The Next Morning – Pittsburgh – Liberty Diner

“What the FUCK is HE doing in here?” Debbie growled to Kiki from her place behind the diner’s counter; she stared in disbelief at the two well-dressed men sitting in one of the back booths.  She couldn’t believe it; as the older, taller, distinguished-looking man had entered a few minutes ago with his dining companion, she had instantly recognized him as she had emerged from the back room:  the man was thinner than she had remembered him, and the lines in his face were more pronounced, but it was still Jim Stockwell, the disgraced, homophobic former police chief, the man who had almost succeeded in becoming mayor of Pittsburgh and would have in effect turned their town into a virtual haven of bigotry, hatred and intolerance.  

“Who, Deb?” Kiki asked her as she snapped her gum and peered curiously over at the booth where two men in tailored, dark-colored suits were presently sitting, calmly looking over the menus as they sipped from mugs of coffee.  “The two old guys at the back there?”   They certainly did look out of place among the normal patrons of the diner; most of the clientele here were typically either casually dressed or at least younger businessmen.

“Yeah,” Debbie said as she tapped a pencil in agitation on the counter and glared over at them.  “Don’t you know who the dark-haired guy is?”  When Kiki shook her head, Debbie’s voice dripped with contempt as she spat out, “Jim Stockwell, the asshole former police chief.  The same police chief who’s supposed to still be in the fucking jail!” 

Kiki’s eyes widened as she studied the man Debbie was looking at.  “Yeah,” she replied at last in realization.  “I remember him now!  Oh, my God!  Wasn’t he put away for a long time after that cop committed suicide?  The one that was accused of killing the kid that was found in our dumpster? 

Debbie nodded as she continued to stare at the two men, her eyes flashing with fury.  “Yeah,” she told her friend.  “The one and the same.  I can’t fucking believe this!”  She shook her head; this HAD to be a dream, no, a nightmare; this man couldn’t possibly be sitting at one of their booths, casually sipping on his coffee as if he were ready to go to work somewhere and didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Well, I’m not waiting on that bastard!” she exclaimed loudly, causing some of the nearby patrons of the diner to turn their head to stare at her curiously.  “He’s not welcome here!” she declared as she started to move out from behind the counter to go over and tell him so.

“Just a minute, Debbie,” Stan Calloway, the bald-headed, burly owner, told her firmly as he reached out to grasp her wrist as she started to walk by.  “That’s not your decision to make,” he told her.  Calloway had bought out the previous owner about six months ago when the older man had retired and moved to Florida, but even he knew about his most tenured employee’s devotion to gay causes and her hatred of the man who she saw as the embodiment of prejudice and bigotry; but Calloway was a savvy businessman and also knew that the police were frequent patrons of the diner; he had to weigh that against her staunch beliefs.  Hell, even Debbie’s boyfriend was a regular here.

“You want me to wait on that shithead?” she growled as she stared over at her boss incredulously.  “Well, I’m not DOING it!  I’m not waiting on someone who wants all gay people, including my own son, to crawl back into some hole somewhere and pretend that they don’t exist!”

“That may be,” Calloway conceded, “but he’s got as much right to eat here as anyone else, unless you want ME to run a Gestapo state as well,” he told her firmly.  He turned to look at Kiki.  “Kiki, go take their orders.”  The trannie looked at Debbie apologetically before, knowing she lived paycheck to paycheck and depended upon her waitressing to pay her bills, she pulled out her pencil from behind her ear and her order pad from her apron before slowly walking over to the back of the diner to wait on the two unwelcome men. 

As Kikki reluctantly walked away from them to do her job, Debbie shook her head and stared daggers back at her boss.  “You know… For the first time since I’ve been working here for the past thirty years, I’m actually ashamed to BE here.”  She abruptly reached behind her to untie her apron and throw it angrily down on top of the counter.  As her boss opened his mouth to rebuke her, she added brusquely, “I’m leaving for the day.  If you’re lucky, I’ll be back tomorrow for my next shift.  Right now, I don’t give a fuck what you do.”  Giving the two men toward the back of the room an icy glare, she huffed out a furious breath before pivoting on her feet and walking out from behind the counter; a few seconds later, the door slammed behind her as she quickly exited the diner. 

Stockwell looked over at the front entrance smugly as he noticed the flamboyant, redheaded waitress stomping over to the front door and yanking it open; he had recognized her as one of the most outspoken critics of his mayoral campaign before and had initially hesitated coming to the Liberty Diner when his breakfast companion had suggested it for fear that he would run into her.  But upon further reflection, he had decided any initial discomfort would be worth it for the opportunity to rub her nose in the fact that he was out now and a free man to do whatever he pleased, including making an appearance here in the diner where a lot of her fag friends hang out.  The fact that there would be so many queers here didn’t bother him at all; in fact, it gave him a certain perverted pleasure in knowing that he could flaunt his own freedom in their face.  The icing on the cake would be if Kinney himself walked in the door right now, but he figured that with all the behind-the-scenes activity that typically occurred with a campaign, as his manager O’Connor’s son would be quite busy at the moment if he was doing his job properly.   

“You sure this is such a great idea?” Richard Turner asked him as he glanced around uneasily; he could almost cut the hostility with a knife.  “That woman recognized you, I’m sure of it.”  It hadn’t been hard to figure out that the redheaded waitress who had so abruptly left a moment ago had been angry about something, and from the icy glares they had been receiving, it hadn’t been hard to put two and two together.  Stockwell chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.  “Yeah, I’m sure she did,” he told Turner as he watched their waitress walking over to the cook’s station to place their breakfast order.  “She and I have a past together.” 

“A past?”

Stockwell smiled.  “Yeah… She was a real thorn in my side during my campaign for mayor; managed to show up all over the television talking with reporters and just loved to shove her opinions down my ass every time.”  He narrowed his eyes in scorn as he leaned across the table so as not to be overheard; after all, Stockwell was firm in his beliefs but he also didn’t have a death wish, either.  “She has a fag for a son, just like O’Connor does.  Only difference is that he’s a fag, too.” 

