Chapter 6:

Cynthia marched across the room and took the file from Justin’s hand. He’d been so engrossed in its contents he’d failed to notice the door open. She stood looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“Well, Mr. Taylor ... would you mind explaining yourself?”

Justin recognized her from the photographs he’d seen of her and Brian together. “It’s Cynthia ... right?” he said by way of an answer, trying to stall as long as possible, “but how did you know my name?”

“I saw Freddy on the way in ...” she answered him. “He said you were with Brian last night and that you were waiting for him ... that didn’t give you permission to go snooping into his affairs”.

Justin rose from the chair. “I ... I was just curious that’s all”, he stuttered. Shit, the man had clouded his thinking so much he was losing his grip. “He didn’t tell me too much about himself ...” he continued, “I was just taking an interest ... trying to find out a little more about him”. 

“And what exactly did you find out?” Cynthia studied him as he stood up behind the desk. He was very attractive: with his silky blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. She could see what the appeal was, but even so, the very fact that Brian had actually invited someone back to the house had amazed her. 

There must be something special about this man she decided, so she didn’t want to come down on him too heavy if he turned out to be harmless; he could be just what Brian needed to get him to move on.

Justin hesitated, trying to work out exactly how he should answer her. On one hand, if he were continuing with the investigation, he needed to be as careful as possible. On the other hand, if he wanted to warn Brian that he was very close to being caught, he would probably have to lay his cards on the table: even at the risk of ending their relationship before it had begun.

He glanced down and, on the desk, noticed a photograph in a silver frame. It had obviously been taken some years before and was of Brian with an older man, their arms around one another’s waist; they were smiling. He picked it up. “This must be Paul ... they were obviously very close”. 

Cynthia visibly softened at the mention of her brother and she reached out to take the photograph from him. “They were ... it nearly killed Brian too when Paul died”.

Replacing the photograph on the desk, Cynthia looked back at him. “How close are the two of you?” she asked.

Justin looked down at the floor, nervously running his hand around the edge of the desk. “Well, we’ve only just met and ...” He looked back up at her. “I’d really like to get to know him better ... but ...” Justin sighed and closed his eyes briefly. 

Cynthia watched him. Something was obviously tearing him apart, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Could it be he cared for Brian? But, even so, she had a strange feeling about this man; something didn’t quite add up and over the years she’d learned to trust her instincts.

“Who exactly are you?” she asked him, quietly. “Or should I say ... what are you?”

Justin bit his bottom lip. This was it; decision time. How was he going to play this? Was he going to lie or was he going to give in to his feelings? And against all his better judgment, in the end, it was an easy decision to make.

“I’m an insurance investigator” he answered her. “I work for a company in New York ... they sent me to find out whatever I could that would tie Brian into certain art thefts ...”

Cynthia nodded and turned away. She went over to an armchair on the other side of the room and sat down. “You don’t seem surprised”, stated Justin.

She was still holding the file and now she placed it on her lap and clasped her hands together. “I’m not” she answered him. “If it wasn’t you ... it would be someone else. I knew this would probably happen one day ... I did try and warn him”.

“What do you intend to do?” she asked him.

Justin crossed the room and sat down on the sofa opposite her. “I should turn him in ... there’s already more than enough evidence against him ... but ...” and he sighed.

Cynthia looked at him and could see the obvious conflict going through his mind, confirming her first impressions. “You’ve got feelings for him ... haven’t you?”

“Yes,“ conceded Justin at last, his voice so low it was barely audible and he moved forward on the sofa, so that he was sitting on its very edge.

“Look ... if he stops now ... then maybe I can steer the investigation away from him ... from both of you ... tell them I couldn’t find anything ...”

Cynthia was shaking her head. “I’m not sure he can stop. He feels he’s obligated ... that he owes Paul ...”

