C’est La Vie

(c'est la vie = that’s the life, but the context is "that's life"...)

author: Elsa Rose
plot bunny: Judy 

Summary: Brian has left Pittsburgh and its bad memories, to become successful in everything but love. Perhaps Pittsburgh and his old home hold the secrets to finding true happiness.


“Justin, I’m not sure what it is that you want. I’ve shown you darn near all of our listings.”

“Mom, I told you, I’ll feel it when I see it.” He gave his mother a quick hug. “I’m sure you have a couple more; maybe something you absolutely hate,” he laughed. “I know how mothers work, always doing what they think is <i>best</i> for their kids.” 

“Hey, you caught me.” Jennifer gave him an indulgent smile. “I have one last listing, but I warn you it’s a mess. It’s part of the old Anderson place.”

“You mean Anderson, as in Anderson Advertising, the guy who killed his wife, his oldest son and then himself?” 

“That’s the one. The children have finally settled the estate and they want the place plowed under. They’re turning the property into a park and nature preserve,” she explained as she laid out a map of the area. “See this will all be park, but the place they’re willing to sell <i>as is</i>, is this piece here“, his mother pointed to the map. “ It’s the home where the housekeeper lived. For some reason the children want it to stay intact. They haven’t said why, only that it’s for sentimental reasons.” 

“That’s still a lot of property around the house,” Justin commented, his interest piqued. “Are there pictures of the house?” 

“Nothing worthwhile,” his mother hesitated. “I could take you over if you’d like, but remember the place is a mess. You’d need to gut it inside and rebuild. If it wasn’t for the interior <i> bones </i> of the house, I’d say pull it down and start over.”

“I want to see it.”

“But Justin, with all the bad things that happened to the Anderson’s, do you really want to live there?” She put her hand on his arm; the right one that still bore the scars of the bashing from years before. 

“Mom, it’s over and done with. It seems like even the Anderson kids have dealt with it.” He shuddered, “The ones that are left that is.”

“They’re hardly kids now dear. They’re in their thirties; but yes, they’ve gotten on with their lives, but not here in Pittsburgh. I believe the daughter lives in L.A. and the youngest son lives in Paris.” She gathered up a file folder from the corner of her desk. “If we leave now, there’ll be time to see the house before dark. It isn’t a place I’d like to be after the sun goes down.”

“Afraid of ghosts?” Justin asked opening the door for his mother. 

“I know it’s silly, but I used to know Milly Anderson; in fact, your father and I knew the whole family. That’s why the children listed the property with me,” she sighed. “It’s hard for me to look at the big house; there are just too many memories.” 

“It’ll be gone soon,” Justin said. He really didn’t know the whole story of the Andersons. He’d been too young to know much more than what the headlines stated when they blazed across the newspapers and interrupted the local television and radio programs. 

“Yes, it will be,” his mother said as a look of sadness flashed across her features. “Next week as a matter of fact. You have no idea of the complications they encountered to turn that piece of property into a park.  You’d think that the city fathers had never heard of the concept,” she shook her head and linked her arm through Justin’s. “Come and look at the house. Knowing you the way I do, I’m sure you’ll find it perfect just to annoy me.”

“That’s a son’s job,” Justin teased with a laugh.

It took almost twenty minutes to reach the Anderson property. Justin was impressed as his mother pulled up to the forlorn looking house that sat just inside a high rock wall covered in Virginia creeper vine. “The house as you can see is inside the walled property. Arrangements have been made to allow a separate entrance for whoever buys the house as well as fencing off the property to match the existing fence. The house has always been part of the original property and was usually rented to the housekeeper of the main house. At the moment I believe it’s been empty for a number of years. No one has lived in the big house since…. well, not since the trouble they had there. The housekeeper stayed on for a few years while the will went through probate.”

“You know a lot about this,” Justin said as he looked at his mother with interest.

“Justin, the Andersons were a part of our circle of friends. Of course, I know a lot; and besides, since I’ve had the listing, it has been necessary to find out the particulars of the property.”

“Just teasing you, Mom,” Justin laughed and got out of the car. “The place is amazing. I can see what you mean by good bones. I love the carved detail over the porch, although it needs to be replaced.” He turned around to see where the sun was. “Let’s go around back. By the look of the sun the rear of the house should have some great northern sunlight. I could maybe have a studio there. With three quarters of an acre, there’s more than enough room.”’

