Chapter 123:  Who’s On Top

            “Are you getting it now.  The theme was a memorial service actually, and the concept was pixels.”

“I think I see it now!!! Wait a minute I really do see it!!!  Thank you, Mr. Taylor!!!  I just loooove your work!!!  You are so adorable and talented tooo, sweetie-pie!!!” 

The loud (extremely loud) heavy-set, southern woman in her fifties put her hand in her host’s face and patronizingly pinched the artist’s left cheek.  The artist held his temper, smiled robustly at the woman for she was pushing his patience to the edge of a tall cliff.  He had already wasted a substantial amount of his valuable time attempting to explain to her (with no apparent amount of success) the concept behind his most prized abstract painting that hung on that gallery’s wall.

“You are so talented and adorable, sweetie-pie!!!”  She must have bent Justin ears a million times overly echoing that phase.  He was beginning to wonder if she was collecting a hefty commission for every time she repeated it.  “You are so talented and adorable, sweetie-pie!!!” 

“And thanks… Ms…?”

“Bakersfields!!!  Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields, sweetie-pie!!!  Rather kind of you, Mr. Taylor, to finally have gotten around to asking me my name - isn’t it?!!! But still you so damn cute!!! Again, though - that’s Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields!!!”

“First name Jennifer, huh?”  Justin nodded up and down and pondered on the irony of that for a short while.  “Well, I’d just have to be damned!  That’s a really nice first name.  That’s my momma’s name too.  You’re quite blessed that your momma gave you such a beautiful name as that,” Justin thought he’d mimic her in her own dialect tongue.

“Well, I’ll be damned too!!! Little old me got something in common with Justin Taylor!!!”

Little old me!  Justin refrained from expressing out loud what he thought of that phrase as it pertains to Mrs. Bakersfields.  She’s got to be kidding!  She has to be at least 350 pounds (and I suspect that’s an underestimation).

“Let me correct myself!!! Well, at least I have something in common with your mother, deary!!!  You’re such a sweetie-pie!!!  And, my little nephew Bill is gay!!! You ought to meet him!!!  I can hook you two boys up, if you would just be kind enough to give me your number to pass onto my Billy!!!  You would really like my Billy!!!  He has the biggest… you-know-what!!!”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah really, deary, and I just know how you blue-eyed, blond, pretty gay boys, just love yourselves some really BIG you-know-what’s!!!  Don’t you, deary!!!”

“Ms. Bakerfields…”

“It’s Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields… you know like your mother’s name Jennifer, and the last name has two ‘s’ instead of just the one!!!  But still my first name is in common with your mother's, you know - remember!!!”

“Yeah, I remember, but… maybe Mrs. Baker… I mean Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfield.”  Justin was trying to relieve himself of her that moment and suggest to her that she should check out some paintings elsewhere on the floor but she just kept rambling on and on (preventing Justin from finishing any complete sentences).

“It’s Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields… with another ‘s’ on the end, cutie-pie!!!”

“Okay, Mrs. Jennifer Bakerfields…”

“No, dear that two ‘s’.”  One after the ‘r’ between the first e and the f…”

I really don’t give a shit, woman - and that’s one ‘s’ in front of HIT!

“And, then another ‘s’ on the very end after the ‘d’!!! You just keep trying, you’ll get it right eventually, honey-bunch!!!  You sweet little sexy thing you!!!  Are you still in your twenties?!!!  Aren’t you, deary?!!!  I understand it takes you young pretty gay boys a little bit more time than the average person to get it right!!!  I read in somewhere in a magazine once that you were married two times and divorced from the same person twice!!!  Just couldn’t get it right could you!!!  You sweet little thing you, so sweet, such a sweetie-pie!!!”

“What!”  That near did if for Justin, because the last thing he wanted on his brain right then was thoughts of Brian, and he was just about to curse the middle-aged woman out and run her out of there for sure then, and more determined so to do it while most of his hearing still remained intact. “Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields!”

“Deary, Justin sweetie, you finally got the pronunciation of my surname right!!!”

“Mrs. Bakersfields…!”

“I’m going to buy this painting, deary!!! Who do I pay?!!!”

