(no subject)

[jae_w]

Two things:

1 -- I wrote a story for Kaelie in the JuC Swap, how many ways will you miss me.

2 --

i.

"Omar! Yo, Omar!"

Omar pulled his coat a little tighter and kept walking, ignoring the police calling him out of his name right in the middle of the street. No police had ever been good news for him, and this one was worse than usual.

Omar only got halfway to the corner, though, before the cop was at his elbow, panting a little. "What, we’re not friends anymore?" McNulty said. "I thought our relationship went deeper than that."

"What you want?" Omar said, turning around. "Oh, hell, no. I know you didn’t stop me in the middle of the street so everybody can see me talking to a beat cop."

"Sorry to ruin your rep," McNulty said, adjusting his hat and grinning. "But I got something for you, Omar. Something you’re gonna like a lot."

"One true thing, Omar don’t need anything you got for him. All you ever brought me’s trouble."

"Omar, you wound me," McNulty said, guiding Omar back up the street toward his car. He banged on the roof and the passenger door opened. A tall skinny white boy got out of the passenger side. He looked vaguely familiar to Omar, but he couldn’t think from where. Then the boy smiled, and Omar stopped worrying about where he’d seen him before and started thinking about how much more of him he was gonna see in the very near future.

"Omar, this is Justin Timberlake," McNulty said, and the boy held out his hand. It was big and soft in Omar’s, and he didn’t let go of it for a minute, even when McNulty grinned at him again. He didn’t let go until Justin shifted on his feet and looked down and then up again. Then Omar said,

"Pleasure," and Justin smiled at him again.

"Justin here’s making a movie," McNulty said, rocking a little on his feet. Another day Omar might have been annoyed at how much McNulty was enjoying himself, but another day Omar wouldn’t have been watching a pretty white boy pretend he wasn’t looking Omar up and down and up again, like he couldn’t look away. "I’m just supposed to take him on a ridearound, but he wants to see the real thing, he says. I told him, you want to understand the streets of Baltimore, I got a man you got to get to know. Intimately."

"Indeed," Omar said.

Justin said eagerly, "Anything you want to tell me or show me, I’d really appreciate," and McNulty turned away suddenly and coughed. Omar just nodded shortly.

"Got a few things I might could show you," he said.

"That’d be so great," Justin said. "Because I think it’s so important to keep it real, you know? Sometimes you see these movies and you think, that guy just stepped out of an air conditioned trailer, not a crack house. I mean, I know they’re trying, but I just think it’s so important to really get the feel of the street, really get down and dirty, learn the way people move and talk and -"

McNulty’s cough was threatening to turn into a fit, but Omar didn’t pay him any mind. He didn’t pay any mind to what the boy was saying, either, just stood there and watched his mouth work. Finally McNulty got a handle on himself and said,

"Well, that’s really great, Justin, but I’ve got to get going. Now, this whole thing is a little against regulations, so I’m counting on you to keep this on the down low." Justin nodded and Omar rolled his eyes. "But Omar here’s done me a couple of favors in the past, so I know he’ll treat you right. Won’t you, Omar?"

"Oh yes indeed, Mr. Policeman," Omar said. He smiled. He wasn’t looking at McNulty. "Oh yes indeed."

ii.

A hand reached out and pulled Bodie into the dark alley. Before he could fight back, the hand let him go and a voice said, "Relax. I ain’t gonna fight - I just want to talk."

"Fool," Bodie said, as he shook himself out. "How you know I ain’t got a gun on me? I could shoot you quick as look as you."

"I knew you didn’t have a gun." The kid was one of Marlo’s crew who spent most of his time hustling over in one of the white neighborhoods on the outskirts. Bodie’d seen him a few times, the two of them making small talk while they waited for Stringer and Marlo to hash out an uneasy truce. String’d been impressed by him, or at least by his presence. The boy Marlo, he know how to reach out when it’s business. Diversify, that’s the key these days. You all could learn a lesson.

"Still, you best keep your hands off me," Bodie said. "Shit, Justin, you looking for trouble even walking up here on your own. What’d you want?"

"I just want to talk," Justin said. He pushed his hoodie back off his head and leaned against the wall. "Listen - how happy are you in Barksdale’s crew?"

Bodie laughed. "Oh, I know you ain’t come to recruit me for Marlo. Over this side, we know how to be loyal."

"Loyal?" Justin said. "So how far that loyalty got you?" Before Bodie could say anything, he held up a hand. "I ain’t come to do anything for Marlo. I been watching you, and I been wondering if you want might want to do a little business."