Turner shushed him with his hand.  “Will you keep it down?” he muttered as he glanced around to make sure no one had heard him.  “Why in the hell you didn't suggest we meet somewhere else is beyond me,” he added as Kiki returned to place a couple glasses of orange juice and a bottle of syrup down on the table.  They waited until she had left before continuing their conversation.  “This is like political suicide, Stockwell.  Are you trying to end my fucking campaign before it even begins?”

Stockwell sighed in disgust at the man’s timidity.  “You’d better grow some balls, Turner, or your campaign WILL be over before it starts.  We’re only having breakfast here, not conducting a press conference.  That’s downtown at the convention center.” 

Turner shook his head.  “Why start here, Stockwell?” he countered.  “These are not exactly going to be my most staunchly-supportive constituents.” 

Stockwell smirked.  “No, I suppose not.”  He looked around at the diners nearby; some were dressed conservatively enough for business in suits and ties as they read their papers or looked up something on their laptops, but most of them could only be described as crazy-looking queens.  One tall man sitting at a counter stool was even dressed in a sort of black-and-white fur boa, complete with a silver, sleeveless, sheer-fabric shirt and a pair of deep purple, sparkly pants.  And he could have sworn that one man had just walked out with a pair of jeans that had holes cut where the butt cheeks were to showcase what he no doubt thought was one of his greatest assets.  “But I consider it a great big ‘fuck you’ to this part of town for their part in bringing me down.”

Turner started to open his mouth to retort before he noticed their waitress, Kiki, as shown on the tag pinned to her vest, returning with their pancake specials.  He waited until she had left before commenting, “Well, if we’re not careful, you’ll manage to bring my own campaign down along with it.”  He was beginning to question the wisdom of getting this arrogant, conceited man involved with his campaign.  Stockwell had demanded his name be kept out of everything and now here he was, having breakfast with the guy?  The only thing that kept him from bolting right there and then was the fact that here in this part of the state he was still a virtual unknown and the undeniable fact that he needed Stockwell's knowledge of Kinney to help defeat O'Connor. 

“Relax, Turner,” Stockwell growled.  “We’re just having breakfast.  Then the real fun will start.” 

Turner eyed him warily.  “The real fun?” 

Stockwell began to cut up his pancakes with his knife before he looked over at his dining companion.  “Yeah…Why do you think we’re here?  When we’re done here, we’ve got an important meeting to go to before your kickoff rally.”

“An important meeting?” 

Stockwell smiled in satisfaction.  “Yeah… I like to call it the Kinney Kiss-My-Ass Agenda.  We’re about to find out everything there is to know about your opponent’s new campaign manager… Right in his own backyard.” 

For the first time that morning, despite the rather uneasy atmosphere in the diner, Richard Turner found a reason to smile.

 Same Time – Britin

“Justin!  For the third time, if we don’t leave NOW we will miss the fucking plane!”  Brian stood near the door to the garage, his hands on his hips in extreme irritation.  Why did it always take his husband so long to get ready to go somewhere?  It wasn’t as if he had to spend an inordinate amount of time preening in front of the mirror to hide his pudgy body or his gray hair.  What had he been thinking when he had suggested he go along with him on their RV trip?  Oh, yeah… The thought of not having his hot little ass to fuck for a couple of weeks.  He sighed in resignation, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the telltale signs that a certain blond was coming.  Finally, he heard a set of footsteps rapidly hurrying down the hallway and a few seconds later a petite blur sheepishly came running up to him.

“About fucking time, Sunshine,” he muttered; his eyes narrowed as he took in everything Justin had with him.  “Justin… You’re not going back out to LA for the summer to draw storyboards for Rage; we’re just traveling around the fucking state!  We don’t need all that shit!  There’s a weight limit even on private planes, you know.”  Brian had already placed his one piece of luggage and his suit carrier in Justin’s SUV; even with the blond’s larger vehicle, however, he doubted they could fit all the equipment his husband was planning on stowing away for their trip.

Brian grunted as Justin shoved a large box in his hands.  “What the hell is in this?” he grumbled as he noticed how heavy it was.  “I told you, we only need a couple of dildos while we’re gone, not the whole toy chest.”

“Ha, ha,” Justin retorted as he stuck his chin out.  “If you must know, it’s some pots and pans and a couple of cookbooks.  We’re not going to have time to stop in every city along the way so you can eat at a four-star restaurant; besides, that wouldn’t look too good for your father’s image, either.  You DID say this contraption had top-of-the-line kitchen appliances, didn’t you?” 

“Well, yeah,” Brian admitted, struggling to keep the box firmly secured in his arms.  “But that doesn’t mean we have to bring all this shit with us!”

Justin huffed.  “Well heaven forbid if I should try to save us some money and actually want to cook something homemade for you and your father!  I’m sure Tony will be happy to help me – he likes to cook, too.”

“How quaintly domestic,” Brian quipped; he rolled his eyes, knowing this was a fight he wasn’t going to win; of course, when it came to Justin, he normally didn’t anyway.  “Open the fucking door, then, Julia Childs,” he muttered, “And let’s get this cooking school on the road.”

Justin beamed in delight, realizing he had won, as he let go of the large suitcase he was rolling along behind him and placed his art portfolio down on top of the nearby kitchen counter.  He smiled at Brian sweetly as he turned the doorknob and stood aside for Brian to pass by; as the brunet walked over to him, he glared at Justin as the blond shrugged his shoulders at him.  “Little shit,” Brian muttered as he shook his head.  He couldn’t help leaning over to give those enticing pink lips a brief kiss before hefting the box onto his shoulder and walking out into the garage; he felt a smack on his ass as he walked by and a soft giggle, also, as he placed the heavy cardboard box down at the back of Justin’s vehicle and lifted the tailgate to place it inside. 

“Don’t think that won’t go unpunished, Mr. Taylor,” he growled to his husband as Justin came walking up, rolling his large piece of luggage behind him and toting his portfolio under his left arm. 

“That’s Mr. Taylor-Kinney to you, Big Shot,” Justin retorted playfully with the hint of a smile.  Brian watched in amusement as Justin grunted while he attempted to lift the heavy piece of luggage up and over the lip of the vehicle’s rear bumper but failed.  Chuckling at the blond’s look of disgust, he obligingly reached down and deftly swung it up into the back of the SUV, right next to a lightweight cooler. 

