,' Nick had pouted.

'Sweetheart, they're our best friends –'

'Nunh-UNH. Frick an' LA –'

'Okay, they're the only other gay couple we can double-date with, does that satisfy you?'

'You know what would really satisfy me –'

'Okay, that needs to stop right now. Don't EVEN unbutton that button. Now, you can come shopping with me and Hollywood, or –'

'Will Sashay be there?'

'Doubtful. Now, are you coming or not?'

'You want me to come, sexy, I need to get back to unbuttoning things –'

'I meant,' D had said, torn between laughter and exasperation, 'are you coming along to the store with me and Lance, or are you not?'

'Uh – y'know, I think ... I – maybe I better go check on stuff at the studio, I mean, the –'

D had shaken his head, grinning at Nick's transparency, and left.

'You can run, but you cain't hide,' Lance grinned, popping his head around the stack of refried beans at the end of the aisle. 'Besides, I got a couple ears of real corn, you can put the Jolly Green shoe-peg whole kernels back on the shelf.'

'You know me too well.' Howie looked at the stack of canned beans. 'Weird. Since when do we have Mexicans in Orlando? I mean, black beans, sure ... something Boricuan, something Cubano, makes sense ... but Old El Paso Tex-Mex refrieds? That is just ODD.'

'I repeat,' Lance said, thickening the accent, 'you can run, but you cain't hide, boy.'

'Thank you Sheriff Buford Pusser.'

'"What we have here is a failure to communicate."'

'Okay, Strother Martin is cool, too, but you can forget any Deliverance references RIGHT now. You're worse than Kirkpatrick.'

Lance stopped, blocking the cart, arms folded. 'And still you try an' evade the All-Seeing Eye. Howie. I know what it feels like, bein' in that place ... the shy one, the wheel-hoss, the background, the one they all ignore: fans, media ... even the guys....'

This time, Howie spoke softly, almost whispering, as he repeated meaningfully, 'You know me too well.'

'Is that a bad thing?'

'No. You know what? It isn't. You're right, and I am glad you and I have what we have, as friends. The – well. Like you said, you know what it feels like. I mean ... yeah. On one level ... sure, it is all about the music. It doesn't matter, the glitz and the glitter and who gets the most fan signs and who's the favorite and who gets the verses. But ... it kinda does, too. It does matter.'

'Well,' Lance said, wryly. 'That's another reason we're the house-bitches. Not like we have to clear time to rehearse any solos.'

'You're still not a hundred percent out of this place either, I see.'

'"You know me too well."'

'Yeah. But still ... you get ... recognition, now.'

'Josh ... love ... love with Josh: that's a powerfully liberating force. I get my strength and my newfound confidence from that. And I think maybe that's how come Josh still holds a grudge against, well, against –'

'Against "Hamhock"? Because he doesn't seem to have that effect on me?'

'That's Josh's take, yes. Yessirree, it is that. It's his take, though, not mine.'

'I understand. And if I told you he was right?'

'I'd beat the shit outta Hamhock – and call him that public-al-ly.'

D broke down, into peals of laughter. 'An' – an' damn, Lance, you could do it now, too.'

Lance grinned, and flexed a bicep, in self-parody.

'You nutcase. Stop posturing, man. Josh isn't really right. I mean, okay, Nick isn't always the most mature of guys, but I need that, just like I complement him and he complements me. It's not on a parallel with, say, you dating Timberlake.'

Lance shuddered. 'Oh, GAAACK. The boy has NO shoulders, he's pinch-faced through the jaw, he's got the militia 'do going, he – please. No. Ick.'

'Shhh!' D gestured to the shelves, stifling laughter. 'The cans have ears!'

'You nutcase, your own self.'

'I get that from Frackenstein. What I meant about us being complementary. No ... I have issues, okay? And I AM shy, truly, the whole limelight thing just ... it. Well. You know.'

'You're not comfortable with it. I understand. But just because you don't seek it doesn't mean you wouldn't like at least some affirmation, some recognition. I know. I remember how ... well. And your folks....'

'Yeah. Well. Um. It's cool now. They were almost as cool as yours – thank GOD they weren't like Karen first was, or Jane. Funny how ... well.'

