[cw: discussion of past sexual assault/abuse and physical abuse. this is gonna be a heavy little batch of entries.]

*

Wasn't surprised that I haven't seen Nathan after shows for the past few nights. I know I spooked him (too much? Remains to be seen). Also wasn't surprised that Walter cornered me to get me alone intentionally. He knows what makes people uncomfortable. I get it now. I mean, I said it earlier-- I just didn't want to fully admit it to myself. It's not possible to be close friends with someone like Lorenzo and be a good person. He was only "friends" with people he did business with. There were certainly hangers-on who thought they were "Larry's friends", and I was among that pathetic number at first. But I had no idea who and what he was. I had to learn the hard way. I had to let him take nearly every bit of my body and my life first, in exchange for juuuust enough of my own money back and enough speed to get me through each week. Moron let me keep my own car, though-- I'll always love you, Miss Rustbucket-- so I also had my own money stashed away after awhile. Fucking idiot-- but then it makes me all the more frustrated that I let that fucking idiot rule my life and beat the shit out of me for nearly four years. At least a part of me was planning.

Anyway, if you're close enough to Lorenzo, you KNOW what he is. Because he can't shut the fuck up about it. He got off on feeling like some big mafioso-drug kingpin-pimp... thing. And he was a scrawny fucker, 'cause he did so much ups he ate as little as I did. I guess it made him feel big. Whatever. So fucking pathetic. --But yes, he wouldn't have been able to shut up about any of that around people he actually liked (or knew he could scare into submission). Walter knows exactly what he is. He also knows exactly what Phil is (a racist, cruel fucking buffoon) and likes keeping him around. And you are the company you keep. Right (and none of us count, because Walter doesn't see any of us as equals to him)?

So he cornered me and he threatened me. Didn't like how much I'd been hanging around Nate lately. ~What, you won't be satisfied until you turn everyone against me?~ --Walter, if I did turn everyone against you, it would be for very good reason. I didn't say that, though, of course. I just said I typically prefer to enjoy the company of the people I spend time around, yes. And of course everything's about you, Walt; I know, it's a crime when it isn't. "Nate's a fucking retard, Julian. He's gonna let you down every time. And you're a fuckin' whackjob; you're gonna let YOURSELF down every time, 'cause that's all you know how to do. You really think you can do anything worthwhile on your own? And control HIM at the same time? It'll be like livin' with a fuckin' chimp, mark my words." I'm leaving by myself, Walter. That's my decision. What Nate and Jeff do is up to them.

And then he leaned in close to me. Grabbed my shoulder (at least I had my leather on). "Whaddya think the general public'll think of the fact that you whored your mouth and asshole out for fuckin' meth, Julian. Huh?" Didn't answer. Didn't move a muscle. "It's not like you're some nice, clean art-school faggot. You sold drugs and whored yourself out for 'em. You sucked cock just to get in this fuckin' band. Wonder what they'll think is worse? It seems to me you really wanna find out." I just told him to take his hand off of me, please. Remembered my daydream of gripping his hand and breaking every one of his fucking fingers one by one. Had to just clench my jaw (even harder) through it as I glared him down.

He didn't remove his hand himself, though. So I did have to do it for him. Unfortunately, I didn't break any of his fingers. I wouldn't even know how. I just took a deep breath while I did it, said that I knew it made him feel like a real big man to kick a faggot around and make him feel uncomfortable, but I already did my time there, so he'd have to find another way to compensate for himself. I wanted to say: and what would the general public think if they knew my manager spent his time around high schools cruising for teenage boys? And, what, I was Lorenzo's prettyboy and Nathan's your perfect little brainless Hercules? If the band didn't work out were we just gonna be your little pornstars, or what? UGH even thinking about it now's making me nauseous, and I have no idea how I didn't just throw up then. But I knew I had to keep my cool. I thought of Lou. Pretended he was there with me. Knew I couldn't say much of anything; that if I had to give Walter anything, it had to be the bare minimum. So I just said that I'd be calling my lawyer about this conversation, and walked away before he could touch me again. He'd look like an idiot if he ran after me yelling. He has to look professional himself. I could count on that, even in the place he cornered me in. Fucker.

I do wonder if this means that Nathan asked him some questions. I can't blame him if he did. Ugh, I hope I can talk to Nate soon, though. We can't do anything else until Walter leaves, and he WILL have to-- I know he has business back in San Francisco. He had to sell his stupid boat, poor thing, and he has to be there for the sale. Another thing I "did to him". Ha. Oh well-- it would've been nice to confront him on that boat. Cinematic. At least this is funny (and is he more upset about the boat than about Nate?? HA). But yes, I know we can't do anything together until Walt leaves. It was a bad idea before, it's suicide now.