"What kind of business?" Bodie said.

"Our own business," Justin said. "You don’t get anywhere working in someone else’s crew. Too many hands in the pot, too many people there ahead of you taking all the profits. You want to get anything in this world, you got to go out on your own."

"You crazy, man," Bodie said. "Marlo kill you quick as look at you, and if he don’t String will, for sure, they find out you trying to cut yourself in."

"War’s coming, man," Justin said. "Can’t you tell? They gonna be so busy killing each other they ain’t have time for small fish like you and me. But while they’re killing each other, that’s the perfect time to cut yourself a piece. I got me a contact for some product, and a plan, and by the time they wipe all the blood out of their eyes, I won’t be a small fish anymore." Justin grinned suddenly. "You got to take a risk, man. Else you always gonna be singing someone else’s songs."

"How long you been planning this?" Bodie said.

"My whole life," Justin said. He pulled his hood back up over his face so all Bodie could see was his smile. "You think about it, man. You know where to find me."

iii.

Jail wasn’t nothing but a minor inconvenience to Omar these days. Cost of doing business for a man like him. And like anything, it even had its consolations, if a man knew how to look.

"Well, well, well," he said as the guard pushed him into his new cell. "What we got here?"

The kid sat up in his bunk, then rolled up slowly to his feet. Oh, yes, there were consolations, Omar thought as he looked.

"What’s your name, boy?"

"Timberlake," the kid said. He put his hand out and then pulled it back. "Justin Timberlake. And you’re Omar, I know you."

"Then I guess I’ll have to get to know you," Omar said. "We got ourselves some time in here, I reckon. Man got to make the best of things, as my grandma always said."

"Look," the kid said, his face flushing so that Omar smiled. One of the nice things about white boys, they blushed so pretty. Omar spent the time the kid took to figure out what to say next watching pink spread down his neck and wondering just how far down it went. "All respect, man, but I been here a while now, and I know how - I don’t want anything from you, all right? I can take care of myself."

"Glad to hear it," Omar said. "Got no time for a man who can’t take care of himself."

Justin looked at him uncertainly.

Omar threw his things on the bunk and sat down. "You look to me like a man can handle himself," he said. "You heard of me, you musta heard I like a man can handle himself." Omar smiled at him, and Justin smiled back. It was slow at first, like the kid wasn’t sure he wanted to be smiling, and then his grin just burst all over his face.

Oh yes, Omar told himself as Justin sat down next to him. Everything had its consolations.

iv.
"I see we’re getting the band back together," Kima said as she pulled up a chair in Daniels’ office.

"Posher digs this time," Sydnor said.

"And we’re missing a few old faces," Lester added, his voice a little sad. Kima looked around. McNulty and Prez were gone, not that that was a surprise. "Of course, we’ve got a new face or two."

"Some of you may know Kirkpatrick," Daniels said, with the sour look he got when he’d decided to make the best of something he couldn’t help. A short man in a leather jacket nodded from the doorway.

"Your reputation precedes you," Kima said.

"As does yours, Miss Kima."

"Well, I hope I’m not known for being the craziest motherfucker in a five-state area. I didn’t know they were letting you back inside the city limits."

"I was going to say that you’d made your reputation as the most beautiful, intelligent policewoman this town has ever known, like some kind of superhero the Man was too chicken to actually create, but now I don’t feel like it." Kirkpatrick grinned. "You hurt my feelings."

"You’re wasting your time there, friend," Lester said softly.

"Oh, I like a challenge," Kirkpatrick said, still smiling at Kima.

"Well then, you’re in great luck," Lester said, and Kima laughed.

"Maybe we can get down to work," Daniels said, and started pinning photos up on a board. Kima leaned forward in her chair.

"Who’s that?"

"Justin Timberlake," Lester said. "Comes from out in the country, but lately he and his friends have been burning up the wire. We got all sorts of new faces in town these days."

"Well, now I understand why we needed Kirkpatrick in this unit. When’s the last time we needed to send a white guy undercover? No offense, Kirkpatrick."

"But I take it, Kima, I take deep offense. I believe our fearless leader has selected me for my quick wit, for my cunning brain, for my dangerous moves, and perhaps even for my lovely singing voice. In Dublin’s fair city, the girls are so pretty, twas there I met -"

The team looked carefully down at the table, hiding smiles as Daniels cleared his throat loudly. Kima thought he was probably missing McNulty right about now.