Jennifer knew the moment she mentioned the listing that she’d lost the war. Her son would fall in love with the place because it looked neglected and unloved. Two things he could never resist without trying to fix them.

Justin wandered over the yard looking at the out buildings and poking into corners. He could feel sadness in the air, but he wasn’t sure why. The sun was still shining, birds were singing, and even though the flowers had gone wild; they were blooming with everything they had. His mother stood at the back door, and as it opened, Justin ran over to check out the inside of the house. 

“Fuck this is disgusting,” he said as soon as he put his foot over the threshold. It was apparent that the house had been ravaged by a number of different vandals over the years. It was filled with garbage and broken pieces of furniture. The walls were smashed in a number of places and there were even the remnants of a fire in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

“What’s the price of this thing? It needs a ton of money to make it livable, but damn it’s got some great things going for it.” He carefully made his way through the downstairs part of the house before climbing to the second floor. There was really no need; he fully intended to buy it. Having the high stonewall closing him in and others out was a bonus. He wasn’t antisocial, but he liked his privacy, especially when he was in a creative streak. Something his friends couldn’t understand. They figured that since he worked at home, he should be available to all of them no matter what time of day it was. 

By the end of the month the house was his, and he couldn’t help but grin as he drove by the high stonewall. He was surprised to see two gates. The original one stood wide open, and a steady stream of construction vehicles were coming and going. The house that had stood on the top of the rise was there no longer and the grounds were being transformed into rolling hills covered in grass and flowering shrubs.  Justin could see that considerable planning had gone into the design. 

He turned to the other gate and checked the package of things he’d received from his mother. Included in the package was a door opener, similar to one for a garage door. In short order, he found himself driving inside the gates to his new home. Not that he could live in it; that would be something that would take time. The place needed a lot of work; more than he’d initially realized, but he didn’t care. He could use the time away from work, and he liked to think the renovation of his home was better than a gym membership. 

Justin was carefully drawing out a floor plan when a cautious knock on the door of the house interrupted him. “Hello,” he said to the tall grey-haired woman who stood on his step. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I saw your car in the driveway,” the woman hesitated and then handed Justin a plastic container. “I brought you some cookies. My name is Joan Kinney, and I lived in this house most of my adult life. I live down the road now with my daughter Claire and her two boys.” 

“Thanks for the cookies,” Justin grinned. “I have a sweet tooth.”

“They’re chocolate chip,” she smiled. “I… my… my boy liked them when he was young.”

“Well, they’re my favorite,” Justin smiled and looked around. “As you can see I don’t have a kitchen, so no milk to go with the cookies. I’ll take them back to my mother’s. I’m staying there until I can put together some kind of living space here.”

“Are you going to renovate?” she laughed as she observed the disarray. “I suppose you’ll have to.” 

“It’s a mess alright,” his voice was rueful. “But it won’t take long. I have a great contractor and I plan on doing a lot of it myself. I was just taking some measurements.”

“I can help you with that; after all I do know the house. I’ve been retired for a few years now; just didn’t have the heart to look for a different position.” She held out her hand for the tape measure Justin had. “It’ll go faster if we do it together.” 

“If you’re sure it isn’t a bother,” Justin began. “There’s a lot of garbage and you don’t want to even think about what’s been written on the walls.” 

“This house has seen it all,” she said. “You have no idea.” She looked around. “But when I first saw it almost thirty years ago, I thought it was the most beautiful house in the world. All I could see was sunshine and happiness. I thought it was the answer to my prayers, a perfect place to raise my children.” Her eyes were sad and filled with pain. “It wasn’t the house’s fault things went to Hell.” She looked at Justin and smiled, “Enough sadness, let’s get these rooms measured.” 

The both worked together for almost an hour measuring the rooms while at the same time Justin did the layout on his computer. “Finally, Joan, what do you think, is this it?” he asked propping his computer on a stair. 

She looked at his work with interest. “It’s amazing what you can do with these things,” she laughed. “My grandsons both do their homework on the computer; that’s when they aren’t fighting over whose turn it is. Even Claire and myself take our turns.” 

“I use computers a lot in my work. I do graphic designs for various advertising firms.”

“My son is in advertising,” she said, her voice proud. “He graduated at the top of his class in both high school and at the university.” 

