Chapter 20 - Under My Tree

Monday, December 12th, 2005.
Eric briefed Isaac on his duties for the day whilst they drove to JC's L.A. home. "If you don't mind, could you help him pick out some outfits for the event tonight?"
"Why?" Isaac asked as he checked his phone.
"I'm considering firing Jules."
Isaac gasped. "Why!?"
"I don't want him on our team if he can't be professional," Eric explained.
Isaac carefully slid his phone into his satchel bag. "Is this only a one night thing...or?"
"I was wondering, would you be willing to be JC's stylist full time, at higher pay?"
"You better be considering giving me a pay raise if you want me to take on more work."
"But I'm also giving you the option to call in extra help if need be." Eric waited for the gate to open, stepping out once they were in the drive.
Isaac followed him to the front door. "I'll think about it."
"But this is only if JC agrees to it." Eric knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer.

JC sent a quick text to Ellie before he climbed the stairs into the foyer. "Hey." He patted Isaac on the back as he welcomed them into his home.
"Where's Ellie and Carlos?" Isaac asked as they went into the kitchen.
"Carlos just ran out to get lunch. Ellie's back in New York," JC explained. "You know her magazine goes to print on Friday. It's their end-of-year issue thing, and everyone has to be on deck, if you get what I'm saying."
"Yeah." Eric sat at the kitchen bench.
"Can I get you something to drink or something?" JC offered, taking the kettle off the stove.
"No, thank you," Eric declined. "I was thinking maybe we could talk a little about the situation with Jules."
JC placed the kettle back the stove, leaning against the counter opposite Eric. "OK, what do you have in mind?"
"I was thinking, since we don't really use his services a lot right now, maybe it would be a good idea to relieve Jules of his obligation to us," Eric suggested.
JC thought for a moment. "You want to fire him?"
"Yes," Eric responded, scratching the back of his neck.
"What happens in the event that I need a stylist?"
"I was thinking we could trial Isaac tonight, see if he can handle the stress of both jobs."
"Are you OK with that?" JC turned to Isaac.
"It's not really that hard, is it?" Isaac leaned over the counter next to Eric. "I just need to pick you out an outfit, iron a shirt maybe."

Ellie quickly rushed from the cab to the door of her apartment building. She peeled off her scarf as she checked the mail. The concierge greeted her as she walked to the elevator.
"Evening, Miss Argyle."
She stopped, awkwardly turning to him. "Hey...it's really coming down out there."
"Bit different from what you're used to down south, innit?" he joked in his Irish brogue.
"Um...yeah. We don't get snow this heavy in Louisiana."
"We don't get snow this heavy in Cork, neither. Mr. Chasez sent these for you this afternoon." He gestured to the large arrangement of white roses sitting on his desk.
"Oh, wow." She went over, inspecting the cream petals.
"My pop always used to say, always give your girl flowers as pretty as she is, which is fine if she's as beautiful as roses, like you miss, but what if she's as ugly as cow shit sitting in a patch of weeds? Do you give her that? Or do you lie to her and give her nettles?" he joked.
She dug around in her briefcase for any spare cash, tipping him what she could. "Well, thank you. Have a good night."
"It's not me you should be thanking; it's your fella. You have a good night as well, thanks for the tip." He lifted his hat as she lifted the bouquet off the desk, carefully carrying it to the elevator.

She carefully placed the arrangement on the dining table, checking for a card as Linus mewed at her feet. "Shh, baby. Give me a minute." She carefully detached the small envelope from the leaves, opening it to read the small handwritten note:
'For you: My heart, it beats, it beats for you. My lungs, they breathe, they breathe for you. My soul, it sings, it sings for you. My love, I live, I live for you. Joshua.'