“What???  You’re going to buy this one?”

“Yes, you sweet little thing you!!! Who do I pay?!!!”

“For this one?”

“Yes, THIS ONE…. I really like it and thanks to little old patient you I even understand it now!!!  And, what did you call it earlier… a protract painting of a wedding, sweetie-pie?!!! ”

“No that was an abstract painting of a funeral.  But, are you really going to buy this one?”

“Yes, sweetie-pie!!!  I most certainly am!!!  Why’d you seem so surprised?!!!”

“Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields, did you see the price on this one?  The price tag on this painting is 30 thousand dollars, and that’s not negotiable!!!”

“I know its 30 thousand, you didn’t think for one second, I, Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields would buy something that I didn’t know the price of?!!!  Foolish little old you!!!  Now, now, who do I pay?!!!”

“Well, let me get you some assistance, Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields, you are such a sweet little young lady.”

“Oh, you’re so flattering, Mr. Taylor!!!  I’d like you to know that I did lose some weight and I guess the botox treatments are really working, huh?!!!”

“Hey! It most certainly is.  I swear, if I wasn’t gay… Well, you know what I’m trying to say, Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields, your gorgeous siren you!”  Had Justin been crooning at the time he certainly would had been serenading her with bullshit a hundredfold just then.

“Well, thank you, Justin Taylor!!! You are such a sweetie pie!!!  I’ve been telling you that all along!!!”

“Excuse me a sec, Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfeilds, but Mariah, over here!”  Justin waved the gallery manager over there and she was quickly at their side.  “Mariah, this sweet adorable lady Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields wants to buy this painting.  Can you treat her like the young and beautiful southern-bell princess that she really is, and give her all the assistance she needs?”

“Most certainly, I will be willing to give this wonderful lady all the assistance she needs!”  Mariah smiled ear-to-ear and immediately took Mrs. Bakersfields' hand in hers, ecstatic that that painting was actually going to sale for that much… several people working in the gallery, including Justin, had been quite doubtful.

“She’s all yours Mariah; and Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields, it was so nice to meet you, and I dread departing from you now, and will surely miss your southern hospitality, but this here sweetie-pie (to used her favorite word) have some other guests to attend to.  Those people way, way, way, way over there.” Justin pointed to a crowd near the door.  “Mariah, treat her like a pearl, SHE’S ALL YOURS!”   Then Justin jetted in the direction of the door.

“But, Mr. Taylor!!!”  Mrs. Bakersfeilds attempted to call him back, “What about your number for my little Billie!!!”  However, Justin figured he could ignore her because he knew he could rely on Mariah to completely take over the situation (especially if she wants her sizeable commission).

“He’s spoken for already, Ms. Bakerfield,” Mariah figured that bit of information should dissuade the woman from pestering the artist for his number.

“Oh, dear my… he’s…”

“Yes, he is, Ms. Bakerfields.  Sorry.”

“No, Mariah dearie, that is Bakersfields; Mrs. Jennifer Bakersfields; its two ‘s’, the first ‘s’ between the…”

*****

“Good grief, that was absolute torture,” Mariah caught up with Justin later, after she had finally collected the woman’s 30000 dollars and gently rushed her out the front exit.

“I know you had fun with her!”  Justin teased.  “How many attempts did it take you to finally get her name right?”

“Do you have a calculator on you?”  Mariah rolled her eyes.

“I might have one,” Someone else stealthy walked up and answered in Justin’s place.

“Jensen,” Justin crooned.

“Hey!  Congratulations to both of you,” Mariah said.

“Thanks,” Justin and Jensen chorused, and then Mariah touched Justin gently on the bicep and then she left to attend to some other customers.

“I thought you would be at work this hour?”  Justin asked Jensen. 

“I’m practically at work now actually.  I’m meeting a potential client for a business luncheon at a restaurant inside one of the hotels that aren't too far from here, and this place was on the way so I thought I’d drop in on you.  But, I’ll like you to know that that potential client I’m meeting with, is probably one of the richest men in the country.  If I win him over it will put me over the top at Merrill.  I’ll get a bonus you wouldn’t believe as well as a bigger office out if I can land his account; and steady commissions alone from this guy’s account can make me a rich, rich, rich man and very soon.  Justin, if I get this account, I would have more than just made it.”