"You got all those skills, Kirkpatrick," Kima said, "why you wasting your time in this unit?"

Kirkpatrick looked up at a photo on the board and his eyes narrowed. Then he looked at Kima and smiled. "When was the last time a white guy got to go undercover?"

v.

Stringer smiled at himself in the large mirror above the bar as he waited for the hostess to show him to his table. Carlyle hadn’t wanted him to come. "Let me handle this," he’d said. "That’s what you pay me for, to handle the money and the investors."

"Oh, hell no," Stringer had told him. "I pay you for your contacts. I been in this game too long to let anyone else handle my money."

"This isn’t like - what you’re used to," Carlyle had said. "You don’t want to scare these people away. This is a great opportunity for you to break into this business, and -"

"Mr. Carlyle," Stringer had said with his biggest smile. He spread his hands out wide on Carlyle’s desk as he stood up, and was pleased to see Carlyle lean back in his chair. "Now could I scare anyone?"

Carlyle was already in his seat, along with a few other older men and one young one whose face Stringer recognized. Stringer sat down as Carlyle introduced him. "Pleasure to meet you, Justin," he said. "I’m a big fan," and he smiled as Justin’s face lit up.

The dinner was like any of these dinners, long and dull and expensive. Stringer thought sometimes that the biggest threat in this new life he was planning might just be dying of boredom. Justin caught his eye. "I always thought opening up a club would be exciting," he said, "but I’m learning otherwise, believe me."

Stringer laughed.

"Gentlemen, I’m sure we can take it from here," Carlyle said smoothly. "There’s just some final money matters to settle, and we don’t need to bore you with those."

"Oh, money’s never boring," Stringer said.

"But sometimes the company," Justin said, low so only Stringer could hear, and Stringer laughed again. "Listen," Justin said louder, "I don’t know how much you know this town, but there’s a couple of places we could go, get some ideas about what we should do in our club." Justin smiled. "I mean, if you’ve decided that you’re going to invest?"

"Sure," Stringer said. "And I been up here a few times before, know a few places. How about I show you mine and you show me yours?"

Carlyle caught Stringer’s sleeve as Justin headed out to the car. "Listen, you want to be careful where you take him. He’s not what you’re used to."

"Carlyle," Stringer said, staring hard at his arm until the man let go of his sleeve, "you think I never met me a white boy before? You don’t know what I’m used to."

In the car Justin leaned forward to speak to the driver, then looked at Stringer seriously. "What was that about? Wait, don’t tell me. He was telling you to be careful, not to get me into any trouble."

"Nothing wrong with being careful."

"Yeah, but he shouldn’t have assumed you would - I mean, it’s just rude, and ignorant, for him to -" Justin flushed and Stringer looked away so Justin wouldn’t see him smile. "I don’t need anyone to be careful with me."

"I’ll bear that in mind," Stringer said, looking back at Justin.

The clubs Justin had in mind were pretty tame affairs, Stringer thought, expensive looking, good music, but nothing special. He was a little disappointed, even though this was nothing but business. Justin looked over at him. "A little slow tonight, I guess," he said, biting his lip. "It’s usually a little more -"

"Maybe we just need us a drink," Stringer said, and watched Justin head for the bar.

It took a while for Justin to make his way back, as people kept stopping him. He glanced back at Stringer apologetically a few times, and finally Stringer just went to the bar himself. With two drinks in his hands he stopped behind Justin as a girl shouted at him about a song she’d liked, or didn’t like, Stringer couldn’t tell. Justin looked over his shoulder gratefully and excused himself to follow Stringer back to their table.

"Thanks for getting me out of that," Justin said. "And for the drink. I drank mine on the way back, and, well, that girl drank most of yours." He laughed.

"Man got to watch out for what’s his around here," Stringer said, and Justin’s laugh shrank down to a small smile.

A few more clubs, a few more drinks, and finally Stringer had had enough. "I seen enough of yours," he said low in Justin’s ear as Justin let yet another girl talk at him. "Now it’s time for you to see mine," and Justin nodded and let Stringer lead him out to the car. As they stepped into the street Justin stumbled, and Stringer reached out to steady him with one hand on his waist. Justin put his hand over Stringer’s and stopped for a minute, wobbling a little.

"Your hands are big," Justin said, his face flushed red. "I mean, I thought my hands were, but yours are -"

"You drunk, boy," Stringer laughed, and Justin nodded vigorously in agreement and let Stringer guide him into the car.

