Three's A Crowd Chapter 1 “What’s the point of having a fucking cell phone if you don’t keep it switched on?” exclaimed Brian and he placed his own cell back onto his desk. “You okay boss?” asked Cynthia, Brian’s PA, as she looked around the door into his office. Brian had been unaware he’d actually spoken those words out loud and was caught a little off balance by her question. “What? … oh yeah … thanks” he muttered and hit the Enter key on the keyboard. All afternoon, he’d been trying to concentrate on the presentation to a new account he was supposed to be making in a couple of days, but just couldn’t keep his mind on it and, once again, Brian’s thoughts returned to Mark. Mark Reynolds was three years his senior and Manager of the local art Gallery, in addition to overseeing an associate gallery in New York and Brian still couldn’t work out how Mark had managed it and, it had to be said, could any of Brian’s friends. Brian Kinney; 32-year-old successful ad. exec. and confirmed bachelor, but the truth of the matter was that Brian appeared to have fallen in love; well, as much as any man can who says he doesn’t actually believe in such a notion. It could have been the copious amounts of alcohol consumed the weekend when Brian had attended the advertising convention in New York six months earlier; taking every opportunity to network and at the same time check out the competition for the Vanguard Advertising Agency for whom he worked and found himself staying in the same hotel as fellow Pittsburgh-resident, Mark Reynolds. Or it could have been the fact that Mark was a very attractive man who could be taken for anything up to ten years younger than his actual age and kept himself extremely fit. More likely, it was a combination of the two that had found them sharing a mutual attraction and it hadn’t taken long for Brian to end up in the other man’s bed. Then, once back in Pittsburgh, Mark had, quite by chance, found himself at Woody’s on the same nights as Brian, even though Mark hadn’t stepped inside the place for years. And Mark had played it clever; played it cool. Even played Brian at his own game, some would say and now it was Brian who was making all the running. It hadn’t taken Mark long at all to work out the type of guy Brian was. He saw enough of himself in the fuck-em-and-leave-em-wanting Mr. Kinney to know how to yank Brian’s chain just sufficient to make him curious enough to come back for more. And whereas Brian had always refused requests for repeat performances, Mark’s aloofness: an almost indifference towards him, had him hooked. Who the hell was Mark Reynolds to think his encounter with the great Brian Kinney could be brushed aside as just an “okay” fuck? A reaction which prompted Brian to go all out and prove just how hot he actually was; what a catch he would be and playing right into the other man’s hands. And Brian did, much to his amazement and even horror and, when he realised the trap he’d fallen into, it was too late; Mark had actually started to get under his skin. And when Mark had said he loved him; for the first time in his life, Brian had heard those words from a lover and found himself believing them. They were even pretty alike physically; both brunets, both tall, with Mark just a little heavier than Brian and an obvious top. Brian had only just managed to maintain dominance in this area, with Mark usually giving way in the end and knowing, like a lot of tops, that Brian wasn’t exactly adverse to cock every now and again. Brian hadn’t given up his lifestyle too quickly. He’d continued to do the clubs a couple of times a week when work allowed; picking up tricks and stating he wasn’t ready to be tied down just yet and Mark had been completely okay with that, saying he hoped Brian realised that he wasn’t exactly a monk on his weekly trips to the Big Apple. But Mark could tell Brian was beginning to get bored with the ritual of casual pick-ups which only resulted in an empty bed and sleeping alone, or probably, more significantly, waking up and facing the day alone. Brian had watched as more and more of his friends and acquaintances had started to pair up; become couples and though he’d rather lose a kidney than admit it; he was starting to feel a little left out in the cold. Though not yet exactly old, he dreaded turning into one of those dried up old queens chasing the young guys; seeing how they were laughed at behind their backs: Pathetic. There was a day when he’d even laughed at them himself but he was getting closer to becoming one of them all the time. And even though Brian still couldn’t be sure exactly how he felt about the man, maybe hooking up with Mark wasn’t such an awful idea after all; the prospect of growing older and on his own was becoming far less appealing. Mark had then started to talk about the possibility of moving in together; an idea that Brian had baulked at when first mentioned, unable to conceive of ever wanting to totally give up his independence or for that matter, give up the loft. The loft; the top floor of a converted warehouse, had been Brian’s first major purchase following an exceptionally good year at the Ryder Advertising Agency