In Dublin

In Dublin
by Kate
moonwhip@yahoo.com
December 2001

i. queen of my heart

In Dublin, where they'd performed two years ago for a disappointing audience, no one screamed for JC. The crowds loved them even less than before but they still adored Justin. It was probably the virgin thing. The promise of marriage, of loving faithfulness and extreme agony at the prospect of separation - JC had never seen so many women with strollers on busy city streets.

The Irish had created their own manufactured pop groups, their own "Popstars" series, their own Lou. Whatever function *NSYNC performed in American society - the Irish didn't need it. It made Justin angry on the group's behalf, but JC thought he maybe admired the country a little, for trying.

He said so in the limo after the show. They were all draped limply across the seats, suffering the weak afterglow of a mediocre concert.

"Westlife is crap," Justin said, lifting his head from the back of the seat. "They're like some bad junior high chorus or something. 'Queen of My Heart?' What is that shit? And Boyzone? Whatever." He looked like he was about to snap his fingers three times and seesaw his neck back and forth in righteous indignation.

"What-EVAH, sister friend," Chris said without moving. JC started giggling and forgot the rest of what he'd intended to say.

On their first day in Dublin, Chris had started calling the song "Queen of My Cock." JC hadn't minded the song much, at first, but it played constantly on the pop stations and he liked it less and less every time he heard it.

The next day they had an interview with a local radio station. The DJ asked for their professional opinion of Westlife. Justin gave a long answer about the experience of being a newly formed pop group and finished with a comment about "capturing the spirit of a country in song." JC snorted at the look on Chris's face and had to pretend it was a cough.

 

 

ii. the best part of europe

Chris had insisted that they stay at the Shelbourne. The time before they'd been at the Hilton, in rooms that were crisp and bland and comforting. Joey had raised a half-hearted protest, but Chris had stared him down, waving his arms and saying excitedly, "Man, they shot people from those windows in 1916."

Lance had threatened to shoot Chris if he didn't shut up and let them plan the tour.

"It has a bar," JC had pointed out. "A nice one. I read about it in a guidebook."

"See? JC wants to stay there, too."

"I didn't-" JC had started to say, but Lance had just held up a hand in Chris's direction and said,

"Sure."

He liked the hotel fine, though. It overlooked a park, and his room was up high enough to give him a good view over the trees. There were so many people walking through it - people in business clothes, kids in Catholic school uniforms, tourists. He liked that too.

And the bar was nice, all polished wood and glass and sophisticated patrons. Chris took him there for a drink the first afternoon, though they were all jet-lagged and JC wasn't sure he wanted alcohol. He was pretty sure he wanted sleep. Duvets were the best part of Europe, he thought, and the bed in his room had a pretty dark red one that he planned to crawl under as soon as he could.

"Just get juice or something," Chris said, wheedling. "Come on, I'm buying, since you helped convince Lance to let us stay here."

"I didn't-" JC began, but Chris grabbed his keycard and pulled him out of his room and the words seemed to get left behind.

 

 

iii. research

On the NSA tour, they had mostly gone to clubs in hotel basements. U2's club, because Joey wanted to and Chris agreed, claiming a crush on Larry Mullen. And there had been some place in Temple Bar where they'd stumbled into a Trinity College Halloween party involving two floors of strippers, one male, one female. JC couldn't remember the names of those clubs, but he was willing to try them again.

Chris had other plans. "Research," he said. "JC gave me the idea."

JC didn't remember that either. He nodded anyway.

Justin knocked lightly on his door while JC was changing and didn't wait for an answer before walking inside. "Ooh, Eurotrash," he said, grinning, when he saw JC smudging on sparkled silver liner. "Listen, me and Chris have figured out some places to go, and I was gonna ask if you wanted to come, but obviously you do."

JC smiled at him in the mirror. Justin had done his research, too - he wore a lightweight turtlenecked shirt under a jean jacket and well-faded tight jeans. That outfit had passed them hundreds of times on the street. Mostly on girls, but Justin wore it well. Once he would have lowered his eyelids at JC and asked to be painted, too - maybe copper to bring out the blue in his eyes and clothing - but he'd outgrown that. Which was sort of sad, because Justin had been beautiful in tints and colors, more beautiful still when he woke up the next morning with shadow blurred beneath his eyes.

"Sounds fine," JC said, and rubbed off some of the sparkles.

 

 

iv. my hero

"Hey, I bet JC doesn't want to go," Joey said when JC walked into his room. Clothes were spread in one corner and Joey had already put his little framed picture of Brianna on the bedside table. Chris was lying across the bed with his head upside down, cheeks ruddy and puffed. His necklace hung just above his nose.

JC blinked. Chris sat up and started mouthing "yes, yes, yes," nodding exaggeratedly in case he wasn't being clear enough.

"Joe, it'll be fine," Lance said from the bathroom.

"Um-" JC said.

"The Sugar Club. You don't wanna go, do you?"

"Sugar Club?" JC asked. He couldn't place the name, though it sounded familiar. "Is that... that jazz place?"

"Ha! Your pathetic ruse has failed, Joseph!" Chris said loudly, adding in a normal voice, "He thought you would assume it was a strip joint and not want to go there."

Joey widened his eyes dramatically and held his hands out to JC. Behind him, Chris was chortling. He was the only one in the group who could really chortle. "Baby, no-" Joey said as JC walked toward him.