“Owes Paul what?” asked Justin curtly. He was totally exasperated. “I don’t understand ... what is it that he thinks he owes a dead man?” Suddenly realizing the severity of his words, Justin couldn’t help but look a little embarrassed.

“I’m sorry Cynthia ... I shouldn’t have spoken against Paul like that ... but I just find all this so hard to understand” and he gestured around the room. “This is a valuable house and I know he inherited money as well when Paul died ... so why does he need to steal ... is it just to finance a lifestyle?”

He pointed to the file on Cynthia’s lap. “And what the hell’s all that about?” 

Cynthia looked at him, weighing him up. “How serious are you about Brian … would you really gamble your job and risk maybe going to prison to protect him?”

Justin slumped back into the sofa, remaining silent and Cynthia continued. “You really don’t know him at all, do you? But then again, I’m not sure anyone knows the real Brian. The only person who got anywhere close was Paul ... but I’m not sure even he understood him fully”.

She took a deep breath and continued. “You have to realize ... it’s like there’s a lot of layers to Brian. We’re the same age and I’ve known him since I was just a kid and every time I think I’ve got him worked out ... it’s like you peel back a layer and there’s another Brian underneath ... you discover another facet to his personality you didn’t know existed until then”.

“Then tell me what I need to know”, pleaded Justin. “How can I help him?”

Cynthia ran her hand over the file, obviously thinking deeply, trying to make a decision.

Suddenly, she stood up. “I need to take you somewhere ... a place that may give you some idea why he’s doing this.”

“Okay”, agreed Justin, cautiously. “But we’ll use my car” and with Justin driving, they headed into town.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Having parked, they climbed the steps of a rambling, three-story house, just off Liberty Avenue; the sign over the door announced they were entering the Gay Youth Shelter. Cynthia was still holding the file she’d brought with her from the house.

“Hello Cynthia”, said the man coming down the hallway as they entered, obviously pleased to see her. “What a wonderful surprise”.

“Hello, David” said Cynthia “I’m sorry to arrive unannounced ...” and the two of them hugged; they were obviously old friends.

“but I’d like you to meet Justin Taylor ... he’s a friend of Brian’s”. David smiled at Justin and held out his hand, which Justin took.

“You’re welcome here any time Cynthia ... you know that and any friend of Brian’s is more than welcome”. Letting go of Justin’s hand, David started to walk them down the hall. “Can I get you a coffee or anything?”

They both shook their heads. “No thanks, David” answered Cynthia. “We’re fine. Look ... I don’t mean to interrupt ... but do you think you could show Justin around a little ... tell him what it is you do here?” 

“Sure ... would be my pleasure”, smiled David, taking Justin off and leaving Cynthia seated in the smaller of the two kitchens the house provided.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


David’s pride in the house and the facilities it offered was obvious, even if the reasons why the kids came through its doors broke his heart at times.

At a push, the house could cater for up to 15 youngsters at a time, offering a bed, meals, cooking and laundry facilities and access to counsellors and medical assistance as and when required.

It was obvious that without a place of safety such as this, the young people helped here would be out on the streets, doing whatever was needed in order to survive.

Such kids would often turn up, seeking sanctuary from a life of abuse at the hands of others, some with drug addictions or STD’s and occasionally HIV positive and would be provided with sensitive and practical help, each treated as an individual with individual needs and concerns and a care plan would be put in place for them.

But, more often than not, they mostly turned up at the door as runaways or having been thrown out of home once having come out as gay, usually with few if any possessions and no money. Wherever possible, staff would facilitate meetings between the youngsters and their families to do whatever they could in order to return the young people to their homes, having forged some understanding between all parties concerned. 

Unfortunately, not enough kids ever went home again but, with the encouragement and financial support of the shelter, many continued with their education or were found positions of employment and accommodation in safe environments, having been taught how to cook and care for themselves and how to live on a budget.