“Cool,” Justin smiled at her. 

“He’s some stubborn man. A lot like his father in some ways; but more like me with his stubborn streak. He had a scholarship, but he worked every moment he had free to get through his school years and still he managed to graduate at the top.” 

“Wow, hey maybe I know him. I do work for a lot of companies here in Pittsburgh,” Justin smiled at the woman.

“He doesn’t live here; in fact, I haven’t seen him in years. I know he lives in New York and my grandson John says he’s pretty well known there in his field. John did something called google. I’m not sure what that is, but he keeps us posted on what his uncle Brian is up to.” Her smile was shy. “I guess you think I’m a pretty bad mother not to know where my son lives.”

“No, I don’t judge people. I like to make my own decisions about the people I have around me.” He put his hand over hers. “So are you still interested in working? You were the Anderson’s housekeeper.”

“Yes, I worked for them for many years,” she said and looked away. “I’m not sure I’d want to become that close to a family again. I think that’s why I’ve never really looked for more work; that and the fact that my husband died. I have some insurance from him, and it’s enough, if I live carefully. Claire and I share the expenses of the house. I help with the children while she works, although the boys are past the age of really needing anyone full time.”

“What I was going to suggest was that you come and work for me. Not full time, I don’t need anyone right now, although lunch each day would be great. I hate packing lunches and I don’t like to take time off when I’m in the middle of something. I was thinking maybe a few hours each morning or something once the house is done. And it wouldn’t really be all housekeeper type things. I’m always forgetting to put things in the mail and answer the phone when I’m working.”

Joan Kinney laughed, “Are you sure you need help? You aren’t just feeling sorry for an old lady are you?”

“I’m sure I need help. My sister worked for me for the last few years, but the girl has decided to get a full time job working for someone else,” he sighed with as much drama as he could muster. 

“I’ll certainly consider it,” Joan said with a smile. “Now that we’re all measured up in here, will you be going?” 

“No, I think I’ll explore a bit more. I’m expecting Pip the contractor any moment. He’s never on time, but today he’ll show up eventually. I’ve known him for years; we went to school together. He’s reliable, but flighty.” 

“He sounds… not very professional,” Joan ventured. 

“He’s Pip. You have to throw out all of your ideas about a contractor and just go with him, but he turns out amazing work in record time.” 

“I think I’ll reserve judgment,” Joan said with a shake of her head as she left. 

“See you later Joan,” Justin called after her. He was hungry and eyed the plastic box of cookies. He thought about how far the nearest store was to find something to drink and then decided he’d miss Pip for sure if he left. He’d just have to wait until later to sample the cookies. 

Taking his computer with him, Justin headed back up the stairs to the second level of the house. It was then that he noticed a door he was sure he hadn’t seen before. It must have been behind a stack of lumber that had been leaning against the wall. He’d caught a glimpse of a glass door handle and carefully moving the wood aside, he was pleased when he opened the door to find stairs leading to an attic. “Bonus,” he said aloud with a grin. He’d always wanted an attic room. Maybe he could put the master suite up there. He ran up the stairs and looked around at the dusty debris. A small window gave him a view of the whole infrastructure that was being developed in the park. 

Opening up his computer, he began to measure the attic space. His foot caught on a board. “Fuck,” he cried out as he fell to his knees. He put his hands down to stand up and noticed, written on the wood under the eves, the words <i>I want him to stop hitting me </i> over and over; the hand writing changing with time from basic printing, to something more mature. There were other words as well, but they had been crossed out so they were unreadable. Justin could only imagine the pain of the child who had written them. He’d have to ask Joan. He couldn’t erase the pain, but he could make sure that it never happened again at least in this house. He’d transform the attic to a place that would be filled with peace and tranquility and maybe, if the gods were willing, he’d find love someday and fill it with that. 

“HELLO,” a voice called out and Justin turned at the sound. “Grandma sent me.”

“Hey, I’m up here,” Justin called down the stairs. 

“Hi, I’m John. My grandmother said you needed some milk for your cookies. I put it on the kitchen counter. I thought you should know so you can drink it before something else does. This place is really creepy,” the boy talked as he looked up the stairs at Justin.

“I’m Justin and yes it’s creepy. I hope that the milk is nice and cold.” He bounded down the stairs, wincing when he heard the cracks and creaks. 

