A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to get this updated. Life has been kicking me around, but I've decided to kick back. Please let me know what you think. I'm already working on the next chapter. Enjoy! ************************************************************************* Chapter 4 – Back to the beginning Brian’s POV (3 years later) Brian was sitting at his desk in his new office when Cynthia came in carrying a large envelope. “Hey boss, the courier from the clipping service just dropped this off for you. It’s a large one this time.” She handed him the envelope and watched, hoping this envelope wouldn’t be too rough on him. “Well, a lot’s been happening for him the last couple of months, plus with opening Kinnetic I haven’t gotten any clippings in the last few months.” He doesn’t look up at Cynthia while he’s saying this, but rather continues staring at the envelope. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Cynthia walks away, stopping at the door to say, “Don’t forget you have Remson in an hour.” She leaves the office being sure to shut the door to give Brian his privacy while looking through Justin’s latest accomplishments… Brian finally looked up after scanning through the various newspaper, magazine and newsletter clippings espousing Justin’s graphics awards and graduation suma cum laude in business and graphic arts. Slowly he turns towards his credenza, pulling out the last in a line of leather binders. Binder in hand, Brian returns to his desk and pulls out the necessary supplies to affix the new clippings in the binder. He gets lost in memories and it’s not until Cynthia buzzes him to tell him the Remson reps are there for their meeting that he closes the binder and puts it away. **** “Brian, Michael is here to see you.” About an hour after the Remson meeting Cynthia interrupted Brian’s concentration. She smiled apologetically knowing today was rough on her boss and friend. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, swirling around to face the door to his office. “Give me a few minutes and then send him in.” Cynthia turned to leave. “And, Cynthia, I don’t want him in here longer than ten minutes.” He didn’t have to explain what he meant… After so many years of working together they often spoke in a sort of shorthand. After Cynthia left, Brian tried to gather his strength. Dealing with Mikey had become increasingly difficult. Mikey, really the whole ‘family’, were constantly trying to keep him in the same Peter Pan role he’d been in since his early twenties or even late teens. No one believed that at 35 the beliefs he had long held didn’t necessarily apply anymore. Sure, his no excuses, no apologies, no regrets mantra still held, but he no longer felt the need to go out to the clubs EVERY night trolling for tricks. He still drank like a fish, but his drug intake was almost nonexistent. He was rudely pulled from his thoughts when Michael burst through the door arms flailing. “Brian! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.” “Busy, busy, Mikey.” Brian sighed as he turned from his computer to give his attention to his whiney friend. “But we never see you at Woody’s or Babylon. And we rarely see you at the diner or Ma’s for dinner.” Michael’s voice tended to rise as he whined and it already started to grate on Brian’s nerves. “Mikey. I have a business to run.” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and asked for patience to deal with his ‘Best Friend’. “But I’m your best friend. You should always make time for me.” “I have a new business to run, Michael. I can’t always be out partying. I have a lot of people depending on me not to screw up.” Brian was at a loss. He didn’t know what he could say to his ‘friend’ to make him understand that times had changed, he had changed. “What happened to the ‘no apologies, no excuses, no regrets’ Brian we all know and love? The one who had multiple tricks a night and didn’t do repeats?” Michael walked over to the couch and plopped down. Brian sighed heavily, resigned to having this conversation with Michael. Again. “Michael, listen to me, are you listening?” Brian waited for Michael’s head nod before continuing. “We all have regrets, Michael. Me most of all. I just don’t dwell on them. No apologies, no excuses? I still feel that. I call it like I see it and respect those who do the same.” Brian rose from his desk and began pacing back and forth, forcing Michael to follow him, much like watching a tennis match. “I still trick, Mikey, but clubbing every night isn’t as fun as it used to be. It was easy when I was in my early twenties, but tougher now that I’m…older.” Brian nearly choked on the last word. It was one thing to admit age was catching up with him to himself, but he still struggled to do it