“Well, Mr. Taylor-Kinney… Get your hot little ass in the vehicle and let’s get the hell out of here,” he groused.  “It’s very gauche for the campaign manager to miss his own flight.”  This time he gave Justin a sharp smack on said ‘hot little ass’ as his husband yelped in response and turned to rub one tender cheek as Brian smirked.  “Now let’s get a move on, Hot Stuff.”  He laughed as Justin turned around just enough to present his other ‘cheek’ to him for attention, even going so far as to bend over the back of the vehicle for better access.  “Later, twat... Don’t tempt me,” he warned him as Justin grinned and walked around to get into the SUV’s passenger seat. 

 One Hour Later – Harrisburg RV Sales & Rental

A tall, imposing bald-headed man wearing a single gold hoop in his right ear rose from his glass-enclosed desk near the front of the showroom as a group of four men entered the spacious interior and walked over to them with a polished, oft-rehearsed smile.  “Hello, may I help you?” he asked the most distinguished man of the group – a dark-haired, immaculately dressed male who appeared to be in his mid-50’s; he was wearing a navy-blue, pin-striped suit with a crisp white shirt and a candy-apple red tie and matching handkerchief, along with a flag pin on his lapel, his hair groomed neatly without a lock out of place.

Fin nodded.  “Yes, are you Mr. Clayton?”  When the man nodded, he continued, “My name is Fin O’Connor.  I believe you have an RV reserved for me.”

The man’s face lit up as he realized this was the party that had rented his most exclusive and expensive model.  “Oh, yes… Senator O’Connor!” he exclaimed, reaching over to vigorously pump the man’s hand with a tight grip.  “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Sir!  I’m a die-hard Democrat, so you can count on my vote in the fall!”

Fin smiled politely, realizing that may be true or not; he had met enough of the public by now to know that not everything was as it seemed; if someone thought they could benefit by befriending an influential politician, sometimes they would say anything to receive favors later on.  “Thank you, Mr. Clayton,” he responded coolly.  He turned to his son, Tony and Justin.  “This is my campaign manager, Brian Kinney, who handled the transaction over the phone with you.”

Clayton nodded as he took Brian’s hand.  “Yes, I remember speaking to you, Mr. Kinney, nice to meet you.”

“And this is Brian’s husband, Justin Taylor-Kinney and my partner, Tony Cassinelli.”  For a moment, he noticed the man’s face cloud over and immediately recognized the telltale signs of mild disdain written there, but like a true salesman the man quickly masked it as he shook both Justin’s and Tony’s hands.  “Gentlemen,” he said a little less cordially.  He cleared his throat.  “If you will all come with me, I have the paperwork all ready for you.” 

“I’ll wait here with Justin,” Tony told Fin, who nodded.  As he and Brian walked away toward Clayton’s office, he turned to his friend.  “Did you see that look on his face?”

Justin nodded as he watched them go.  “Yeah, I saw it,” Justin answered, his lips set in a firm line.  “He tried to hide it right away but it was still there.”  He sighed.  “I have a feeling this may be just the beginning of it, Tony.  I’m certainly not naïve enough to think bigoted people like him don’t exist all over the state, despite Fin’s popularity as a senator.  Remember, he hasn’t had to run for office again since he came out; this will be the first time he’s had to do it since he announced he was gay – and has a gay son.  Even though there’s been some improvement recently toward greater acceptance, that doesn’t mean the majority of voters here in the state are going to be receptive to having a gay man as Governor.” 

“You don’t think he has a chance of winning?” Tony said just a little miffed, feeling a bit offended that Justin didn’t have confidence in either his partner or his own husband to pull off a successful campaign.

“No, that’s not what I meant at all,” Justin hastened to explain, grasping Tony’s sleeve to get his friend’s attention.  “I really think he can win this thing, you know that; I just think he’s going to have to work harder at persuading voters to concentrate on what’s really important – the issues affecting the average person, not someone’s sexual orientation that has NOTHING to do with their ability to effectively govern this state. But if anyone can help develop the right campaign for him to succeed, it will be Brian.”

Despite his irritation, Tony couldn’t help nodding with a slight smile.  “You have been around our new campaign manager a lot, haven’t you?  You sound just like him.”

“Well, I AM married to him,” Justin pointed out with a conspiratorial grin, relieved that Tony wasn't angry.  “He’s bound to rub off on me sometime.” 

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”  He replied as his face sobered regretfully.  “I’m sorry, Justin.  I know you believe in Fin,” he told him.  He sighed wistfully.  “Well, at least you’re married, anyway.” 

Justin looked into Tony’s eyes thoughtfully.  “That’s what you want, too… Isn’t it?  To marry Fin.”

Tony looked over at Clayton’s office, seeing his handsome partner standing against the side wall, his hands crossed over his chest as Brian signed the paperwork.  His heart ached at the question; that WAS what he wanted eventually – to have what Justin and Brian had.  He bit his lip as he turned to look back at his friend.  “Yeah,” he admitted.  “I know – it’s just a damn piece of paper and doesn’t change the way we feel about each other.  And I AM glad that he finally came clean to everyone about our relationship.  That means a lot to me.”

“But you’d still like that little piece of paper that tells the world you belong to each other and are committed to each other.”  Justin knew that feeling all too well; oh, he had told Brian before he had left for New York briefly that they didn’t need the paper to prove how they felt and they hadn’t; by that time they knew unequivocally that they loved each other deeply.  That still didn’t mean that he hadn’t wanted it, though.  He glanced down at his gold wedding band gleaming proudly on his left hand; their wedding day had been so unbelievably wonderful; standing up there in front of all their friends and family, reciting their unique vows to each other.  Perhaps it wasn’t until that moment that he had understood just how much he had yearned for that, how he had craved it, how he had longed for that vow of love and commitment for all the world to see.  No, they didn’t have to have it – he had known how Brian had felt about him, he had for a very long time.  But it had still been the most incredible and happy day of his life, and as he looked over at Tony he could sense his pain acutely and realize exactly what he was feeling.  He wanted his friend to experience that, too.

