EIGHT

 

“I’m sitting here with Jamie, who was nice enough to give me this interview,” the plastic looking blonde woman with the smile seemingly painted onto her face gave Jamie a professional nod. “Thank you for taking time to answer my questions.”

Somehow, Jamie hadn’t thought about this aspect of being famous. That he’d have to sit down with reporters, journalists, and give interviews. Truth was, he wasn’t all that used to people caring about his life, and he had no idea what he was even going to say, but he focused on keeping the smile on his own lips, on making his eyes meet hers directly.

“No problem,” Jamie spoke, and was relieved to hear it come out easily. Any nerves he was feeling, and there were plenty, were firmly tamped down, and he could get through this.

“So,” the woman, who had introduced herself as Phoebe, adjusted her phone, which she had open to a recording app. With his permission, she’d asked to record the interview, because she said it would be a more natural conversation than if she had to mess with a notepad. “It’s your first concert tonight with the band. How are you feeling?”

Jamie considered that. The truth was, he was terrified, but he wasn’t in the habit of admitting that sort of vulnerability to people. He wasn’t ready. His dance lessons with Lance had been going well, but he’d need at least a few more weeks to be at the level of the rest of the band.

But he wasn’t going to say any of that. He wasn’t going to give anyone any reason to doubt him. So he pasted a smirk on his face and gave a little bit of a shrug.

“I feel ready,” he lied. That was pretty much the direct opposite of how he felt. “I can’t wait to show everyone what I’ve got.”

She asked some more questions, just general stuff about his life, and Jamie relaxed a little as he told her an edited version of his life story. The whole country knew about Lance and Ken, though they knew significantly less about Aaron who was a notoriously private person. But they knew nothing about him.

Born and raised in Los Angeles, he told her truthfully. Singing and dancing from a young age, also true. Working at a fast food place when he got his big break. Of course, he left out Dom, and why he had been working at that greasy hellhole because not only was that private business but he couldn’t imagine that anyone else wanted to hear about it.

Question after question, the woman asked, and Jamie was just feeling proud of himself for keeping his responses reasonable, for not showing too much, when Phoebe spoke again.

“Thanks for meeting with me today, Jamie. I just have one more question, and hopefully, you’ll spill.”

Jamie, not sure what to expect, gave a little shrug with one shoulder. But he wasn’t expecting, and couldn’t have expected in a hundred years, the question that he got.

“Rumors are flying that your bandmates, Ken and Lance, are together. What do you know about that? Any juicy gossip about how they hooked up?”

Jamie took a deep breath, one that he sincerely hoped covered the fact that he felt like he’d just been slammed in the stomach with a two by four. He forced himself to stay calm, forced his face not to show anything, other than the cocky smirk which he kept ready all the time.

Why hadn’t he thought that this might happen? He knew what Lance and Ken were doing. He knew that the attempt was to make it as public as possible, to build good publicity for the band. So why wouldn’t this journalist ask that question? Wasn’t it a good thing? Didn’t it mean that the whole act was working?

“I think they want to keep their private business private,” Jamie said, but he tipped a wink Phoebe’s way, knowing that she would interpret it as confirmation. After all, what was good for the band was also good for Jamie, right?

“Well, they didn’t look very private last night,” Phoebe laughed, and she pulled her phone over off of the table and pulled up a website that she must have already had loaded, from how quickly she turned the phone around so that the gleaming screen was displayed to Jamie.

On that screen, two handsome, smiling men, hand in hand, walked down the street together, bodies inclined together. Ken was grinning, Lance obviously laughing, and damned if it didn’t make his heart clench uncomfortably to see the two of them together.

He had known that they were on a fake date, but the thing was, that date didn’t look so fake to him. And to think, just hours later, Jamie had been on his knees for Lance, tasting his come for the first time.

Jamie pulled himself together, and he thought he even managed to do it before Phoebe could sense anything was wrong. After all, Ken and Lance were supposed to be making this look convincing. And they were just doing their job.

And even if they were together, it wasn’t like it was any of Jamie’s business. He and Lance had shared some fun times, but that didn’t mean that Jamie owned the guy or anything. Or that he even wanted to. His own very messy breakup had been only six months ago, after all.

“I’d say it definitely looks like something is going on between them, but that’s their business,” Jamie told her, head tilted coyly to the side, letting that smirk linger on. “But I’m not going to confirm or deny anything.”

“Of course not,” Phoebe said, with a little laugh, and Jamie knew that he’d done his part. He knew that she believed in the Ken and Lance relationship and that if she were any sort of writer at all, she would make her readers believe in it, too.

