Justin

After they eat, Justin shows her his pictures of the house in Marina del Rey, describing at the same time he's showing, telling her about the brilliance of the metal surfaces in the kitchen, the large bathroom with shower big enough for them both. And the 'closet'...Justin positively enthuses about that, wishing the light had been enough to get a decent picture of it to show her. "Elle, it was just like this room from one of Jeanette's stories...a bunch of rich people locked themselves in a house to escape a plague, and there was this one room, all dark with red windows, they all die in that room," he tells her, trying to remember more details from the story, hoping he hasn't mixed up more than one story in his memory: Jeanette told him a lot of stories. "I know that story," Eleanor says, looking quizzically at him, "Who is Jeanette?" Did Justin speak Jeanette's name? He must have..."Jeanette was my sister," he replies simply, "She liked to tell stories." He didn't mean for it to happen, but he stopped keeping himself on guard around Eleanor, and sometimes his thoughts slip out of his mouth, he lets her in on what's on his mind. Sooner or later, he was going to mention Jeanette, and then the inevitable would follow, "Tell me, Justin," Eleanor says, grasping his knee, "Tell me about your sister, what happened to her?" Justin knits his brow: he expected questions about his family, but not quite that question. "She got some kind of scholarship & went to college, Elle. Jeanette is older than I am, by a couple of years. So she was already gone when I left." Eleanor's grip on his knee relaxes, "You made it sound like she died or something," she says. Justin laughs lightly & apologizes, "Sometimes I think of them that way. I'll never see them again. Maybe they think I'm dead." Justin tries to steer her attention back to the house, but he knows it's futile, her eyes are all lit with her morbid curiosity, and she's going to interrogate him until she's got what she wants, some dark kernel of his past. "Tell me," she commands, "Do you have other sisters & brothers? What about your parents? Why did you leave?" Justin sighs. "I want this house, Eleanor," he says, "Let's settle that & then I'll answer your questions." Eleanor smiles, "It's settled, Justin, we'll take the house. Now, tell me..."

"I have other sisters, no brothers," Justin answers. "All half-sisters, actually. Jeanette, myself, Josephine, then the twins, Juliette & Justine. There was another, I think she was called Jillian, or Julianne maybe. For all I know there are more born after I left. None of us knew our own fathers: Jeanette says she never saw mine. So, I can't tell you anything about my father. My mother...is Joy. I left because I wanted to, and there was no reason to stay." Justin keeps his answer simple & direct, not replying to anything she didn't specifically ask, not wanting to fuel further lines of questioning. He already took a pass on watching that Collared video this afternoon because he didn't feel like reliving his past...his eyes dart toward the tape he suddenly remembers he left sitting on her coffee table, and he doesn't hear all of her question, something about his mother, so he knows he doesn't want to deal with it. Ever alert, Eleanor's eyes follow his to the tape. "What's that?" she asks, getting up to go investigate herself. "I haven't watched it yet myself," Justin answers, as she reads the title from the tape, frowning at the lack of information on the label. He hadn't meant for her to see it until he had seen it first, but he did intend to show it to her, no matter what it contained: Justin is determined she'll never leave him because he hid things from her or lied. He learned from the Mercedes incident, Eleanor can handle anything, especially, she handles the things he can't. "It's a documentary about 'the fetish subculture', and I'm in it. From when I lived in New York," he explains. Eleanor's mouth hangs open for moment, and then without asking another a question, she pops the tape into the machine, clearly more interested in some aspects of his past than others.