“Yeah,” Tony replied softly.  “I know it doesn’t really prove anything, and I know Fin loves me.  And he has come a long way since he first found out he had a son and I’m grateful for that much at least.”  He straightened up his shoulders and smiled at his friend reassuringly.  “It’s okay… I know even if it did happen, it wouldn’t be soon.  And I know how much he loves me – that’s enough for now.  Really.” 

Justin’s eyes softened sympathetically as he nodded; it hadn’t been too long ago that he had been in pretty much the same situation.  He wasn’t quite convinced that Tony was being totally honest with him about being satisfied with the status quo, but he sensed that was what he wanted him to believe anyway.  “Okay,” he said, deciding it was perhaps prudent to change the subject as he smiled at his friend.  “By the way, I brought a couple of my favorite cookbooks and some pots and pans like we talked about.  Brian’s meaning of a decent meal is a couple pairs of chopsticks and some takeout Thai, although he’s gotten a little better about that since we don’t live so close to all his favorite restaurants now.”  Their home in West Virginia wasn’t exactly in what you would call suburbia, although Brian had managed to find a few decent delis and mom-and-pop eateries not too far away.  That, and the fact that Justin had actually become quite a good cook, had persuaded his husband to imbibe a little more frequently in home-cooked meals.  Justin relished in preparing them and Brian enjoyed the fruits of his effort, so it was a win-win situation for them both.

Tony grinned.  “Good… I understand from Fin that this jalopy actually has a gourmet kitchen; stainless steel appliances and everything.”  He noticed Justin’s blue eyes lighting up in epicurean delight.  “That might not be important to my partner, but I thought it was great.”  He blushed a little as he admitted, “He was more excited about their being queen-sized beds on board.”

Justin laughed.  “Really; I can’t imagine,” he kidded his friend.  “Actually, I happen to know that Brian did a lot of research before he settled on a particular model, and the size of the beds was one of the most important features for him, too.  One thing about Brian – he can be tough as nails when he needs to be, but when it comes to comfort, he wants the best available.”  He recalled how back in the dark days of Stockwell, Brian had been forced to go into such deep debt he had been compelled to sell almost everything he had; one thing he had stubbornly refused to give up, however, was his bed.  It seemed some things never changed.

Tony chuckled.  “Like father, like son.  Not that I’m complaining, mind you.  I think both beds might be getting quite a workout, if you know what I mean,” he said, just a little embarrassed. He noticed Justin turning a little deeper shade of red, also, as he silently concurred. 

Their present train of thought was interrupted as they saw Fin and Brian heading back toward them, a pair of keys jingling from Brian’s hand.  They heard Clayton calling after Fin, wishing him success in his upcoming campaign.  Justin thought his words of support now sounded stiff and forced, but he figured the man was still happy now that he had what he wanted – a fat, juicy luxury RV rental agreement covering the next two weeks’ time period.

Brian held the key fob up to Justin and Tony as he approached.  “Time to hit the road, Gentlemen,” he drawled as he twirled the key around his long fingers.

Justin eyed him warily.  “Brian, tell me you are NOT going to actually drive that thing?”  He had seen how huge the luxury models were that were camped outside of the building as they had pulled up; they looked enormous and as far as he knew, his husband had never been anywhere near one of those types of monstrosities.  He had assumed they would have some sort of driver for that purpose.

Brian playfully ruffled Justin’s hair as he boasted, “Well, Sunshine, some of us are drivers, and some of us are riders.  I’m a driver all the way.”  He grabbed the blond by the scruff of his neck and pulled him to his side, planting a brief kiss on his forehead like you would a small child before he let him go.  “Let’s go check this baby out!”  He grabbed Justin’s hand and began to tug him toward the showroom entrance door.

Justin turned to Tony as he and Brian neared the exit.  “Well, don’t just stand there!” he shouted.  “I’d rather not die alone!”

“Very funny,” Brian growled as he yanked the door open and pulled them through.  “Come on.” 

Tony and Fin stood there in amusement as they disappeared out the door; they could see Brian wrapping his arm around Justin’s waist as they walked toward the luxury RV parked nearby, almost as if he were afraid the blond might bolt out of fear.  The two partners turned to look at each other as Fin grinned.  “Why do I suddenly feel like my son thinks he’s got a new toy?”

Tony laughed.  “My thoughts exactly; we’d better get out there before he runs someone down in the parking lot.”  Fin grinned as the two strode toward the door; truth be told, he was probably as excited as his son was to check out the RV; Brian had told him about it over the phone yesterday after calling the dealership to set it up, and it had sounded almost too good to be true.  Just like his son, he had never been inside an RV before in his life, but the way Brian had described it, it almost sounded like a mansion on wheels.  His impression of an RV was the old-fashioned kind with a two-burner stove, a mini-refrigerator and a couple of pop-up beds.  He couldn’t wait to see what his son had arranged.

They exited the showroom and turned to the right toward the parking lot to follow Justin and his son; Fin watched as Brian approached a brown, black, and cream-colored-unit with a swirl design on it; it had two windows on the side that weren’t necessarily very large, but the front windshield was HUGE.  He watched Brian walking around the RV like a kid in a candy store, a look of fascination on his face as Justin stood there watching him with amusement. 

He disappeared around the other side as he and Tony walked up to join Justin.  “You really think he knows how to drive this thing?” Tony asked him.

“Well, he told me he has to go through a short training course around back before they let us leave,” Justin told him.  “But he couldn’t wait to come over and check it out first.” 

Brian emerged from the back of the RV, a big smile on his face.  “This is so sweet!” he exclaimed as he walked back up to them.  “I can’t wait to see the inside!”  He turned the chrome-colored handle of the vehicle to open the door and eagerly stepped up to the first step to crane his neck and peek inside.  “Holy shit!” he cried out as he looked down at Justin and extended his hand.  “You won’t believe this, Justin!  Come up here!” 