"Why, Joey, you big stud," JC said. "Why would I ever turn down a visit to a strip joint? And with you, no less?" He reached out, grinned, pushed teasingly at Joey's forearm. "I want to go, okay?"

"JC is my hero," Chris sang as Joey started laughing.

JC turned to face him. "You just like me because I'm on your side."

Chris made a loud, irritating buzzer noise. "Nope, I like you because you agree with me."

"Same thing, dumbass," Joey said.

Flopping down on the bed again, Chris smiled at JC. "Is not."

 

 

v. head

"I want Guinness and I want it now," Chris said.

"Damn, you're a whiny little bitch tonight," Justin told him.

From the outside, the Sugar Club looked like a parking garage. JC felt kind of stupid taking a limo for a two-block trip, but Lonnie had insisted. The clubs were usually small enough that their security drew stares, too. In Dublin, they were just too much - an America-sized boyband in a smaller country.

But, he thought, if they had been Westlife, they would've been drowning in fans.

They were sitting at a good table in the club, waiting for the band to come on, and Chris was still talking about Guinness. JC listened. The consensus, apparently, was that Chris, Joey, and Lance liked Guinness. Justin didn't, but pretended he did, because he thought it was a manly drink. JC liked it all right, but drank it a half pint at a time. It was just so heavy in his stomach. Tonight he really wanted a mixed drink, something with ice, the tart click of hard liquor on his tongue.

"It's the creamy head," Lance said seriously, and JC realized he'd stopped listening again.

"The what?" he asked.

Justin started laughing helplessly. "C, your face, man!"

"The creamy head?"

"Dude," Joey said. "Guinness."

"Oh." JC laughed a little. Justin was still grinning at him.

"You want some?" Chris asked, pushing back his chair.

JC said, "Sure," and went to the bar to help him carry the full pint glasses. He drank all of his in one sitting and really it wasn't too heavy, it just sort of filled him up, a warm thick glow in his belly that spread when the music started.

 

 

vi. a good time

Joey wanted to dance after that, so they drove to a club Chris had discovered called the Red Box. It was in a big old building that had once been a train station, and Chris kept telling them all about this other pub in the building, which had a bar that extended all the way down the old boarding platform.

"Okay, fine, we'll go there tomorrow," Justin said finally, and Chris stopped talking for a few minutes.

The Red Box was rectangular. It was not red. The DJ was playing high-pitched trance that made JC's head pound a little. He stood by the wall with Lance and Lonnie, smiling, watching Chris dance like a raver with a glowstick. Justin came back with a few beers and handed them out.

"You notice Irish people dance kinda funny?" he said after a moment.

Lance laughed and JC smiled despite himself. He hadn't noticed. Everybody just seemed to be having a good time.

The club closed only forty minutes after they got there, and he wasn't sorry to go.

 

 

vii. fun for the entire family

"One more club," Chris said, "just one more, then you can go crawl into your beds like the sniveling bastards you are, you party-poopers."

They drove to Leeson Street, which JC remembered from their last visit. Both sides of the street were lined with old Georgian houses converted into offices. They all had big ornate doorframes, and funny windows - long ones on the bottom floor, short ones on the top - that were supposed to make the buildings look taller. It was four a.m., and the sidewalks were packed.

"These are offices," Justin said flatly.

"Chris?" Lance asked.

"Just you wait, my friends," Chris said, and made them all get out of the car.

Beneath the office buildings, they discovered, there were wine bars and strip clubs. "Fun for the entire family," Lance said dryly.

"Well?"

They all looked at each other. It was getting a little colder out and JC rubbed his hands over his arms, stamped his feet on the concrete.

"Strip club," Joey said. "I have a reputation to uphold. Or something."

Lance said, "I'm with him."

"We know," Chris purred, and tried unsuccessfully to pinch Lance's ass. "J, your choice? And think carefully now."

"I can always say it was an early bachelor party." Justin grinned when Chris stretched up to sling an arm over his shoulder.

"Baby doll, your whole life has been an early bachelor party." He drew back, turned to JC. "Looks like it's you and me."

JC smiled.

 

 

viii. be right back

In the dark bar, Chris found a table quickly, then took their token to the bar to fetch the bottle they'd paid for at the door. "Be right back," he said in JC's ear, hand curling around his upper arm.

But he wasn't right back. JC watched the press of people at the bar, traced a line of wetness on the wooden table with one fingertip, and waited.

And Chris did come back, though it was a good ten or fifteen minutes later, with a bottle of red wine and one glass. "They're washing them," he said. "I figured we could share."

JC felt his lips curve, felt his belly warm. "Sure."

The wine wasn't bad, tasted rich and strong after all the beer. JC sipped from the glass, turned it, and pushed it towards Chris - who rotated it back again, so their lips would touch the same place, drank. They stared into each other's eyes, music played softly in the background, the slow chatter around them seemed to fade down-

JC giggled. He didn't mean to, but it slipped out. "Chris, so fucking subtle, man," he said, laughing.

"Oh yeah?" Chris grinned. "I can do better."

JC couldn't stop smiling, wide and happy. The room seemed to brighten.

"Nice eyeliner," Chris said, leaning over the table on his elbows. "Wanna fuck?"

"I-" JC started to say, just as Chris's mouth touched his. And he had a million things to say that he had to swallow but really that was fine, it was all right, it was perfect, because Chris knew them already.