So Justin joins her on the couch, settling in beside her to watch this tape at last. Justin's own memories are more general than specific, he remembers that apartment, where the Collared let him stay, paying no rent at all, he remembers having them always at his feet, he remembers enjoying it, being able to just smack someone because his hand ached for the burning sting of the slap, having a little crowd of submissives calling him 'lord' & doing whatever he told them, and he remembers how it was also a burden, when he wanted to be alone, when he needed his space, and there wasn't any. Alison's movie doesn't seem to move in chronological order, or at least, it seems to Justin it jumps around a lot. But then there are scenes he has no memory of at all, even though he's in them. And then there are the other scenes, the scenes he isn't in...Alison's girlfriend was one of the Collared, most of the Collared had lovers or were each others lovers, Justin was no one's lover, that was always understood,....but here are these painful scenes, Belinda crying & confused, confessing to Alison on tape that she loves him, but she loves Alison too, and she's not even sure of her own identity. Justin isn't about to blame himself for the girl's misery, just as he doesn't blame Alison for taping the girl's tearful confession & using it in her film, insteading of helping her out, but it's powerfully uncomfortable hearing her speak of him like a lover. Eleanor stiffens in his arms, he voice quavers as she says his name. "Don't be jealous of them, Elle," he whispers, kissing the crown of her head, "I never loved them. You are the only person who has ever touched me." She leans close into him, clinging, and she can't take her eyes off the screen. "You know it's dangerous," Alison's voice says, her camera pointed at Jacob & Lance in the bathroom, getting ready to go out. "Justin will protect us," Jacob says. "He always protects us," Lance adds. Justin knows what's coming next, the Collared called it 'straight-baiting': Justin never cared about anyone's sexual preferences, as long as they left him out of it. He didn't have a political agenda, he just knew showing up at certain bars in the city, acting in a certain way, was guaranteed to arouse the hostility of certain kinds of guys. Lance & Jacob were small, pretty young men, and just their presence in some places would provoke attack. That's when Justin would emerge from the dark corners, he'd take on anyone who dared to strike at his boys, sometimes several at a time. The first time, it happened by chance, they were just out on the street & some homophobes out looking for trouble found Justin, and they found pain. After that, Justin started arranging these events. Dutiful to her film project, Alison joined them for a few of these events, waiting in the dark with Justin, filming his fights. "You know they could get seriously hurt," she comments coldly, filming while Jacob & Lance kiss each other in front of some very ugly, large & offended brutes outside of a bar. "Not while I'm here," Justin said calmly, and made good on his word as soon as the first thug makes his move. Eleanor strokes his thigh, turned on by the fight scene: she never has seen him fight, as much as she'd like to. "You're so heroic," she sighs. Justin strokes her hair, "Not really, Elle. Alison was right, if I got taken, those two were dead meat." "But you never did lose a fight, did you?" Eleanor asks. Never in his whole life has Justin lost a fight, even when he's had to fight five guys at once...suddenly, that seems impossible, like somewhere in there, someone should have at least cut him, knocked him down. But it never happened, every fight just like the ones Alison taped, Justin hammers and all assailants fall, he'll take a few punches, but nothing stops him, slows him down. "Never," he answers, unable to remember a single defeat. Eleanor sighs & moans watching the younger version of himself kick some fat beast in the ribs. "I'm just lucky I never got hauled in for that, Elle," he says softly, "No jury would have bought 'self-defense', given what I looked like."

By the end of the film, Justin sees why Zach called it a 'cult'. They held vigils for him after he left, they lit candles, they created rituals & prayed to him. Like he would ever do anything for them that wasn't in his own interest, even when he was around. They kept it going after he left, they continued to worship his image. They couldn't believe he just left them, they kept coming up with reasons for his disappearance, hypothesizing as to it's 'meaning', and telling stories about how it would be when he returned. As the film ends, Eleanor tries to suppress a sob: a quick nuzzle against her cheek reveals a lone tear. "Who are you crying for, Elle?" he asks. She doesn't answer, she just pulls him down against her in a furious kiss. "Listen, Elle," he whispers when she releases her grip, "That was a long time ago. I hardly remembered most of that...but that film isn't my story, it's Alison's story about her friends. Everything I said, everything I was doing, was complete bullshit, it was performance, all the time. Don't get yourself caught up in it like they did. You know who I am."

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