Chapter 7

Brian Kinney’s POV (Entire Chapter)

I slowly turn and see Justin.  Never in our life together has he ever looked as beautiful as he does at this very moment. 

All actions and sounds are peripheral to my main focus – Justin’s face.  My brain barely acknowledges that a furious Ben has just plowed into me.  I lift my arm and parry Ben’s attempt to grab my shirt, but it’s more of a reflex action, not a solid defense to his attack.  I can hear Vic shouting at both of us.  I feel someone pulling me away from Ben, but all I can see is Justin’s face.

I watch as a myriad of expressions cross over his face.  But, I’m puzzled when I see pain and remorse reflecting from his teary eyes.

Vic steps in front of me, blocking out my view of Justin.  This breaks my trance-like state and I’m jerked back to the moment at hand.

“Brian?  Brian, you need to leave now.  That’s the best thing.  Now – Ben, I said stop it!  I mean it.”  I watch Vic back Ben down.   

I move away from our little dramatic hub, leaving an irate Vic to struggle with an incensed Ben, and go looking for Justin.  I plan to leave, but I’m going to take Justin with me.

I’ll take him home, to the loft… But, where did he go? My head jerks from side to side as I look for him.  Did I imagine him?  No.  He was here!

He was standing there, by that big bush with Daphne.  I walk over to the spot and just stand there, trying to ascertain the what, where, and why of the last five minutes.  What the fuck?  Did he leave?  Where did…

Two sets of hands grab my arms and I instantly pull out of them and then push back at the unseen enemy.  Instantly, I hear a high-pitched squawk in response.  It’s Emmett, he and Ted are the ones that just dared to grab me.

“Brian, stop that!  You almost hurt me!  We are trying to help you – you idiot!  Now come on!”  Emmett grabs and jerks my right arm, motioning me to follow him.  I again flip his hand off, but not as roughly as before.  Ted pipes up with “We need to go!  Now!  I think some of them went in search of pitchforks and torches.”

Emmett and Ted escort me to my Jeep; I don’t know who they are actually protecting, me or the munchers’ party guests.  All the while as we walk, I’m looking for Justin, but see no sign of him. 

I think he left because I scared him away.  Just fucking great!  I just wanted to see him, talk to him.  Fuck… fuck, I wanted to take him home…  What is wrong with me?  What was I thinking - I wasn’t thinking, I just lashed out.  Shit…

As I’m buckling up my seatbelt, a fidgeting Emmett holds onto my open car door.  I can tell that he’s dying to say something.  Apparently, I was right.

“I heard what Michael just said to you.  He didn’t mean what he was said… Michael shoots his mouth off before he thinks.”  I ignore his attempt to placate me.  I have no intention or desire to discuss Michael.  What happened is between Michael and me, no one else.

“Oh, my sweet Lord!  I just realized that the last time we were all here at Lindsay’s, we all thought Baby was gone from us forever – ”

No – don’t go there.  “Emmett, back away.  I’ve got to leave.”  I grab the door and yank it out of Emmett’s hands.

“Oh, oh… wait!  Brian – I’ve got something to say to you.  Stop rolling your eyes; I’m not going to scold you.  Now, listen and just bare with me.  Okay – listen… um, there’s a saying that was written in the South… well, maybe not… I’m not really sure who wrote it… it might have been a Yankee, but - whatever.  You see, the South truly understands the struggles of life and love… our passion, our trials and tribulations, much of our literature epitomizes-“

“Honeycutt!  Can we pick this up?”

“Don’t call me Honeycutt.”

Ted yells at Emmett to hurry up, and Emmett yells back at him to shut up, and I give up and start the jeep.

Before I can pull away, Emmett grabs the driver’s car door and opens it, while squealing, “Wait!  Wait! Wait!”  I reluctantly turn off the engine and slouch in my seat. 

Emmett quickly continues, “Okay – listen. I know that Baby loves you, still.  I can feel it.  And you have feelings for Justin – don’t deny it.  So, just listen – there’s this saying that you have to hear… I talked with Mystical Marilyn and she said that you have to… um… forget that.  Forget what I just said.  Anyway, you’ve probably heard this saying before, but you’ve never heard the TRUE ending, as it was originally written.”

  I brusquely adjust in my seat signally my growing impatience.