A flattered smile came over her face. She tapped JC's cellphone number into the kitchen phone, opening a can of cat food one-handed as she waited for him to answer.
"Hey." He cleared his throat, coughing after he answered.
"Hi..." she responded coquettishly.
"What do I owe the pleasure?"
"I got the flowers; they're very beautiful." She twisted the cord around her fingers.
"Not as beautiful as you."
"Stop it!" She giggled.
"Did you get the note?"
"Yeah."
"What did you think?"
"It was very nice."
"Not as—"

She cut him off. "Stop being so fucking corny."
"No, you stop being so fucking corny." He cleared his throat again. "I got your email, the one where you describe everything we would've done if we woke up together this morning. I'm a little disappointed it didn't get any dirtier than a coy mention of showering together."
"Would you like me to go a little more into detail?"
"I'm a little more curious as to what you did in the shower alone." A pause came from his side of the line. "I'm sorry, but I need to get going now. I have to go to that launch party."
"OK, try to get back early. I would hate it if you didn't call me to tuck me in tonight," she said in a coquettish whisper.
"I'll try to get back before midnight. I'll talk to you then."
"Ok, I love you."
"I love you, too. Bye."
"Bye." She carefully hung the receiver back into the phone's cradle. She rubbed her neck, as she made a small, tired groan. She made herself a light dinner, checked some emails and went over an article before she changed into one of his pyjama tops and went to bed.

JC mingled amongst the guests at the launch party. He awkwardly floated in and out of conversations of small talk with teen stars and unimportant socialites, trying his hardest to figure out exactly what was being launched. Was it a liquor, a fragrance, a book or PR company? The only thing he knew was the name, Mind Blank, but only because the room was spotted throughout with the same smoky logo of black signs. He slowly nursed his now watered-down vodka and soda as he stood on the outer ring of the club, checking his cell phone for any new texts.
"What's the party like?" Ellie sent a message around 9ish.
"Same old. I don't really know anyone here. What are you doing?" JC replied.
"Just got into bed, reading."
"What?"
"Some romance set in Victorian England, dare I say, a Dickensian rip-off."
He stared at the screen, grumbling as the DJ changed the song to a house mix of “Jingle Bells.” "I don't get what you mean."
"Sigh...the author borrows heavily from Charles Dickens, at least tries to."
"Why do you read that crap?"
"I don't know, nothing better to do. Why do you keep going to parties you don't want to go to? It's not like you're hunting for strange or anything...???" she pointed out, hoping his response wouldn't give any indication he was.
He sighed as he closed his phone, draining the last of his drink. He started to debate if he should go home as Ellie sent another message: "Are you still going to call me? It's nearly 12 and I'm getting sleepy."

Ellie picked up on the second ring. "Good evening," she said in a poor Transylvanian accent.
"Hey."
"What's wrong? You seem downtrodden."
"Just another shit party, that's all." JC sighed, shuffling under his bedcovers. He just had gotten home and undressed, lazily falling into bed.
"I thought you liked those kind of things."
"I don't know. Sometimes you're in the mood for it, sometimes you're not. What did you do tonight?"
"Just some work stuff."
"What did you have for dinner?"
"A grilled cheese, why?"
He groaned. "That would've been amazing. They only had tapas hors d'oeuvres there. You know, figs and ham on little pieces of bread." He turned over onto his side. "Did you make it the way you always make it?"
She groaned. "Yes, little bit of butter in the pan instead of on the bread and a sprinkle of pepper on the cheese. Medium heat, lightly toasted, nothing fancy. You could do it yourself."
"It's not the same. You're a much better cook than I am."
She paused, smiling to herself. "Only because I add a little love."
"Oh, and I'm the corny one?" he teased. "Do you think it goes both ways, though? You know, could things taste better when they're made by a person you love?"
"I don't know. Everything tastes better home-cooked in my opinion, though it doesn't help that my dad's a great cook himself. I think there are just some foods that taste better that way. I've never bought a grilled cheese as good as my mother's."
"I always thought it was weird you prefer your mom's grilled cheese over your dad's."
"It's just one of those mom foods, you know. Where your mom always does it best."
"Yeah..." He trailed off, listening to her breathing. "What are you wearing?"