To keep the kids safe, instill some self-respect and allow them to achieve their potential was of paramount importance.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Almost an hour later and having completed a tour of the house, David escorted Justin back to the kitchen, where Cynthia had decided to help herself to a cup of coffee after all. Going over to the coffee pot, David poured himself and Justin out a cup and Cynthia a refill. He shook hands with Justin and gave Cynthia a peck on the cheek before picking up his cup and excusing himself, saying he had to attend a meeting. “Please, stay and finish your coffee before you go” he told them.

Justin had also learned that David, as one of several qualified counsellors and youth workers, had been working at the shelter since its inception five years before. The commitment and dedication of David and his team to the young people who used the shelter’s facilities were obvious and awe-inspiring.

“That man is amazing ... this place is amazing,” said Justin after David had left and he took his coffee and joined Cynthia at the kitchen table. “Yes it is”, she agreed. “If only there were more shelters like this”.

“But”, continued Justin. “I’m still not sure how Brian fits into all of this ... unless ...” He turned to Cynthia. “Was Brian ever a street kid?” he asked her, taking a sip from his cup.

Cynthia shook her head. “No, thankfully, he wasn’t ... but it so nearly didn’t work out that way”.

“Really, how do you mean?” Cynthia hesitated. “I shouldn’t say, Justin ... only Brian really has the right to tell you about his background and what happened to him”. The file was placed on the table in front of her and Justin pointed to it. “I only caught a little of what’s in there ... can you explain that to me at least?”

Cynthia handed Justin the file and he put down his coffee cup and opened it.

The file contained letters from various contractors and suppliers; all having been requested to provide quotations and estimates for goods or services and all approved and instructed, in Brian’s own hand, to proceed.

He’d started to read them back at the house and he went through them again, trying to make any sense of it all.

The Lakes Nursing Home, Erie
Extension to ground floor nursing facilities
ACCEPTED: Work to proceed. BK

The Gay Youth Shelter, Pittsburgh
Upgrading of current heating system
Additional computer
ACCEPTED: Heating System work to proceed. BK
ACCEPTED: Computer to be acquired. BK

Liberty House, Pittsburgh
Quotation for roofing repairs
ACCEPTED: Work to proceed. BK

Mr. & Mrs. Giordano, Harrisburg
Replacement car: $21,000
ACCEPTED: Purchase to be arranged. BK

Youth Art Project, Pittsburgh
Cost of additional staffing hours
APPROVED: (Awaiting final figures) BK

Puzzled, Justin glanced through the remaining papers in the file. In total, there were at least a 20 establishments and charities: all small concerns, along with several individuals where money had been allocated against running repairs and maintenance of buildings or for specific purchases.

“And these are only this month’s ...” Cynthia told him.

“As far as the shelter’s concerned”, she continued. “They think Brian just drops by every few weeks or so ... brings in a new TV or microwave ... or makes a contribution to something one of the kids needs. Or they know they can ring either of us to discuss a project they have in mind. What they don’t know is that it wasn’t some fund-raising committee who provided the money for this venture ... but that Brian bought the house and set up the whole thing to start with and has continued to fund them ever since”.

Justin closed the file. “So this is where the money goes? But why is Brian doing this ... stealing to finance some ... some philanthropic ideal ... like a Robin Hood ... taking from the rich to give to the poor and needy?”

“No way ... not Robin Hood … I look lousy in tights”. 

Brian’s voice was flat and low. Unheard and unseen, he’d arrived just in time to hear Justin’s last few words and approached them from behind. He lent over and removed the file from Justin’s hands.

“What the fuck is he doing here? How dare you show him this,” and he waved the file in the air. He rounded on Cynthia; he was livid.

“This is private ... no-one is supposed to know. How could you do this to me, Cynthia?”

Both Cynthia and Justin rose to their feet. “Brian ... I ... we”. This was hardly the place to tell Brian what Justin’s role was, but then Brian was in no mood for conversation.

Cynthia was shocked at the look of hurt and betrayal on his face. She never wanted it to happen like this.