Emmett pauses for dramatic effect and I twirl my forearm around in a circle, motioning him to hurry it up with the saying.

“Okay, most people know the saying, ‘If you love them… set them free… if they come back, it was meant to be.  But, that’s where the Yankees and the South differ.  We say, ‘if you love them… set them free… but follow your love, and when he’s ready – there you’ll be!”

What?  “What?”  I don’t fucking believe this.

“Of course, you’ll have to woo him, be his friend.  He needs time to get over all of this.  He’s afraid, the poor baby.  He told me that he saw his back and he knew… well, he thought that you wouldn’t be… you, know… attracted-”

“Emmett, why do you care?” 

“I want him happy again.  You – hard as it is to believe – make him happy.  You’re, you’re like… the big, nasty crocodile and he’s the little tick bird that sits on you, keeping ticks and other parasites off of you.  And if the bird stays with you, no other predators will hurt him, because he’s sitting on a vicious reptile.  And you don’t mind that he’s there, because deep down inside, you realize that you need… and want… your little tick bird.”

 Are you fucking kidding me?  A crocodile and a tick bird… Why the fuck am I listening to this living cartoon?

I don’t know if I should laugh or shout obscenities at him.  I settle for an exasperated huff and pinch the bridge of my nose; I can feel a headache coming on.  Either that or I’m sobering up and am just realizing that I’ve had the headache all day.

Weird things happen at this damn house.  I really am starting to hate coming here… Debbie spouted that same shitty ditty to me… but her version was more… It would make one hell of a Hallmark card, though - ‘set them free and if they don’t comeback, hunt them down and kill them.’  Jesus, I need a drink.   The crocodile needs a drink, and a couple of wildebeests to fuck.

I wave him closer to me, and when he approaches, I lower my voice to a near whisper.  “Okay, I want to make sure that I’ve got this right… I wait, stalk, woo, and then lock him in a basement….OR, do I wait, WOO, then STALK, and lock him in a basement? “

I stare at him seriously, as if I really expect an answer.

Emmett blankly looks back at me and says ‘goodbye’ in a very touching way, “I hope someone bites your dick off tonight.”   

It’s a struggle not to laugh out loud.  Instead, I respond with my signature tongue in cheek smirk.

Something behind him catches my eye.

“Emmy Lou Who, I better go.  I think I see the smoke from the torches.”

Emmett turns around and sees what I see - a couple of bull dykes walking in our direction.  I decide that I don’t want to stick around to find out about their intentions.

I re-start up the jeep, push Emmett away from the car door, then quickly close and lock it.  All the while, Emmett is shouting out what sounds like quotes from Harlequin romance novels. 

“Don’t let go, Brian.  He needs you and you need him.  Climb the tower and rescue-“

I pull away from the curb and then burn rubber in my hurry to leave.  I head straight for Liberty Avenue.  The crocodile is now on the hunt for ass and strong, man-made substances. 

As my drive, I allow my thoughts to drift without restriction.

Emmett and Ted to my rescue…Who would have thunk it…

What are you thinking right now, Justin? 

I need a drink.  I want some of Anita’s kick-ass E.

Is this how it feels, Justin?  People trying to control you life and they all think they know what is best for you.   They’re touching you when you don’t want to be touched… grabbing and pushing… and the places that they are pushing you toward seem just as dark and dismal as the place that you’re in. 

I need a lot of drinks.  I need to fuck and be sucked.  I need sunshine, blue eyes, soft, creamy skin. 

Stop running from me, Justin. 

===============================================================================

It’s early, for me.  Around eleven p.m.  After the party, I went straight to Woodie’s and got all of my needs filled.  I decided to skip Babylon and gohome, instead.  It’s been too long of a day.

For most of the evening, I have been re-looping the events of the munchers’ party.  I’ve replayed Justin’s reactions over and over again.  I can’t find any peace or solace in anything that I can remember.

As I’m entering the loft, I hear a caller leaving a message on my answering machine.  It’s probably Michael; he wants me to meet him at Babylon.  Well, not tonight, Mikey… Oh yeah, it can’t be Michael… Who is it?