“In my book, you’ve made it already,” Justin sincerely assessed.

“Always room for improvement, Justin.  Financially - right now - most people would just call me comfortable.  But I don’t want to be just comfortable, I want to be stinky, stinky, stinky rich one day and landing this account is going to pave the road immensely.  Once I land this one and word get out, other accounts just like this one will follow.”

“Sure they will,” Justin had every bit of confidence in Jensen’s ability.

“So, how’s my new fiancé’s doing here with his show?  How’s it coming along, Justin?’

“I’m good.  Sold quite a bit today, but sold a really big-ticket painting across the room there.”  Justin pointed out the painting that was sold to Mrs. Bakersfields.

“Fantastic!”  Jensen looked that way and saw the sold sign as well as his eyes bulged when he saw what it sold for.  “Fuck!  That’s more than an impressive sale, but what have I been telling you all along though?”  Jensen robustly praised (in his own particular style).

“You were certainly right - again - as usual.”

“And you had your doubts - didn’t you?”

“I honesty admit that I didn’t think anyone would pay that much,” Justin confessed.  “However, from this moment on I’m adopting a whole new attitude.  I’m not going to be doubtful ever again.”

“Good.  I’m glad to hear that.  That’s truly the attitude of today’s confident and highly successful businessman.  That attitude alone, Justin, will keep you on top and forever forging swiftly ahead.  Mark my words.  And, speaking about on the top… ”  Jensen lowered his voice to a near resilient whisper.

“Jensen, this is neither the time nor the place for that discussion,” Justin murmured back cutting his fiancé off.

“When is a good time to talk about it, Justin?  Seems like there never is.  We’ve known and have been sleeping with each other for two years now, when are you going to let me?  We got engaged last night, and had sex in front of the fireplace, I was sure you would let me inside you then.  What’s the problem?”

“Jensen, please not now… and not here?  Wait until we get back to the condo tonight.”

“And you’ll finally let me top you?”

“I meant we would talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Justin.  I want to actually do it, FINALLY.  I’ve been very patient with you.  I got needs.  I enjoy you inside me, but I need to be inside you from time to time also.”

“Stop it, Jensen.  Not here, damn it.”

“Well at least tell me this much at least.  Will that change once we are married?”

“Jensen, please.  Not now - not here.  Later!” 

People then started to look that way.

“Fine,” Jensen frustratingly sighed.  “That’s not what I came down here to talk about with you anyway.”

“What did you come to talk about?”

“Well, for starters, you don’t have to worry anymore about delivering that girl’s book to her.  I took care of that for you already when I realized you rushed out to work this morning and forgot to do it.”

“Thanks for doing that for me.  All morning I was concerned how much I might have inconvenienced the girl by forgetting to return it to her this morning.  Did you catch her before she went out to school?”

“No.  The girl wasn’t there.  Her mother answered the door and I gave it to her instead,” he lied.  “But you’re welcome, Justin.  But do you mind if I run something across you really quick though, before I head out to my luncheon with my potential client?”

“Not at all.  What is it?”

“Be very honest,” Jensen requested.

“Sure, I’ll try to be.”

“What do you really think of our place at Trump Towers?”

“Huh?  What kind of question is that?  It’s a really swell place.”

“Even for J.C. to live there?”

“Well, I guess it’s alright for J.C.  But where are you going with that question?”

“I’m not sure if it is, Justin.  I think we should move to a place that I think is much more family-oriented and kid friendly, and with a lot less celebrities parading about.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Justin.  I think we ought to put the little fellow’s needs ahead of our own in this aspect.”

“Okay.  I agree with you 100% about doing what’s best for my son.  I always want to do what’s best for J.C.  But I don’t really see your logic.  Why do you feel that living at the Trump Towers would be bad for J.C., and you really think we should move?”

“I don’t really think it’s all that bad.  But I think we can do a lot better for the kid.  There are some really great places downtown that are lot better for a child to live than our current place, as well as more convenient for me.  I’ll be closer to my job at the World Financial Center.”