Justin’s eyes lit up as they walked into the club Stringer knew. "Minute I saw you, I knew you’d be the right guy for this," Justin said. "They said you were, you know, just another investor, but I knew you had an eye for, for this kind of thing. I knew you’d know, you know?"

"Sure," Stringer said. "Maybe you don’t need another drink."

But Justin wasn’t having any of that, so Stringer sat him down at a table and made his way to the bar. It had been a while since he’d been here, and people kept stopping him, men slapping him on the back, women hugging him. When he made his way back to the table, Justin grabbed his beer and laughed. "Hey, Stringer, you didn’t tell me you were a rock star. I think it’s easier for me to make my way through a crowd."

A hand descended on Stringer’s shoulder. "Yo, man," Joe Mack said, "we got to talk."

"I ain’t got time for that tonight," Stringer said.

"Yeah, well, you ain’t got time tonight, you might not like what you find tomorrow." Joe pulled up a chair and sat down. "I mean, your business, man, but you gonna want to hear what I heard about product coming out of -"

"Hey, Justin," Stringer said, "why don’t you go dance for a while?"

"Sure," Justin said easily enough, and swung himself up out of his chair. Joe Mack watched him go.

"What you doing there, man?"

"Business," Stringer said. "Boy’s gonna have the biggest club in the city next year."

"You gonna be supplying -"

"I’m gonna own a piece," Stringer said sharply.

Joe Mack held up his hands. "Yeah, well, while us mere mortals can still talk to you, I need you to tell me what you want me to do about this problem." While Joe talked, Stringer looked out over the dance floor. It wasn’t hard to find Justin. There were a few white girls dotted around the room, but Justin was the only white boy. Stringer watched him dance for a few minutes, but Justin didn’t look back at him. He turned his attention to Joe Mack.

When Stringer looked up again, Justin was dancing up on some girl and a guy was making his way toward them. He grinned to himself and then made his way through the crowd, catching the guy just before he got to Justin. "What’s your problem, man?" he said.

"Your boy’s my problem," the guy said. "That’s my girl there."

"My boy ain’t your problem," Stringer said softly, one hand on the guy’s arm as he stared him down. The guy held up both hands.

"Sure, String," he said. He looked over at Justin and then back at Stringer. "My mistake," he said, and Stringer let him go. The guy pulled his girl off the dance floor as her shrill voice carried over the music. Justin looked at Stringer.

"Oops?" he said, and Stringer laughed.

"Let’s get out of there," he said.

Justin almost fell again as they headed for the car. "For a boy can dance like that, you're awful clumsy when I’m around," Stringer said as he caught him.

"Yeah, don’t know why that could be," Justin said lightly, and then ducked into the car before Stringer could say anything else.

In the car Justin looked over at him, then looked out the window. Stringer sat with his hands on his knees and didn’t say anything. In the glass Stringer could see his reflection, the tip of Justin’s tongue out. Justin caught his eye in the window and then slid over toward him.

"I just -" he said, and kissed Stringer, a little carefully, his body facing front and his head turned toward Stringer. Stringer took Justin’s jaw in his hand, just as carefully, and eased him away.

"I don’t do that, boy," he said, his hand still on Justin, his fingers drifting up so they covered Justin’s bottom lip. Justin nodded, and Stringer could feel him breathe against his hand. He let him breathe like that for a minute. "Something else, though, you want to do, I don’t mind." He let his hand slide up the side of Justin’s cheek and over his head, and Justin smiled.

"Yeah," Justin said a little breathlessly. "You don’t mind, I want," and he slid down onto his knees on the floor of the car. Stringer sat back against the seat and let his fingers twist lightly in Justin’s hair, Justin’s hands running down his chest, along his legs. Just as he reached for Stringer’s zipper Justin said,

"String?"

"Yeah, boy," Stringer said. He looked down at Justin looking up at him.

"You ever - did you ever, you know, did you ever have to kill anybody?"

Stringer almost laughed, but instead he let go of Justin’s hair and stared him down. "There an answer I can give you’ll make you get up off your knees?"

Justin looked down and Stringer saw his tongue working at the corner of his mouth again. "I’m sorry," he said, "that was a stupid thing to say, I just thought - it was rude, and ignorant, and I -"

Stringer put his hand over Justin’s mouth. "Shh," he said, and Justin shut up. He ran his hand up over Justin’s head again.

"Yeah," Stringer said, his fingers twisting hard in Justin’s hair, "I killed my share," and even before he heard Justin gasp and felt Justin’s mouth on him he knew it was the right answer.