“It’s very cold. I hate warm milk. I put it in a jar with a lid. Grandma said it’s real dirty here, and she wasn’t joking.” He looked around, “This is disgusting.” He was looking at some graffiti on the wall. 

“Actually, John, look at it closely. Not at the words, but at the artistry that went into creating the whole look. Graffiti is really modern art. Imagine the control the artist had to use to get such precision in the design with cans of spray paint. Have you ever tried to spray paint anything?”

“I helped Gran paint a chair once,” John said.

“How did you find the painting?”

“It was hard, the paint kept dripping and it sprayed over everything.” John looked at the graffiti with new eyes. “Wow, this guy didn’t drip or anything.”

“That’s what I mean; it’s really an art form. It’ll be almost sad to destroy it,” Justin laughed. “But I don’t think I want his choice of language or political views on my walls,” he smiled at John. “Why don’t we share those cookies, and my milk.” 

“Cool, I love Gran’s cookies,” John said as they walked down to the kitchen. “Did you know that Gran used to live here?” he asked Justin.

“Yes, I do know that. I bet she’s going to find the changes I do interesting.” 

“She said it was a happy house at first, but something happened and it became sad. Are you going to make it happy again?” 

“I’m sure going to do my best,” Justin said as he opened the box of cookies. “These smell wonderful.” 

“Yeah, she’s a good cook,” John said and took one of the cookies. “When are you going to start work on the house?”

“Any minute,” Justin said. “I have a contractor coming. In fact, I think I hear his truck now.”  

“Cool.” John looked around. “Hooooolllllllly,” his voice was low. Coming around the corner was Pip, all six-foot-seven of him; wild-red hair in dreadlocks, and a tight, white t-shirt, bulging at his biceps. The look was completed with a pair of blue denim overalls and black work boots. “He’s like the biggest guy ever.”

“Hey Pip,” Justin called out. “I’m in here.” 

“Jus, this place is going to challenge my team,” Pip said with a deep laugh as he looked around the kitchen. “I suppose you already have an idea or two.”

“I do,” Justin laughed. “This is John; he lives down the street. If you need some help, he could use an after school job.” 

“Always like to encourage work ethics,” Pip grinned. “Let me tour the place. I’ll start with the basement and work my way up.”

“Don’t forget I need a studio. I’m thinking of using the attic floor as a master suite.”

“You want the studio outside or in?” Pip asked.

“I was thinking a separate building, but maybe linked somehow,” Justin replied. 

John was listening and watching the two men with fascination. He lived with his mother, grandmother and brother. His father was long gone and the only other man in his life was the mythical Uncle Brian; someone he’d never met. 

“Well John, do you want to come with me while I check the place out?” Pip asked the boy. “You can be my second pair of eyes. It’s easy to miss things on the first see through.” 

“Cool. Is it okay Justin?” John asked. 

“It’s fine with me. I have some diagrams to work out up here;” Justin said before sneezing.” The dust is getting to me. I’m going to need allergy medication every time I come to the house.”

“My brother Peter has allergies too,” John said as he followed Pip down the basement stairs. 

Justin settled himself against the filthy counter to work through some designs with the measurements he’d taken. He could hear John’s voice asking question after question and Pip’s deeper one never losing patience, and always answering in detail.

Pip’s crew moved quickly. Within days the house was completely gutted to the studs. Two refuse bins had been filled and emptied, and John was in his glory. Pip had given him his own hard hat and made sure he had steel- toed work boots. The boy worked hard. He was fourteen and tall for his age, and he’d never before been given the respect and responsibility of doing a good job. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to death,” Justin said to John when the boy walked past him carrying yet another armful of debris for the bin. 

“I’m not,” he smiled at Justin. “Pip says this is kind of like an apprenticeship and if I like it and do well, I can work on other jobs with him on weekends and during school breaks. My Gran says Uncle Brian used to work all the time too. She said I have the same work ethic as he did and I should be proud.  

Justin smiled and patted the boy on the shoulder. “I’m sure your Uncle Brian is a good man.”

“Grans says he is,” John hesitated. “She says that he had determination as a kid. He had goals and he worked hard to make them.”

“I’ll have to meet this uncle of yours,” Justin said.