“Brian ... I need to talk to you ...” Justin took a step towards him, but Brian only retreated.

“Fuck off. Leave me alone ... both of you”, and he turned on his heel and rushed out the door.

“Brian, for chrissakes wait…” Justin called out after him, but he’d gone.

“Go after him Justin”, urged Cynthia. “There’s no way he’ll talk to me now … but he might still talk to you”.

“Where will he go?” asked Justin. “Well ... he won’t go back to the house, that’s for sure. He’ll probably go to the loft ... it’s on Tremont ... it’s not far, I’ll give you directions. Here, you better have this ...” Reaching into her purse, Cynthia took out a key and gave it to him. “Just in case he doesn’t let you in”.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Brian ran up the stairs to the top floor of the converted warehouse, not bothering to wait for the elevator. His hands were shaking slightly as he fumbled with the key in the lock and he took a deep breath and, having slid the door closed behind him, he lent against it; he always felt safe here.

He waited until his heart stopped racing; how could Cynthia have told anyone what he was doing, especially Justin. It somehow made his betrayal of Paul even more unbearable.

Dropping the file on the kitchen counter, he went over to the windows and opened the drapes a little, allowing more daylight into the large room. He threw off his jacket and loosened his tie before going over to the side table and pouring himself a Beam, taking a hefty slug and feeling the warmth of the liquid as it hit his empty stomach. It had been several weeks since he’d been here and he pulled the dustsheet off the sofa before slumping down on it.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Following Cynthia’s instructions, Justin headed for the loft, recognizing Brian’s car parked in front when he arrived.

He climbed the stairs and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. There was no response and he banged louder.

“Brian ... I know you’re in there ... I need to talk to you,” he yelled, trying to make the other man hear.

After a few minutes and still no response, Justin used the key and slowly slid the door open. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his eyes still adjusting from the bright sunshine outside and it was a few moments before he could make out the figure sitting on the sofa with his back to him.

“Brian …” he spoke softly as he approached, moving around the sofa so that he faced him.

“She gave you a fucking key?” Brian couldn’t believe the extent to which he regarded his betrayal by Cynthia.

“Cynthia’s worried about you ... we both are”. 

“You don’t even know me”, answered Brian, downing the remainder of his drink.

“I know more than you think.”

Brian shook his head. “No you don’t”.

“Okay”, answered Justin, allowing Brian to think he knew nothing more about him than what he’d only just learnt. He sat down on a chair, watching him intently. “Then tell me”, but Brian only stared into his empty glass.

Justin wasn’t about to give up; he would get Brian talking somehow. “Then tell me about Paul ... how did you meet him?”

Brian closed his eyes. Every time he stepped into the loft he could see Paul: laboring over a painting or sitting at the table eating a meal. He could hear his laughter or his teasing of the teenager that had shared his life.

Sometimes, when he’d stayed here overnight, especially if he’d brought a trick back, he could feel Paul’s presence, watching over him. There was no guilt attached to a trick, it was just sex and feeling that Paul was there made him feel safe.

However, what he’d started to feel for Justin, even from the first time he’d laid eyes on him, hadn’t been just sex; a realization that had both surprised and scared him and he wasn’t sure he could take the guilt that went along with those feelings.

Brian opened his eyes and rose up from the sofa. He needed another drink and, going over to the side table, he poured himself another shot; he offered the bottle to Justin. “Yeah ... thanks” and Brian poured out another glass and took it over to him.

“Why do you want to know about Paul?” he asked.

Their fingers touched as Justin took the glass; Brian’s hand lingered for a moment and they locked eyes. “I’m interested in anyone that manages to get close to you”, whispered Justin.

Unable to respond, Brian sat back down on the sofa and Justin continued. “I was curious why you said you owed him everything. What did you mean by that?”

Brian took a deep breath and rolled in his lips before answering. “I was barely 17 when I met Paul … he was 10 years older ...” he answered and took a sip from his glass. It had been so long since he’d talked about him and he’d never truly revealed his feelings for the man: to anyone.