She burst out laughing, holding the phone away as she pulled herself together. She cleared her throat. "What are you wearing?"
"I asked first."
"I asked more recently."
"OK, I'll guess what I think you're wearing..." He thought for a moment. "I bet you're in that little white nighty, the satin one with the lace."
"No, guess again."
"How about that little purple number, the one you got for my birthday?"
"Nope, try again."
"Mmm...I know, my green sweatshirt, the one I left on the bed."
"Close, I'm wearing the khaki green pyjama top." She paused. "The one with 1982 stamped on the front."
"Oh, you look cute in that."  
"According to you, I look cute in everything of yours." She chuckled.
"Yeah. Guess what I'm wearing."
"Let me think...Either you're wearing a pair of sweats, black I suppose, a pair of briefs, or you're naked. I hope you're naked."
"Why?"
"I don't want you to get cum on anything...This is leading to phone sex, isn't it?"

He let out a small groan.
"I'm going to say that's a 'yes,'" she answered. "What do you want me to do?"
"I think you know what I want you to do." He slowly started to rub his crotch in preparation.
She lowered her voice, slowing her speech rate. "Do you want me to tell you what I wish we were doing right now?"
He murmured, lying back and closing his eyes, "Yes."
"OK, so I'm in the shower. You're going to join me in a second, but I can't wait for you. I turn the water on and get the temperature right. I step under it and start washing my hair. I slowly lather up the shampoo and rinse it out, the suds running down my body and into the drain."
"Oh, God," he whispered.
"So I then condition my hair, same thing. I slowly stroke the conditioner through my hair, rinsing it out, the water flowing in beads down my shoulders and back. Would you like to join me yet?"
"No, I want to watch you a little while."
"OK, so the door's open a little and you're watching me. Are you touching yourself?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Just a little, I might want to play a little when you finally join me. Are you becoming hard?"
"Yeah." He started to slowly run his fingers up and down the shaft of his cock.
"Good...So what I do next is take a little soap on a sponge and slowly start rubbing it all over my body. First my arms, then my shoulders and neck, then my stomach and torso. Can you see me as I do my chest?"
"Yeah."
"Can you see the suds all over my breasts, my hard, pink nipples covered in soap?"
He moaned, resisting the urge to increase his speed.
"I think I need some help with my back. Do you want to join me yet?"
"Yeah."
"OK, so you step in and take the sponge, slowly washing my back and ass. You wash the back of my thighs, then you press yourself behind me to do the front."
"Can you feel me?"
"Yeah, you're pressed up against my ass. You feel hard, but I'm not sure you're ready yet? Do you think you are?"
"Are you?" He listened as she went quiet for a moment, hearing her make a small gasp.
"I'm a little ready, but I guide your hand into the soft folds of my pussy."
He shuddered as he heard her breath quicken. "How does it feel?"
"Amazing, you're running three fingers along my pussy."
"Do you want to come now, or later?"

He listened as she went quiet, her breathing becoming shorter and laboured. "Yeah."
"So, I start rubbing your clit, doing soft, slow circles with my middle finger."
"Oh, fuck." She gasped. "Kiss me."
"OK, you turn your head towards me, leaning up to press your lips to mine, softly touching the tip of your tongue to mine."
She whimpered. "I miss you kissing me."
"You lean back into me, not being able to stand up much longer. I kiss your neck and shoulders, rubbing you a little harder and quicker. Are you coming yet?"
She whimpered, crying out, "Yes!"
"How does it feel?" he asked, starting to run his hand along his cock as fast as he could.
"It feels like a ball of fire is building up in me, incredible but intense at the same time."
"Are your legs shaking?"
"Yeah."
"Are you arching your back, moving your pelvis forward as your pussy clenches, waiting for me to fuck you?"
"Press me up against the wall and fuck me!" she moaned.
"I don't want to stop you—"
"I am so fucking close I will come the moment you ram your giant cock into me," she spat through her teeth. "Just fuck me...please," she begged.
"Well, so I stop for a moment, pressing you against the wall facing me. I lift your left leg up and slip into you."
"You're so fucking hard."
"I'm about to blow. You cry out as I start thrusting into you, squeezing your legs as you come."

He listened as she gasped, hearing her cry out as she went up an octave, softly whispering, "Baby..." He kept listening, her breath calming.