Then I hear, “I’m so sorry, Brian.  I didn’t mean to cause a fight between you two.  It’s not…”

I resist the urge to run to the phone, because Brian Fucking Kinney runs to no man - or twink.  But I do gather my dignity, adjust my posture to signify my strength and assurance, and I calmly cross to the phone.  I politely, but firmly interrupt the caller’s little speech with a simple, “Justin.” 

He actually sputters into the phone and then goes silent. 

“Justin.  Come on, answer me.”

I hear him taking deep breaths; I can’t tell what’s going on with him.

“Justin, are you alright?  JUSTIN, say something!”

A shaky, tearful reply floats back to me. “Brian, I’m so sorry.  I really -” His speech dissolves into muffled mumbles and tearful sniffs - I can’t understand a word he is saying.

“Justin, everything’s okay.  Just calm down, take a deep breath. “

As I talk to him, my austere composure slips away, and I become the Brian that only Justin knows.  I sit on the steps of the bedroom and pinch the bridge of my nose to relieve my tension.  I change my tone and become more cajoling and joking.  “Your allergies are really bothering you again.  I can tell.”

I get a sniffle in return.  Then, he attempts to talk again, but he’s too drenched in tears and mucus to enunciate. 

“Justin, you need to blow your nose, I can’t understand you.  I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

I hear him put down the phone, then after a few moments, I hear him blowing his nose in the distance.  I smile to myself, enjoying all the sounds that are Justin.

From the knocks and scraps emitting from the receiver, I can tell that he’s come back on the phone.  I ask, “Are you okay, Sonny Boy?”

A big sniffle is heard and then, “Yeah… it’s, it’s my allergies.”  Then, he self-consciously giggles. 

Ahhhhhh, yes.  Do it again.  I laugh, hoping that it will cause him to giggle again.  But, it doesn’t.  I just get silence from his end of the phone.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“… At Mom’s house.” 

“Okay good.”  You’re somewhere safe.  “Damn allergies, huh?… I’ve been having a problem with allergies, myself… I’m starting to understand a little of what you have to deal with… the watery eyes.”

I pause, hoping he gets my message.  Please talk to me Sunshine.

“Brian…I’m so sorry about everything.  And Michael, so sorry about – “

“Hey!  What have I told you about apologizes, they’re just bullshit.  Michael is an idiot and he’s lucky that I only punched him once.”

“God - no Brian!  But, he’s right…he said a lot of things that were right.”

“No, Justin – “

“Brian – please.  I just want… Michael was right.  I was… am selfish… and didn’t think about all the consequences… and… and I’m sorry that you guys fought because of me…”

“Justin, just stop it – I mean… huh… can we talk about something else?  How… how are you?  Other than this shit?  Tell me what your schedule is.  Are you back in school?”  Actually, I already know all of this information; Jennifer gives me a daily report.  Justin has no idea and we’re going to keep it that way. 

I didn’t get mad at Jennifer for not telling me about the no-visitor rule when Justin was in the hospital.  She called me the same night that Horvath dropped the ceiling on my head.  She said she just couldn’t say those words to me.  She cries just like Justin.  She’s made up for it ten-fold.   She reports everything to me – everything.  She’s Team Brian; I have no doubt about her now.

“Um… I don’t want… I’m not ready to go back to school.  I just can’t.  I don’t-” He’s starting to spin out of control, so I cut him off. 

“Fine, fine, shhh, just calm down.  If you don’t want to go, then you shouldn’t go until you’re ready.”

“Brian… don’t shut me up.  And don’t treat me like I’m a child… I, I want to talk about today, what happened at the party.” 

 Well, for someone who doesn’t want to be treated like a child, you sound like a demanding ten years old.  But, it’s good that he’s standing up to me.  This is all fine and dandy, but let me take care of this issue, once and for all.

“Justin, Michael hurt our friendship, not you.  Do you understand?   It was just another line he crossed, but this time, it went too far.  I went too far.  I wish I hadn’t hit him and I didn’t like that you saw it.  But, I have my limits.  There are some things that no one should ever say and especially not to me. 

Listen, this isn’t getting us anywhere.  Let’s not talk about Michael, or the munchers, or anyone or anything else.  Let’s just talk about you, and how you are doing.  Okay?  That’s what I want to know.  Justin, what I care about is you… I care… so much about you.”

I wait for a response.  I’m actually holding my breath.  Finally, he responds.