“Oh we never see him. I think I saw him once when I was a baby, but I’m not sure. I know Peter hasn’t seen him. Uncle Brian lives far away in New York, and he never comes to Pittsburgh. Gran says it’s because he has very bad memories, but she never says what those are.” 

“That’s too bad.” Justin looked away. He had some damn awful memories of Pittsburgh too, but that hadn’t made him run away. He never ran away from anything; never had and never would.

In New York, Brian was taking some much needed time to sit back and relax. It wasn’t something he often did, preferring to fill his time with work. In fact, he suspected that he was driven by some unnamed force, no doubt the result of his childhood. Or at least that’s what he’d concluded after half a dozen visits to various shrinks over the last twenty years. 

“Brian I’ve left you dinner in the oven. I thought something fresh wouldn’t hurt since you were home tonight,” Shandra Peters smiled at her boss. 

“Thanks Shandra,” Brian smiled at her. “Tell your husband I won’t be needing him tonight. I’m taking the night off and staying home.” He turned back to his computer. 

“Then I’d suggest you turn off that computer and relax, ” she laughed. “By the way, Anna is tickled pink with that computer you gave her. Apparently, it all but dances as far as she’s concerned.” 

“Your daughter needs the best,” Brian smiled. “She’s going to go places; I can tell.” 

“Let’s just get her out of high school first,” Shandra said with a laugh. She looked around Brian’s den. “You know a nice comfy leather chair over in that corner wouldn’t hurt anything.” She was always trying to get Brian to increase his minimal decorating technique. 

“Nice try,” Brian laughed and stood up. “Don’t worry about staying any longer, I’ll do the dishes tonight. You have an early evening with Chadwick and Anna.” 

“Why thank you, Brian,” she smiled at her boss. He was a perfectionist with a heart of gold. No one knew all the things he quietly set in motion to help anyone he felt needed it. Even she hadn’t known about everything, but people in the loft complex talk and the handsome bachelor was one of the more interesting topics to discuss during spring and summer lunch breaks in the common garden. 

Brian walked his housekeeper to the door. He carefully locked it behind her and turned on the alarm before turning around and surveying his home. He’d taken two lofts and put them together for more square footage than usual in this city of high priced realestate. He’d worked hard for what he had, and while he surveyed his kingdom he wondered just what he’d been doing it for. Why did he need to continue to make more and more money? Money enough that he couldn’t possibly spend in all three lifetimes? 

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the table where the meal had been left for him.  As he opened the bottle the smell of it brought back memories of a drunken father, who had always reeked of the stale brew as he defended his right to spend what little money he made the way he wanted. He had driven a taxi, and for some reason, he felt that contributing to the household expenses wasn’t something he needed to do. 

Brian put the bottle to his lips and drank deeply of the designer brew. His father had been a real piece of work; the bastard. Always leading with his fists whenever he spotted his son. 

He rubbed his right collarbone to relieve a phantom ache, before taking a forkful of dinner. He’d broken it three times; or rather his father had. 

Soft music played in the background; a mixed version of some of his favorites that were always guaranteed to relax him. One of the first things he did, every time he walked into the apartment was to turn on his <i>Bose</i> system. He absent-mindedly wondered what had happened to the old turntable he’d had in his bedroom when he left home. Had his mother thrown out the old vinyl discs he had saved money to buy, or had his sister taken possession of them. It didn’t matter, he’d bought more, although now they had to be purchased up at specialty shops, or on Ebay, for three and four times what he’d paid for them originally. <i>C’est la vie</i>, he thought as he finished his dinner. 

As he cleared the table and tidied up, he heard his phone ring, and knew immediately who it was. It was always the same person, his friend from high school, Michael Novotny. Despite the fact that he’d long ago left school, Michael didn’t seem to realize that life moved forward and the end of the world didn’t happen at the outskirts of Pittsburgh.  Instead, he’d persisted in continuing their friendship, even though he found it more difficult now that Brian lived in New York. Until recently he’d been under the delusion that it was a temporary move. Brian still remembered the disappointment in his friend’s eyes when he attended the opening of his second office. 

Brian finished in the kitchen and then poured himself a snifter of aged brandy. He walked to the bank of windows that opened up to the city and stared out. He had money and success. His business was booming. Then why the fuck was he so god damned lonely? Certainly he had friends, or perhaps they were acquaintances that wanted more from him. After all, the fact that he was a millionaire was a big attraction for a lot of guys. Tricking was no longer an option. His right hand gave him as much pleasure as an anonymous mouth and it didn’t talk back, which was a bonus. 