“Downtown?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot more convenient than living here in midtown.  We’ll talk about it in greater detail later, and if everything is okay with you, I’ll give the realtors a call and have them show us some places as soon as tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?  Boy!  You're really on top of things.”

“Hey!  I didn’t get to be the success I am moving at a snail’s pace when it comes to anything, Justin.”

“You most certainly didn’t.”

“Walk with me on the way out?”  Jensen then requested.

“Sure,” Justin said and he started walking his fiancé towards the exit.

“Good luck with your potential client,” Justin wished Jensen.

“Thanks.  Not that I need any luck.  Never ever depended on that.”

“Okay, then I guess I just have to say go at ‘em, boy, instead.”

“Thanks for that.”  Jensen then kissed Justin on the cheek, but looked annoyed when he glanced over Justin’s shoulder and saw who just walked inside the door.  “What is this guy doing in here?”

“Who?” Justin turned and looked.  “Wow.”

“You can say that again?  What’s he doing here?”  Jensen repeated.  “Didn’t he bother you enough yesterday evening at the other art gallery?”

“You have better head over to your lunch meeting,” Justin politely started to rush Jensen out of there.

“Huff, sure, baby,” Jensen sighed.  “Kiss me… one for the road.”

They smooched, and then resumed the rest of the walk to the door.

“Don’t let that guy weigh you down any, but take my good advice and kick him out of here.  You just ought to.  If I didn’t had to rush out of here to my business luncheon, I’d take care of him for you.”

“You have a good day, and I’ll see you back at your place this evening.”

“Our place.”

“Yeah, right… our place,” Justin was so unused to that.  Other than his father, Brian’s the only man he’s ever lived with and grown accustomed to saying that to.  It was definitely going to take some time getting used to referring to another man’s place as home.

Jensen had intended to say something sarcastic to the man who had just walked in, and had hope it would be enough to persuade him to turn around and go back out; however, by the time Justin and he reached the door the man had walked away and stood quite a distant marveling a painting on the wall.  So, Jensen quickly made his exit and Justin walked over to the gallery’s newest guest.

“Hi, Robert.  Surprise to see you here?”  Justin wasn’t the least bit subtle in his greeting.

“Hi, Justin.  I was concerned about what happened to you after you ran away when the storm ended last night,” Robert remarked to Justin.  “So, I thought I’d come by here and check and see how well you were doing.  So, umm… are you okay?”

“Well, as you can clearly see, I’m in one piece, and I’m at work.  The signs of a healthy, content, and stable person.  So you don’t have to worry about me any.  Maybe you should worry about your client Mr. Brian Kinney instead.  I’m sure he has a lot more problems than me.  That is, if he’s still your client… did he fire you?”

“You know him well,” Robert remarked.

“Used to,” the artist thought he was correcting the therapist.  “So, I guess that’s a YES - he did fire you after all.  Figures - typical Brian Kinney.”

“Well, actually… ALMOST.”

“Almost?”  Justin brows curiously rose.

“Brian threatened to fire me, but he changed his mind.”

“Hmm… I know that side of him too.”

“I thought you just said you only used to know him.”

“Whatever.”  Justin just rolled his eyes at Robert and didn’t say another word regarding that topic. 

“This is extraordinary,” Robert said of the painting he was admiring.  “I see it’s one of yours.  However, that one with the sold sign on it, and for a whopping 30K too, really catches the eye; although I have no idea what it is trying to depict.”

“It’s an abstract painting about a funeral, Robert, but what are you doing here, really?”

“Hey?  Why are you giving me grief?  I don’t have any ulterior motive to come around now nor did I have one last night.  Like I said earlier, I just came to check on your welfare (nothing more - nothing less).  Are you angry with me for some reason?  I didn’t lie to you when I said I didn’t know about Brian and you.  I would have never deceived you like that.”

“Really?” Justin sighed.  “Did Brian send you?”

“No.  He didn’t send me today and he didn’t me yesterday either.  He was as surprised as you were.  And besides, I don’t think that’s his style anyway, but I would think you would know that better than anyone.”

“I haven’t seen him for two years, I don’t know what things might have changed about him.”