Justin smiled at the excitement on Brian’s face; it took quite a bit for Brian’s eyes to light up the way they were presently, so this must be something special indeed.  As he took Brian’s hand and allowed him to pull him up into the vehicle, he immediately realized why.  This wasn’t a luxury motor vehicle; this was a palace – not quite as palatial as Britin, but it could be a close second.  The interior was trimmed in polished wood that gleamed under the track lighting overhead.  There were two rows of curved, cream-colored leather couches on either side of the combination living room/kitchen area in a sleek design with a large, flat-screen TV in a nearby alcove; a stainless-steel convection/microwave oven and stove sat in a recessed part of the middle kitchen area, along with a refrigerator made to blend in with the cabinetry.  One of the bedrooms could be seen just through a doorway behind a privacy wall.  They hadn’t rented just a temporary vacation vehicle – it was a luxurious home away from home.

Justin was stunned; he stood there with his mouth open as he heard Fin and Tony walk up behind him.  “Oh, my God,” he heard Tony exclaim as the two partners stepped up into the vehicle and stopped directly behind him.  “This is absolutely incredible!” 

“Can you fucking believe this?” Brian shouted as he did a pirouette to take in all the details and held his hands out to his sides like he was a tour guide.  He walked over to grab Justin’s hand again.  “Come on, husband – let’s check out the rest of this baby!”  He pulled Justin along behind him as they walked toward the back of the vehicle.  “We get first dibs on the bedrooms!” Fin heard him say as they disappeared down the hallway.  He heard Brian’s voice, again saying, “Holy Fucking Shit!” as they checked out the rear of the vehicle.

He turned to Tony with a grin.  “I think someone likes his new toy.  He sounds like a kid on Christmas morning.” 

Tony laughed.  “Yeah, he does.”  His face sobered as he noticed the change in Fin’s expression; it was almost as if a cloud had descended all of a sudden.  “What?” he asked softly.

Fin gazed over where his son had gone.  He looked at Tony and shook his head in dismissal.  “It’s nothing,” he assured him.  As Tony arched an eyebrow and continued to stare at him intently, however, he sighed.  “It’s silly, but I was just thinking that I wish I had been there for Brian when he was a kid on Christmas morning.  I’ll never have that chance now.”

Tony’s heart ached over his partner’s look of regret as he walked over and slid his arms around his waist to pull him close; he heard Fin sigh softly as he hugged him tightly.  “What’s important is that you’re here now,” he whispered against his ear.  “You didn’t know about him then,” he reminded him as he pulled back far enough to gaze up into his eyes. 

“I know,” Fin replied, his voice still tinged with a little melancholy.  “I just wish things had been different, that’s all.” 

Tony smiled up at him tenderly as he took one hand and cupped it against his partner’s cheek. “Well, you can make sure that you ARE there for him now; and you have a wonderful grandson who I think would just love to be spoiled on Christmas morning by his grandfather.”

Fin gazed down lovingly into Tony’s eyes as his own lit up at the thought.  “Yeah… He’s a great kid, isn’t he?”  He wasn’t sure how often he would get to see his grandson with him living with his moms instead of Brian, but he was intent on making sure the child got to know him well; he had made that promise silently not only to his grandson but to Brian, too, and he fully intended to make good on his vow.  Tony was right – he couldn’t go back no matter how badly he might want to, but he could definitely make an effort to get to know both of his boys better in the future. 

He turned his attention back to his partner as he placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders and gazed into the sapphire-blue eyes.  “You’re really something, you know that?” he told his partner as he softly stroked his skin with his thumbs.  “It certainly helps to have a logical one in the family.”

Tony grinned at him.  “Well, I’m glad I can be of service to you, Senator.”

Fin curled his lips under as he said huskily, “Don’t forget you said that, Counselor; I’m taking that down into evidence, because I’ll definitely be wanting your services later when we check out our bedroom.”

“Fin,” Tony murmured, blushing as his face warmed in response to the silky tone of his partner’s voice.  He felt goose bumps rising on his flesh as Fin leaned in to kiss him, his arms winding around his neck to pull him closer.  The kiss quickly deepened as Fin’s tongue poked out in invitation and Tony’s lips automatically parted to accommodate him.

The clearing of someone’s throat a few seconds later broke them apart as Tony turned around to look at Justin sheepishly. 

“Want to see the rest?” Justin asked them with a smile.  “I left Brian in the back; he’s still checking out the mattress in our bedroom.” 

Tony and Fin nodded as they turned to follow Justin toward the back of the RV.  Just behind the living room/kitchen area was the first of two bedrooms, both sporting queen-size, memory-foam mattresses.  Tony and Fin’s bedroom, sleek in design, was furnished with both a bed and a surprisingly roomy couch on the opposite wall; another flat-screen TV was built into the wall right across from the bed, and there was ample storage space both next to the television and above the bed.

“Wow,” Fin commented as both men stood there in shock.  “I have never seen anything quite like it.”  He turned to Tony with a grin.  “Think you can get used to roughing it for a couple of weeks?”

Tony smiled.  “I think I can manage.  This is almost as nice as some of the medium-security prisons I’ve visited,” he joked.

“The bathroom’s next,” Justin told them as they exited the room; the bathroom was situated between the two bedrooms, providing a sort of barrier of privacy for both couples.  “Brian let us down, by the way,” he told them with a smile.  “He bribed me to come with the promise of a Jacuzzi, but this one only has a walk-in shower.  The sacrifices I make for my husband,” he told them melodramatically with a sigh.

As Fin and Tony followed Justin into the bathroom, it was obvious that Justin was clearly kidding; while there wasn’t the much-anticipated Jacuzzi, they weren’t exactly going to do without, either; the bathroom was furnished with expensive granite tile and polished wood, and the spacious shower was enclosed totally in glass on all sides.  The entire room just screamed elegance, despite being inside an RV.  “This is just amazing,” Tony exclaimed.  “I had no idea how fancy these were.”

Fin nodded.  “Brian told me they were unbelievable, but his description didn’t do this justice.  I could almost live in one of these full-time.  It sure isn’t like living out of a tent.”