Michael and his family had been good for him; he would even go so far as to say that they’d kept him sane while he endured beatings from his father and ridicule from the Anderson children who passed him day after day as they rode by in a limo while he stood in the cold and snow waiting for the school bus.  Michael still kept in touch, and came to visit and, Brian, well he always remembered Debbie’s birthday. He even sent her roses on Mother’s Day. She, of course, wasn’t his mother, but he thought of her as such. His real mother never had time for him. She was always looking after the Anderson kids, and was too busy to notice her drunken husband’s rages.  He wondered if she lived in the same house and still looked after it. And if Jack Kinney still managed to get drunk every weekend despite the fact that he drove taxi. Maybe the old bastard had finally lost his license. Brian didn’t know, he hadn’t been back since the day he’d graduated from high school. Pittsburgh was off the radar as far as he was concerned. 

Shandra ran out of the apartment building. Her husband was parked in front, his usual spot when he waited for Brian. “Hey handsome, Brian says you have the night off,” she said with a laugh when she opened the door. 

“Again? You know Hun, I wish he’d find himself someone. He’s been like a bear with a sore ass these days. It happens every damn spring.” 

Shandra slipped into the passenger seat. “Can you take me to the market before we go home?”  

“Sure.” Her husband leaned forward to start the car and then turned back to his wife. “I worry about that boy,” he said with a sigh before starting the limo. 

“I know you do. I do too. But really, he’s thirty-five and I don’t know what we can do to make him happy. I’ve tried everything I can think of.” She watched the traffic as they drove through the New York streets. “I was hoping he’d find someone by now, but he hasn’t even gone to the clubs lately.” Their employer of the last five years had become a worry for the two of them. Brian was a kind man and they wanted the best for him.

Two Weeks Later

“Justin Taylor, my, my, you are just as handsome as ever.” 

Justin laughed out loud. “Deb, you’re just as much you as ever.” He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a kiss on her cheek. He turned to the boys he’d brought with him. “This is John and Peter. They said they’re starving to death. Where else to fill up a few hungry boys but the Liberty Avenue diner.”

“They’re a little young, Sunshine,” Deb said eyeing up the boys. “And damn they look familiar.”

“They’re helping me with my house, Deb. Their Gran is my housekeeper.” Justin shook his head to warn his old friend to keep things clean. 

Back in New York:

“Brian, it’s Pip. I’m looking for a place to crash for a few days.”

“Hello to you too,” Brian laughed. “I haven’t heard from you in at least a year and now you call and want to stay.”

“I don’t get to New York City often Bri, and you never come to the Pitts,” Pip laughed his deep laugh. “I’ve got a couple of big jobs in the works and I thought I’d check out the Home Decorating Symposium for something different.”

“Sounds interesting.” Brian looked around his office done in the latest decorating trend of minimalist furniture with deep toned colors. “When can I expect you?” 

“In about twenty minutes. I’m in traffic right now. I thought since I’m close to Kinnetik, you might buy me lunch you rich bastard.” 

Brian laughed out loud. His old friend from the university never changed. “I knew our friendship was based on money.” 

“Of course it is. You have it, I want it, we’re friends and we share,” Pip grinned into the phone. “Actually Bri, in the spirit of friendship, I’ll buy.” 

“I’m not eating a damn hot dog from a vendor,” Brian bitched even though his grin was wide. 

Cynthia, his assistant, poked her head into his office and drew it back suddenly. She was shocked by her boss’ expression. She hadn’t seen him smiling like that in so long she’d forgotten how good it looked on him. 

“Hell no, I want to keep my boyish figure and I’m sure you do too now that we’ve both reached middle age.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Brian laughed. “We’re thirty-five not sixty-five. I have a meeting in ten minutes that’s going to last for at least an hour. Why don’t you go to the loft, I’ll meet you there. You can get settled in and relax while I work. You’ll like that. I’ll call Shandra and have her make us something for lunch.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Bri. See you when I see you.” Pip disconnected. Brian’s loft wasn’t far from where he was now. He leaned forward and gave the change in address to the cab driver.