“I care about you, too, Brian.”

I release my breath, which I didn’t realize that I was holding.  “Good, good.  Well, now we’ve got a good place to start from.” 

“Brian, I didn’t think you were going to be home, it’s early… ”

“Yeah, well, I am.”

“I remember when I first met you, you were so happy.  Drunk and happy.  No worries… just men and fun.  I fucked that up for you.”

“Justin, I don’t want to talk about this.  Just stop it.”

“No, you stop, Brian!  Stop… trying to shut me… Stop trying to stop me… I didn’t realize about the health insurance.  I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back – ”

“You don’t, you’re insured-” 

“Brian – my life is so fucked up.  I have nothing, I’m going nowhere, and I am nothing.  No, that’s not true.  I’m like a magnet for haters.  What’s happened to me just doesn’t happen to people.  There’s something wrong with me.   I’ve been attacked twice, and it’s never going to stop.  I know that… and I can’t jeopardize you or anyone, anymore. “

I can feel the heat of anger rising in my chest.  I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense.   I have to shut him up, and perhaps I’ll come on too strong, but he’s starting to piss me off.  “Justin – just shut the fuck up.  I’ve had enough, do you understand?  This is bullshit!  Just shut up.”

Apparently, Justin has reached the end of his patience, as well.  He comes at me with both barrels fully loaded. 

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do!  I called at a time that you’re not supposed to be there.  I didn’t want to talk to you – because you fucking never want to hear what I have to say!

“Justin!”

“NO!  No!  You listen to me… I can’t jeopardize you or anyone, anymore - you need to let go… because, because - we’re not good for each other… You’re... You’re too old for me and I need someone that treats me with respect and cares about my feelings.  That person isn’t you, Brian… Just, just stop ruining your life… leave me… leave me alone and get on with your life.”

My blood is boiling and I unfortunately strike out at him without forethought.  “Who the fuck says I want you back, Sunshine?  Don’t mistake my charity for something else.”

Oh shit – DAMMIT!  Why did I just say that!  I always go too fucking far.  “Justin – listen, I didn’t-”

Justin really surprises me by what he says next.  He starts rattling off an enraged litany that takes my breath away. 

“I used you.  Michael was right.  I just… I’ve been using you… and I’m sick and tired of being your rent boy.   And… and I’m not pretty anymore.  I look like a freak.  What would that do to your fucking reputation Brian?  You could never fuck a freak.  What would people say, Brian?  Your precious little ego couldn’t stand that, could it?”

Justin laughs, but it sounds forced and bitter. “Did you even know I was gone, Brian?  You just kept fucking and drinking, I know you never missed a beat.   Fuck you, Brian!  I don’t need you anymore.  I got what I wanted.  Just leave me alone!…  Oh God… I’m sor-… No… you deserve better, Brian.  You could do so much better than me, so… leave me the fuck alone!  I’m tired of your help, I don’t need it, and I don’t want it… I don’t want… you.  Have a nice life.  Goodbye.”

I hear a click and Justin is gone.

I sit frozen like a statue.  I slowly rise, put away the phone, and cross to the liquor cart.

A certain phrase that he said zips through my mind, ‘I was just using you.’

“Well… fuck you too, Sunshine.  You little fucking… I can’t believe I put up with you and your shit.  I don’t need your crap.  I don’t need you either, Sunshine!  I just felt sorry for you!  How’s that, how does that feel!  FUCK YOU - SUNSHINE!” 

I pick up a bottle from liquor cart and hurl it against the far wall.  I enjoy seeing it shatter into a thousand pieces.  A wine glass follows it, then another.  I grab a tall liquor bottle with full intention of throwing it against the wall, but I stop myself.  It’s a brand new bottle of Black Label.  That would be a major waste – and he’s not worth it.  I crack the seal and fill a glass nearly to the brim.  Oh, this would have made my old man green with envy.

I make my way over to the couch and sit.  I take a good, long drink and enjoy the burn as the liquor flows down my throat. 

I try to remember all the things the little shit said.  I want to wallow in my pain and then shred every word that he uttered.  I am going to learn my lesson well from all of this.  Then, I’ll be able to rid myself of that little fucking parasite, once and for all! 

But, something just isn’t right.  Or, am I deluding myself? 

