I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest as the rage works its way to my brain, forcing my cheeks to flush even more than they already are in the freezing tundra that is Canada.  I’m standing in front of the sign that I forced the car to stop in front of.  

Upon closer inspection, I finally made out the words: “Hersch Center for Sexual Wellness,” and in case you thought I was lying to you about the frozen tundra part, the entire sign is covered in a thin layer of ice, topped with a thick layer of snow.  My fists clench, and I can tell that the rage surfacing beneath my previously calm exterior is about to burst.  

This could get ugly.

“What the fuck, you ASSHOLES!” I scream.  At this point, I turn around to face them, making sure they received every inch of my death glare.

“Justin, calm down, man.  Just...calm down.  Let’s just talk about this,”  JC tries to reason, taking a step away from the car that he and Trace were standing in front of to watch me. 

Unfortunately for him, there would be no reasoning today.

“Calm down!?  Calm the fuck down!?  How dare you say that I calm the fuck down!?  Not only did you fucking lie to me, but you’re trying to force me into fucking sex rehab?  I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t have a fucking problem!  So no, I don’t think I’m going to CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” I slam my fist against one of the poles of the sign to make a point, but the motion knocks some snow onto my head, fueling my anger even more.

“Maybe we should have taken him to rehab for anger management instead,” Trace finished snidely, as if I wouldn’t hear him from the distance.

That’s it.

“Fuck you, you asshole.  This is all your fault” I scream at Trace, beginning my approach towards them heatedly, my blood pressure rising with every step that I take. 

“How the hell is this my fault, Justin?  I’m not the one that can’t keep my dick in my pants,” he replied, his voice almost serene, with just a hint of sarcasm.

“It’s not my fault that you’re fucking jealous that you can’t get laid!  I know you’re short and you have a small dick, but don’t take it out on me because women love everything I bring to the table,” I smirk.  I don’t care if that was below the belt.  He deserves it.

Short little fuck.

“Come on guys, let’s just calm down and talk about this.  Can we get back in the car?  It’s freezing out here,”  JC finished, his teeth chattering a bit from the wind chill.  He was always the reasonable one.

“You can sit here and insult me all you want, Trousersnake--but it wasn’t our idea to bring you here, although we fully support it,” Trace brought up, amusement written all over his face.  This was fun for him, and it just made me more angry.

“What do you mean, it wasn’t you’re idea?  I’m pretty sure it was you two that convinced me to get on a fucking plane to go SNOWBOARDING, and instead, conveniently drove me to the fucking sex rehab center,” I finished, obviously confused.

JC piped in, “It was your label’s idea.  Fueled by force from your publicist, and your mother.”  He bowed his head as he said it, and I could see the disgrace written all over it.  Jace didn’t like to lie, and part of me hated to see him like this.  The other part of me wanted to beat the shit out of him.

I just stared at both of them in awe.  “What?  But how....?  How could they...” I trailed, beginning to pace as the information slowly sank in.

“Your habits have gotten out of control, and they’re tired of covering for you.  We’ve been trying to protect you for long enough.  It’s time to face some facts, J.  You don’t have the option of not going, so it’s just easier if you come with us peacefully,” Trace finished.

All I could do was stand there and stare at them.  I wasn’t sure how to react.  If this was really the label’s doing, then why didn’t they tell me?  We should have had a meeting about this, not a fucking surprise visit to the arctic tundra.  And my mother knows?  

Fuck.  

I mean, don’t get me wrong--we’ve always had a good relationship, and for the most part, she’s pretty cool with my lifestyle and the choices I make.  Hell, we’ve even smoked weed together.  She knows about everything in my life--so she’s totally cool with most things.  But how cool can she really be about the fact that I have sex with a lot of women?

My mother supported this?

All I can do is run a hand through my curls distractedly.  This was a lot to take in.  I could feel my veins constricting, the pressure mounting inside my body.  I can’t control it.  My legs involuntarily start pacing back and forth more quickly while desperately try to sort the words battling inside my head.

This. is. not. happening.

“So what’s it going to be, Timberfuck?  We can do this the easy way...or the hard way.  Your choice.  But you’ve got about five seconds before I grab your ass and throw you in the limo,” Trace stabbed once more, his words biting like venom.

That was it.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  I wanted to be calm and rational, but the feeling inside my body wouldn’t let me.  Not to mention the fact that Trace just uttered two nicknames that I hated more than life itself in a short span of 3 minutes.  

In a matter of seconds, I feel my body lunging at Trace.  There’s no thought process behind it, just pure, carnal instinct.  Before JC can stop us, the two of us are on the ground, rolling about in the snow, throwing punches wildly.

“Fuck, Justin!  Stop!”  JC was desperately trying to pull us apart, but he was no match for our sparring.

And there we stayed for a good thirty minutes, beating the shit out of one another.  It finally came to a halt when Trace started coughing up blood into the neighboring snowbank.

I could feel the wetness from my now soaked jeans sticking to my clothes.  I could barely breathe, sure that I had at least a few broken ribs.  I was coughing sporadically, desperately trying to regain my composure.  At least the pressure was gone.

JC was the first of the three of us to stand up, and he certainly came out with the least amount of wounds.  He extended a hand out to me, and I slowly stood up.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, clutching my side.  I ended up leaning on the trunk of the car, unable to stand on my own.

JC was working on getting Trace to stand up, and he nodded.  “Come on.  It’s time to go.  You’re going to rehab, and now we have to see if they’ll patch Trace up while we’re at it.  I swear, one of these days you two are going to kill one another.”

Trace chuckled, even though he was spitting up blood.  “Justin couldn’t get that lucky.”

“Fuck you,” I mumbled.

And with that, we piled into the car, soaking wet and looking like we just got the shit beat out of us by a bunch of gang-bangers.  This would certainly be interesting.