"Kiss me, again," she whispered. "Kiss me as hard as you can."
He started to feel the urge to come intensify. "I can't wait much longer..."
"Then fuck me, pound into me until you come. Spurt your hot cum into me. I want to feel it in my pussy, running down my legs."
He gasped. "Baby..."
"Or do you want me to kneel down—"
"SHIT!" He jutted up as he ejaculated, pumping cum over his hand and stomach. He sat for a moment in shock. "Ew..."
She chuckled. "It never happens when you think it's going to, does it?"
"I need a tissue or something." He spied the box of Kleenex by the bed, wiping himself. "Are you done?"

She made a satisfied groan. "Yeah. When are you going to be home?"
"Friday, no later." He pulled the covers up, snuggling into his pillows. "I really miss you."
"I miss you, too. We could've done all that for real."
"I don't like being away from you."
"Me neither, it's not the same. Promise you'll come back to me."
"I promise. I love you."
"I love you, too. What was it? 'My heart, it beats. It beats for you. My soul—"
He corrected her, "My lungs, they breathe, they breathe for you. My soul..."
"It sings, it sings for you. My love, I live. I live..."
"For you."
"Pour vous."
"Pour vous...night."
"Night."
He listened to her breathing, the soft inhales and exhales.
"Come back to me."
"I will."

Friday, December 16th, 2005.
Ellie walked back to her desk from the conference room, finished for the night as the final copy was couriered off to the printers. She yawned and rubbed her neck.
"Are you coming to the office Christmas party?" Amber, the female co-worker with short blonde hair who occupied the cubicle in front of Ellie's, asked.
"No, Josh is flying in from L.A. tonight. I want to have the tree up when he gets home."
"Sounds nice. I see Santa already dropped you off a present." Amber motioned to the red foil gift bag in front of Ellie's keyboard. She picked it up, taking out the copy of Home for Christmas.
"Ha ha!" she yelled sarcastically, "Let's get Ellie *NSYNC's Christmas album for Christmas. What do I say every year? I don't like Christmas music. What do you always give me? Christmas music. I have a cat. Get me cat food, help me feed my cat." She collected her belongings and headed for the elevator. "I'll ask JC to send you a thank you note for the royalties, Stephen," she said to the snickering co-worker in front of her.

She returned home just before six, fed Linus, started the fire, poured herself a glass of wine, and started to go through the Christmas decorations she had bought last night. "No..." she said to herself as a bizarre urge came over her. She had never actually listened to an *NSYNC record. She had listened to Schizophrenic, JC's album once or twice, but never an actual *NSYNC album. She stood up and got the CD out from the gift bag. She looked at the cheery faces of the five of them,  Chris with his now so uncool dreadlocks, Justin and Lance with their bleach blond hair, Joey...well, Joey, and finally in the centre, the man she had fallen in love with, a seven years younger JC. His eyes shone with a little more innocence and his hair shone with too much product. "I still would've..." she whispered to herself, knowing what her options were at the time.

She opened the case, cringing at the bad clip art wreath opposite the disc. She took it out of the case and slipped it into the stereo, the complicated piece of technology this album would've help buy, at least if they were properly compensated for it. She delicately pressed play and the sounds of bells and five-part harmony came over the speakers. She quickly paused it, a feeling of embarrassment coming over her. She pressed play again, stepping away from the stereo. "Ew..." she said, as Justin started the first verse of the next forty minutes or so.

"Hey." JC walked in just as “In Love on Christmas” finished. "Was that my song?"
"Yes," Ellie said as she bundled up some packaging to be thrown away. "Make it stop."
"I didn't think it was that bad." He pressed stop on the stereo. "The best song's coming up."
"No, Justin Timberlake cannot sing."
"He's not that bad. He's OK."
"No, I don't want to hear him or his, what, seventeen-year-old ass singing to me that he hopes Santa will see us fucking under the Christmas tree. It may have turned me off sex forever."