“Thanks again, Jamie. I’d better let you get ready for the concert,” Phoebe offered her hand, and Jamie shook it firmly.

He’d done the best he could, and he was sure that he had come off well enough. So why did he still feel like he’d taken a sucker punch to the gut? Why did he feel like this hole inside of him was getting wider, each and every time he thought about Ken and Lance together?

That picture that Phoebe had shown him. It was far too convincing. And it shouldn’t matter, but it did.

 

* * *

 

The concert was going to be in an hour. No, Jamie amended internally. It was going to be in 57 minutes. He was warmed up, he was dressed, his hair and makeup were done, and now all there was to do was just wait.

He cradled his phone in his hand, and even though he knew that he was driving himself crazy, he was looking at the gossip websites. Lester would be over the moon, he thought, because pictures, along with highly suggestive captions, were all over the place, all of them featuring Lance and Ken.

Those should convince people, Jamie figured. Hell, they were halfway to convincing him, and he knew the truth. It was just hard to believe that anyone was a good enough actor to pull off what Ken and Lance were doing, apparently without much effort at all.

Whatever. It wasn’t like he would go for it, anyway. Jamie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, determinedly slipping his phone into his pocket. Or that was the plan, but the tight leather pants that he’d been dressed in didn’t even have pockets.

“You get used to it.”

Jamie hadn’t even heard Lance walk up to him. He’d been far too busy with his own incredibly unhelpful thoughts, and he turned around, startled, as he fixed his eyes on the other man.

“What?” he asked, hating the way it came out. He sounded like an idiot, grunting out that one word.

“You get used to it. The clothes.” Lance smiled encouragingly at him, and Jamie had a brief, but incredibly intense, little flashback to when he’d been on his knees between this man’s legs, Lance’s face contorted with pleasure.

“I mean it’s just cool to have something new,” Jamie blurted out, though the moment he said the words he regretted them. How pathetic did he sound? And there was no way that Lance, who seemed to notice most things, who seemed to be a pretty intuitive person, wasn’t going to notice that.

“What do you mean?” Lance asked, confirming Jamie’s fears. Jamie looked around, seeking escape, but he didn’t find any. Not without being incredibly rude, anyway. Ken was off to the side, watching them with eyes that seemed to burn, but he was hardly going to walk over to someone who really did seem to hate him.

“I mean …” Jamie steeled himself, forcing his face into a small smirk. It came easily, through long practice. “I just haven’t had new clothes in a while, that’s all. Before I got this job, I was working at a fast food joint.” Which was true, and not something he was keeping secret. The best lies, he’d found, were the ones that were at least partially true.

“Well, you don’t anymore.” Some people would have judged Jamie for what he’d said. Even Phoebe, the reporter, had seemed to be filled with a sort of superior pity when he’d told her his story. Lance just took it in stride, as he seemed to take most things.

“I guess not.” Jamie bit his lower lip and felt the oddest surge of guilt before he spoke again. Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t betraying Dom. He wasn’t even with Dom anymore. “Hey, do you want to, you know, maybe come clothes shopping with me sometime?”

It was a desperate cry for help, though Jamie very much hoped Lance didn’t know it. Dom had bought all of Jamie’s clothing for the three years that they’d been together. He had a certain way that he liked Jamie to look, and Jamie, well, he’d just wanted to please his incredibly handsome, forceful boyfriend.

He didn’t remember how to shop for himself, not really. Not anymore.

“Yeah, that could be cool,” Lance said easily, and Jamie felt the tension melt from his muscles, letting out a breath that he hadn’t even been aware that he was holding. He returned Lance’s smile with a tentative one of his own.

“Cool,” Jamie echoed, too happy to feel like as much of an idiot as he was sure he sounded like. “You always look good.” He looked Lance over, from head to toe, and then smirked at him. “So you can help me.”

“Sounds good. We don’t take off until tomorrow evening,” Lance pointed out. “Maybe we can go tomorrow during the day?”

Well, that was a good sign. Jamie could have been afraid that Lance was just saying yes to get Jamie to shut up, but that didn’t seem likely when he was actually proposing a time. However much of a miracle it might seem to Jamie, Lance really did want to do this.

Or was too nice to say no. Whatever. Jamie knew he could do it alone, but for this first time since he was back to being himself, back out from under Dom’s thumb, he wanted someone with him. He could fly solo later.

“It’s a date,” Jamie said, pushing it just a little. He was expecting Lance’s smile to get strained, or for him to deny it, but neither of those things happened.

Instead, Lance gave him a little smile back, like they had a secret together. Which, Jamie supposed, they did.