'I know, everyone assumed my folks would –'

'Prejudice. God, it's sickening isn't it. I mean, what's the difference in prejudging white Southern Baptists, or how a Catholic, part-Latino family's gonna react, as compared to prejudging a person of color, a Jew, a lesbian, a gay man?'

'This is about Nicky's family, a lot, isn't it.'

'You know us too well. Yeah. He and ... well of course he and Aaron are fighting all the time, partly because he's scared shitless Jane's gonna merchandise Aaron the way she all but prostituted Nick ... and too, Aaron, well –'

'Can go from mere brat to total prick in about five seconds flat.'

'True. Not unlike YOUR brother-in-law. But. It's weird. That doesn't bug Nick. Maybe because he had his own moments of that. Wait.' It was Lance's day to provide the Shadow. 'Lonnie, could you reach that box of Knorr's on the top shelf? Thanks. Anyway. Fact is, Nick hasn't forgiven Aaron for liking you guys better than us.'

'Oh come ON –'

'That is a part of it. But mostly it's because Aaron's gotten in the middle of the Great War between Nick and Jane.'

'Or as I prefer to call her, "Psychomom."'

'Try having her for an unofficial suegra. Not that she accepts that. It makes your dealings with "Mrs Robinson, the Ice Queen" look like a walk in the park.'

'"Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?"'

'Uh-huh. That really isn't in your range, by the way. But ... the point is, this isn't any failure on Nick's part. Management, maybe, but not Nick. Because. You're right. I mean. I don't want to whore for recognition, but I do feel I've earned some, and. You know. That it ought to come to me. Without my having to chase it except by just giving my best in my work.'

'Well, at least you can talk about it, okay? With me. Or – I dunno, would Chris be better?'

'Nothankyou. Two years of CK in what I laughingly call "my college days" was plenty. You're a better listener. And you ... you take it serious, my wanting some damn recognition to come my way.'

'"R-e-s-p-e-c-t, find out what it means to D." It will come. If it can for me, it sure as hell will for you. Now, I know what would cheer you right up.' Lance pointed to the freezer case. 'Peach cobbler.'

'You know me –'

'Too well,' they finished in unison.

'Tell you what else would help.' D smiled, a little wistfully. 'I wish sometimes ... I wish JC and Nick would get along the way we do.'

D had insisted. They'd both go to Lance and JC's first, so D could help with the shopping bags, then he'd go fetch Nick, get the both of them cleaned up, and they'd be there by 7:00.

As he and Lance schlepped the bags into the kitchen, they heard laughter from the living room. Very familiar laughter. Not pausing to put the perishables away, they headed towards the source, almost with trepidation.

Sure enough, their better halves were sprawled on the couch in front of the big-screen TV, amidst the flotsam and jetsam of a few beers, several bags of chips and pretzels, and other weekend-slob detritus. They were throwing popcorn at each other.

'Diva!'

'XY coverboy!'

D cleared his throat, trying not to laugh. 'Golf? GOLF? You two are sitting on your asses watching golf on television? What, there wasn't a channel showing PAINT drying?'

'Hey, sex-ay.' Nick looked over at his host and Lance, who were exchanging a reasonably warm kiss. 'Y'know what, D? Golf isn't really that boring! And y'know what? Neither is Sashay!'

James felt his Josh's lips curve into a smile against his own, as Josh flipped Nicky off. 'Hamhock, you are SUCH a prima donna,' Josh muttered, but with an evident grin.

'Oh, whatEVER, Flameboi! You –' Nick was bouncing on the couch.

'Nick! Since you're here –'

'Yeah, babe?'

'Howsabout you get into the kitchen and at least put the stuff away.'

'Both of you,' Lance admonished, thwacking JC's ear. 'Make yourselves useful while D and I go down and get a decent bottle out the damn cellar.'

'And if we don't?' JC smiled.

'Well now, I cain't speak for D, but if you don't move your sweet ass, it's fixin' to be an awful lonely and EMPTY ass for a week or so –'

JC and Nick both vaulted the couch and raced for the kitchen and the waiting grocery bags.

Lance and Howie exchanged grins.

'Lance? You remember that wish I made, at the market?'

'Unfortunately, yes.'

They headed towards the stairs leading down to the wine cellar, laughing. 'I take it all back.'

END