when Brian had brought in over $1 million of business. Then as now, following the purchase of the agency by Gardner Vance, Brian was their best ad. exec. and was about to be made partner. But with its one main room with bathroom and bedroom a raised area, the loft was really only big enough for one and giving it up would be his final capitulation and acceptance that his life as a single man was over; one that Brian was finding difficult to accept, despite being steadily drawn further into Mark’s life and circle of friends. Mark’s apartment was larger, but he’d accepted that Brian wouldn’t feel comfortable just moving into another man’s domain and had suggested they look for somewhere bigger to live together; somewhere that was neutral territory and Brian had eventually agreed and had even put his loft on the market. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Brian, is this really what you want?” asked Lindsay at the loft early one Friday evening as she bounced her young son on her knee. When Brian had introduced Mark to the gang that had been a first in itself. None of Brian’s conquests had ever made it that far and certainly had never become part of his group of friends. And in actual fact, neither had Mark. When invited to various events and gatherings, it always appeared that Mark made Brian hang back a little; now sitting on the sidelines instead of being usually at the centre of whatever was happening, saying he felt he didn’t fit in; that Brian’s friends looked down on him or were jealous of their relationship. With subtle remarks, Mark had made Brian believe his friends didn’t approve of them; something Brian resented. If people didn’t like his choices, well, fuck them. They were HIS choices after all; they should be able to live with them. But deep down, Brian knew how much he valued certain people’s opinions, even if he’d never let them know that. And Lindsay was one of those people. Lindsay could always get to Brian in ways other people couldn’t and as his and Mark’s relationship was getting serious enough for Brian to have agreed to give up his home, then as one of his oldest and most trusted friends, Lindsay felt she just had to ask. “Da … da”, Gus was holding his hands out to his Father and Brian smiled at the boy. He’d always known when Brian was present: right from the start, by the sound of his voice, but at Lindsay’s question Brian shrugged as he reached out for the youngster. “Why wouldn’t I?” countered Brian, taking the boy from her and setting him down on his knee. “Mark’s quite a catch … he’s hot … comfortably off …” “But … moving in with him … becoming a couple and giving up the loft? This is your final stance of independence and I know how much this place means to you …” stated Lindsay and Brian glanced at her, knowing full well what she was referring to. Brian’s early struggles were known only to his closest friends; growing up in a household where a Father showed his affection by slapping his young son; slaps that had developed into punches as the boy grew older and a religiously devout Mother who offered little protection. As a child, Brian’s home had been a battleground and, whenever he could, he’d escaped to the home of Michael Novotny, the friend he’d made when he was fourteen and once having left home to take up a scholarship to Carnegie-Melon had lived in a succession of cramped apartments until he’d started to make a name for himself at the advertising agency. Buying the loft had been Brian’s declaration that he’d become something to be proud of. His parents had never shown the slightest interest in their son’s well being; his Father often informing the youngster that he should in fact have been aborted, creating in Brian a deep-rooted sense of worthlessness; one that nagged away at him still. Even as an adult, his parents hadn’t accepted him. Having been informed by Jack that he was dying of cancer, Brian had tried to give a little of himself; telling his Father he was gay. Jack’s reply was that his fucking faggot of a son should be the one who was dying, not him and Brian mourned the relationship he’d never had with his Dad; the relationship he was never going to have. And now, ruffling the hair on the head of his own offspring, was determined the same relationship would not be passed down from Father to son on this occasion. His Mother, Joan, had been no better. She’d come to the loft one day unexpectedly and found Brian with another man; leaving abruptly and telling her son he would go to hell. But Brian wasn’t really surprised at that: after all, he’d thought he already had been to hell, those young years living with his family. And then when the bonuses he’d earned had meant he could buy his first real home and a stylish one at that; when he was earning enough money to be beholden to no one, he’d hoped he’d cast off the past, where money had never been plentiful. How could it be, with a heavy drinker in the house and a commitment to a collection plate that depleted most of his parent’s meagre income? “Well then, what about Gus?” asked Lindsay. “In the few times I’ve met Mark he’s never once asked about your son. I can’t see him wanting to have much to