“No, not two years, Justin.”

“Huh?”

“You just saw him last night.”

“I think you know what I mean.”

“But Justin, you and I are good - right?”

“I don’t see why not,” Justin nodded.  “So, you’re right; we are good but that doesn’t change the fact that we just met yesterday and barely know each other.”

“So, what’s that?”

“What?”

“Nice piece of new jewelry you’re sporting on your marriage finger?”

“I got engaged last night?”

“You’re kidding me?  That was fast, and any particular reason you phrased that statement as a question?”

“Actually it wasn’t fast.  I’ve been knowing Jensen for over a couple years now.”  However, Justin made no effort to answer the latter part of Robert’s question.

“Strange.”

“What is?”

“Just the other day on the subway train you were telling me you couldn’t make up your mind whether or not Jensen was adequate boyfriend material, and you and I were actually flirting with each other.  But today you tell me (with a question mark at the end, I might add) that you’re suddenly engaged to him.”

“No offense, Robert, but I really don’t think that’s any of your business.  And, did you really track me down just to see if I was okay and that you and I were good?”

“Yes.  What other motive whould I have?”

“You tell me.  It seems to me like you really went out of your way.”

“Hardly.  I live next door to this place.  Apartment 2B.”

“Oh?”  Justin’s complexion flushed crimson red that moment.  “Sorry.”

“Sorry’s bullshit.  I’m sure you heard that expression before from somewhere.  Later,” Robert said and then started stepping away, “But, by the way…”

“What?”

“You can do much better than that guy Jensen.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion, Robert; and considering how loyal you are to Brian, you liable to be biased.”  But strangely enough Justin knew but didn’t know why it was that he cared what the therapist thought of him.

“Well, really?  Beats being biased altogether.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm,” Robert looked at Justin strangely, but decided not to elaborate any further on his last comment.  “Never mind,” he brushed it off.   “And, I want to apologize.  I was out of line saying you can do better than Jensen.  Like you pointed out - that simply isn’t any of my business.” 

“Hmm,” Justin simply murmured.

“Hey!  I have most of the day off.  I don't have to be on my job until this evening. So, I can prepare lunch for you, if you’d like?  So, why not swing around my place when you’re ready for a bite?  Apartment 2B.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine.  Bye.  However, if you change your mind… remember… next door… apartment 2B.  Hope to see you for lunch, later on?”

*****

            “Hi, goodday,” Jensen walked up to a podium and greeted the hostess, a tall attractive blonde woman in a classy black dress, inside the exquisite five-star hotel & restaurant where he had an appointment to wine and dine his potential client.  “Mr. Eugene Mallory’s table, please?”

“Sure follow me,” the hostess picked up a menu and was leading Jensen to a table near the window.  However, it was only one gentlemen sitting back there and Jensen highly doubted it was the man he was supposed to being have lunch with.

“Wait!”  Jensen halted the hostess and asked her, “Where are you leading me to, Miss?”

“You did say Mr. Eugene Mallory’s table - correct?  That’s Mr. Mallory sitting at the window there.”

“You don’t mean that Black fellow sitting alone there… do you?”

“Well, my best guess would be that the gentleman’s African American,” the hostess sardonically replied and wondered what’s with this guy!  She had to wonder about Jensen.  “And he’s the only Mr. Eugene Mallory in the restaurant at the moment.  Are you expecting another Mr. Eugene Mallory to arrive shortly or something?”

“You know, Miss, if you don’t mind, can you do that for me?”

“Do what?”

“Check your reservation’s log and see if there’s another Mr. Mallory registered.  Maybe the Mr. Mallory I supposed to meet is running late and coincidently there’s just another guy in the restaurant that just might go by the same name.”

“I highly doubt that, but I’ll be courteous enough to go back to the podium and check my register for you anyway,” the woman politely said, regardless that she felt totally annoyed that the man was wasting her time.

“Thank you so much, Miss, I really appreciate it.”

“He’s the only Mr. Eugene Mallory in my log,” she returned immediately after checking the reservations book.  “Shall I take you over there to his table now?”  She wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Yes, certainly do.  I suppose his money is just as green as the next guy’s,” Jensen then deeply inhaled a long whiff or air and let it back out and then followed the hostess to Mr. Mallory’s table.