out loud. “You’ll always be young and beautiful, Brian.” Michael nearly shouted as Brian shot him a glare. “I almost don’t recognize you anymore. Everything used to be fine. You’ve been in a funk ever since he…” When Brian shot another glare at him, Michael paused before forging ahead, ignoring the warning. “Ever since Justin left you’ve changed. Everyone’s worried about you.” “I’ve grown up, Mikey.” Brian sneered his friend’s name, speaking in a low tone forcing Michael to lean forward to hear him. “I became the man ‘he’ always knew I could be. A man he would be proud of. A man I’m proud of. If you can’t accept who I’ve become, perhaps you shouldn’t hang around me.” Brian stopped directly in front of Michael and pinned him to the couch with his gaze. “Brian, of course I want to hang out with you. You’ve been my best friend for 20 years. I just don’t understand why you changed.” Michael got up from the couch and walked toward Brian. “We all have to grow up sometime, Mikey. Let me know when you finally do.” Brian walked Michael to the door and held it open. Cynthia was on the other side. “Brian, Monroe is holding for you on line one. He says it’s urgent about Las Vegas.” Cynthia looked back and forth between Michael and Brian for a moment before turning and going back to her desk. “Busy, busy, Mikey. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.” Brian practically pushed Michael out the door. “Be sure you do.” Michael started to walk away. Before he completely left he got one final parting shot. “And Ma expects you to be at Sunday night dinner.” Brian just ignored him, preferring to go back to his desk and plan a little R and R in Sin City. **** Brian arrived in Sin City late Friday night. He was dressed in his club best of Prada jeans and sleeveless silk shirt. He checked into his hotel room and paused only long enough to hang his clothes before heading back out to start his relaxation. He hit the first club and went on the prowl, with a short stop at the bar, looking for a trick (or two) to take the edge off. Spotting likely pray, Brian tossed back the rest of his drink and slithered toward the tall and dark man dancing in the center of the dance floor by himself. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties and Brian thought to himself he would be a great start to his night. With one thought coursing through his mind, that being the pleasure of getting his dick sucked, and or fucking a mince ass, Brian moved into the potential trick’s personal space. After grinding against the guy’s ass for several minutes Brian turned him around. He paused for a moment, stunned as the man flashed a megawatt smile at him reminiscent of the blond he’d lost so long ago. Regaining his equilibrium a bit, he smiled ferally and pulled the guy closer to him, grinding their cocks together. More than sufficiently aroused, and wanting to get the night’s entertainment started, Brian pulled the man closer to him by his belt loops and whispered in his ear, “Want to show me the back room of this place?” “I’ll show you whatever you want.” The trick began pulling Brian toward a doorway illuminated by running lights at the far end of the dance floor. As they crossed the threshold, Brian muttered, “Your face planted against that wall and your ass in the air will be enough.” “But I’m a top.” The trick muttered as Brian pushed him against the wall and began unbuttoning his fly. “That’s what they all say. And I’m the queen of England.” Brian all but purred as he effortlessly spun the trick, simultaneously yanking his pants to just below his ass. **** The rest of the evening went much the same with Brian dividing his time between the bar, dance floor and backroom. He finally stumbled back to his hotel suite around 8 in the morning and promptly crashed, barely managing to slip out of his clothes. He woke about six hours later to the incessant ringing of the phone. Cursing the intrusion Brian picked up the phone. “You better be bleeding or dying.” He barked out as he flopped back on the bed. “Good morning to you too little Mary Sunshine.” The caller laughed out. “Or should I say, good afternoon.” “I’m more little Mary go fuck yourself, Monroe. What do you want?” Brian reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand, lighting one as he repositioned the pillows behind his back and got comfortable. “Sunny as ever huh, Kinney? I was calling to invite your delectable ass to lunch and see if you wanted to do a little shopping before you hit the bars again tonight.” “Sounds good, let me take a shower and I’ll meet you in the lobby.” “’Kay. I also have tickets to a show tomorrow night if you’re interested. When are you leaving again?” “I’m here ‘til Monday night. I have a couple of business meetings with potential clients who