‘I look like a freak.’  ‘I can’t jeopardize you or anyone, anymore.’  ‘…I’m not pretty anymore.’  ‘… get on with your life… just forget about me.’ 

I take along long drink.  “Yeah, you said you were using me, well guess what little boy.  The bank just closed.  You’ve got all that you’re going to get, Sonny Boy.  Ha, ha!  Luckily, you didn’t get much!  Your sugar daddy is… shit.”

‘… you deserve better, Brian.  You could do so much better than me.’ 

Yeah, I can do better than you, Justin; and I most certainly will.

‘You could never fuck a freak.’  ‘I’m like a magnet for haters… I’ve been attacked twice, and it’s never going to stop.’

“No, no, no!  It’s like that stupid movie quote, ‘Just when I think I’ve finally getting away, you pull me back in.’  Well, that’s not going to happen!” I take a long chug from my drink and start coughing but end up laughing. 

“Not bad, Justin.  A little heavy handed.  But, for your first try, Sunshine, not bad.”

I stand up and start to pace back around the room, almost manically.  Am I deluding myself?  No, I’m not.  I taught him too damn well.  Though, he could use some practice.

I walk over to the windows and gaze out at the darkness.  “Sonny Boy… if you’re going to throw someone from a cliff, you shouldn’t start out with pathos and self-flagellation.  It just doesn’t play well and in poker, it would be called, ‘showing your hand.’   But, you get a gold star for getting me stirred up enough to lose my temper.  Not bad, not bad at all.”

Here’s the thing, Sunshine.  Nobody throws Brian Kinney from a cliff. 

“It’s my fucking cliff!  I invented the damn thing!  I should patent it.”

“Well, Sonny Boy… I’m going to give you a big lesson in the ‘Kinney technique.’  It’s all about making people believe that the things they do are of their own volition.”

Yes, little boy, you’re about to see how the big boys play.   And, I play to win, Justin.  

==========================================================

I take off my sunglasses and adjust my eyes to the light in Michael’s comic shop.  He’s engrossed in sorting through a bin and it takes him a few moments before he looks up to see me.  He smiles hesitantly at me, which is a very reassuring sign.

I walk over to him and hand him his present, it’s enclosed in a white box.  It’s meant to be a peace offering, somewhat. 

Michael yelps, “Brian, its dripping blood, what is it?”

I smugly chuckle.  “It’s your mother’s heart.  It’s a thirty-five dollar a pound, Kansas City steak.  Put it on your eye and then eat it.”

Michael is rightfully revolted and he throws it to side.  I don’t think Michael fully understands the symbolism, but I can tell that he realizes the importance of this moment.

Yes, Michael, I come bearing a gift that is as bloody as our fight yesterday.  His verbal assault on Justin was just as bloody as my physical retaliation on him.  We’ve never, ever have fought like that and I hope we never will again. 

He meekly says, “I’m sorry about… what I said about Justin.  Do you think he heard me?” 

I nod ‘yes.’ 

“Damn.  Shit, I’m sorry.  Brian, I just… you must really lov-… care about him a lot.  You’ve never hit me before!”

I stare at him with an unblinking, solemn gaze.  I am not joking at all when I tell him, “Michael, I need you to back off.   Completely.  He’s not doing well.  He’s… “

“I was just trying – I’m your friend!  I’m your best friend, Brian!  I love you and I just don’t want to-“

“Are you my best friend Michael?  Would a best friend attack the other’s wounded partner?  Would he?  Would he jeopardize the mental and physical health of the partner?  Would he hurt – I mean interfere – with his best friend’s life like that?  Who asked you to, Michael?  I can fucking fight my own fights, Michael!  I don’t need you to do that!  I don’t need you to stand in my way; I need you by my side – that’s the place where a best friend stands.”

I’m so wound up that I have to stop before I say something that I will regret.  I roll my lips into my mouth and bite down on them.  I glance over at Michael, he has his head bowed down; he sincerely looks remorseful.  Good, I got my point across.

You have a plan, stick to it.  Step one – reunite with Michael.  Check.  Step two, encourage his dream – resurrect Rage.  It’s his ultimate dream and he needs it, especially the money.  And it will lead to step three – he’ll reconnect with Justin.     