do with him and I bet you anything you like it won’t be long before you decide to back off even further …” “That’s not fair, Lindz … “ interrupted Brian. “I love my son. Okay … so I don’t spend as much time with him as I should, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care and I’ll always be here for him … for both of you,” and Brian sighed, but Lindsay was right, Mark had never taken an interest in Gus. “Anyway, Mark wants us to move in together … it’s the next logical step …” continued Brian and now Lindsay was sure this wasn’t Brian speaking. “Christ, Brian … Mark sure has his claws into you …” “No he hasn’t” snapped Brian. “No one could make me do something I didn’t want to …” “Well … do you love him?” asked Lindsay, directly. “Would I be doing this if I didn’t?” countered Brian. “I don’t know, Brian … but that wasn’t really an answer to my question,” came Lindsay, right back at him. Brian looked back at his son and refused to say anything further on that one, but at the back of his mind, Brian had questioned just why he had agreed to move in with Mark. Was he really that scared of growing old on his own that he’d settle for the first man who’d persevered enough to land him? And as for love: what the fuck did he know about that anyway? But who’s to say this wasn’t love? How was he supposed to know one way or the other? Lindsay sighed. “Brian, what the hell’s happened to you?” she asked him. “Where did the fuck-em-only-once, no-apologies-no-regrets Brian Kinney that we all know … and love … go?” “You’re not exactly old now, are you? You’ve got plenty of time for all this,” she continued and Lindsay was genuinely concerned for him. In all the time they’d known each other since college, this was so completely out of character for Brian. The man who had stated more than once that he didn’t believe in love; that all that was bullshit and an excuse people used just to get laid, was moving headlong into a relationship with a man that Lindsay doubted very much that Brian loved; was even doubtful that Brian knew the true meaning of love, other than that he now so obviously felt for his son. When Lindsay had first approached Brian and asked him to be the father of the child she and Melanie so desperately wanted, Brian had agreed, thinking he could remain totally detached from the proceedings. And though Brian could never be a full-time Dad, even by his own admission, the love he’d developed for his son was undeniable. And if Mark was right for Brian: could give Brian everything he needed; open up her friend’s eyes and heart to the wonders of being in love, then Lindsay would be thrilled. But something about Mark had nagged at her from the start, the way he seemed to be railroading Brian into something she doubted he was ready for, just because he felt he was going to be left alone; almost needing to acquire Brian as just another possession. “We’ve all got to grow up sometime, Lindz … even me. Isn’t that right … Sonny-boy?” asked Brian of his son and the boy gurgled happily in response. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Over the next few days, Brian kept going over in his head his conversation with Lindsay. She’d been the only one of his friends who’d had the courage to come right out and ask him directly about his relationship with Mark and he had to admit that the doubts he’d felt before Mark had worn him down were starting to re-surface. Like the man’s apparent unwillingness to take no for an answer; his declaration of love and endless flattering, which admittedly, Brian had enjoyed hearing, but were now sounding a little false and hollow and not helped by the fact that he could hardly contact Mark whenever he was away. He always had his damned cell switched off. As part of Mark’s job included overseeing the New York gallery, this entailed him spending one night and one day away in that city each week. Then, every Friday, Mark would do his duty and visit his Mother. Mrs. Reynolds didn’t approve of her son’s lifestyle, something at least Brian could relate to, and this meant that Mark had always visited her alone. And, as it was quite a long drive, he stayed over and drove back the following morning. Well, at least that’s what he told Brian. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I wish you didn’t have to leave”, said the blond, stretching out against the dark blue silk sheets as the older man emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his body shining after his hot shower. The younger man had still been asleep when he got up and now Mark smiled as he watched him; the incredibly pale skin almost translucent against the dark bedding and, for a moment, he almost lost his resolve. “I have to, babe,” he answered him, hardly able to tear his eyes away from the man’s naked body sprawled out on the bed in front of him. “I have to fly to the New York gallery to sort out the mess they’re in with the show scheduled for next month”, and he lent down and kissed the blond on the lips. Mark hadn’t needed to try very hard to capture Justin. When it came to getting what he desired, Mark’s dogged determination was matched with the patience of a saint and as the brunet pulled away, Justin sat up and caught hold of the towel; pulling it away from the man’s body. “You could always catch a later flight,” he whispered and, looking into Justin’s big blue eyes, Mark sighed. “What the fuck …” and he allowed Justin to pull him back down onto the bed. “I never could resist blonds …” whispered Mark into the young man’s ear. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin Taylor: 20 years old and, for the moment, just drifting. He’d initially met Mark at the Gay and Lesbian Centre, when the then 17 year old had exhibited some of his artwork for the first time at an exhibition put on for charity. Mark had immediately recognised the blond’s talent and had even put a couple of Justin’s early pieces into the gallery. Justin had lived for his art, but was practical enough to know that it was unlikely he’d ever be able to make a full time career out of it and had planned to qualify as a graphic artist and even moving into animation eventually and use his spare time to draw from the heart the subjects of his own choosing. But that was before the bashing. Two years before, Justin had been the victim of a gay bashing. An unprovoked attack which nearly killed him and, at the time, Justin almost wished it had. The brain damage had resulted in loss of motor skills to his right hand: his drawing hand. So he’d dropped out of school and almost dropped out of life, taking only menial jobs like delivering flyers, stacking shelves or retrieving shopping carts; anything that didn’t remind him of what he once had. And then he’d run into Mark again. Mark was involved with the Pittsburgh Art Alliance, encouraging young, unknown local artists to exhibit their talent and he’d managed to convince Justin to give it a go and it had set the young man wondering whether he could recover anything of what he’d lost. Mark found himself attracted to the young blond, finding opportunities to seek him out where he worked or at the small apartment where Justin lived on the pretext of discussing the show and they had slowly started a relationship. And before long, Mark had fallen in love with him; well, at least that’s what he told Justin and the younger man had wanted to believe him. Wanted to, but somehow he still suspected that Mark saw other men. He knew about the trip Mark took to New York every week and they could only see each other on certain nights. But Mark had told him he was the only one who counted. Well, fine: he’d have to accept that for now and Mark had hinted that it wouldn’t be long before he wanted to settle down and Justin planned to be around when that happened. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With the exhibition now just a few weeks away, Justin had completed a couple of pieces. It had been hard work, given that his hand cramped and gave out on him if he tried to do too much at a time, but once he’d got started, the passion that used to consume him had begun to flow back. Liberty Avenue was included as one of the venues for this year’s art show with business owners having been asked to invite local artists to exhibit their works on their premises and in their windows for the duration of the show. Then, on one of the days, it would be arranged for the artists to be on hand to answer any questions about their art and, hopefully, sell their work. With the two pieces completed and nearing the completion of a third, Justin had tried several of the businesses along Liberty Avenue that had expressed interest in showing young artists’ work, but so far had struck out; they all had someone lined up and just when he thought he might give up, Justin entered ‘Torso’ a men’s wear store and that’s where he met Emmett Honeycutt. “Sweetie,” said Emmett, eyeing the young man appreciatively as he dressed one of the manikins in the window, “what the fuck do I know about art?” “You don’t have to” replied Justin. “But the store is on the list and as you haven’t got anyone signed up yet … I was kind of hoping …” Emmett looked over at him and sighed. The young man was very cute and the store owner had agreed to participate in the show, so … Justin agreed to exhibit at least three pieces at the store and he then continued down Liberty Avenue. He wasn’t terribly familiar with the neighbourhood and had only ventured out onto the street, with it’s gay clubs, bars and business, a few times since accepting he was gay and then only at night, but a “Help Wanted” sign in the window of the Liberty Diner caught his attention and Justin wandered in. He could always use the extra cash and bussing tables would at least keep him inside during inclement weather when he was usually rescuing abandoned shopping carts from around the parking lot at the Giant Eagle supermarket. The noise of the place hit him as soon as he opened the door; it was buzzing and the woman behind the counter was yelling at someone in the kitchen at the top of her voice and Justin assumed she was in charge. “Excuse me … excuse me” “Yes, honey, what can I do for you?” Debbie Novotny asked him; coffee pot in one hand, order pad in the other and she was a sight to behold, with her flaming red hair and waistcoat covered by