Justin chuckled as he nodded in agreement.  “No, it sure isn’t.  I used to go camping with my dad when I was around ten.  We always had a good time, but our tent was nothing like this.”  He bit his lip as the fond memories of so long ago came suddenly flooding back of him and his father parking their car in the visitor’s parking lot of the state park and hiking with their heavy backpacks down a dirt trail until they reached a grassy, serene spot by the lake that surrounded the wooded terrain.  It was their own special spot year after year, a spot they had found out was teeming with blue gill and trout.  Over the campfire each night, they would cook the fish they had caught during the day and talk about ‘men stuff:’ – cars, sports, and what Justin wanted to be when he graduated from school.  Even then, he knew his father wanted him to ‘make’ something of himself; unfortunately, his father’s idea of being successful wound up being divergently different than his own.  But back then, he idolized his father and never thought that there would come a time when they no longer even spoke to each other. 

“Justin?” 

He blinked and turned his head at the sound of Brian’s voice in the doorway.  Their eyes locked on each other as he felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes.  He inhaled a calming breath through parted lips and let it out before turning back around to see Fin and Tony eyeing him curiously.  “Uh… I’m going to go get our suitcases out of the car,” he told them as he turned to leave.  He met Brian in the doorway and found himself swept up into a tight embrace, the brunet’s arms coming around to hold him closely.  They stood there silently for several seconds, Justin’s hands pressed against Brian’s chest, until finally they broke apart.  “I’ll come with you,” Brian whispered; Justin nodded as he placed his hand around his husband’s waist and they turned to head back outside.

Still standing inside their bedroom, Fin frowned.  “What do you think that was all about?” he asked his partner.

Tony sighed.  “I’m not sure, but I suspect it was because Justin was thinking about his father.  He talks a good talk, Fin, but I think he’s still hurting over his father’s reaction to his coming out and deciding to be an artist.  He does a good job of acting like it doesn’t matter anymore, but I know better.  You don’t just shut off your feelings for your father like closing and opening a window.”  Tony had spent years working with clients who had been rejected by their fathers or other loved ones due to choices they had made in their lives, good or bad, and he knew how it had continued to affect them years later; he had a feeling Justin was the same way.

Fin shook his head sadly at the irony.  Here he had spent years not realizing he had a son, years in which he would have given anything to spend it with Brian had he only known about him, when Craig Taylor had a wonderful son like Justin who had adored him, a boy who had turned into a talented, courageous man who loved him and wanted nothing but to be accepted and loved in return, but he had callously thrown it all away.

“His father is an asshole,” Fin growled in contempt, his eyes flashing.  “How he could just destroy their relationship, when he had a man like Justin as his son…”  His voice trailed off as his blood boiled, and he turned when he felt Tony’s hand on his shoulder.  “I will never be able to figure that out, Tony.”  He sighed as he reached up to stroke the back of his partner’s hair, knowing he couldn’t do anything about Justin’s father but unable to completely let it go.  “I guess we’d better go get our luggage, too,” he finally decided.  Tony nodded as they turned to exit the bedroom and go retrieve what they would need for their trip.

One Hour Later

“Looks like the rest of our happy little band are here,” Brian said drolly to his father from behind the wheel; the RV was being fully gassed up in preparation to leave, but they had needed to wait until the rest of Fin’s staff had arrived.  Brian was going to hold an impromptu strategy meeting with the rest of Fin’s key staff members who would be following their vehicle in a sort of convoy from town to town.  He knew once they stopped at the first location that they were scheduled to visit the press would be there and would be closely following their every move, so he wanted to take advantage of the relative calm here in their undisclosed location to hold their first on-the-road strategy session.  Having the press around was a two-edged sword; it would be an intrusion into their lives, undoubtedly, but it would also not only make his father more well-known to constituents who might not know much about him and his platform, but it would also serve to generate as much publicity as they could to get the word out to others who might not be able to meet him in person. 

Justin stood behind Brian, his hands on his husband’s shoulders.  To Justin’s surprise, during his practice dry run behind the building earlier, Brian had proven he could actually drive the cumbersome vehicle competently, even though he had managed to knock down a couple of orange traffic cones along the way when he had clipped them making a turn.  He had joked at the time about making sure all Republicans were well-clear of their vehicle when they pulled out of each town, but Justin had to admit he had been impressed by his skill in handling such a large RV, and Brian had seemed to derive inordinate pleasure out of being behind the wheel. 

The four men watched as a charter bus pulled up holding several key members of Fin’s staff.  While the four of them would be staying in the RV overnight, the six others would be using their own makeshift office on wheels for campaign work during the day and bunking in pairs at a modest hotel at night.  Brian had already prepared for the anticipated criticism regarding the cost of renting such an outlandish, expensive RV for the four of them; all the expenses were being paid for privately by Fin with no public expenditures involved.  Despite the rather inordinate amount it would cost to not only rent the RV but keep it fueled, he figured out that it would still cost less than paying to fly them across the state and stay in a comfortable, secure hotel at night. 

Brian stood up, arching his back to remove some of the kinks from his stiff muscles.  He turned to Justin.  “Do you know where the banners are?”

Justin nodded.  “I’ll go get them.”  He turned to walk back toward their bedroom located at the back of the RV; he and Brian were going to be using the master bedroom at the rear of the vehicle.  It was furnished with a rounded, queen-size bed in shades of black, cream and gold, with a high, arched polished ceiling and an expansive window over the headboard. 

From his place a few feet away where he leaned against the wall next to Tony, Fin turned to his son in curiosity as Justin headed back toward the rear of the RV.  “Banners?”

Brian nodded.  “They’re going to be attached to the side of the RV and the bus to advertise your campaign before we leave for the first town.” 

Fin’s eyes lit up in anticipation.  “Does that mean no more Win with Fin?”

Brian grimaced at the horrid thought.  “Damn straight it does.  I’m not the best at what I do for nothing, and it certainly doesn’t hurt to have a brilliant artist in the family, either.”  He walked over to Justin as he returned wielding two, large, rolled-up vinyl banners and take one of them from his hands.  “Let’s carry them into the living room area, Justin,” he told his husband.  “One of Clayton’s men is going to attach them to the bus and the RV while I’m conducting the strategy meeting.”  Justin nodded as he carried one of the bulky rolls over to a couch and set it down.

