Brian left his huge bed, completely naked, as was his custom to sleep, and languidly stretched like a big lazy cat. It was still dark, and he could appreciate through the window that occupied an entire wall of his spacious bedroom, the misty of New York city lights 30 floors below.

He went to the bathroom, worthy of an Arab sheik, like everything in his mega-luxurious Manhattan penthouse, and proceeded to his morning routine. Today was Christmas Eve, but that meant nothing to him. He was about to spend the day as usual, directing his advertising agency, already the largest in the East Coast. Although Brian wasn’t satisfied with that, and had good reason to expect that soon it would be the largest in the country, if nothing prevented the signing of the contract that was about to occur. And everything was going to go well. He would see for that. Nothing stood between Brian Kinney and success. Coming the new year, his company would be more important, and he, even richer.

Definitely, coming to New York had been the best decision he had made in his life. He felt cold sweat just thinking about what would become of him if he had stayed in Pittsburg, rotting in a mediocre position in a mediocre company with no future. Of course, to get away from Pittsburg he had also left behind everyone who had ever meant anything in his life. But it wasn’t too high a price considering what he had obtained in exchange, and he had always been a loner anyway. Brian Kinney didn’t need anyone and, even better, no one needed him. This is as it should be, each being fully free and responsible for their own life.

So, for him these days were no different from the rest of the year, except that thanks to the hypocrisy and stupidity of people, he could earn good money with holiday campaigns. Celebrations weren’t for him, and he was glad to no longer have to put up with any "family" trying to convince him otherwise.

After showering and shaving, he left the bathroom and couldn’t help but feel satisfied looking in the full length mirror in his dressing room. At 41, he was still a splendid specimen of a man, and hadn’t lost a bit of his beauty, nor his vanity. Carefully, he chose the clothes that he would wear today. His huge closet brimming with the finest and most elegant garments, from underwear to shoes, Brian didn’t wear anything other than designed, regardless of price. When he was satisfied with the dark gray Armani suit from the latest collection, put on an elegant black coat and left his place in an excellent mood.

He was so happy with how good was his life, and the excellent prospects presented to him, that he wasn’t even annoyed by the cheesy Christmas tune playing in the elevator. He even gave a smile to the few neighbors who joined him on different floors and wished him Merry Christmas. Until he reached the garage, where he got in his new Ferrari, his latest whim, and left burning tires toward Kinney Advertising Ltd.

As was expected, everything was ready to sign the contract with the largest advertising agency in Russia that would grant exclusive campaigns in all the major American products that were marketed in that vast country, and many of the old Soviet block. At noon, Irina Petrovna, representing the company in the United States, arrived on time and was taken to his office, where Brian had ordered to bring them a delicious lunch. He received her as the gallant gentleman that he wasn’t, and proceeded to finalize the small details of their agreement that remained still. She was a woman of similar age to Brian himself: blond hair, elegant, and very beautiful, Brian thought wryly. Of course, she wouldn’t have escaped if he had had any interest in women.

"Well, Brian, although the signing will take place tomorrow, I think our magnificent arrangement deserves a toast.” Irina said in perfect English with little accent.

"Of course. I allowed myself to order champagne just for that.” Brian said, tongue in cheek, rising the bottle and proceeding to uncork it. After filling both glasses, Irina also stood for the toast.

"I drink so this agreement will be only the beginning of our business together." She said solemnly.

"I second that, and may I add that I had never be so happy that the Cold War ended." Brian said slyly, which made the woman smile.

"Of course, Brian. You're a special case in many ways. Too bad you don’t play in my league, as you say here in America. If the rumors I've heard are true, of course.” Brian looked at her raising an eyebrow amused.

"Oh, they are, and certainly fall short." They both laughed. Soon after, the lunch meeting ended, and Brian said goodbye to his illustrious guest. He then called a meeting of his top executives. In the conference room. He proceeded to announce that everything was ready and that the next day there would be a video conference in which the representatives of both companies would sign the agreement there and in Moscow. The contract would got sealed  when Brian himself traveled to Moscow the following week.

"Tomorrow?" Newman, his second in command, asked puzzled. He was a little older than Brian with a formal look. Balding, big belly… that gave away what he was: an honest family man. But whose common sense and loyalty Brian appreciated, although the man lacked of drive and brilliance. "But it's Christmas..."

