Thanks again Sam for your priceless help. 

******

Part 2. Disclaimer and everything else in Part 1.

"There's my boy!" 

Like Gus had predicted, his Pops was already waiting for them at the door 
to his and his spouse-in-a-non-conventional-way's  house. 

Or rather, Trisha blinked, trying really hard to keep her awe in check, 
mansion. 

Mr. Taylor crushed his son, who was taller than him by at least a foot, 
in a tight hug and welcomed Trisha with a kiss on the cheek, a blinding 
smile and a blurted but no less sincere, "Aren't you adorable?" 

Gay or not, with those blue eyes and the warmth behind them, Trisha would 
be anything he wanted! He was all the beauty and smiles Trisha had seen 
in pictures plus a charm that was captivating and his own. God bless Gus 
for having had his arm around her shoulders, otherwise his Pop's feet 
would be immersed in Trisha!goo. 

After greetings were over, Mr. Taylor led them through many doors and 
rooms - filled with enough furniture to finance the vacation in Europe 
she and Gus were dreaming of taking - to a huge and expensively well 
equipped kitchen. 

Good chef that he was, Gus got busy chopping vegetables and boiling water 
while sipping a beer and catching up with his Pops, who graced Gus with 
furtive glances between strokes of pencil over the pad in his hands. 
Trisha was content just sipping French mineral water and listening to 
them, sitting at the counter beside Mr. Taylor and talking only when 
talked to, which Mr. Taylor did quite often.

"So what's Gus like as a customer?"

"A bitch, Mr. Taylor. Always asking for a discount on the zucchinis."

Mr. Taylor shook his head and sighed. "A Cheap bitch. Just like his 
father at his age. And please, it's Justin."

"She makes me water the damn things on the weekends, Pops," Gus protested 
from the stove. "Sometimes I even have to harvest them." 

"You haven't done that in a while," Trisha rushed to say, terrified Mr. 
Taylor would misjudge her because a "poor-me" Gus could be quite 
convincing. 

Hell, it had almost cost her the price of her zucchinis!

"Because I got wiser. Now we just stay at the apartment instead of going 
to the zucchini patch from hell. No fucking zucchinis to water, harvest 
or whatever else the fuck." 

Trisha was mortified.

Tongue between teeth, Gus had blown the F word at her. Twice.

From the corner of her eye she saw Mr. Taylor doing nothing to hide his 
amusement. 

Perhaps shoving her boyfriend's face in the concoction he was stirring on 
the stove to make him feel the hotness she was feeling could be 
considered a domestic accident?

"Your father never minded harvesting the fucking zucchinis when he was 
your age. In fact, he was all for the hunt," Mr. Taylor said, his words 
wrapped in twisted longing and with no discomfort at all. 

"Come on, Pops. Legend has it that zucchinis of all shapes and sizes were 
all over Dad all the time. He didn't have to go after them."

"Oh, he did. Once or twice he did."

"How can you be so sure? You didn't even know Dad when he was twenty-
seven."

"Your point being...?"

"Nothing." Beer in hand, Gus joined them at the counter. "Just that you 
didn't know him then."

"Your Grandma Debbie knew him. And Michael, and your mothers, and Emmett, 
and..." 

"Okay, Pops. You got me at Grandma Debbie," Gus said, raising his hands 
in surrender. "And Mamma had associated Dad with sluts every now and 
then."

"Mel? Only every now and then? Be serious."

"Okay, so quite regularly." Gus laughed. "When I was eight or nine I 
squared up to her because I had learned slut was a word for women, and my 
Dad was a man. I think she might have been tongue in cheek when she 
agreed with me and said consensus was Dad was the best man around." 

After a second or two, index finger drumming against his cheek and an 
occasional sip of his beer, Gus mused, "He couldn't have been that bad. 
You've put up with him for over twenty years." Then, pensive he asked, 
"Was he that bad?"

"That bad? No, not at all. He was, is, that GOOD."

It took Gus another second or two to understand Mr. Taylor's not so 
subtle implication and all mischievous smile.

"Jesus, Pops! You're my dad! You can't talk about your husband, who 
happens to be MY dad, this way. It's... Jesus!"
 
"I beg your pardon, Son."

"That's it. Son. I'm your son, and dads do not talk about their sex lives 
with their kids."

"Who's talking about sex? And you're hardly a kid anymore."

"I'll never be old enough to... Jesus! Just don't, Pops. Poor Sean. You 
don't do this to the kid, do you?"

Pops laughed and walked to his son, who by now had put the counter and 
the stove between them, and hugged him. "Sure do, kiddo. You and Sean are 
cute. Your brother actually... Trisha? Everything okay?"

Cough! Cough!

"Raise your arms, Sweetheart. And stop laughing. This is not funny and 
you're not helping. 

She wished she could, but her eyes were smarting and her throat was 
burning and her was body shaking. And damn the water that was coming out 
through her nose because it had gone through the wrong pipe and damn Gus 
and his Pops for being so cute together.

When she finally got the coughing fit under control, she was on her toes 
with her face buried in Gus' shoulder and Mr. Taylor was handing her 
another glass of water.

"You okay?" Gus asked, running his fingers in her hair, drying the tears 
on her face.

She smiled, her breathing and raspy voice still not back to normal. 
"Sorry. I'm okay now."

"Can I let you go now?"

"No. I'm fine here." Gus kissed her forehead and she tightened her arms 
around his neck. "I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor."

"It's Justin. And don't worry about it." Putting the glass of water back 
on the counter, he patted his son's back. "No more talking about sex, 
son."

"Thank God. Besides I didn't drive Trisha here to hear about yours and 
dad's sexual adventures."

Mr. Taylor looked a little embarrassed. Trisha just wanted to make him 
feel better.

Really.

"Oh, but I wouldn't mind..."

And when Gus started his own coughing fit and Mr. Taylor burst out 
laughing, Trisha realized she had just put both of her feet in her mouth.

Putting together the shreds of her dignity, she asked Gus where the 
bathroom was. With a killer gaze he pointed her in the right direction. 
She scurried there, but still heard Mr. Taylor - Justin - reinforce his 
theory that she was adorable.

Trisha splashed water on her face, cussed and admonished herself in the 
mirror, and waited until embarrassment was no longer making her face burn 
too much. 

Back to the kitchen, the scene that greeted her gave her the eerie idea 
that Bri-Tin had somehow shrunk, leaving only enough room to accommodate 
Gus and Mr. - Justin.

Mr. Kinney and his twisted smirk had just arrived and taken whatever 
empty spaces in the house with them.


*****

End Part 2. Continue in Part 3.