Brian went into his meeting with more spring in his step than usual. Knowing his old friend was in town had given him something to look forward to. Instead of going home to his beautiful but lonely loft, he’d have Pip there filling the place to overflowing with exuberant good will for at least two or three days. 

Pip was hauling his bag out of the taxi when, “Mr. Pip, it’s been a long time,” Chadwick, Brian’s driver said as he took the bag. “How are things in Pittsburgh?” 

“Busy, busy,” Pip said shaking the older man’s hand. “I can’t believe it’s been two years since I’ve made it to the big city.” 

“Time has a way of disappearing,” Chadwick agreed. “Shandra and I are glad you came. Mr. Brian has been somewhat gloomy of late. All the money in the world doesn’t keep one warm in bed at night, and I think he is finally realizing that little fact.” 

“He’ll be okay; he’s a slow learner, but he’ll come around,” Pip grinned. “When we get upstairs, I’ll show you my latest project. She’s almost two now and a devil in disguise.” 

“My, Shandra will be pleased. Nothing she likes better than babies,” Chadwick smiled. “How many is that now?” 

“Cici makes five,” Pip bragged. “Almost enough for a framing crew, but   their mom won’t let me take any of them to work. She says they have to have some good sense, and that won’t happen until they get older.”

“PIP!” Shandra called out as she threw her arms around the big man. “You are such a brat for not coming to visit.”

“Sorry about that Mrs. S, but you know how it is. I have a whole litter of kids and a wife who’s as beautiful as the day I met her, and my free time is non-existent. I’m only here because of work.”

Chadwick had taken Pip’s bag to a guestroom. “I’m heading back to Kinnetik to wait for Mr. B,” he explained to the two who were busy chattering in the kitchen. 

They waved to him but continued talking. Chadwick only shook his head in amusement as he headed out the door. 

When Brian finally made it home a couple of hours later, he was surprised to see how much life his loft had. When he’d left that morning it was pristine in its condition. Everything tidy and in its place, but it was lifeless. Coming in now, the rooms were filled with Pip and his exuberance for life. His voice, deep and filled with amusement, permeated the air. The music that was playing on the <i>Bose</i> wasn’t Brian’s usual, but rather something modern and unfamiliar. Delicious smells wafted in from the kitchen, he was sure that it was chocolate chip cookies, something that only happened when Pip visited. 

“I see you both are conspiring to make me fat,” Brian pretended to gripe as he reached for a warm cookie. 

“Hey Bri,” Pip laughed as he reached for another cookie as well. “Figured you could use some sweetening up.” 

Brian and Pip spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on their lives. They’d shared a dorm room at the university and had become fast friends. They had even worked together at the construction company, Pip’s father owned. The job paid well, and had the added bonus of keeping Brian in great physical shape. He’d found that after working on marketing and other intense brain freezing subjects, physical labor helped him relax. 

“How is your dad liking retirement?” Brian asked.

“He’s liking it far too much,” Pip said and shook his head. “I’m heading into a busy season and Dad has always helped out, but this year he insists he’s taking it easy. I guess I can’t bitch. I mean he helped me every other time I got into a bind.”

“What’s different about this time?” Brian asked. 

“I have two major projects. I’m redoing a building downtown and turning them into lofts for a real estate company. Actually, the whole building is for sale, but they’re hoping I could finish at least one loft so they can get more for the place. And then I started a tear down reno. You know the kind, where only the foundation stays and we work around existing walls.”

“Fuck, no shit, those kind of renos suck,” Brian shuddered. “Did you tell the client they might as well tear it all down?” 

“I did, but he’s a stubborn bugger. He likes the ‘bones’ of the house. I’m doing the easy portion for now. I’m building him a studio with guest quarters in the back of the place. He’ll live there while the main house is worked on,” Pip laughed. “Well it doesn’t really matter. He’s a good guy and he doesn’t mind kids on the site as long as they’re dressed properly and stay out of the dangerous areas. He’s got two boys outfitted, that are great for clean ups. I may even bring a couple of my older girls, that is if their mother lets them.”

“Cripes Pip, kids on the job. Are you fucking nuts?” 

“So I’ve been told,” he laughed. “But Justin Taylor is a sucker for kids and he watches them like a hawk. He says it’s good for them to learn how to work and earn a bit of money. I have to admit it isn’t hurting anything.” 

“This Justin Taylor, he isn’t… you know hinky for kids is he?” Brian asked.