I did call Lou, of course. I worry so much about blackmail now-- and I do remember that Walter literally recruited me to create blackmail of Alistair for him (he was a shithead and I was new, so it was too easy to oblige at the time). I wonder if he ever tried to recruit Rory for similar, him and his camera. Rory's a nice guy, but was always so easily cowed by Walt. I mean, he was a socially awkward dork with Republican fundraiser parents. He was probably already all too used to being cowed by people above him (or telling a million jokes an hour for them, being their little court jester). But who knows how much Walter could've intimidated out of him (and same with Sam...). Anyway, I know at least some of that blackmail exists, and if it does, it's likely in some storage unit right now while Walt finds a new office. Ugh. But some of it could also be WITH him, if he thinks things are desperate enough. He's here for two more days. Could anybody find something in that time? Would it be worth it to try, when getting caught could be catastrophic? Ugh, now I just want to call Lou back.

One good thing that Lou reminded me about, and something to hold onto to get me through this: if Walter had the power to simply fire me, he absolutely would have. He doesn't think he does. He thinks Nathan supports me too much now to reflexively side with him against me (god I hope that's true...), and Jeffrey never liked him. I obviously wouldn't vote to fire myself. Three against one, he loses. That's why he's lashing out like this. --Some of Pammie's strange communist friends used to call various politicians they hated "paper tigers": I suppose as a way of saying that they looked a lot stronger than they truly were. I hope this is the case here, or that I can make it the case if it isn't.

*

Was able to talk with Nate, thankfully. --And it has been strange, having all this with Walt happen while having to plan what my final show is going to look like. I haven't made it official, yet. Only Nate, Walt, and my closest people on the crew know (Marty gave me a big hug as soon as I told her; I thought she would be upset, she was just happy I was finally giving myself a break. I mean, we cried a little, but y'know). But having to plan something so normal, both sad and celebratory in equal measure, while having to watch everything I do, say, or go in case Walter or any of his people are around has really been something.

So Nate and I didn't meet at either of our hotel rooms. I found a motel, and he agreed to go along there. Paid extra (as did Nate) so the owners would shut the fuck up, and so far they've kept their word. Anything's risky right now, and the hotel would've been the worst (Walt knows where we sleep). Neither of us were in the mood to fuck anyway. We had to figure out what exactly was going on, and what the hell (if anything) we could do about it. As soon as the door was locked behind us and the shades were down I asked him if he'd spoken with Walter at any point after he panicked at the hotel. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Sighed it out through his nose. His eyes stayed shut. His jaw was clenched. "I had to know, man." --Thru grit teeth. I asked, very carefully-- had to know what? "If that was the only fuckin' time." He was starting to breathe quicker, even with his eyes squeezed shut. I didn't know whether he would want me to hold him, hold his hand, or keep my distance. All I knew was that I wouldn't want anyone touching me if I was him, so I just waited for him to keep going. "I-- I still dunno if I had too much to drink, or if there was somethin' in the fuckin' drink. But at some point I was just out. Like a fuckin' rock. And I woke up the next day feelin' like SHIT."

I was glad his eyes were shut, then, because I felt the blood drain from my face when he described what Lorenzo did to me. More than once. What I'd have nightmares about for years after (to this fucking day, if I'm stressed enough). I still have no idea what the fuck he did to me or what other people might've done to me (and it's why it's a fucking insane miracle that I'm not sick and dying, something so insane it almost makes me wonder if god exists again but holy shit he's still such a fucked up god). I'll probably never know and I hope I never find out. I know implicitly. That's enough. I wanted to ask him about the party-- the one in '80, the one with the girl-- but I knew it had to wait. "An' of course he's not gonna fuckin' tell me if that was the only time. Right?" Right. (THANK EVERYTHING GOOD ON THIS EARTH) And I did admit to him that I had that done to me more than once, by Walter's friend. The drug-dealer I was working for when I met him. Lorenzo Mastrangelo. Ugh, I forgot he didn't ACTUALLY know he got drugged until he put his fists over his eyes, shuddered out a breath. "FUCK, man!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!" I know. It's fucked up. "It's-- CHRIST, man, I don't even know what to call it, what the fuck, what the fuck--" His hands were combing through his hair so roughly it eventually became a pulling, and I did have to stop that somehow. I said, again, that I knew just how fucked up this was, and that I was sorry, and just as fucking angry as he was. Careful as I possibly could be. I didn't want to fuck this up more than I'd ever wanted to not fuck something up in my life. I asked if he wanted me to hold him, any part of him, or-- and he pulled me into as tight an embrace as he could muster, began sobbing into my shoulder. Shouting out the occasional "what the fuck" into me while I held him back as tight as I could in return, tried my best to keep my own crying to a minimum, tried my best not to tremble. I wanted to be as strong as I could for him.