"I know exactly what day it is, Newman, December 25, Tuesday. In Russia, it’s a working day and, as you know, if we aren’t ready and signed right away, others will, depriving Kinney Advertising its best opportunity for growth in years. And you don’t want that, right? Not to mention the considerable rise your salary will also experience.” Brian said sarcastically.

"Oh no, Mr. Kinney. I don’t deny the importance of this agreement for all of us. But tomorrow is a day to be with family and..."

"You all know the philosophy of the company. It’s up to you if you prefer to lose a good job by outdated and sappy traditions. But if you prefer, everybody is free to resign. Sure you could find a better job...  Oh no, wait, there is a crisis and jobs are scarce. However, as I said, I don’t hold anyone by force. You can come tomorrow and stay involved in the success of this company, or spend the day with family and join unemployment.” Brian said in an arrogant tone. Why has he to be surrounded by losers? There was dead silence in the room as everyone watched him. And finally, Newman spoke again.

"I’ll be here." He said with barely a whisper.

"Excellent. So this meeting is over. You may return to your places to check out.” Nobody said anything and Brian returned to his office without giving more thought to the matter. He had work to do and money to gain. Everything was back under control as he liked.

As usual, he was the last to leave the office, past 9pm. He couldn’t remember the protests of his employees anymore, and later only thought about the great business opportunities that would be presented to him from the following day on. Again, in an excellent mood, he thought that after all, he could have a celebration in his own way. No fucking Christmas, but the success of his work. However, he wasn’t going to stay up all night, because the next day was very important and he wanted to be wide awake and early. But he could very well order a bit of fun from his favorite escort agency. He did so, as he left for the garage. Then he remembered that he was out of whiskey and had forgotten to tell Mrs. Morales, his efficient housekeeper, to buy more. It was a shame, but probably he still could find an open liquor store, and he would only have to deviate a bit of his way.

When he parked his car a few minutes later in front of an establishment selling drinks, and entered ready to buy a bottle of his favorite brew, Brian had no idea he was about to live the strangest, most amazing and surreal experience of his entire life. He entered the room, without paying much attention to the unusual fact that the store was completely empty of customers. It also struck him too, for he was too focused on his business, that behind the counter was a little old man with hair as white as the snow that had begun to fall a few hours before, and apparently so fragile that it seemed a breath could knock him down. At best, Brian thought how serious the economic crisis was, forcing a man that old to keep working.

However, he barely had time to think about it. He had just received directions from the old man where to find his brand of whiskey on the shelves when suddenly burst into the store a young menacing guy, whose evil intentions were revealed when he pulled a gun from under his jacket and pointed it at the head of the elderly dependent.

"¡Come on, Grandpa, open the register, and give me everything you have!" Demanded the robber, who didn’t seem to have noticed the presence of Brian.

"Uh... I... I'm sorry, young man, but the register is empty." The old man answered in a trembling voice, cowering before the gun.

"What? You expect me to believe you haven’t made any sales on a day like today?" The young man shouted angrily, brandishing his pistol menacingly. "Don’t try to take me for an idiot, old man, or I'll blow your head off!" Just then, Brian, who was behind an isle, came out and stood by the thief. He had no idea why, but he felt the urgent need to protect the little old man. What the hell? He was Brian Kinney, who didn’t care about anyone but himself. Yet the scene before him filled him with a deep rage whose origin he couldn’t identify. Maybe it was his innate hatred of bullies, whom he had faced many times in his life, starting with his own father.

"Haven’t you heard? The man has just told you that there is no money in the register.” He shouted before even being conscious of opening his mouth. The kid then turned to him.

"Wow, a hero! How sweet!" He said mockingly. "So you don’t want granddaddy to suffer, huh? Okay, let's say I believe the register is empty. But I bet your wallet is full. Isn’t it, pretty face?” He continued in the same tone, pointing now to Brian, who took out his wallet, opened it, and handed the kid without blinking, a good bunch of notes.

"Here, 500 dollars. I usually don’t carry much cash. But I bet it's more than a piece of shit like you has ever seen together.” Brian said distilling arrogance, but inside he was cursing this absurd knight attack, that he apparently, couldn’t stop.