“Not a chance in Hell,” Pip laughed. “I’ve known Justin since he was in diapers. He’s about, oh maybe twelve years younger than I am. He’s gay, not that it matters. His father was a bastard when he came out, and I understand he wasn’t all that much of a father before. You know Brian; money doesn’t buy happiness. Craig Taylor has a ton of money, but he’s a miserable little man. Justin told me once that he helps kids the way he’d always wanted his father to help him; by teaching and being there when he is needed.”

“Sounds like he’s a nice young man.” Brian reached for another cookie. “What does he do for a living?” 

“He’s an artist. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him considering you have one of his painting on your wall over there,” Pip laughed and pointed to a large and impressive painting that dominated the main wall of the loft. 

“That Justin Taylor?” Brian asked. “But I bought this in Paris three years ago.” 

“Oddly enough, he knows how to get on an airplane,”  Pip said. “He’s well known all over the world. He lived in Paris for a number of years and Rome for one. He’s been in Canada for the past year and now he’s back in Pittsburgh. He says he likes being home. It grounds him. His parents and mine were friends. I even babysat him a time or two.”

“Okay, okay, he’s a friend.” Brian held his hand up. “But a crazy one because he’s gone back to the Pitts.” 

“You’re the crazy one. Look at you Brian, you’re thinner than you should be. You look like you’ve been to Hell and back.”

“I have,” Brian sighed. He made a decision to tell his old friend a secret he’d kept from everyone. “I had testicular cancer. It’s gone for now. I’m cancer free, have one ball that I could play tennis with, no strength to speak of and if I never see a toilet up close and personal again it’ll be too soon. Chemo was a bitch.”

“But I bet you never missed a day of work,” Pip answered, knowing Brian wouldn’t want to hear anything that smacked of pity.

“I missed the odd afternoon and I missed the day of the surgery,” Brian admitted. “But other than that, no I didn’t miss much time.” 

“And do you feel great because of it? Did you make more money to line your mattress with, because Bri, that’s the only comfort you’re going to get from working yourself to death. One of the reason’s Dad is pulling away from the business is that he had prostate cancer. He’s all fixed up now, but he sees things in a different light.”

“I do too, but honestly I have no idea how to change things. I’m not in the mood for clubbing and I’m not going to be one of those losers who start answering singles ads. I go to work and I come home, that’s my life. I might meet the odd trick, but even that’s not interesting enough to get my blood roaring. For a while there, I thought the doc had broken my dick, but luckily he’s still alive.”

Pip laughed. “I can see how that could be a worry.” 

“You should talk, with your five little girls,” Brian snickered. “Please tell me you’re going to stop pestering Lucy for a boy.” 

“Hey, I can’t help it if we had a litter of three the second time,” Pip snickered. “Three, I might add, who are as mouthy as their mother. Thank gawd we didn’t give them names all beginning with the same letter. Talk about independent. Those three are their own women’s lib movement.”

Brian laughed at his friend. “Maybe you could adopt a boy.” 

“Funny you should mention that,” Pip replied. “Lucy and I were talking about doing just that. Cici the baby is a handful, but we thought if we started the proceedings and maybe didn’t ask for a baby, we might get one near her age. If nothing else she’d have someone else to get into trouble with.” 

“Always thinking of the kids,” Brian snickered and stretched. “You know there are days I wish I could go back to working with the crew. No worries; just work. And when I met someone I wouldn’t have to worry that they’d seen my bio in Forbes before dating me.” 

“You could use a change of scenery. Can’t you delegate your work to the wonderful Cynthia and take a couple of months off?”

“I suppose I could.” 

“Well, I can always use a hand. You could join the crew.” 

“Let me think about it.”

“You know if you want an investment, that loft job would be a good one. Buy the building and live on the top floor.” 

“I would only be going for a couple of months; not the rest of my life,” Brian snorted. “Damn you’re pushy.” 

“Just a suggestion Brian. I know how you feel about owning the place you sleep in. You can always sell it when you want to come back to New York.”

“I’ll think about it.” Brian walked over to the large painting done by Justin Taylor. “I have another of his at the office; it sells for big bucks. My accountant says they’re an investment.”

“Who knows, if you play your cards right, you could meet the artist,” Pip smiled inwardly, maybe this is what both of his friends needed.