Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

 


 


CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT


 


 


 


You can’t have a cupboard when there ain’t no wall


You’ve got to move, there’s no time for you to stall


They say the old laughing lady dropped by to call


And when she leaves, she leaves nothing at all.


   


  - The Old Laughing Lady – Neil Young


 


 


JUSTIN


 


 


I don’t hear the studio door slide open, but I feel a chill draught of air and I smile.  “About fucking time,” I say, finishing the first application of varnish with careful, even strokes.  “And don’t even think about coming in … this is a surprise, remember?”


 


He doesn’t answer.  “Brian?”  I look up, and freeze.


 


Lindsay is standing in the doorway, wrapped in a snow-spattered Parka.  I don’t know what takes me more by surprise, her appearance or the darkness behind her.  I hadn’t realised how the daylight had faded away.


 


“Linds?  What are you doing here?”


 


She slides the door closed behind her.  “I wanted to have another little chat, Justin.”


 


I put the jar of varnish on the floor and balance my brush across the top.  Then I stand up and face her.  “Uh … I don’t know what you want, but Brian will be here any minute …”


 


She shakes her head.  “I’m afraid Brian has been unavoidably delayed.  And, judging from the way it’s snowing out there, he won’t be arriving any time soon.”  She pushes back her hood, smiles and comes towards me, and I realise she’s carrying a half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervas.  “It looks like it’s just you and me, kiddo.”  She’s as pale as a ghost, her eyes shadowed, her lips bloodless.


 


For a moment I wonder if I’m asleep, because this has all the surrealism of a dream.  “What are you talking about?  What’s happened to Brian?”


 


“Nothing.  But Gus isn’t well, so Brian has to be where he’s needed.  Where a good father belongs.”


 


I’m trying to process what the fuck’s going on, trying to make sense of what she’s saying.  “Gus isn’t well ...?” I repeat stupidly.  “What, he’s sick or something?”


 


She shrugs.  “You could say that … but don’t worry, he’ll be fine.  They both will be.”


 


She turns abruptly and crosses to my table, which she hops onto.  She sits there swinging her legs and uncaps her bottle.  She proffers it.  “Want a drink?  It’ll keep the chill out.”


 


I feel my temper rising.  I wipe my hands clean and throw the rag to the floor.  “No, I don’t want a fucking drink.  I want to know what you’re doing here … and what’s happened to Gus!”


 


She smiles again, and for the first time I feel a jolt of real fear, because her lips just stretch mirthlessly.  Her eyes have no humour in them at all.


 


“None of that is your business anymore,” she says quietly.  She takes a swallow of Tequila, then caps the bottle again.  “This has to stop, Justin.”


 


“What the fuck are you talking about?”  I demand, although my heart is beating like a trip-hammer and my mouth is dry. 


 


“Oh, you know.”  She’s using her teasing little girl voice, still smiling, her head tilted to one side. “This little charade we’ve all been playing.”


 


“Speak for yourself,” I snap.


 


“I am.”  She nods gravely.  “Finally, I am.”  She slides off the table and approaches me, the bottle dangling from her right hand.  I can’t stop myself taking a step backwards.  She pauses beside me, her eyes on my painting.  “Oh, you’ve finished it.  I thought you would.”


 


“So you have been here!  I knew it!”


 


“I’ve looked around.”  She does so again.  “It’s beautiful, Justin.  Brian is so generous with his money.”


 


“You should know better than most.”


 


“As is only right,” she agrees calmly.  “I’m the mother of his child.”


 


“You make it sound like you’re the fucking Madonna!”  I know I’m baiting her, but I can’t help it.


 


“You’re the one with the God-complex where Brian is concerned,” she smiles.  “as this piece of sycophancy proves.  I know how huge Brian’s ego is … it’s hardly surprising I couldn’t compete with such puerile devotion.”


 


“There never was any competition, Lindsay!  Brian loves you, sure, but he doesn’t love you the way he does me!  He never has, and he never will, and I have nothing to do with it!”


 


She shakes her head.  “Justin, Justin … don’t pretend to be so naïve.  It’s always been a competition … between Gus’ and my rights, and your demands.  And you’ve always won, because you seduced and smiled and wormed yourself into everything Brian did.  You’d never just give up and go away, would you?”  I open my mouth to deny it but she silences me with a wave of her hand.  “The funny thing is that everybody thinks you’re so smart, but you’re dumb.  Dumb and selfish.   I gave you the perfect opportunity to get out and make something of yourself, but would you take it?  No.  You couldn’t leave well alone; you couldn’t give Brian and I the chance to make a real family together.  Instead you come worming back into his life, stringing him along again … and now you’ve stolen the home we should have shared together!”


 


“Brian bought Britin for me, not you!”


 


She laughs.  “Oh please.  He might have told you that, but it’s obvious to anyone he bought it as a family home.  It should be Gus’ birthright, not yours!”


 


“It is!” I protest.  “It will be Gus’ one day.  It’s in Brian’s will!”


 


She turns on me, her eyes blazing.  “Not for fucking years, not until you die!” she spits at me, engulfing me in Tequila-laden breath.  “What good will it do then?  It’s now he needs the benefits of living here, not when he’s sixty years old!”   She paces towards me and I find myself back-pedalling again.  “And if that wasn’t enough … you have to turn my own son … my Lambskin …” - her voice cracks a little – “against me as well!”  Her face is an ugly mask of fury.  “You should have died years ago, Justin.  We’d have helped Brian grieve for a while, and then things would have gone on … the way they were supposed to.  But even then, you just … wouldn’t go away.”


 


I find myself looking into the eyes of a total stranger, and it hurts.  It reminds me too much of the expression I’d seen in my father’s eyes at the end, and in Hobbs’ when I outed him on Liberty Avenue, and I feel the same sense of shock that someone can hate me so much.  “I always thought you were my friend, Lindsay,” I say shakily.


 


“I tried.  I felt sorry for you; so young, so optimistic; so certain you could tame the untameable.  So helpless.  Until I realised … what a viper you are!”  She takes a long, hissing breath.  “Well, I’m not standing for it any more.  Tonight, we finish it.”


 


Suddenly I’ve had enough.  “You know what, Lindsay?  Fuck you.  I tell you what, you sit here with your Tequila and your fucking delusions, because I’m out of here.”  I stride past her.  “I’m going back to the house and I’m calling Brian, and you do whatever the hell you have to.”


 


She moves so fast I only have time to fling up my arm as the bottle comes at me.  It’s not enough to deflect it from smashing against my skull, and everything greys out.


 


 


 


 


TBC


 

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