are trying to break into the East coast market with their products.” Brian finished his cigarette, crushing the butt in the ashtray. “Leave it to you to mix business and pleasure.” Monroe laughed, remembering his own experience with Brian’s business and pleasure. “I like to multi-task. As long as the show doesn’t have tits and pussy I’ll go.” Brian stretched. “Now let me go so I can take a shower and get rid of this wood I got going on.” Brian couldn’t help teasing his friend. They had fucked, sure, but a friendship developed as they continued to work with one another over the years. “I could come over and take care of that for you if you like.” “You know I don’t fuck my friends, but thanks for the offer.” Brian ran his hand over his face moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Good thing I got to experience that before we became friends then.” Monroe replied, the smile evident in his tone of voice. “No one should be denied the Kinney experience.” “The Kinney experience. I like that. Though it does make me sound a bit like a ride at the amusement park.” “If the roller coaster fits…” “Fuck off, Myron.” Brian bit out, trying not to laugh at his friend’s outrage at using his first name. “Get showered, Kinney. You stink.” “See you in a bit.” Brian hung up the phone, and strolled to the shower. **** Lunch and shopping had been a more pleasant experience than Brian had expected it would be. Monroe knew his town well and Brian was able to pick up a few new shirts and ties at his shopping Mecca. They whiled away the afternoon, moving from one high end shopping establishment to another. Around 5 o’clock Monroe pulled back into the hotel parking garage. Once he turned his car off he looked over at Brian with a devilish grin. “What do you say we go up to my place, relax a little, fuck a little, then have dinner before we hit the scene tonight.” “You just never give up do you?” “I know what I like an I go after it. Life is too short to sit and wait.” “Tell you what,” Brian responded as they made their way through the hotel to a private elevator used solely for the permanent residents on the upper floor. “Let’s go to your little palace in the sky, relax a little, NOT fuck, and then have dinner.” “Still the one fuck only Kinney.” Monroe said laughingly. “Always.” Brian responded in kind. “With a blond detour from what I hear.” Monroe said more to himself, but Brian still heard. Losing his light-hearted, teasing manner immediately, pinning his friend to the elevator wall with his patented death glare. “That ‘blond’ is off limits. Mention him gain and we will have some serious issues with our friendship.” “Message received.” Monroe preceded Brian off the elevator on his floor, pausing only to unlock the door. “Let’s go relax.” **** The next evening found Brian and Monroe making their way to the reserved table Monroe kept for shows in the hotel. Once they were seated in the booth, hidden from the other tables by the tall backs, Brian and Monroe nursed their coffees, each still sporting a slight hangover from the previous evening. “So what show are we viewing this evening?” Brian asked, glancing around as people passed by. “A friend of mine plays here every once in a while when he’s in town. It’s kind of a new twist on big band and Motown.” Monroe played with the tablecloth, not looking at Brian. He knew Brian leaned more toward bands like Velvet Underground, but he’d promised his friend he would catch the show. “Fuck, Monroe, what are you trying to do to me.” Brian groused. “Expand your cultural repertoire beyond the thumpa, thumpa of the backroom.” “Piss off. I have plenty of culture. I’ll have you know I’m a huge patron of the arts.” Brian stared off into the distance, thinking about how much he spent on artwork alone in a given year. “Fucking an artist here and there, or a musician even, does not make you a patron of the arts.” Brian was saved from having to respond by the dimming of the lights, signaling the show was about to begin. A hotel employee walked to the mike on the stage and introduced Michael Bublé. “Oh fuck! Christ, Monroe, please tell me it’s not…” Brian couldn’t even put into words how much pain he was about to be in. “Just shut up, sit back and enjoy the show.” **** Later Brian glanced down at his watch, amazed that 45 minutes had elapsed. He turned toward Monroe to voice his awe when the music and lyrics of the next song penetrated his brain. Later, Brian would vaguely recall a commotion somewhere to his left at about the same time, but the roaring in his ears prevented him from turning and watching. Monroe did what he does best, springing in to action to minimize the disruption to the show. As Monroe handled the disturbance Brian caught a glimpse of blond hair before his world went black.