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Part 4

When I come into the Novotny household that night, there’s an air about the place, an air very much like you find in a theatre just before the curtain goes up. I make a careful inspection, and notice that everyone is already there, that they’re seated on every available chair, and that their attention is focused on my arrival. Yet, I know it isn’t me they came to see. “Where’s Justin?” Debbie says when she realizes he isn’t cowering somewhere behind me. She crosses her arms over her chest like she’s waiting for me to pull him out of my pocket. I shrug, keeping my face noncommittal. “I told him he ought to stay home.” Michael comes to stand next to his mom. “Oh, fuck, are you kidding me? He’s too scared to show his face now that he realizes what an idiot he made of himself?” “That’s part of it.” I take off my coat, and hang it on the coat rack. Then, going around the couch, I come a little further into the room, wanting maximum impact for my next statement. “I’m afraid he may have taken what you did a little too personally,” I say to Michael, who’s followed me, my voice dropping just a tad. “He’s pretty upset.” “Oh, I told you, Michael. You shouldn’t have done that,” Lindsay says on cue, just like I knew she would. “Oh, fuck. So he’s gonna be a wuss about the whole thing?” Michael asks, not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. “He’s afraid you’ll post it online, that you’ll—” “I don’t know how to do that!” Michael protests immediately. “It’s just on my phone.” Bingo. “Well, what can I tell you?” Again, I shrug. “He was upset and …” I look around the room, wondering why I never considered a career on the stage. “He started drinking again.” Debbie gives her son a massive glare then smacks him on the arm. “Asshole!” “Ow!” He clutches his arm. “Why am I to blame?” “Because you hurt Sunshine’s feelings! You shouldn’t have been recording him while he was drunk!” “It was a joke!” “Some joke!” “Oh, come on!” Michael says, still rubbing the spot on his arm as he glares at his mother. “He’s a grown man just like the rest of us. He’s responsible for his actions.” “Some of us are grown women,” Melanie growls from her corner of the room. "And some of us refuse to admit to any maturity," Ted adds with a chuckle. “Still, you shouldn’t have—” Just then, the doorbell rings. Raising an eyebrow, I keep my face blank so as not to give away the fact that I know who’s just arrived. Chewing furiously on her gum, Debbie goes around me. “Now, who in the fuck is that?” A moment later, she’s yanking open the door. “Debbie!” Justin crows. “My goo’ friend, Debbie! How ya doing, Deb?” “Sunshine!” Debbie says, watching as he goes around her and weaves his way toward me. “How the hell did you get here?” “Taxi—great thing, taxi, takes you where you want to go and—” His face lights up as he spots me. “Brian!” Pulling off his jacket, he holds it out as if to hook it onto the coat rack, but it drops to the floor instead. “World’s best Brian!” Coming into the living room, he throws himself at me, and, like a trapeze artist on cue, I catch him. “Why’d you leave me, BB? I thought we were going to the fami’y dinner.” He smells like a brewery—his breath, in particular. I turn my head, grimacing. “What the fuck? Just how much have you had to drink?” He looks up at me and I see the glint come into his eyes before he squelches it. “It’s party time, best Brian!” he says as he pushes back from me. “Hey!” He throws up his hands as he looks at the family—the open-mouthed people in the room who are gawking at him like he has three heads. “Why so glum and gloomy and grave and ghoulish and …” He giggles, staggering a bit as he walks toward them. “Got 1500 on my SAT, you know. Great grasp of vocab-vocabul-vocabulerry.” He wobbles back to Debbie who’s followed him into the living room and is standing behind me. “Deb, lez get this party rolling. Come on, Deb!” He grabs her hand and begins his little hopping/flapping dance, the one he’s now famous for, singing along as he does. “Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat—do the Hustle!” he warbles, bumping his hip against hers, shaking his head back and forth, his hair flying. “Come on, Vic!” He waves a hand Vic’s way. “Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-dat—do the Hustle!” Laughing, Vic stands up and dances with him, to be followed soon enough by a giggling Lindsay and Emmett. They all join in the singing too, dat-dat-datting away in their best off-key voices. As they do, Justin does his most inspired Snoopy dance, hands