“I knew I was gay from the time I was about 13 or maybe 14, but I hadn’t really done anything about it. Then one night I decided to go out onto Liberty Avenue”, he grinned, remembering. “I tell you ... I was shit scared ... but I had this false ID in my pocket ...” 

“Didn’t we all?” commented Justin, taking a swallow of his drink and Brian nodded in agreement.

“Anyhow, I came to this bar ... Woody’s and, trying to look as confident as I could, I strolled right in. It wasn’t too crowded and I saw him at the pool table ... all by himself ... just sinking a few balls”.

“We just got talking and played a couple of games. He bought me a lite beer ... he knew right away I was underage ... and we just sat at one of the tables and talked and before I knew it, I’d told him my whole life history”.

Justin watched as Brian smiled to himself, obviously cherishing the memory of his first meeting with Paul and, for the first time, Justin could see the vulnerability of the man now sitting across from him, imagining him as a scared kid on the threshold of the life he was destined to lead and he remembered his own baptism as a young gay man.

“That was the thing with Paul”, Brian continued. “He was just so easy to talk to ... everyone took their troubles to him. He had this way of focusing on you when he listened that made you feel you were the only person in the room. It made you feel special … important …” and Brian’s voice drifted off, remembering how he’d never felt special or important before that meeting with Paul.

Quickly, Brian recovered and picked up his train of thought. “But he never talked down to you … or preached to you and he would always try and help you work things out for yourself. He didn’t believe in telling people what he thought they should do … you had to come to that decision by yourself … own it … live with it … but he’d always come up with suggestions and be able to point out the advantages or disadvantages along the way”.

“Did he do that for you?” asked Justin, but Brian shook his head. “He didn’t really have to ... it sorta just happened” and Brian was silent for a moment, but Justin knew he shouldn’t interrupt him again.

Brian sighed. “I had a real shitty home life … my Dad was constantly losing his job, mostly through being drunk or just not turning up at all ‘cos he was hung over and ... whenever that happened ... I seemed to be the one he blamed”.

“I’d met Paul a few times at Woody’s and all we did was talk … he never touched me, even though I wanted him to and he’d given me his phone number ... saying if ever I needed anyone to talk to I should call him”.

“And then this one night, I got home pretty late and my Dad was actually waiting up for me … demanding to know where I’d been. I told him it was none of his business and we had this huge fight and in the end I just shouted at him that I’d been on Liberty Avenue”.

“The next thing I knew he grabbed me and pushed me so hard against the wall I cracked my head … everything started to go round and I thought I was going to pass out. Then he started hitting me and I went down on the floor and he was kicking me ... yelling at me … calling me a fucking faggot. My Mom and sister were screaming and finally, he picked me up and threw me down the front steps. He tossed me out on the street and all I had was a couple of dollars in my pocket and what I stood up in”.

Justin blanched at the thought, remembering his own coming out to his parents. He’d always been so close to his Mom, though his Dad had struggled to begin with, only coming around in recent years; not wanting to lose his son altogether. But they’d never treated him the way Brian’s family obviously had; when push came to shove, he always knew they’d be there for him.

Brian continued, a wry smile on his face. “When I say stood up … well, I could just about crawl ... but I managed to get to a phone and I called Paul. He came to get me and took me to the hospital. I had a couple of broken ribs and a mild concussion and was covered in bruises”. Brian looked around the room. “Then he brought me back here”.

Getting to his feet, Brian walked around the sofa, standing sideways on to Justin. Glass in hand, he gestured to the raised bedroom area behind the glass screens at the back of the room. 

“He put me to bed up there and slept on the sofa. I was a train wreck … in pieces ... and I can remember waking up in the middle of the night crying ... I could hardly breathe and my ribs hurt like hell. I didn’t know what I was going to do … I felt so alone. The next thing I knew Paul was climbing into bed beside me … holding me ... letting me cry it out ... and I never went home again”.