colourful buttons; PFFLAG and every other gay initiative going. “Hey … can we get our order?” hollered a guy in one of the booths and Debbie rolled her eyes. “I’ll be with you shortly honey” she called and muttered “ … but I’ve only got one pair of hands,” under her breath and the bell rang from the kitchen; an order was ready to take to one of the tables. Debbie put the coffee pot back on the hot plate behind the counter and Justin followed her as she headed to collect the meal from the kitchen and it was obvious she was on her own and getting more than just a little frazzled. “Mam … about the sign in the window …” “Waitress, can we have more coffee over here …” “Sign … what sign?” asked Debbie, hurrying to deliver the meal and then going back for the coffee pot. “It says you’re looking for help …” “Oh … that one … why … you interested?” and having poured out the coffees as requested, Debbie took a breath and turned back at last to study the young man. “Christ … you’re a cutie,” she exclaimed, taking in Justin’s blond hair, blue eyes and cute, turned up nose. “But have you ever bussed tables before?” and Justin bit his lip and shook his head. “Well … no … but I’m a quick learner … and you do look as if you need someone …” Another bell from the kitchen sealed Justin’s fate. “You want the job it’s yours. When can you start?” asked Debbie and Justin shrugged. “When would you want me?” “Can you start now?” asked Debbie. “Only the waitress called in sick and I need more regular help …” and Justin hesitated, trying to think what else he had to do today and soon realised he had nothing lined up. “Sure”, he answered her, in disbelief at the speed with which he’d been offered the job. “Great,” came the reply. “Go and wash up and then grab an apron from behind the counter … but … you’d be on trial for a couple of days … see how you get on. Are you okay with that?” “Yeah … I’m okay with that” smiled Justin and Debbie smiled back. Justin soon started to get the hang of things and when the rush died down a little, Debbie got a chance to talk to the young man, who was already making quite an impression on the customers. “So, why aren’t you still in school?” she asked him, when the diner became quiet enough for them to grab a quick coffee and take a five minute break. Justin was sitting at one of the stools at the counter and he looked down into his cup and shook his head. “I kinda dropped out …” he answered, offering nothing more, but Debbie was never one to let things drop if she was curious. “How come? A bright kid like you … you don’t wanna be bussing tables all your life now, do you?” but Justin only shrugged and Debbie couldn’t fail to notice the sadness in the blond’s face and decided not to press further; at least not for now. The end of Justin’s shift came around and he took off his apron and started to count the tips he’d made; pleased and surprised at how much there was after just a few short hours. Debbie watched him and smiled. “You got the job … if you want it … forget about the trial”, she told him. “Great … thanks Debbie”, replied Justin, looking up at her and he smiled the biggest smile Debbie had ever seen on anyone. “Christ … you keep that smile coming and the customers will be fighting to get into this place …” she stated and Justin couldn’t stop the colour creeping across his face and he offered her the wad of bills. “No … you keep it Sunshine … you earned it”. “Sunshine?” queried Justin and Debbie chuckled. “Well, with a smile that lights up the place like that … what else could I call you?” and Justin smiled even wider. “What shifts can you offer me, Debbie?” asked the blond. “Only, I work some days at the Giant Eagle … but I’d rather be working here …” “Well,” answered Debbie, “Let’s see what we can work out”. Putting their heads together, Debbie sorted what shifts she could offer Justin and the young man went away very happy. He’d have to work out some notice at the supermarket before he could take on too many more shifts at the diner, but Debbie was prepared to wait and the shifts here meant he’d still have time to persevere with his art. “See you tomorrow … the breakfast shift?” asked Debbie as Justin collected his coat. “Sure thing … bright and early?” “Bright and early” smiled Debbie back at him and she watched him leave. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As good as his word, Justin arrived at the Diner the following morning for the early shift. In fact, he’d arrived a few minutes before Debbie and he was stomping his feet in the doorway in order to keep warm. “Christ, Sunshine … you’re keen” greeted Debbie as she unlocked the door and they made their way inside the diner and out of the cold. “Well, to be honest,” answered Justin, taking off his barely adequate coat and scarf, “it’s warmer here than back at my place”, and Debbie nodded; she understood that all right. Bringing up her son single-handed and caring for her sick brother, money had always been in short supply and keeping the house heated in harsh winters had been a constant struggle. And Debbie couldn’t help wondering what Justin’s story was. In just one shift she’d known she’d got someone far more capable