He walked over to her, bending down to kiss her. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"
"I don't know..." She spiked up his hair, replicating the hairstyle from the CD cover. "I guess we could put a little gel in your hair, maybe a black turtleneck."
He lay down on the white shag rug in front of the fireplace. "So, basically what I looked like 1998?"
"Yeah." She snuggled into him.
"I need to tell you something."
"What?"
"I need to go to Scotland in early January, maybe even spend New Year’s there."
"Why?" She played with a stray piece of lint off his sweater.
"I'm signing my deal. I've decided to go with Excelsior Records."
"Cool." They laid in silence for a moment. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"Please. I mean Tyler and Carlos are going to be there, but I want you with me, too."
"For sex?" She smiled.
"Maybe..."

Ellie got up from the floor and went over to the pantry. "Is there anything you want for dinner?"
"I don't know. Do you want to cook, or do you want to order in?"
"I'm guessing eating out is off the table."
"Yeah. I'm a little exhausted from the whole flight. I don't really feel like going out."
She dug through the freezer, finding a ball of sausage meat frozen in a ziplock bag. "You want biscuits and gravy? It won't take me that long."
"Sure, if you want."

He got up and pulled a chair across from her at the kitchen bench, watching her make the biscuits from memory. She pulled what she needed from the pantry and fridge, measuring out her flour and milk, adding a dash of lemon juice to make a easy buttermilk. She then added a spoonful of baking powder, a few pinches of salt and baking soda, then a few spoonfuls of butter. She folded the mixture together, putting the five blobs of dough into a greased cake tin. She recounted her day as she got the defrosted sausage from the microwave and started the gravy. "Miles and Molly Sue had their baby."
"OK."
"Yeah, little girl; Isabella Sue."
"Weren't they considering Miley?"
"I don't know. Sometimes you just change your mind right before or after, I guess. Maybe she just didn't look like a 'Miley.'" She measured out a spoonful of flour, tossing it into the meat. "From the photo Molly put in the announcement, it looks like she favours her mother in looks. Same red hair."

"Can I ask you a question?"
"What?" She slowly started to add milk to the roux, bit by bit.
"Are you OK with them being together? I mean, how did they ever end up together?"
"Molly Sue's parents were school administrators. A few years back, her father ran for the state board and won. Back in 1999, he ran for state senate. Miles interned for him after college and Molly Sue was working as his receptionist. You can speculate what happened next." She turned to JC, holding her spatula like a weapon. "You know, I can just imagine the hangdog expression he probably used on her. 'I've just been so lonely since Lizzie's been up in New York. I don't think I can go much longer without a woman's touch. Seeing you sitting there in your little skirt is just driving me wild.' Scumbag." She turned back to her gravy, adding a final sprinkle of pepper before she took it off the stove, starting to set out for the meal.
"Are you OK with it?" he asked as he help her set the table.
"I don't know. I'm complacent on the whole situation, but then again, everything about him just...infuriates me."

"Did they just end up together...or?"
"Oh, no. He romanced her. Took her to Paris to propose. France, he took her to fucking France." She carefully took the biscuits out of the oven and halved two.
"How did he propose to you?"
"Christmas 1999, the year I got Linus. I actually caught him in bed with another girl, didn't talk to him for a week. He tried every way he could to get me back, at least every way he knew how. Of course, Claire was using the opportunity to tell me everything, EVERYTHING, she knew about him. Not that she hadn't before, I just wasn't willing to listen then. Of course, just when I was getting ready to break it off in the new year, he rocks up unannounced at Christmas, instantly gets down on one knee and gives me all this bullshit about how I was the greatest thing to ever happen to him and how I showed him what true love was and if I would do the honour of making his Christmas wish come true by agreeing to marry him." She placed the biscuits on the table, covering each in the gravy. "Of course, he had to do it in front of my whole family, so I couldn't turn him down. He took out this gold ring with these three little crystal chips I guess were supposed to be diamonds."
"I thought he grew up wealthy?" JC said in between bites.
"He did. His father got him a Roadster for his sixteenth. He did OK for a while, but he crashed it first year of college, completely totalled it. His father cut him off, stating that if he thought he was responsible enough to drink like an adult, he's responsible enough to take care of all of his affairs like an adult." She watched as he wolfed down the last of his dinner, scraping the last of the gravy from the plate with his fork. "How are you able to eat like a duck and not choke every single fucking time?"
"It's a talent."