I see the life-size cut-out of Rage and grab it.  “Don’t walk away… from this.  This is your dream, Mikey.   Plus, it’s good money, right?”

Michael peeks up at me and shyly smiles.  “Justin won’t work with me after what I said.  I don’t think Rage will be –”

“Apologize – sincerely.  See where it gets you.  Come on, Michael – if you can charm a doctor and a professor into giving up their virtue, surely you can charm a poor, little, sweet twink.  He needs this as much as you do.  He needs help, Michael.”

Michael looks puzzled by my statement.  “Why?  He’s got you.  You’ll-”

“He doesn’t want my help.  He agrees with you completely.  He thinks he’s a horrible person, and ugly to boot – the scars.  He’s set me free.  You’ll be happy to know that he’s taken everything you said to heart.  Because he’s evil like that, right?  Isn’t that what users do – they implode, self-destruct, right?”

Michael looks stricken with guilt; he’s actually turning slightly pale.  He quietly mutters, “Shit.   No, he’s not.  I was just… stupid.”

I listen to Michael chastise himself for a little longer, which I actually enjoy.  It’s also good for him; he gets too smug and snide at time, which I don’t like at all.   But, I can’t enjoy it for too long because I have an appointment.  He invites me to dinner at the diner, but I let him know that I have other plans.  ‘Fuck number two’ is due to arrive at the loft in an hour, and I still have some condoms to buy.  

The next two weeks pass by in a flurry; new clients have kept me occupied during the day and some evenings.  Tricks have kept me entertained late into the night.  I’ve not seen or heard directly from Justin, but I talk with his mother daily.  He’s still staying with her.

I’ve only seen Michael several times at the diner, most of our communication is by phone, albeit brief conversations.  I’ve been eating out with clients or ordering in at the loft.  I plan to call Michael tonight and see how the resurrection of Rage is going – ‘code’ for how Justin is doing - but he beats me to it.

“Brian!  Guess what!”

“Michael.   Monkey’s butt – that’s what!”

“Briiiiiaaaaaan!  No, I got a call from my editor and he’s asked for a new edition.  He’s paying us an advance for it!”

“Us?”

“Justin and me.  I had… we’re talking and things are going okay, you know?”

“Oh?  Good… How is he?”

“Don’t you know?”

“We don’t talk.  He won’t see me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.  Neither one of you talked about it, so I just thought you were keeping it private.  Well, he’s fine.  He’s coming out of his shell and he’s doing really good in crowds.  Daphne goes with him everywhere, as much as she can.   His mom drops him off at shop and Daphne picks him up.  He’s okay with that.  So… he’s doing okay.  He’s more like his old self, kind of.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.  Is the advance substantial?”

“Hell yeah!  It’s a thousand dollars – a thousand dollars, that’s five hundred for the both of us!”

“Great, good deal.  Good for you, Michael.  Well, I gotta go.”

“Wait!  Wait, um, I… I need to see you about something.  I mean, I need you to see something.  Um, meet me at Zulu’s coffee shop tomorrow at four.  No!  Um, make it three-forty-five.  Okay?”

“Michael, I don’t-“

“Please Briiiiaaaaan.  I need your help!  Please!  It’s my editor; I need you to see the contract before I sign it.  I don’t want to sign something that I don’t understand.  Tomorrow, Zulu’s, three-forty-five.  Please Brian, and don’t be late.” 

It’s three-forty-five and there’s Michael, standing outside of Zulu’s.  He sees me and comes running over to greet me.  I give him only a partial hug, we’re in Straight-land, so kissing is not appropriate.  I normally wouldn’t care, but I’m not in the mood to deal with hostile breeders today.

Michael is carrying a large, brown flat box.  “Whatcha got there, a present for me?”

Michael starts talking a mile a minute while we walk to back to the café.  I thought we were going into the cafe, but Michael surprises me by stopping at the opening of the alley next to the shop.  He says he has to watch for the editor’s rep – representative - outside.  Something about the rep doesn’t know what he looks like.  Whatever.   

Michael keeps checking down the street for the rep and continues to bore me with Rage crap.   He suddenly grabs my sleeve and pulls me slightly into the alley.  I’m not pleased and let him know; he  explains to me that we’re blocking the sidewalk and we have to be more considerate of others.    