held high, legs kicking as he waltzes from one dancer to the next, giving each one a moment with him as he wiggles and shakes his ass, and makes a spectacle of himself. “How could you let him get this drunk, again?” Michael asks, sounding a little hysterical. “I wasn’t there, remember?” “You have to do something!” he demands. “Like what? Make him some black coffee? You’re the one who set him off by taping him, opening him up for ridicule and disgrace in his family.” Wow, I’m way over the top, but enjoying it. “He’s a young boy, Michael, with tender feelings,” I tell him in a voice that actually sounds serious. “His psyche is still forming, and you’re messing with it when you—” “Don’t blame this on me!” he shrieks as Justin comes closer, turning in neat circles as he performs his famed whirling dervish maneuver. “All I did was take a few pictures to—” “—humiliate him? Make him feel even younger and that he can’t handle his liquor? Congratulations, Michael, you did it!” I sweep out a hand, showing him his great work as Justin does one more dat-dat-dat lead-up to the song. “Oh, shit.” Michael pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “If you’re going to be that way about it.” He pushes a few buttons and the video is suddenly on the screen. “I’ll just—” Justin makes it to Michael’s side and throws an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Mikey! Dance with me!” Through bleary eyes, he spots the phone. “What’s dat?” He leans closer, staring at the tiny picture. “Me! Hey, me! Hi, me! How ya doin’, me?” “I am erasing it, Justin.” Michael enunciates each word. “Erasing it, you hear? Okay, watch me.” He hits a button and I hear a faint beep. “See, it’s gone.” Justin peers at the screen. “No’s not—best Brian’s best friend, Mikey. See?” He points with a wavering finger. “Iz says, ‘Are you sure?’” “Shit!” Michael murmurs and hits the button again. “Okay, it’s gone—totally gone. Now would you quit leaning against me? You smell like a fucking bottle of Beam.” Justin straightens out, and drops his arm, working his shoulders. “That’s because I sprinkled quite a bit onto my shirt,” he says in a normal, non-drunk voice, and looks Michael right in the eye. “What the fuck?” Michael yelps, taking a step back. “Michael, what’s wrong?” Debbie asks him somewhere behind us. “He’s not drunk!” Michael jabs a finger at Justin like he’s just discovered the true identify of Batman. “He was scamming us!” Glaring at me, Michael waves his hands. “And you knew that all along!” I smile, moving a bit so I can put my arm around Justin’s shoulders. “Thank you! Thanks everyone! We’ll be appearing in “Romeo and Juliet” at the Pittsburgh Community Theatre this spring. And we’re happy to sign autographs right now so if you’ll—” “You lied to me!” Michael says, pointing the outraged finger my way. “I prefer to think of it as creative relationship maintenance.” Justin laughs, waiting while more of the gang comes around us so they can see for themselves. “I had to get that video off your phone, Michael,” he says, smiling at all of them. “You were faking it!” Michael is still pointing, still stuck in that moment. Justin shrugs. “So? You still got your show, didn’t you?” “He’s got you there, Michael,” Emmett says, and touches Justin’s arm. “And personally, I loved it. You are one talented young man.” Justin bows his head. “Thanks.” He looks up to grin at me. “And you do a mighty fine Hustle!” Vic says from somewhere. Justin laughs, craning his neck until he sees Vic. “I learned it from the master!” he tells the man. “Yeah, aren’t we proud of ourselves?” Debbie says, giving her head a disgusted shake. “Vic and I taught him how to do the Hustle, but that’s nothing compared to what you taught him, Brian.” Both my eyebrows go up. “Please, Deb. That’s a little too personal, don’t you think? I know you’re one of the biggest fag hags in all of gay Pittsburgh, but do you really want me discussing my sex life with Justin right here in front of—” “I meant, you taught him how to—” “—go after what he wants, stand up for himself, acknowledge his mistakes, move on?” I fire back before she can finish her sentence. Beaming an immediate smile, I stick my tongue in my cheek and make a little bow. “And damn proud of it too, Debbie. Damn proud!” Emmett whoops, Lindsay laughs, and a second later the room bursts into applause amid raucous laughter and many smiles. Justin comes up on his toes to give me a lingering kiss. “Thanks,” he whispers as the applause continues. “You’re the best.” “Yeah.” I kiss his nose and favor him with my best smirk. “I know, Snoopy Boy. I know.”