“Mr. Eugene Mallory; Jensen Olsen here,” Jensen put on a delightful, bright smile while he extended his hand to man.  The man stood up and accepted Jensen’s hand, and they gripped each other hands firmly, released, and Mr. Mallory sat back down first.

Jensen then took his seat and the hostess gave him his menu.  “Have a good lunch, gentlemen,” she said and then walked back to her podium.

“Sir,” a waiter dropped by then.  “May I get you something to drink?”  The waiter asked Jensen because he had already served Mr. Mallory his drink earlier.

“Yes, please give me what Mr. Mallory’s drinking.  That looks good.”

“You’re welcome, sir.  I’ll be right back with your drink.”

“Thank you.”

“Mr. Olsen, you don’t mind if I call you by your first name?  Do you?”

“Certainly not sir, please do; and may I ask your permission to do the same?”

“Please do, Jensen.”

“Thank you, Eugene.” 

“You’re welcome, Jensen, and I’ll have to say right off the bat, that you’re quite a handsome gentlemen,” Mr. Mallory complimented Jensen on his classy and attractive appearance.  “I kind of detected that from our telephone conversations that you would be terribly handsome.”

“Thank you.” 

However, Jensen didn’t feel he could honestly say the same about the gentlemen of obvious African ancestry seated across from him.  The man had an uneven complexion (two different shades of dark and light brown blemishes).  He was probably in his mid to late-sixties.  Eugene’s countenance was plagued with heavy acne (blackheads mostly) and heavy facial lines.  He had a slightly gray moustache, beard, and his nose was quite hairy.  Shiny baldness shone in the center of his head, surrounded by a peninsula of salt and pepper short tight curly tresses; and even while sitting down you could see he was overweight and had a pop-belly.  In Jensen’s opinion there was nothing appealing to the eyes about Eugene Mallory at all. 

“I see you’re wearing a wedding band.  Are you married, Jensen?  She’s a really lucky woman.”

“No… but engaged though.  Eugene, do you mind if we get straight down to business?”  Jensen asked him.   He didn’t care too much for the little pleasantries.

“I always prefer that we do,” Eugene answered.  “I think I mentioned that in my many emails and telephone conversations with you, Jensen.  So, let’s do get straight down to business, young man.”

“Thank you, Eugene,” Jensen said, as he then placed his briefcase on the table to get out his portfolio of investments instruments out to discuss with the potential client.

“That won’t be necessary, young man.”  Eugene stopped him.

Jensen was immediately confused then.  “Huh?  What won’t be necessary?”

“Put that briefcase and it’s contents away, Jensen, you won’t need them.  Totally unnecessary when a gorgeous, hot trick like yourself, young man, has all that it takes already to win me over.  You certainly don’t have to reach inside that brief case and pull anything out of there to attain my business. You already have the deal completely in the bag, if you TRULY want it.  You’re a smart man, Jensen, aren’t you?  And, you aren’t fooling anyone, you know.”

“Umm… what?”  Jensen started to grow terribly nervous.  He heard the Black man when he referred to him as a ‘hot trick’.

“Takes one to know one.  Hardly is your fiancé’s a woman.”

“Umm…” Jensen started to grow nervous just then.

“Oh, here comes our waiter now,” Eugene announced.  “So, let’s order ourselves a nice hearty meal, eat and then go upstairs and conduct some real business.  Or if you prefer we can go upstairs now and order room service and eat inside my suite?”

“What?  I don’t understand.”

“I think you understand, Jensen.  Now all you have to decide is whether or not YOU’RE A SMART MAN or a stupid one!  Are you, Jensen, a smart man?”

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?”  The waiter arrived at their table and politely asked.

“Well, Jensen, your call.  Do we eat here or elsewhere?  And, are you a SMART man or a STUPID one?”

Jensen didn’t say anything right away, and it looked like all the life was seeping from the young stockbroker’s handsome face just that moment.  And that was one time in his life that he wished he were as unattractive as he found the Black man who sat across the table mentally frolicking with him.