Fine, whatever!

I’m getting exasperated.  I check my watch, it’s four.  Where’s the rep?  “Michael, this guy better be here in a few minutes, because I’m on a tight schedule.  I have cocktails with a client at six and I need to stop off at the loft to change.”

Michael glances behind me and quickly says, “I see him.  Here, give this to him and tell him to call me tonight or tomorrow.”  Michael shoves the box into my arms, jumps up and kisses me on the check, then quickly adds, “I am your best friend, Brian.  Don’t ever forget that.  ‘Bye.”  Michael turns and starts running in the opposite direction of where he spotted the rep. 

I trot out to the sidewalk and shout out, “Michael, what the fuck.  Where are you going?”  To say that I’m irate is an understatement. 

“Brian.”  Someone behind me quietly says my name.

His voice hits me like a sonic wave.  I actually stagger when I recognize it.  I slowly turn and see Justin standing five feet away.  He’s dressed like the Unabomber, wearing jeans, a large pair of aviator sunglasses, and a hoodie, with the hood pulled over his head.  We stare at each other for what seems like hours, mutually memorized.

“What’s going on?” 

I smile at his question.  I don’t fucking know, but I’m glad that it’s going in this direction.    Not bad, Michael.  Your ability to interfere without caution is finally paying off. 

Ice water must flow through my veins.  I feel alert, calm, and cool.  It seems that all of my senses are heightened.  They always are when he’s around.

I quickly cover my initial shock with my signature smirk and tongue firmly planted in my cheek. 

“Well, Michael will be gloating about this set up for weeks.  Oh and looky here, widdle Mikey also weft you a big pwsent!   Big box, ooohhhh.  I wonder if it really has proofs in it.” 

Justin is not Brian Fucking Kinney, but he is my protégé and his little quip of a response makes me proud.  “Maybe it has bloody meat in it.”

I laugh out loud.  There’s the smartass Sunshine that I know and love.  That’s just a figure of speech, I don’t...  oh, fuck it.

“So, he shared our touching, makeup moment with you?” 

 Justin shyly smiles back at me.  He looks so beautiful and bright. 

I seem to be coming out of some sort of stupor, one that I didn’t realize that I was in.  I’ve been like this since the last time I saw you… really saw you and held you.  This is what you do to me, you make me feel alive.

I decide to joke with him and push the envelope a little, so that I can ascertain his state of mind.  “Or was this a set up by you, so you could apologize?”

Just looks clearly baffled, but that’s all.   I take it as a good sign, especially since he’s not running away or crying  - or both.

“Okay, let’s go inside.  But I need to take some medicine, my hand is hurting.”  It’s not hurting, but it a great way to manipulate him.  He looks at the cast on my hand and his sunshine goes a little dim.   But that’s okay, because it means my little ploy is working.

I enter the café, still firmly holding onto the box.  I’m now officially holding it hostage, thereby ensuring his company, hopefully. 

It works; he meekly and with obvious trepidation, follows me into the café.  We get in line, I take his order, and I tell him to go get us a table in the back.  He’s still a little dazed and doesn’t think to take the box from me. 

I watch him weave his way back to an empty table.  I can’t help but look at his ass; it’s the best ass that I’ve ever encountered in my entire ‘fucking’ history and I dearly miss it. 

I arrive at the table with our drinks – hot chocolate for him though he ordered coffee, and water and coffee for me.  I decide to continue to play up my non-existing disability.  I purposely struggle to open my sugar packets.  He quickly reaches over and finishes the task, along with opening my bottle of water.    Guess I should feel ashamed of my behavior, but I do not.  It’s a means to an end.

He quietly asks me about my hand, apparently no one told him.  I decide not to go into detail and joke about a renovation gone wrong.  I ask about his ribs and general health.  I only get a quiet and curt, “I’m fine” for my troubles.  So much for misery loves company.

We sit in comfortable silence and I watch him enjoy his hot chocolate.  I knew he would want it more than coffee.  He just requested coffee so that he would seem mature.    

He licks the top cover of his drink, a dribble of the hot chocolate had splashed out of the opening.  My dick instantly grows to almost full mast.  I want to reach over and grab him, kiss him deeply, then bend him over the table and fuck his senseless. 