Brian took his copy and placed it on the floor, using his foot to give it a push to unfurl it, exposing one of the new slogans he had created for his father’s campaign.  “Here it is – what do you think?” he asked as his father and Tony took a look at it.

The banner was radically different from any campaign slogan that either Tony or Fin had ever seen before:  it was black in color with a white border surrounding it; in the middle a match being struck was prominently displayed with the words “Ignite the Change” written in white in the upper left.  In the lower right were the words “O’Connor for Governor” in the same color and type font.  The banner was simple but highly dramatic in its design. 

“Wow,” Fin murmured in amazement as Tony grinned.  “I’ve never seen a campaign banner like this one before.  It’s certainly different.”  He looked at his partner standing next to him.  “I know I like it, but what do you think?  I’m kind of prejudiced here.”  He glanced over at his son who was facing him a few feet away; they locked gazes for a few moments silently until Tony said simply, “I think it kicks ass.” 

“Succinct and to the point as always, Counselor,” Fin told him with a smile.  “I happen to think it does, too.”  He looked over at Brian and told him warmly, “I think you’re going to be the best thing that ever happened to my campaign, Brian; you and your talented artist husband.”

Justin watched as Brian’s face transformed into a pleased expression, his eyes softening with just the hint of a smile before he cleared his throat at the awkward father-son moment; it was all still so new to him – to actually have a father that was proud of him – and he didn’t quite know yet how to handle it.  “Well… I’m glad you like it,” he responded a little self-consciously before his adman persona took over.  “The other one is identical to this one; I’ll have Clayton’s man put them up before we leave, then.”  He bent down and rolled it back up to tuck it under his arm before he turned to his father.  “Ready for the meeting?  We need to get going soon.”

Fin nodded as he and Brian turned to go.  Just before they left, Justin called out to them.  “We’ll fix you two some breakfast for when you get back; I want to try out the stove.” 

Brian rolled his eyes and snorted.  “Yes, Dear,” he said in falsetto.  “And wear that nice, frilly little lacy apron that looks so hot on you, okay?”

“Fuck you,” Justin retorted as Brian smirked. The sound of Fin’s laughter over their bantering could be heard as he opened the door and Brian followed him outside, leaving the two blonds alone.

Tony chuckled.  “Was that a snappy comeback or a promise?” he asked Justin with a smile as they watched through the living room window while father and son walked over toward the maroon staff bus parked about 25 feet away.

Justin shrugged.  “Both, I guess,” he admitted to his friend.  He grinned.  “Well, now that the hurricane has blown out for a while, want to help me with my wifely duties?”  Tony nodded, bemused, as the two of them got busy unpacking a white, throwaway Styrofoam cooler Justin had packed with a few perishables such as eggs, milk, butter, and juice and placing the items in the RV’s refrigerator.  

“Peanut butter?” Tony asked as he reached under the ice cubes and pulled out a jar. 

“Of course,” Justin told him as if it were the most crucial thing in the world.  “I can’t go anywhere without my peanut butter and Brian’s coffee.”

Tony grinned.  “A man after my – and Fin’s – own heart.”  He noticed a box marked “cookware” nearby.  “Want me to unpack that for you while you’re finishing unpacking the rest of the food?”

Justin nodded.  “That’d be great.  Brian gave me a lot of grief about bringing pots and pans and my cookbooks.   But I’d rather fix something in here where it’s private rather than have the press and public hounding us wherever we go, wouldn’t you?”

Tony pulled out a medium- and large-sized saucepan and reached above the stove to place them inside one of the cabinets.  “You’d better believe it.  I got tired really fast of scurrying around like a rat hiding out from the press before Fin officially came out.  That got old in a hurry.”  He turned to look at Justin, who was placing some non-perishable staples in the cabinet next to the refrigerator.  “You’re lucky, you know.”

Justin frowned.  “Lucky?”  Actually, he could think of a lot of reasons why he was lucky, but he wasn’t quite sure which one Tony was referring to.  “What do you mean?”

Tony turned around to lean against the stove as he watched Justin work.  “You and Brian never made any secret about who – or what – you were; you never had to play all these games of subterfuge with anyone.”

Justin snorted.  “Everyone except my father, anyway; well, I didn’t exactly hide that from him, either, at least not after I met Brian and tasted what it was like down on Liberty Avenue; I thought it was so exciting!” he said, his eyes lighting up at the memory.  “All the energy down there; all the vibrancy and all those guys who weren’t afraid to admit who they really were.  I knew I was gay before I met Brian when I was seventeen; but once Brian and I were together, it made it a lot harder to keep it a secret from my parents.  And truthfully?  It felt like this huge weight had been lifted from my chest when they did find out.  I didn’t have to worry about their reactions any longer and I could just be ME.  My mother had a hard time dealing with it at first, especially when she found out about Brian and our age differences.  But she eventually came to accept him and even love him.”  He let out a heavy sigh.  “My father never did accept Brian – or me – once he found out.  He even tried to beat Brian up once and even rammed into his car from the rear one night.”

Tony’s eyes widened in shock.  “My God!  He did?”

Justin nodded, his blue eyes suddenly stinging with the beginning of unshed tears.  The strange thing was, he wasn’t even sure why he was getting all teary-eyed; it wasn’t worth it.  HE wasn't worth it.  “Yeah,” he said softly.  “He attacked him one night right outside Babylon when he and I were getting ready to leave in his Jeep.  And not too long before that, he took his car one night when Brian was alone and rammed into him at full speed while he was stopped at a red light.  Brian said he even backed up and hit him again; really banged him up bad, too.”  He looked at Tony sadly.  “I felt horrible and so angry over what he had done to Brian… I was ashamed that my own father could be that bigoted and hateful.” 

Tony walked over and squeezed Justin’s shoulder in sympathy.  “I’m sorry, Justin.” 

Justin lifted his glistening eyes to peer into his friend’s and shook his head in dismissal.  “It’s okay; I still have my mother and sister who love me for who I am; and I have a new family now – Brian, Gus, and a father-in-law.”  He smiled.  “And a new friend.” 