than working as a busboy at a diner. Why wasn’t he in school? Didn’t he have a family to support him? And, as Justin put on the coffee pot, Debbie saw how he seemed to favour his right hand. She hadn’t noticed it the day before; she’d probably been too busy and he certainly seemed to be able to cope okay, but Debbie couldn’t help wondering how he’d acquired that weakness. A little later, on his way to work further down the street, Emmett Honeycutt stopped by for breakfast and was more than a little surprised to find the young artist who’d been in the store working there. “Morning Em … “ greeted Debbie. “What’ll you have?” “Morning Debbie” answered Emmett, removing his gloves. “It’s a cold one out there this morning so … I think … I’ll have the pancakes and some coffee, please” and he sat down on one of the stools at the counter. “Pancakes and coffee,” repeated Debbie. “Comin’ up” and she took the order to the kitchen and Emmett recognised the young man who’d come to the store the day before. “Well, hello, sweetie … I didn’t know you were working here,” said Emmett. “I just started,” replied Justin and Emmett grinned, leaning back on his stool to admire the younger man’s bubble butt. “Then I guess I’m going to be spending even more time in here than I did before,” and Debbie swiped his arm with her order pad. “Keep your hands off the help,” she told him, but she was smiling and everyone knew she was teasing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “How do you know Justin, Emmett?” asked Debbie when the young blond was out of earshot and Emmett swallowed the last of the pancakes and took a sip of coffee before he answered her. “He came into the store yesterday … he’d got some drawings he wanted to show as part of this year’s the art exhibition …” “Oh yeah,” answered Debbie. “We had a girl come in a few days ago … she’s gonna be putting some of her work up in here …” and Emmett continued. “Well, Justin’s gonna be putting three pictures up in the store … he’s very good … I can tell … even if I don’t know diddly squat about art” and the man chuckled and now Debbie had a feeling she must know the young blond from somewhere. Before long, the morning rush was in full swing and Emmett was soon joined by Teddy and the two men decided to take a booth. Ted was an accountant and he and Em were the best of friends, friends who’d occasionally wondered if their futures saw them together as a couple, but so far hadn’t taken the next step, fearful that their friendship would suffer if things didn’t work out between them; but two closer friends was harder to find. Debbie’s son Michael and her son-in-law Ben stopped by for breakfast, as they did from time to time, before Michael opened up the comic book store he owned and before Ben attended the college where he was English Professor. Debbie had thought of Ben as her son-in-law long before he and Michael had got married up in Canada earlier that year; a status that was negated as soon as they got back to the US border. But they wore their rings proudly and as far as they, their family and friends were concerned, were as married as two people could be; they didn’t really need a piece of paper to confirm that fact. As usual, much of the conversation tended to move towards Brian and Mark and Debbie tutted as soon as she heard Mark’s name linked with the man she’d practically brought up as her own alongside Michael and there was something about Mark she definitely didn’t like. “Are they coming to dinner on Sunday?” asked Michael, referring to one of his Mother’s legendary meals and he took his breakfast plate from her. “I doubt it,” replied Debbie. “If you ask me, Mr. Reynolds thinks he’s too high and mighty to be seen at one of our family dinners” and Debbie sighed. “I know I’ve been praying for someone to come along and show Brian that it is possible for him to fall in love … I just wish it wasn’t Mark …” “Who’s that?” interrupted Teddy, who had spotted Justin emerging from the storeroom and Debbie turned around to see whom he was referring to. She turned back and chuckled. “That’s Justin … he’s a real cutie, isn’t he?” she answered him. The doorbell rang, signifying yet another customer had entered the diner; Justin had been standing in front of the counter and he now glanced in the direction of the sound. For a moment, everything seemed to stop as the tall brunet walked into the diner and Justin’s jaw dropped as the most beautiful man he’d ever seen walked towards him; stopping to exchange greetings with Debbie, Michael, Ben, Ted and Emmett and then took a vacant stool at the counter. For a moment, Justin completely forgot about Mark, but there was something about this man that reminded him of the one whose bed he shared on a regular basis. Brian couldn’t fail to notice the cute blond and when the young man had turned to him to ask him for his order, Brian suddenly found himself looking into the most beautiful baby blues he’d ever seen and he saw how the colour crept across Justin’s face as he smiled at the younger man. Brian knew full well the effect he had on guys; something he’d missed out on just recently. Nice to know he still had it. To be continued.