He turned to face Justin. “There weren’t any places like the shelter back then. It could so easily have been me ... living on the streets ... giving blow jobs or getting my ass plowed ... trying to survive. But I was lucky ... I had Paul to turn to ... I don’t know what I would have done without him”.

Justin put down his glass and got up from his chair; moving towards Brian. “Is that was this is all about ... needing to start up the shelter so you could help kids like yourself?” “Partly”, agreed Brian. “But that only came later ... it’s not how it started” and he went to sit back down on the sofa, placing his empty glass on the coffee table in front of him.

“Then I still don’t understand … when did this all start?”

There were so many mixed memories of his time with Paul, some still so painful, he wasn’t sure he could share them. But something about Justin reminded him so much of the man he’d loved; how he seemed to be able to get him to open up about things he’d never spoken of before.

“First you have to understand all what he did for me. He talked me into staying at school ... even paying for it, but there was so much more. He came from a good family ... old money, there’d even been a couple of diplomats and a state senator thrown in for good measure. Paul taught me how to dress ... what to order in restaurants and the wines to choose”.

“He was so passionate about everything, but especially his art ... sometimes working on something for days on end ... hardly taking a break or taking time out to sleep or eat. I think it was also a way to prove something to himself ... that he didn’t need his family’s money to survive.”

“He had several showings and sold some of his pieces you know,” said Brian with obvious pride.

Smiling, Justin went to sit beside Brian on the sofa. He knew what it was like to be totally immersed in whatever he was working on; ignoring everyone and everything around him. But he’d never had the confidence that he could make a living at it, even though everyone used to tell him how talented he was. He just didn’t believe in himself and wasn’t committed enough to be a starving artist.

Suddenly remembering, Brian looked at him. “But you’d probably know all about that ... being an artist yourself”. He paused. “I’d like to see some of your work sometime.”

Justin looked away. “I ... I only draw for my own amusement ... I never really thought I was good enough to make a career out of it”.

“Really?” Brian was genuinely surprised. “I doubt that somehow. I wouldn’t mind betting you’re a lot more gifted than you give yourself credit for”.

“Maybe ... people used to tell me I was pretty good…” he shrugged.

“Well, there you go. You should go back to it ... if it’s something you really want to do”.

Brian smiled. “Paul always said you should go for your dreams ... that if you want something bad enough you shouldn’t let anything stop you … that you owed it to yourself … with no apologies and no regrets”.

They were silent. “I had a good life with Paul”, said Brian, eventually. “He taught me so much and gave me everything ... far more than I ever gave him in return”.

Justin looked at the man sitting beside him, seeing the pain in his eyes: hazel eyes that made him melt every time he looked into them.

His head was screaming no; don’t go there. But his heart was whispering yes; take a chance. And the voice was growing louder the longer he stayed in this man’s presence. 

Slowly, he stretched out and stroked Brian’s cheek with the back of his hand. Startled, Brian turned towards him, his eyes questioning, but his heart thumping.

And no longer able to stop himself, Justin moved closer: his lips just brushing Brian’s lightly, before pulling back. A heartbeat later, both men opened their mouths and Justin lent in, covering Brian’s mouth with his own, feeling Brian respond as he deepened the kiss.

“No apologies and no regrets” that’s what Paul had told him and with his mouth pressed firmly against Justin’s, his fingers running through the blond hair, Brian only hoped he could actually believe that one day.

He wanted Justin; of that he was sure. But could he give the blond more of himself than he had ever given Paul or be finally rid of the guilt that constantly tore him apart, putting himself and his liberty in danger time after time in an attempt to honor his debt? 

Deepening the kiss even further, tongues jostling for supremacy and both men breathing through their noses in an attempt to prolong this moment as long as possible, Brian knew he had to find a way to free himself; that he could never fully be with Justin until he had.


To be continued.