He was eventually able to calm down, and when he did, he let go of me, plopped down on the bed wordlessly, lit a cigarette. Smoked it shakily. "What the fuck do we even do, man. --What the fuck am I gonna do. With my LIFE. I dunno what the fuck I'm doing! I know how the fuck to play guitar n' write for it. That's what I do, and Walt helped me so it was all I had to do, and I thought that was good, I loved bein' able to just do what I wanna do, it's what everybody wants, right? And he gave that to me, but he gave it to me for-- what? For fuckin' WHAT?" I told him that Greg once told me that Walter had "dirt" on everyone, that he was good at getting people to spill on their own dirt. Nate shook his head. "FUCK, I KNOW that, but I just-- what the fuck does that have to do with this?" I think he also makes the dirt, if he has to. And I think that's what he did with you. "I've done so much stupid shit he could get me for, man, he didn't have to do THAT, what the FUCK--" If he's anything like his friend "Larry", he's a sick fucker. Even if he hasn't done anything as sick as Lorenzo has, he's just fine putting up with it and he's just fine doing whatever it takes to get what he wants. That's enough like Lorenzo for me. Nate let out a harsh laugh at that. "An' yer not anything like that, huh. You kicked out Rory n' Sam 'cause you're such a nice fuckin' guy--" I overreacted with them. I get that. I didn't overreact to Walter. You KNOW what he tried to do to me. "Yeah, after all YOU did to--" I tried to have control over my own relationships, I tried to help make the crew a better place to work, I tried to give US more power to do things for ourselves, and I tried to gain enough leverage over him so that he wouldn't ruin my fucking life for trying, Nathan. --Oh, did you think Shannon was fully my choice?

His turn for the blood to drain from his face. "He HATED her, though.", He said-- but quiet. Of course he did! He wanted me to get a girlfriend, but it still wasn't one he got to pre-vet or anything. I wasn't going to give him THAT. "FUCK... man, he liked Rita 'til he didn't. It was so weird. First he was happy I even had a steady girl, then I was with her, doin' things, and alluvvasudden she's a fuckin' bitch, and she ain't right for me, and whatever." Relationships are about keeping up appearances and getting to lord over someone. That's all. Anything beyond that scares the shit out of him.

So we kept talking, sometimes holding each other, sometimes I holding him, stroking his hair. About serious things, about Walter, but sometimes still about silliness and good old memories. I told him about the time we got caught out in the rain, and he laughed that I even still remembered that. It's weird what things stick with you, but in my case, I think it was the first time I really... liked him. There was just something so free in how he ran with me, in how he laughed, that was so foreign to me. I never felt free. "I mean, fuck, it's not like I fuckin' WAS." But neither of us knew that yet. --And maybe we truly can be, now.

It was a stupid thing to say. So fucking stupid. But he still kissed me. "I think we both know it ain't that easy." I know. More free than we are right now, anyway. Out of the fucking house, at least. "...What house?" --Nothing.

I took his hand. Told him that we'd still have to play it as cool as we could around Walter. He couldn't know anything more than he already knew. It was probably best for me to leave first, still. That I was planning to tell him officially and tell Jeffrey for the first time soon. And I asked him if he'd meet me, after. Maybe on his bike, me on mine. "I ain't gonna crash it for you, if that's what you're thinkin'." HA! No.

Bakersfield. Meet me there.

"What the fuck's in Bakersfield??" Nothing, when you get out far enough. That's the point. There's a run-down strip of streets with barely anything left on it. One last light pole. No one, or barely anyone. And we can ride out a little farther from there. "Why even farther?" Even further away from everything. And then we can talk about whatever we need to talk about. Do whatever we need to do. You can call me on whatever phone you feel comfortable calling me on and we can go. As long as it's least a month out. I have my own shit I need to figure out. "You've got this shit all planned already?" You know me.

He let out one tired laugh. "Yeah, I do, I do." --We still didn't have sex. We still weren't in the mood for it. Things were just too heavy. Holding each other and kissing each other was enough, 'til we left in separate taxis and found our own way back to the hotel.

I still feel light. A little like I'm walking on air. In a good way, and also a nerve-wracking walk on a tight-rope kind of way. I can't look down and I can't stop and I can't hesitate. Two and a half more weeks, Julie.

PS: "What about Jeff?" What ABOUT Jeff. "Man, you REALLY don't like him." No. I don't. He's a bigot. Very good at his job, yes, but a bigot. We can probably find someone else. "...At that point, is it even the same band?" Probably not. I know it'll be complicated. But I don't care about that right now. It's about more than the band. "So you don't plan EVERYTHING, then." Nope!

*