"But look, he is brave too! Well, now, you are also giving me that gold watch you wear: Rolex isn’t it? Sure you won’t even notice the loss. You are filthy rich. Right, pretty face? You think you are better than the rest of us because you wear expensive clothes and gold jewelry. Well I don’t like being insulted. I don’t like guys like you. Maybe, I’ll kill you both, and take everything you're wearing, including this very fancy long coat. How about that, whitey?” Said and done. He turned the gun and shot blowing up a few bottles behind the terrified clerk.

"No, stop! All right. Sorry I insulted you.” Brian said astonished himself that his voice didn’t shake. "Look, we'll make a deal. You forget the store. You already saw there is no money. And I give you 500 dollars, the watch and this tie pin... Look, it’s also gold, and has a diamond. Deal?”

"Ummm, I don’t know. How do I know that while you and I leave the old man doesn’t call the cops?" The thief asked doubtfully. Brian, without hesitation, pulled the phone cord that was on the counter. In doing so, he turned his head, so he couldn’t see the knowing look and smiles that the elderly and the thief exchanged.

"He won’t. Come on, let’s get out of here! It wouldn’t be worthy for you killing this poor old man for nothing. Not a good business, and, believe me, I know about business.” Brian began to move towards the door without more, the young man followed. When they were a few feet out into the street, Brian handed the watch and tie pin, the other pocketed them with the money.

"You know, man. What you just did is fine. It was totally awesome. One can say you're a good man, Brian.” The offender said smiling.

"How the hell do you know my name is Brian?"

"...Weeell, you look like a Brian.” The kid tried to conceal.

"Whatever you say. But I have no idea why I've done what I've done. I assure you I'm no good Samaritan, and if you don’t plan to shoot me, I'll be grateful for you to get lost, and leave me alone.” The kid smiled as he put the gun under his jacket again.

"Oh, yes you are... Good, I mean. You deserve a reward for your generosity. You have a big heart full of love under all that money, Brian. And you're about to find out.” The kid said with a genuine smile, and walked away.

"Yeah, whatever." Brian muttered opening the door of his car. He entered adding "Fucking weirdo." When he sit behind the wheel, he realized he still had the bottle of Chivas in the pocket of his coat. But, what the hell! He said to himself. At the end of the day, he had won it.  He would drink to the health of the strange old man whose life he had just saved.

When he got home, instead of going up to his apartment directly from the garage, he stopped in the lobby, wanting to make sure that Tobias, the black giant who was doing the night shift at the counter, wouldn’t give any trouble to his “special guest”, who must be about to arrive. Normally, he would have given instructions over the phone, but since he was there... He approached the counter where the man seemed concentrated in a magazine. By this time, Brian had forgotten the events of the liquor store again concentrating on his own affairs.

He told the concierge to let the man who was coming in, and promised him a generous tip for his discretion. As he was already going to the elevator, he noticed, who knows why, what the man was reading. A fucking art magazine: “Art Forum”, to be exact. Since when is a concierge interested in the New York art world? This night was turning out to be more and more revealing. It wasn’t hard for him to read the headline of the page that Tobias had open at the time, Brian had perfected the art of reading upside down, watching the notes his teacher wrote in his school days.

JUSTIN TAYLOR; FROM PITTSBURG TO OLYMPUS the headline said. And although there wasn’t any photo of the protagonist, Brian knew exactly which Justin Taylor they meant. So the kid had become a recognized artist. Good for him! Brian remembered how badly the boy had wanted to be an artist. He himself had encouraged him to do so. Like he encouraged Mikey to finally leave the nest, and have a life with Dr. David, which probably they would be enjoying. Like his son would be enjoying the home Brian had made possible for him. Even if he had to give up his parental rights. So, that’s the way things   should be. This only confirmed the wisdom of his decision to come to New York, and live without ties or commitments. He wasn’t meant to be a parent or have a partner. And it was clear he was right.

While he was in the elevator, he was pondering how curious it was to think about Justin, Michael and Gus, that he hadn’t done since he left Pittsburgh. But then his mind returned to the present, erasing all memory when just entering his apartment, the intercom rang, and Tobias announced that his guest had arrived.

As always, the young man the agency sent him meet all his requirements. It cost him a small fortune to be a member of that agency, but it certainly was the most exclusive and highest quality of New York. And after a while when that gorgeous brown eyed came, Brian had forgotten the liquor store, the strange thief and distant experiences of Pittsburg. So after dismissing the young man, he was ready to sleep, not forgetting to connect the alarm, because tomorrow was going to be a great day. It would be, indeed, but not the way Brian expected.