To force myself to stop ogling him, I break the silence with, “So, what did you want to talk about.”

He ducks his head down and mumbles, “I didn’t.  Michael… I don’t know why he did this.”   He discreetly zips up his hoodie jacket, closing it completely.

“Justin, I’ve already seen your wounds.  When they flew you to the hospital, I was right there, waiting for you.  I saw it all and approved all of your treatments.   By the way, I would have no problem fucking you.  Would you like me to prove it to you?”

I smirk at him, with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek.  Right now, I consider it an oral hard-on.  I sit back and enjoy the show of a flustered Justin.  His face turns pink, then red.  He almost spills his drink, and he squirms in his seat.

“Take off the hood and glasses.  You’re being rude.”

“Reporters were following me for awhile.  They’ve stopped, but I’m still taking precautions.”  But, he reluctantly complies with my request.  I knew about the reporters and asked Horvath for help.  He called in some favors and the reporters are no more.  He said the threat of endless parking tickets frightens the bravest of reporters.  Justin shouldn’t have any more problems and it sounds like its working. 

I decide to stoke the fire.  A little heat will rile him up.  Since anger and passion are just a hair-width apart, I’m hoping to eventually see some spark of one that will lead to the other.  So, I’ll piss him off and maybe put a sparkle back in his eyes.  Maybe more, if I’m lucky. 

“Let’s see, when we ended our last chat, you had… Ah, yes!  You confessed that you didn’t just cockle me, but that you’re a ‘playa’ and you were playing me for what you could get… Well, Sunshine, I have news for you.  You’re a lousy rent boy.  You walked away with nothing.  Hell, even Michael, in his lame-ass attempt at playing house with the doctor, at least walked away with a car, a trip to Paris, new clothes, and a shitload of other goodies.”

He is steadily looking at his hot chocolate and I have a feeling he wishes he could crawl into it.  He meekly dribbles out, “David loved Michael.  He cared about Michael.  And vice versa.  There’s no comparison.”

His implication pisses me off.  I care about you, you know that, I’ve told you this - but fuck love!  That stupid concept is why we are here in this steaming pile of shit.

“Love, love, love – fucking ‘love.’  Is that all you care about, Sunshine.  False words and cheesy rings?   When are you going to let go of this?  I’ve told you, love is an idiotic concept scraped out of fairy tales by fools, who will eventually end up living miserable lives because they never find it.  It doesn’t exist!  Hell, I’m really surprised that you’re still spouting that crap.  I’d thought that you had come to your senses by now, especially after everything that you’ve been through.” 

Then I catch my breath when I realize what I just said.  It sounds bad, even to me. I just threw the whole fiddler thing in his face.  I fucking can’t believe I just said that.  Oh fuck… maybe it’s okay.  He’s not screaming at me, so...

He locks eyes with me, holding me with a firm gaze.  He’s masking whatever he’s feeling, which is not a good sign.  Then, he quietly replies, “You’re right.  It wasn’t love between them.  They were together because David is so extremely successful and an excellent provider.  He knew how to keep a boy in style.”

I can feel my pulse triple and my pressure shoot up into a danger zone.  I take a deep breath and literally count to five, forcing myself to stay calm. 

Touché, you little bastard; you sonofabitching twinky, twat, twit… Well done.  That was so spot on that I think you left a mark… and David was not more successful than me… I don’t think.

Justin puts on his sunglasses, and then he stands up and covers his head with the hood.  He lifts his chin in that haughty manner that both irritates and entices me and then he starts to leave. 

Oh, hell no!  No you don’t!  I reach out and catch him around his waist as he walks by.  “That is so like you, Sunshine.  When you hear something you don’t like, you leave.  Why don’t you grow a set of balls for once and fight for what you want, instead of always running away?  The only person that beats you in anything is yourself, Sunshine.”

I don’t know what I was expecting but it sure wasn’t what he did next.  He grabs my face in his hands and delivers a lips-crushing kiss that hurts, but still makes me want more.  The instant that I start to respond, he stops kissing me.  He looks at me for several seconds and then practically runs out of the café. 

Well… I think we’re making some head way… Things got a little helter-skelter there, but they’re… they’re… we’ll get there, I think.

He forgot the box of proofs.  Good - another chance… and now he has to come to me.