Tony smiled at him, feeling his own eyes misting over just a bit.  “Yeah, you do,” he told him firmly.  Deciding he’d better move onto a different subject before they both made sentimental fools out of themselves, he said on a lighter note, “So, what do you suggest for breakfast?  Fin said the meeting would take about 30 minutes or so.”

Justin nodded with a conspiratorial smile, his moroseness gone for the time being.  “I thought… pancakes with sausage; I’ve got a great recipe for chocolate-chip ones…”  Tony smiled as Justin reached into the cabinet for the pancake mix.

Adam Stewart sat, jaw set, as he listened to their new campaign manager instruct them on the rules for their upcoming two-week campaign caravan; Kinney had begun by unveiling a new campaign slogan with a certain arrogant flourish a few minutes ago – showing a new image on a black background, no less – that was to replace his Win with Fin motto that he had worked so hard at creating earlier.  The previous campaign poster had been easy to remember and prominently displayed all over town with a distinguished photo of O’Connor underneath the simple but effective words; now, however, it was being replaced by this.  He seethed on the inside; who did this man think he was?  If it hadn’t been for Kinney’s blood ties to the Senator, he would have never been sitting here, perched on the back of their small sofa like he was some fucking ruler, barking out guidelines that they all must adhere to during their cross-state trek:  no talking to the press without clearing it with him first, no fraternizing with the public at local establishments; no barhopping at the hotels in the evenings, no usage of public phones, only cell phones issued by Fin’s office.  Did they have to seek his permission to take a piss, too?  The man was both insufferable and conceited, but for now, he had to grudgingly go along with what he demanded.  He forced himself to turn his attention back to Kinney as he wrapped up their strategy meeting. 

“Any questions?” Brian asked as he looked out over the sea of faces.  There were six of them gathered for the meeting in addition to him and his father – the main core of Fin’s most trusted staff members and a college student:  Adam Stewart, his logistics manager, Kirk Littleton, his speechwriter, Wanda Sizemore, his personal assistant who handled his schedule of appearances, Sara McMahan, an intern working for him to obtain college credit toward her political science major, Don Meyers, an old college friend who was his bodyguard, and Mark Leon, who was sort of a jack-of-all-trades; he handled everything from hotel reservations to proper lighting at speech appearances to being a lunch gopher, whatever Fin needed at any given time.  With the exception of Stewart and McMahan, the others had been with the Senator for at least the past ten years and were totally loyal to their candidate and his campaign. 

Quiet reigned as Brian nodded.  “Fin, anything else?” he asked his father who was sitting at one of two small, rectangular-shaped tables nearby.

Fin shook his head.  “No, other than I want to thank all of you for your continuing support.  I know that I can count on each and every one of you to make our inaugural campaign caravan an effective and exciting one and that means a great deal to me.  All of you know how much I enjoy getting out of the confines of my office to talk to my constituents and have their voices and opinions heard.  As Brian said, this is going to be the most effective avenue we have to get my platform ideas across and make my policy known to those who are not as familiar with it.  So let’s make this the best endeavor that we can and show the citizens of Pennsylvania that we have what it takes to go all the way straight to the Governor’s mansion!” 

Fin’s small band of loyal workers clapped enthusiastically as his old college chum, Don Meyers, put two fingers between his lips and let out a loud, shrill whistle.  Fin grinned at him as he and Brian turned to go.  “We’ll be leaving promptly in thirty minutes,” he told them, all business now.  “Our first stop will be in Reading – about an hour away.”  He looked over at the bus driver, who nodded his understanding of their intinerary. 

Brian hopped down from his place on the couch.  “Okay,” he advised, “there’s a diner across the street – you’ve got just enough time to grab a bite to eat there if you want.  But everyone needs to be ready to go in half an hour.”  He eyed all the staff members closely who nodded back at him in agreement before Fin placed his hand on his shoulder and they walked to the door to exit.

Stewart bit his lip, wanting so badly to say something scathing about their new campaign manager’s know-it-all attitude, but he realized that would be a big mistake; he knew these others were staunchly loyal to O’Connor and would do anything for him.  For now, then, it was more prudent that he acted like he felt the same way.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to take advantage of that diner and get me a giant cup of coffee and some eggs and bacon,” Meyers said as he stood up.  “Anyone care to join me?”

There was a round of consensus as all the staff members rose to head over and grab some breakfast before their departure.

“Aren’t you coming?” Kirk Littleton asked Adam; the two of them were going to be roommates during the next two weeks at each of the hotels they crashed in for the night. 

Adam smiled at him; it was a forced, bright smile but it looked remarkably genuine as he said, “Yeah, I’ll be right over.  I just need to make a quick call.  Order me a large black coffee, okay?”  Kirk nodded as the rest of the group exited the bus.

As soon as he was alone, Adam flipped his official, campaign-issued cellphone open and punched in a well-known number.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said as soon as the other person answered.  “I don’t have much time – I just wanted to touch base with you and let you know what’s going on.”

“I’ve been waiting for your call!  You told me you would be calling an hour ago!”

Stewart bristled.  “Well, I can’t exactly flip my phone open right in the middle of Kinney’s wonderful little pep speech to the troops, now, can I?”

“Don’t be such a smartass, Adam – just tell me what’s going on,” was the annoyed response.

The other man huffed out an irritated breath before advising his caller, “Our first stop is in Reading; we’re leaving in about thirty minutes and it will take about an hour to get there.”

“Any idea what O’Connor will be discussing at the town hall meeting?  They'll want to have some plants there just to liven things up a little.”

“I’m going to transmit the tentative agenda and draft of his speech over to you as soon as I end this call.  That should tell him all he needs to know,” he said smugly.  It felt powerful to be able to help be responsible for bringing his pervert boss down; every time he got a glimpse of the man with his partner, hugging him or kissing him, it make bile rose in his throat. 

“Good,” was the approving reply as he returned his attention back to his caller.  “I’ll be waiting for the information.”

As he hung up the phone shortly afterward, Stewart smirked.  “Yeah… Good luck with that new campaign, O’Connor,"he said to himself.  "You, too, Kinney.  Your day in the spotlight will be a short one.”